You may have noticed that I'm not who I say I am. My name's not JustinCase. It's not even Justin. Let's make things a little squarer between us, shall we?
I've been looking at pages from other writers. I feel alternately sick and sad.
There's the numerous "this is a diary of the life of my family" pages that seem to all be written by the same plain Christian woman who cares about nothing but what cute thing her kid did that week and has a short-haired, suit-wearing, empty-eyed tool of a husband present in some of the pictures (of which there are about a thousand). This woman talks about teaching her kids to pray, the artwork the kids drew, and how she just LOVES her BFFs!
Shoot me in the fucking head, please, I don't want to know these people exist.
There's also the "look at me!" pages: Aspiring writers showing off their vocabularies and acting pretentious because they want everyone else to think they are as awesome as they know themselves to be.
Am I one of these people? God, I hope not...but I might be.
All the characteristics are there: The dorky, "ain't I cool" pseudonym; The high-concept framing device; The desire to have my words read by others; The fear that I'm just not good enough to be taken notice of.
Maybe the difference (if there is one) lies in this: I am well aware that writing this blog will probably bring zero recognition (it being geared towards a very small percentage of the population that might care about the subject of the Video Nasties), and that what I write will not make me famous, change the world, or get me a job writing for some cool magazine or something.
And being aware of these things makes me a little sad. Because the simple act of writing something and then sticking it on the internet where damn near anyone can see it reeks of attention-seeking, and the act of hiding my true identity behind a nom de plume is a paradoxical barrier: "Read what I have to say, but I won't tell you who I am." That way if you like it, I can take all the credit. And if you hate it, you don't hate me, you hate a fictional creation, a cutout of myself that will take all the blame and feel nothing.
I despise pretension, and I will keep it to a minimum. I won't say there won't be any: in this situation, it's unavoidable. But I want to be honest. I want you to know where I stand. I don't want to put myself on a pedestal, looking down on my readers, trying to show how cool I am.
I want to throw my arm around your shoulder, talk of film, and try to feel a little less alone in my love of all these weird movies. I want to know that you're out there. I want to feel that coolness about myself without shoving it in people's faces and making them feel bad. I think you're cool for reading, and I hope you think the same of me for writing...but I won't assume you feel that way, and I won't feel it for you.
About the name: I end every entry the same way because that's something I say in real life. When someone asks why I took some precaution, I will always respond with "Because my name's Justin. JustinCase." It makes me smile. That's all. Maybe I'll share my real name on here someday when I feel a little more secure about who I am. For now, I like the security of being able to say all this stuff without having to think about the fact that it's me saying it. Like just about everyone who's ever used a pseudonym, being JustinCase gives me a little bit more confidence than being the person I am everywhere else. I told you I'd be honest.
So that's where we stand: I will do my best to bring you the meat of the matter, the hard facts about classic exploitation and horror, and to do so without pretense of thinking I'm amazing or better than you. All you've gotta do is read if you want to. Easy, huh? Thanks. I appreciate it. Truly, and from the bottom of my being. And I hope you don't mind if I keep using the name. I like my signoff, and I'll continue saying goodbye the way I have this whole time: My name's Justin. JustinCase.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
They Thought It Was Over...It's Not!
Because once is not enough, here's a trailer for Revenge of the Bogey Man:
Flashback, flashback, flashback...to, like, two nights ago! The concept of overusing footage from the first film for a cheapjack sequel is not unique (rumor has it that the makers of Silent Night, Deadly Night Part 2 were originally told to just re-edit the first and call it a sequel), this case is interesting because Ulli Lommel didn't want to make a sequel. After pressure from all sides (and an offer from major studio Paramount, which was turned down), Lommel decided to make an independent sequel and satire Hollywood in the process...at least, that was the idea. Did he succeed? Only one way to find out.
Boogeyman 2 is up next, in its' original Nasty, Bruce Starr-directed version on good old VHS. Have you held on to your VCR? Don't you know you could very well need it? I do. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
Flashback, flashback, flashback...to, like, two nights ago! The concept of overusing footage from the first film for a cheapjack sequel is not unique (rumor has it that the makers of Silent Night, Deadly Night Part 2 were originally told to just re-edit the first and call it a sequel), this case is interesting because Ulli Lommel didn't want to make a sequel. After pressure from all sides (and an offer from major studio Paramount, which was turned down), Lommel decided to make an independent sequel and satire Hollywood in the process...at least, that was the idea. Did he succeed? Only one way to find out.
Boogeyman 2 is up next, in its' original Nasty, Bruce Starr-directed version on good old VHS. Have you held on to your VCR? Don't you know you could very well need it? I do. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
The Invisible Monster!
Video Nasty #7
The Bogey Man
1980
THE MOST TERRIFYING NIGHTMARE OF CHILDHOOD IS ABOUT TO RETURN!
American Title: The Boogeyman
NTSC Running Time: 81:41
Directed, Written and Produced by Ulli Lommel (While the credits explicitly state this, buried in the end credits is this: Screenplay by Ulli Lommel, Suzanna Love and David Herschel. Megalomania strikes again.)
Starring: Suzanna Love, Ron James, John Carradine, Nicholas Love
Body Count: 8, and one implied. (But how she could have died from getting hit in the face with a medicine cabinet, I don't know.)
Availability: On Region 1 DVD from Sony on a double-feature with Return Of The Boogeyman. Anchor Bay also offers a double-feature (with The Devonsville Terror). I believe both are out of print. The Sony release is a bit easier to find, and quite affordable.
BBFC Status
Why it's a Nasty: Bondage and that Blood/Breasts combo that the BBFC finds so offensive.
What was cut: 44 seconds of a woman bound and a dead woman in the bathtub with blood on her chest.
Current BBFC Status: The uncut version was awarded an 18 certificate on July 20, 2000. An even longer version (under the title Ulli Lommel's Boogeyman) was approved on May 7, 2004.
Availability: Region 2 extended cut from Hollywood DVD Ltd.
The Bogey Man was seized, but escaped prosecution.
The first thing you get from this flick is a lesson in parenting: Don't tell your kids to play outside in the middle of the night, tie them to beds, or leave large knives within easy reach of toddlers. But I didn't have to tell you all that, right?
1960: Drunken, kinky, neglectful mom has her creepy boyfriend tie her son, Willy, to a bed when he won't listen. His sister, Lacey, goes to the kitchen and grabs a huge knife to free him with. Once he's up and around, he does what any abused six-year-old would do: STAB! STAB! STAB!!! Willy knifes the boyfriend, while Lacey watches in a wall-mounted mirror.
1980: Lacey (Suzanna Love) and Willy (Nicholas Love, real-life brother of Suzanna) live with their aunt and uncle on a small farm. Willy hasn't spoken in twenty years. Lacey is married and has a small child, Kevin, and everything is pretty normal...until a letter from mom arrives. Now, Lacey is having nightmares and can't stop thinking about the murder she saw as a child. Her asshole cop husband (Canadian comedian Ron James in his film debut) and her dopey shrink (legendary John Carradine) tell her she has to go back to the house where the murder took place. It's a lovely house, actually, and there's nothing wrong with it. The girl who answers the door is there with her bro and sis, and the visiting couple are free to look around because, lucky for them, the house is for sale. Lacey and hubby poke around and everything's fine...until Lacey spots the mirror...and her mom's boyfriend is in it! Rising from the bed and coming for her! She smashes the mirror with a chair. Her idiot husband picks up all the pieces and the frame and takes it back home! Where he reassembles it!
But when a mirror breaks, all it has seen is freed. And the long-ago dead boyfriend is now the invisible BOOGEYMAN, and he'll kill anyone who gets anywhere near a broken piece of the mirror!!!
Written down, it sounds pretty stupid...and it is, I guess, but it's also so much fun that you don't really notice just how dumb it is until you think about it afterwards. The idea of the Boogeyman is never fleshed out as well as it should be, so calling the film The Boogeyman is a neat gimmick that gets horror fans thinking of Halloween (the cheesy Carpenter-inspired score does that, too), but the ideas here are pretty original and it would have been neat to see what could have been done with the broken-mirror premise by a crew that had a bit more ambition...or money...or talent.
Not that there's no talent in evidence: John Carradine has over 300 screen credits (including John Ford's 1939 oat-opera classic Stagecoach) and no shortage of ability...although his lines leave a lot to be desired. The sequences involving the mirror range from dumb to frightening, and I got a couple of decent scares from the film. Oh, and that is future Sassy and Jane magazine editor/founder Jane Pratt as the girl who cuts her top open and stabs herself in the neck, the Boogeyman's first real victim. Personally, I think this film is her finest accomplishment...but what do I know?
All in all, a fun way to kill 81 minutes, a few chills, a few thrills, some good and not-so-good acting and effects, with Carradine and Suzanna Love bringing the best performances; Carradine because of his experience, Love because she has the most to work with, and you can tell she was at least having fun. I feel ready to tackle the sequel...and it'll probably be a lot like watching The Boogeyman all over again!
So don't break any mirrors: you never know what they may have seen. I sure won't. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
The Bogey Man was seized, but escaped prosecution.
The first thing you get from this flick is a lesson in parenting: Don't tell your kids to play outside in the middle of the night, tie them to beds, or leave large knives within easy reach of toddlers. But I didn't have to tell you all that, right?
1960: Drunken, kinky, neglectful mom has her creepy boyfriend tie her son, Willy, to a bed when he won't listen. His sister, Lacey, goes to the kitchen and grabs a huge knife to free him with. Once he's up and around, he does what any abused six-year-old would do: STAB! STAB! STAB!!! Willy knifes the boyfriend, while Lacey watches in a wall-mounted mirror.
1980: Lacey (Suzanna Love) and Willy (Nicholas Love, real-life brother of Suzanna) live with their aunt and uncle on a small farm. Willy hasn't spoken in twenty years. Lacey is married and has a small child, Kevin, and everything is pretty normal...until a letter from mom arrives. Now, Lacey is having nightmares and can't stop thinking about the murder she saw as a child. Her asshole cop husband (Canadian comedian Ron James in his film debut) and her dopey shrink (legendary John Carradine) tell her she has to go back to the house where the murder took place. It's a lovely house, actually, and there's nothing wrong with it. The girl who answers the door is there with her bro and sis, and the visiting couple are free to look around because, lucky for them, the house is for sale. Lacey and hubby poke around and everything's fine...until Lacey spots the mirror...and her mom's boyfriend is in it! Rising from the bed and coming for her! She smashes the mirror with a chair. Her idiot husband picks up all the pieces and the frame and takes it back home! Where he reassembles it!
But when a mirror breaks, all it has seen is freed. And the long-ago dead boyfriend is now the invisible BOOGEYMAN, and he'll kill anyone who gets anywhere near a broken piece of the mirror!!!
Written down, it sounds pretty stupid...and it is, I guess, but it's also so much fun that you don't really notice just how dumb it is until you think about it afterwards. The idea of the Boogeyman is never fleshed out as well as it should be, so calling the film The Boogeyman is a neat gimmick that gets horror fans thinking of Halloween (the cheesy Carpenter-inspired score does that, too), but the ideas here are pretty original and it would have been neat to see what could have been done with the broken-mirror premise by a crew that had a bit more ambition...or money...or talent.
Not that there's no talent in evidence: John Carradine has over 300 screen credits (including John Ford's 1939 oat-opera classic Stagecoach) and no shortage of ability...although his lines leave a lot to be desired. The sequences involving the mirror range from dumb to frightening, and I got a couple of decent scares from the film. Oh, and that is future Sassy and Jane magazine editor/founder Jane Pratt as the girl who cuts her top open and stabs herself in the neck, the Boogeyman's first real victim. Personally, I think this film is her finest accomplishment...but what do I know?
All in all, a fun way to kill 81 minutes, a few chills, a few thrills, some good and not-so-good acting and effects, with Carradine and Suzanna Love bringing the best performances; Carradine because of his experience, Love because she has the most to work with, and you can tell she was at least having fun. I feel ready to tackle the sequel...and it'll probably be a lot like watching The Boogeyman all over again!
So don't break any mirrors: you never know what they may have seen. I sure won't. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
A Shattered Mirror...
Coming soon:
Ulli Lommel's The Bogeyman (that's spelled The Boogeyman here in the States) is not alone on the Nasties list: its' sequel Revenge of the Bogeyman (that's spelled Boogeyman 2 over here) soon joined as well, due to a large portion of it being flashbacks to the first film. Think Silent Night, Deadly Night Part 2 for a similar case of "lifted" footage. It sure keeps the budget low...but Lommel is an enterprising fellow, and he didn't stop at one movie: his Boogeyman 2 Director's Cut is comprised almost entirely of footage from the first film, the rest of it is Lommel in an interrogation room talking about the "case", and the title is totally inaccurate considering that Boogeyman 2 was directed by Bruce Starr, not Lommel. Compounding the offense, the Boogeyman DVD also contains The Return of the Boogeyman on the flipside, and it too is filled with footage from the first film! Somebody needs to call "Shenanigans" on these guys, before they re-release the entire first film all over again as Boogeyman 4.
But at least we'll have some fun, right? So good to jump back into the fray! I'll be here in the 80s if you need me. I'm always here for whatever you might need. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
Ulli Lommel's The Bogeyman (that's spelled The Boogeyman here in the States) is not alone on the Nasties list: its' sequel Revenge of the Bogeyman (that's spelled Boogeyman 2 over here) soon joined as well, due to a large portion of it being flashbacks to the first film. Think Silent Night, Deadly Night Part 2 for a similar case of "lifted" footage. It sure keeps the budget low...but Lommel is an enterprising fellow, and he didn't stop at one movie: his Boogeyman 2 Director's Cut is comprised almost entirely of footage from the first film, the rest of it is Lommel in an interrogation room talking about the "case", and the title is totally inaccurate considering that Boogeyman 2 was directed by Bruce Starr, not Lommel. Compounding the offense, the Boogeyman DVD also contains The Return of the Boogeyman on the flipside, and it too is filled with footage from the first film! Somebody needs to call "Shenanigans" on these guys, before they re-release the entire first film all over again as Boogeyman 4.
But at least we'll have some fun, right? So good to jump back into the fray! I'll be here in the 80s if you need me. I'm always here for whatever you might need. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
The Latest Acquisitions.
I'm back! I've been pretty tied up with work, school and family, but the Nasties (and this blog) are never far from my mind. Neither are you, you awesome readers.
"Postmaster General loves me. You know how that one goes." ~ Digger, "Security Envelopes"
In the mail this week: Three Nasties so far, plus one legendary title that has to be seen to be believed.
I received a factory-sealed VHS cassette of the Bruce Starr/Ulli Lommell sequel Boogeyman 2 (known to the DPP as Revenge Of The Bogeyman) on Tuesday. Boogeyman 2 found its' way onto the list mainly because of the large amount of footage from the first film, and while a DVD is available, it is a completely different version, re-edited with a much larger amount of footage from the first film. Make no mistake: Ulli Lommel's Boogeyman 2 Director's Cut does NOT count as a Video Nasty. I am still awaiting the arrival of the first film from a different source, but I'd like to give big thanks to Leslie at MovieJukeboxReplay for kicking ass above and beyond the call.
Yesterday brought more: Aldo Lado's 1975 L'ultimo Treno Della Notte (on DVD from Blue Underground under the title Night Train Murders, and on the Nasty list as Late Night Trains), Guilio Berruti's 1978 nunsploitation film Suor Omicidi (on DVD under its' Nasty title Killer Nun, also from Blue Underground), and a film that, if it had been available in 1980s Britain would have given Mary Whitehouse a coronary, Joe D'Amato's 1980 groundbreaker Le Notti Erotiche Dei Morti Viventi (from Shriek Show as Erotic Nights of the Living Dead).
Late Night Trains is essentially a Last House on the Left remake: Two girls are menaced, raped and killed by vagabond lunatics who meet their end at the hands of one of the girl's parents. One of the selling points for me is the appearance of Macha Meril, who portrayed psychic Helga Ulmann in Dario Argento's Profondo Rosso. A score by Ennio Morricone doesn't hurt, either.
Killer Nun stars Anita Ekberg (probably best known as the lead in Fellini's La Dolce Vita) as Sister Gertrude, a morphine-addicted nun who is losing her mind. Other notables in the cast are Alida Valli (Suspiria) and Joe Dallesandro, who we will see again when we view another Nasty, Andy Warhol's Frankenstein.
Which brings me to Joe D'Amato. Born in 1936 in Rome, Aristide Massaccesi directed at least 193 films. I say at least because no one seems to be sure just how many aliases he used. He directed only one film under his real name, 1973's La Morte Ha Sorisso All'assassino, aka Death Smiles On A Murderer. Other noms de film include David Hills, Alexandre Borsky, and Robert Yip, but he will always best be known by his most used alias, Joe D'Amato. He has two Nasties to his name...but almost all of his films would qualify. The two on the list are Antropophagus, aka Anthropophagus The Beast (and a censored American cut under the title The Grim Reaper), and Rosso Sangue (aka Monster Hunter and Horrible, its' Nasty title is Absurd, a moniker also adopted by a Black Metal band from Germany who gained infamy as teenagers when they commited a murder), a loose sequel to Antropophagus. The only thing that really makes a link between the two is the presence of Luigi Montefiore (often billed as George Eastman) as an unstoppable monster, but when you're dealing with Joe D'Amato, that's enough. While he is most famous for his horror films (the two Nasties and a well-respected taxidermy-horror film titled Buio Omega [literally The Final Darkness, available from Shriek Show as Beyond The Darkness and in a censored cut from Thriller Video as Buried Alive]), he made all kinds of films, but the majority were...I'll be polite and say "erotic" movies. His late career was filled almost entirely with hardcore porn, but his most famous are from earlier in his career: the Black Emanuelle series starring Laura Gemser, an Indonesian actress who retains a cult following to this day (she branched out into costume design later on, notably for Lucio Fulci's final film Porte Di Silenzio and the supposed "best worst movie" of all time, Claudio Fragasso's Troll 2). The Black Emanuelle films were an Italian take on the famous French sexpot that made her a reporter in more volatile situations than the usual fare: tracking down the makers of snuff films, adventuring in search of a cannibal tribe, and a two-film stint in prison. D'Amato didn't instigate the series, nor did he finish it, but his twisted melding of violence and sex made his films the most well-regarded.
Santo Domingo, 1979:
D'Amato, and his stock company (which mostly means Gemser and Montefiore, D'Amato started as a cinematographer and continued to act as such for his own films) arrive in the tropics to make some movies. Several of them. They share actors, and sometimes whole scenes transposed from one to another. Scripts? Minimal. Scenery? Abundant. Twisted sensibility that unknowingly creates legendary (though not great) cinema? Oh yeah, because this tropical vacation produced the first (and perhaps only) serious attempts at combining horror and pornography in the forms of Erotic Nights Of The Living Dead and Porno Holocaust.
I screened Erotic Nights soon after it arrived. I'd like to recommend it...but therein lies the problem. Am I glad that I have seen it? The answer is an undeniable yes. Its' sheer weirdness of form is unmistakably D'Amato (his "touch" is competent but almost without style), and the first couple of reels consist of about five or six sex scenes interspersed with four or five zombie attacks, making good on the title...until the "story" begins and then it is a lovely travelogue of a tropical beach and nothing much else until it perks up slightly in the final reel with more zombies. That's about it. So I can't truly recommend it as a good film to anyone...but I won't tell you not to watch it, either, because just being able to say that I have witnessed it is, to me, a badge of honor, a symbol of my commitment to terrible, sleazy, unwatchable movies, and if I can ever find a copy I can afford, I will not hesitate to purchase a copy of Porno Holocaust, which itself has some similarities to Antropophagus, again featuring Montefiore as a hulking beast, only this time he has a much more..."personal" way to dispatch female victims.
If he were still alive, I'd vote Joe D'Amato for pope.
The next Nasty? Yes, I know, it's been awhile, and I'm excited to dive back in. I've got 19 now, and I'm weighing my options: The Burning, Frozen Scream, The Werewolf And The Yeti, I Miss You Hugs And Kisses, Tenebrae, so much more. I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, remember:
"Quite upset, angry, just plain annoyed - No recourse except for celluloid." ~ Type O Negative, "How Could She?"
So keep your VCR plugged in, and kill your Tivo: the government is watching you through it. I give this advice because I care. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
"Postmaster General loves me. You know how that one goes." ~ Digger, "Security Envelopes"
In the mail this week: Three Nasties so far, plus one legendary title that has to be seen to be believed.
I received a factory-sealed VHS cassette of the Bruce Starr/Ulli Lommell sequel Boogeyman 2 (known to the DPP as Revenge Of The Bogeyman) on Tuesday. Boogeyman 2 found its' way onto the list mainly because of the large amount of footage from the first film, and while a DVD is available, it is a completely different version, re-edited with a much larger amount of footage from the first film. Make no mistake: Ulli Lommel's Boogeyman 2 Director's Cut does NOT count as a Video Nasty. I am still awaiting the arrival of the first film from a different source, but I'd like to give big thanks to Leslie at MovieJukeboxReplay for kicking ass above and beyond the call.
Yesterday brought more: Aldo Lado's 1975 L'ultimo Treno Della Notte (on DVD from Blue Underground under the title Night Train Murders, and on the Nasty list as Late Night Trains), Guilio Berruti's 1978 nunsploitation film Suor Omicidi (on DVD under its' Nasty title Killer Nun, also from Blue Underground), and a film that, if it had been available in 1980s Britain would have given Mary Whitehouse a coronary, Joe D'Amato's 1980 groundbreaker Le Notti Erotiche Dei Morti Viventi (from Shriek Show as Erotic Nights of the Living Dead).
Late Night Trains is essentially a Last House on the Left remake: Two girls are menaced, raped and killed by vagabond lunatics who meet their end at the hands of one of the girl's parents. One of the selling points for me is the appearance of Macha Meril, who portrayed psychic Helga Ulmann in Dario Argento's Profondo Rosso. A score by Ennio Morricone doesn't hurt, either.
Killer Nun stars Anita Ekberg (probably best known as the lead in Fellini's La Dolce Vita) as Sister Gertrude, a morphine-addicted nun who is losing her mind. Other notables in the cast are Alida Valli (Suspiria) and Joe Dallesandro, who we will see again when we view another Nasty, Andy Warhol's Frankenstein.
Which brings me to Joe D'Amato. Born in 1936 in Rome, Aristide Massaccesi directed at least 193 films. I say at least because no one seems to be sure just how many aliases he used. He directed only one film under his real name, 1973's La Morte Ha Sorisso All'assassino, aka Death Smiles On A Murderer. Other noms de film include David Hills, Alexandre Borsky, and Robert Yip, but he will always best be known by his most used alias, Joe D'Amato. He has two Nasties to his name...but almost all of his films would qualify. The two on the list are Antropophagus, aka Anthropophagus The Beast (and a censored American cut under the title The Grim Reaper), and Rosso Sangue (aka Monster Hunter and Horrible, its' Nasty title is Absurd, a moniker also adopted by a Black Metal band from Germany who gained infamy as teenagers when they commited a murder), a loose sequel to Antropophagus. The only thing that really makes a link between the two is the presence of Luigi Montefiore (often billed as George Eastman) as an unstoppable monster, but when you're dealing with Joe D'Amato, that's enough. While he is most famous for his horror films (the two Nasties and a well-respected taxidermy-horror film titled Buio Omega [literally The Final Darkness, available from Shriek Show as Beyond The Darkness and in a censored cut from Thriller Video as Buried Alive]), he made all kinds of films, but the majority were...I'll be polite and say "erotic" movies. His late career was filled almost entirely with hardcore porn, but his most famous are from earlier in his career: the Black Emanuelle series starring Laura Gemser, an Indonesian actress who retains a cult following to this day (she branched out into costume design later on, notably for Lucio Fulci's final film Porte Di Silenzio and the supposed "best worst movie" of all time, Claudio Fragasso's Troll 2). The Black Emanuelle films were an Italian take on the famous French sexpot that made her a reporter in more volatile situations than the usual fare: tracking down the makers of snuff films, adventuring in search of a cannibal tribe, and a two-film stint in prison. D'Amato didn't instigate the series, nor did he finish it, but his twisted melding of violence and sex made his films the most well-regarded.
Santo Domingo, 1979:
D'Amato, and his stock company (which mostly means Gemser and Montefiore, D'Amato started as a cinematographer and continued to act as such for his own films) arrive in the tropics to make some movies. Several of them. They share actors, and sometimes whole scenes transposed from one to another. Scripts? Minimal. Scenery? Abundant. Twisted sensibility that unknowingly creates legendary (though not great) cinema? Oh yeah, because this tropical vacation produced the first (and perhaps only) serious attempts at combining horror and pornography in the forms of Erotic Nights Of The Living Dead and Porno Holocaust.
I screened Erotic Nights soon after it arrived. I'd like to recommend it...but therein lies the problem. Am I glad that I have seen it? The answer is an undeniable yes. Its' sheer weirdness of form is unmistakably D'Amato (his "touch" is competent but almost without style), and the first couple of reels consist of about five or six sex scenes interspersed with four or five zombie attacks, making good on the title...until the "story" begins and then it is a lovely travelogue of a tropical beach and nothing much else until it perks up slightly in the final reel with more zombies. That's about it. So I can't truly recommend it as a good film to anyone...but I won't tell you not to watch it, either, because just being able to say that I have witnessed it is, to me, a badge of honor, a symbol of my commitment to terrible, sleazy, unwatchable movies, and if I can ever find a copy I can afford, I will not hesitate to purchase a copy of Porno Holocaust, which itself has some similarities to Antropophagus, again featuring Montefiore as a hulking beast, only this time he has a much more..."personal" way to dispatch female victims.
If he were still alive, I'd vote Joe D'Amato for pope.
The next Nasty? Yes, I know, it's been awhile, and I'm excited to dive back in. I've got 19 now, and I'm weighing my options: The Burning, Frozen Scream, The Werewolf And The Yeti, I Miss You Hugs And Kisses, Tenebrae, so much more. I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, remember:
"Quite upset, angry, just plain annoyed - No recourse except for celluloid." ~ Type O Negative, "How Could She?"
So keep your VCR plugged in, and kill your Tivo: the government is watching you through it. I give this advice because I care. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Yellow Mysteries: The Giallo.
Monday night, I stepped back into the present day and screened the latest film from the great Dario Argento, which is titled Giallo. If the film had been given any other title, it may have been more successful with his fans. But no other title is truly appropriate.
Allow me to explain.
Giallo is the Italian word for "yellow". In the mid-20th century, a Italian publishing house began reprinting American mystery and crime novels (by the likes of Ellery Queen, Ed McBain, Agatha Christie, and others) in Italian, and the inexpensive and quite popular paperbacks were graced with distinctive yellow covers. Other publishing houses followed suit, retaining the yellow covers. So it began that giallo began to mean more than just the third color of the rainbow.
It is generally thought that the first giallo film is Mario Bava's La Ragazza Che Sapeva Troppo (translated as The Girl Who Knew Too Much) from 1963, first released in America in a cut version as The Evil Eye, now available on DVD uncut, under its' original title. Starring Leticia Roman and the great John Saxon, The Girl Who Knew Too Much established the basics of the genre: a protagonist who saw something, but isn't sure what; unnerving camerawork; and the slow buildup until the murderer is revealed in the final reel. Bava was a master filmmaker, easily the most respected Italian horror director, even to mainstream critics, and the film is still as much a gripping, suspenseful ride as it was fifty years ago.
I've been doing some research (there are so many gialli and the term is so loose that it would take years to see them all) and the consensus seems to be that the two films that really defined the genre are Mario Bava's 1965 Sei Donne pour L'assassino (literally Six Women For The Murderer, but more commonly referred to as Blood and Black Lace), and Dario Argento's directorial debut L'uccello Dalle Piume di Cristallo (The Bird with the Crystal Plumage). I am a little ashamed to say that I have not seen either one of these films...but the fact that I get to enjoy them for the first time as soon as I can get my hands on them is very exciting. Bava's film was one of the first "body count" films, and (along with his later work Twitch Of The Death Nerve) set the stage for every North American slasher film ever made.
(Right now, you very well might be shouting something about Hitchcock's Frenzy, and you almost have a point, but Frenzy was made at a time when Italian theatres were flooded with gialli and Hitchcock's film is more of a British giallo than an inspiration point.)
Argento's 1970 debut was what really opened the floodgates, with his intense colors and audacious camerawork. Bird was a huge (1.65 billion lira in 1970) hit, and as is usual in Italian cinema, the knockoffs were not far behind. Lucio Fulci, Umberto Lenzi, Sergio Martino, Pupi Avati, Massimo Dallamano, and a host of others offered their own takes on the style, and the giallo genre was truly born.
Describing just what makes a giallo is like describing autism: there's a spectrum. But the general guidelines are as follows:
A mixture of horror, mystery and thriller, often (but not always) with a splash of sex and nudity.
The pursuit of the killer, and discovering the killer's identity, are what drives the story.
The killer often wears black gloves and carries a shiny metal weapon. (Guns are rarely seen in a killer's hands in a giallo.)
Intense, strident music.
Elaborate setpieces.
Gory, sensational murder sequences.
The solution to the mystery is almost always a shock ending...and sometimes a cheat.
And, most importantly, the twisted not-there logic of Italian cinema that allows for the atmosphere to be more important than the plot.
And the rules are also often broken.
See what I mean about it being a hard genre to pin down?
In relation to the Video Nasties...there's only two on the list: Dario Argento's Tenebre (originally released to America in a butchered cut titled Unsane), and Mario Bava's Blood Bath (aka Twitch of the Death Nerve). See, there they are again.
Getting back to the latest Argento film, Giallo: fans of the genre were upset. The killer's identity is revealed halfway through the picture. Gore is kept to a minimum. The style was restrained. If watched back to back with a picture from earlier in Argento's career, such as Tenebre or Profondo Rosso (arguably the finest giallo ever filmed), Giallo would fall flat...but there's more there. The style is not the point of this film, the subtext is. The subtle inclusion of bright yellow objects in almost every shot, references to Argento's earlier films in the setpieces, and the dynamic in personalities between cop and killer are the focus here, not the giallo-style murder mystery. The more I think about it, the more impressed I am, and I am becoming convinced that a second viewing will be required. I think that Argento's fanbase has become so jaded and demanding (a dangerous combination) that what he tried to do was lost in what the viewers think he could or should have done.
Not fair, horror fans. Not fair.
So there you go. I hope to talk more about the giallo later on, it's a fascinating topic and there are so many films that can lay claim to the title, but this is enough for now. In case I get quizzed, it's time for more research. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
Allow me to explain.
Giallo is the Italian word for "yellow". In the mid-20th century, a Italian publishing house began reprinting American mystery and crime novels (by the likes of Ellery Queen, Ed McBain, Agatha Christie, and others) in Italian, and the inexpensive and quite popular paperbacks were graced with distinctive yellow covers. Other publishing houses followed suit, retaining the yellow covers. So it began that giallo began to mean more than just the third color of the rainbow.
It is generally thought that the first giallo film is Mario Bava's La Ragazza Che Sapeva Troppo (translated as The Girl Who Knew Too Much) from 1963, first released in America in a cut version as The Evil Eye, now available on DVD uncut, under its' original title. Starring Leticia Roman and the great John Saxon, The Girl Who Knew Too Much established the basics of the genre: a protagonist who saw something, but isn't sure what; unnerving camerawork; and the slow buildup until the murderer is revealed in the final reel. Bava was a master filmmaker, easily the most respected Italian horror director, even to mainstream critics, and the film is still as much a gripping, suspenseful ride as it was fifty years ago.
I've been doing some research (there are so many gialli and the term is so loose that it would take years to see them all) and the consensus seems to be that the two films that really defined the genre are Mario Bava's 1965 Sei Donne pour L'assassino (literally Six Women For The Murderer, but more commonly referred to as Blood and Black Lace), and Dario Argento's directorial debut L'uccello Dalle Piume di Cristallo (The Bird with the Crystal Plumage). I am a little ashamed to say that I have not seen either one of these films...but the fact that I get to enjoy them for the first time as soon as I can get my hands on them is very exciting. Bava's film was one of the first "body count" films, and (along with his later work Twitch Of The Death Nerve) set the stage for every North American slasher film ever made.
(Right now, you very well might be shouting something about Hitchcock's Frenzy, and you almost have a point, but Frenzy was made at a time when Italian theatres were flooded with gialli and Hitchcock's film is more of a British giallo than an inspiration point.)
Argento's 1970 debut was what really opened the floodgates, with his intense colors and audacious camerawork. Bird was a huge (1.65 billion lira in 1970) hit, and as is usual in Italian cinema, the knockoffs were not far behind. Lucio Fulci, Umberto Lenzi, Sergio Martino, Pupi Avati, Massimo Dallamano, and a host of others offered their own takes on the style, and the giallo genre was truly born.
Describing just what makes a giallo is like describing autism: there's a spectrum. But the general guidelines are as follows:
A mixture of horror, mystery and thriller, often (but not always) with a splash of sex and nudity.
The pursuit of the killer, and discovering the killer's identity, are what drives the story.
The killer often wears black gloves and carries a shiny metal weapon. (Guns are rarely seen in a killer's hands in a giallo.)
Intense, strident music.
Elaborate setpieces.
Gory, sensational murder sequences.
The solution to the mystery is almost always a shock ending...and sometimes a cheat.
And, most importantly, the twisted not-there logic of Italian cinema that allows for the atmosphere to be more important than the plot.
And the rules are also often broken.
See what I mean about it being a hard genre to pin down?
In relation to the Video Nasties...there's only two on the list: Dario Argento's Tenebre (originally released to America in a butchered cut titled Unsane), and Mario Bava's Blood Bath (aka Twitch of the Death Nerve). See, there they are again.
Getting back to the latest Argento film, Giallo: fans of the genre were upset. The killer's identity is revealed halfway through the picture. Gore is kept to a minimum. The style was restrained. If watched back to back with a picture from earlier in Argento's career, such as Tenebre or Profondo Rosso (arguably the finest giallo ever filmed), Giallo would fall flat...but there's more there. The style is not the point of this film, the subtext is. The subtle inclusion of bright yellow objects in almost every shot, references to Argento's earlier films in the setpieces, and the dynamic in personalities between cop and killer are the focus here, not the giallo-style murder mystery. The more I think about it, the more impressed I am, and I am becoming convinced that a second viewing will be required. I think that Argento's fanbase has become so jaded and demanding (a dangerous combination) that what he tried to do was lost in what the viewers think he could or should have done.
Not fair, horror fans. Not fair.
So there you go. I hope to talk more about the giallo later on, it's a fascinating topic and there are so many films that can lay claim to the title, but this is enough for now. In case I get quizzed, it's time for more research. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
The Third Pig.
I love happenstance.
Happenstance is what causes films that would have been forgotten almost immediately to be immortalized. Happenstance is life at its' best, the minor confluences that cause everything to mean something because of the simple juxtaposition of everything else.
Jesus Franco was excited to make Bloody Moon because he was misled into believing he would be able to work with Pink Floyd. That film was immortalized because it had been released on video in the UK without a certificate from the BBFC. The furore over uncertified videos was in part touched off by the distributors of Cannibal Holocaust writing to "moral decency" advocate Mary Whitehouse, a conservative activist who was head of the National Viewers' and Listeners' Association, complaining about their own film with the purpose of gaining free publicity. Mary Whitehouse is the woman who first referred to these films as "Video Nasties". And in 1977, five or six years before the whole thing started, Mary Whitehouse was herself immortalized on vinyl by British progressive rock band Pink Floyd.
I love happenstance.
The album in question is Animals. The song is "Pigs (Three Different Ones)". The third verse is entirely about Whitehouse, including mention of her name. Described in the lyrics as a "house proud town mouse" who is "trying to keep our feelings off the street" with her "tight lips and cold feet". She's referred to as a "charade" and the tone of the piece is purely derisive.
Obviously, Pink Floyd was on the side of artistic expression. Being artists themselves, is anyone really surprised?
I just love how things go full circle. Die Sage des Todes was a minor German-financed B-movie from a Spanish director that would have been ignored and forgotten had Go Video (who had nothing to do with Bloody Moon, remember, they were promoting Cannibal Holocaust) not had the brilliant idea to piss off the self-appointed moral watchdog of the UK. Congratulations, Mary Whitehouse, Commander of the Order of the British Empire. Because you had such a problem with it, people who would never have cared are still watching the movies you tried so hard to keep out of our hands. Great job. All your moral crusading sure got the job done, didn't it?
Freedom of expression wins again. It always will. But you never know where the next threat will come from, so I'll keep fighting for artistic freedom. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
Happenstance is what causes films that would have been forgotten almost immediately to be immortalized. Happenstance is life at its' best, the minor confluences that cause everything to mean something because of the simple juxtaposition of everything else.
Jesus Franco was excited to make Bloody Moon because he was misled into believing he would be able to work with Pink Floyd. That film was immortalized because it had been released on video in the UK without a certificate from the BBFC. The furore over uncertified videos was in part touched off by the distributors of Cannibal Holocaust writing to "moral decency" advocate Mary Whitehouse, a conservative activist who was head of the National Viewers' and Listeners' Association, complaining about their own film with the purpose of gaining free publicity. Mary Whitehouse is the woman who first referred to these films as "Video Nasties". And in 1977, five or six years before the whole thing started, Mary Whitehouse was herself immortalized on vinyl by British progressive rock band Pink Floyd.
I love happenstance.
The album in question is Animals. The song is "Pigs (Three Different Ones)". The third verse is entirely about Whitehouse, including mention of her name. Described in the lyrics as a "house proud town mouse" who is "trying to keep our feelings off the street" with her "tight lips and cold feet". She's referred to as a "charade" and the tone of the piece is purely derisive.
Obviously, Pink Floyd was on the side of artistic expression. Being artists themselves, is anyone really surprised?
I just love how things go full circle. Die Sage des Todes was a minor German-financed B-movie from a Spanish director that would have been ignored and forgotten had Go Video (who had nothing to do with Bloody Moon, remember, they were promoting Cannibal Holocaust) not had the brilliant idea to piss off the self-appointed moral watchdog of the UK. Congratulations, Mary Whitehouse, Commander of the Order of the British Empire. Because you had such a problem with it, people who would never have cared are still watching the movies you tried so hard to keep out of our hands. Great job. All your moral crusading sure got the job done, didn't it?
Freedom of expression wins again. It always will. But you never know where the next threat will come from, so I'll keep fighting for artistic freedom. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
The Saw Of Death!
Video Nasty #6
Bloody Moon
1981
DON'T PANIC...IT ONLY HAPPENS ONCE IN A...BLOODY MOON!
Original German Title: Die Sage Des Todes (literal translation: The Saw Of Death)
NTSC Running time: 84:55
Directed by Jesus Franco
Written by Erich Tomek (as Rayo Casablanca)
Produced by Wolf C. Hartwig
Starring: Olivia Pascal, Christoph Moosbrugger, Alexander Waechter, Nadja Gerganoff
Body Count: 9, plus a snake
Availability: Region 1 DVD available from Severin Films
BBFC Status
Why it's a Nasty: Excessive gore! The circular saw murder, snake decapitation and knife piercing a breast are all prime candidates for raising the ire of the British censors.
What was cut: The BBFC offers no details (the last cut print was released in 1993), but my guess is the scenes listed above.
Current BBFC status: The uncut version of Bloody Moon was awarded an 18 certificate on November 6, 2008. A Region 2 DVD is available, also from Severin.
Bloody Moon was successfully prosecuted under the Obscene Publications Act, making it one of the DPP39.
When facially-scarred Miguel murders a girl at a party after a failed rape attempt, he gets put into an institution for five years. Upon his release, he is eager to resume his incestuous relationship with his sister, Manuela. But Manuela (who has a penchant for staring at the moon with her shirt off) rebuffs him, and soon a series of murders grips the campus of the language school Manuela runs on their invalid aunt's sprawling Spanish estate. At the center of the story is Angela (Olivia Pascal), a student who had caught Miguel's attention on a train. Angela seems to be the only person who knows about the murders, and spends much of the film in a hysterical state, screaming at the top of her voice for no particular reason.
Bloody Moon is a fun movie. I'm a little ashamed to admit that this is the first Franco film I have ever seen, but if this is any indication of his style, you can bet I'll be watching more. Gory murders, vibrant colors, topless women, a twisted sense of style, a vague plot and some really poor special effects all fall in line with what makes an otherwise ordinary video into a Video Nasty. Turn off your brain, curl up with your girl, and watch the nightmare unfold.
In an interview with the now aged, but still spitting dynamite Franco, he details the making of the film: a Production Manager/Screenwriter who bristled at the idea of anyone tampering with his terrible script, German producers who tried to get Franco to film in Germany when the film takes place in Spain...and Franco himself is Spanish! The thing that struck me is that while Franco was satisfied with the effects (which even I will say are just awful), it was the music that bothered him the most. One of the ways the producers enticed him to make the film was telling him that they had secured Pink Floyd to do the score! Of course, it was bullshit, and the faux-Gilmour guitar wanking that runs throughout is slightly annoying, but after watching Mardi Gras Massacre, I barely noticed it.
But enough of the downside, let's talk about the good stuff! The centerpiece of the film is the murder of Inge, a naive girl who wants more than anything to be a sex goddess, but is in reality inexperienced and awkward. (One scene has her bouncing on a bed and ripping fabric while moaning in an attempt to make her friends outside believe she's with a man.) She goes to a deserted stonemill with a masked man she believes is an acquaintance of hers for what she thinks is kinky sex. It's not until she is tied to a slab of granite and moving slowly towards the biggest freaking circular saw you've ever seen that poor Inge realizes she will be dying a virgin. She is nearly saved by a young boy who kills power to the saw...but the boy then kicks the killer in the shin and runs for his life, whereupon the killer restarts the saw, Inge is decapitated in a geyser of blood, and the killer then runs the boy down with his Mercedes. The mannequin who stands in for Jasmin Losensky (who plays Inge) makes sure that no one except a first-time horror viewer would do anything but laugh at the scene, so the punch of the killer running down her pre-adolescent would-be saviour dampens the chuckles and provides some grit. Also providing grit, the hedgeclipper beheading of a live snake. The effects for this little scene are great...but that's because there are no effects. That shit was real!
I enjoyed this little film, and the fact that Mr. Franco is (along with Lucio Fulci) one of the two directors with three Video Nasties to his name makes me excited for his other movies.
So what have we learned? Pink Floyd doesn't waste time with German B-movies; beware of men who won't take their mask off; and a pierced nipple sometimes means a knife in the back! Beware of the Bloody Moon. You never know who's staring at it at the same time you are. So when I'm stargazing, I'll make sure to watch my back. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
Bloody Moon is a fun movie. I'm a little ashamed to admit that this is the first Franco film I have ever seen, but if this is any indication of his style, you can bet I'll be watching more. Gory murders, vibrant colors, topless women, a twisted sense of style, a vague plot and some really poor special effects all fall in line with what makes an otherwise ordinary video into a Video Nasty. Turn off your brain, curl up with your girl, and watch the nightmare unfold.
In an interview with the now aged, but still spitting dynamite Franco, he details the making of the film: a Production Manager/Screenwriter who bristled at the idea of anyone tampering with his terrible script, German producers who tried to get Franco to film in Germany when the film takes place in Spain...and Franco himself is Spanish! The thing that struck me is that while Franco was satisfied with the effects (which even I will say are just awful), it was the music that bothered him the most. One of the ways the producers enticed him to make the film was telling him that they had secured Pink Floyd to do the score! Of course, it was bullshit, and the faux-Gilmour guitar wanking that runs throughout is slightly annoying, but after watching Mardi Gras Massacre, I barely noticed it.
But enough of the downside, let's talk about the good stuff! The centerpiece of the film is the murder of Inge, a naive girl who wants more than anything to be a sex goddess, but is in reality inexperienced and awkward. (One scene has her bouncing on a bed and ripping fabric while moaning in an attempt to make her friends outside believe she's with a man.) She goes to a deserted stonemill with a masked man she believes is an acquaintance of hers for what she thinks is kinky sex. It's not until she is tied to a slab of granite and moving slowly towards the biggest freaking circular saw you've ever seen that poor Inge realizes she will be dying a virgin. She is nearly saved by a young boy who kills power to the saw...but the boy then kicks the killer in the shin and runs for his life, whereupon the killer restarts the saw, Inge is decapitated in a geyser of blood, and the killer then runs the boy down with his Mercedes. The mannequin who stands in for Jasmin Losensky (who plays Inge) makes sure that no one except a first-time horror viewer would do anything but laugh at the scene, so the punch of the killer running down her pre-adolescent would-be saviour dampens the chuckles and provides some grit. Also providing grit, the hedgeclipper beheading of a live snake. The effects for this little scene are great...but that's because there are no effects. That shit was real!
I enjoyed this little film, and the fact that Mr. Franco is (along with Lucio Fulci) one of the two directors with three Video Nasties to his name makes me excited for his other movies.
So what have we learned? Pink Floyd doesn't waste time with German B-movies; beware of men who won't take their mask off; and a pierced nipple sometimes means a knife in the back! Beware of the Bloody Moon. You never know who's staring at it at the same time you are. So when I'm stargazing, I'll make sure to watch my back. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Buddy, I Am Gonna Shoot You In The Face!
I recently saw an article on the Nasties that opened by saying that if you are from North America you probably haven't heard of the Video Nasties and that it's probably a good thing, too.
What kind of crap is that? What is it about some horror film critics, who seem to relish hating for its' own sake? What the hell do they want, Citizen Kane? Go write about mainstream cinema, and leave the B-movies to me and Joe Bob Briggs. You know, folks who actually appreciate the genre.
In my mailbox yesterday, two packages. The first, an acquisition of my own, a VHS cassette of Murray Markowitz's 1978 drama I Miss You Hugs And Kisses under its' American title, Left For Dead, one of two Canadian entries on the list and also one of the few based on a true story (the other based-on-true-events title is Michael Findlay's The Slaughter, based on the Manson family, which became a Nasty when it was re-released with a tacked-on ending by an unscrupulous distributor and retitled Snuff). Long out of print, Left For Dead is relatively easy to obtain, but modern day technophiles are out of luck, because good old VHS is your only option. Take that, BluRay disc! I still have no use for you!
The other new arrival is the also out of print and MUCH harder to obtain The Werewolf And The Yeti. And since this came from El Presidente, I am surprised at its' conventional arrival: a plain white envelope with a bootleg DVD and a simple note. It read:
"Mr. Case,
While I wish that I could continue to aid your cause, my own cause requires me to flee for my life. The insurgents are nearing the palace and I have no choice but to go into hiding. Once my secret police have quelled the rebellion, I will be able to resume my operations. Rest assured that this will not be my last communication.
El Presidente"
The postmark was the highlands of Scotland...but anyone who's seen Braveheart knows that Scotland has no President, and the package smelled of desert sage, cinnamon rolls, and Willie Nelson. Whatever, at least there weren't any love letters from war criminals or cross-dressing bodybuilders who disappear in a Polish urban legend. That shit was getting to me.
The DVD itself was actually very well done. As far as I know, La Maldicion de la Bestia has had no official release outside of videocassette, and you can easily tell from the DVD label that this was a "self-produced" affair, but what I love is the high quality reproduction of the original Video Nasty artwork, perfectly scaled to fit the dimensions of the keep case. Whoever did this obviously cares about classic genre films, and my hat goes off in their general direction...whichever direction that may be.
And it's official, the next Nasty is Jesus Franco's Die Sage Des Todes, better known as Bloody Moon:
Prolific to say the least, Spain's Jesus Franco has directed over 190 films since the 1950s and is still working today at the age of 80. He is well known, by some as a hack, by others as a cult hero. His three titles on the Nasty list are Bloody Moon, the still-banned Women Behind Bars, and Sexo Canibal aka Devil Hunter. This is gonna be fun.
Until we meet again, I'll keep a sharp eye on the skies. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
What kind of crap is that? What is it about some horror film critics, who seem to relish hating for its' own sake? What the hell do they want, Citizen Kane? Go write about mainstream cinema, and leave the B-movies to me and Joe Bob Briggs. You know, folks who actually appreciate the genre.
In my mailbox yesterday, two packages. The first, an acquisition of my own, a VHS cassette of Murray Markowitz's 1978 drama I Miss You Hugs And Kisses under its' American title, Left For Dead, one of two Canadian entries on the list and also one of the few based on a true story (the other based-on-true-events title is Michael Findlay's The Slaughter, based on the Manson family, which became a Nasty when it was re-released with a tacked-on ending by an unscrupulous distributor and retitled Snuff). Long out of print, Left For Dead is relatively easy to obtain, but modern day technophiles are out of luck, because good old VHS is your only option. Take that, BluRay disc! I still have no use for you!
The other new arrival is the also out of print and MUCH harder to obtain The Werewolf And The Yeti. And since this came from El Presidente, I am surprised at its' conventional arrival: a plain white envelope with a bootleg DVD and a simple note. It read:
"Mr. Case,
While I wish that I could continue to aid your cause, my own cause requires me to flee for my life. The insurgents are nearing the palace and I have no choice but to go into hiding. Once my secret police have quelled the rebellion, I will be able to resume my operations. Rest assured that this will not be my last communication.
El Presidente"
The postmark was the highlands of Scotland...but anyone who's seen Braveheart knows that Scotland has no President, and the package smelled of desert sage, cinnamon rolls, and Willie Nelson. Whatever, at least there weren't any love letters from war criminals or cross-dressing bodybuilders who disappear in a Polish urban legend. That shit was getting to me.
The DVD itself was actually very well done. As far as I know, La Maldicion de la Bestia has had no official release outside of videocassette, and you can easily tell from the DVD label that this was a "self-produced" affair, but what I love is the high quality reproduction of the original Video Nasty artwork, perfectly scaled to fit the dimensions of the keep case. Whoever did this obviously cares about classic genre films, and my hat goes off in their general direction...whichever direction that may be.
And it's official, the next Nasty is Jesus Franco's Die Sage Des Todes, better known as Bloody Moon:
Prolific to say the least, Spain's Jesus Franco has directed over 190 films since the 1950s and is still working today at the age of 80. He is well known, by some as a hack, by others as a cult hero. His three titles on the Nasty list are Bloody Moon, the still-banned Women Behind Bars, and Sexo Canibal aka Devil Hunter. This is gonna be fun.
Until we meet again, I'll keep a sharp eye on the skies. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Death And Disco!
Video Nasty #5
Mardi Gras Massacre
1978
EVERYONE IS CELEBRATING. NO ONE HEARS THE SCREAMS OF THE VICTIMS FOR THE SACRIFICE.
NTSC Running Time: 91:42
Directed, Written, and Produced by Jack Weis
Starring: Curt Dawson, Gwen Arment and William Metzo
Body Count: 5
Naked People: 3
Availability: Out-of-print NTSC VHS from VCII
BBFC Status
Why it's a Nasty: Breasts and blood in the same shot.
What was cut: Not a thing.
Current UK Status: Mardi Gras Massacre remains banned in the UK, as it has never been submitted for classification.
Mardi Gras Massacre was successfully prosecuted under the Obscene Publications Act, making it one of the DPP39.
Okay, this is not a great movie.
But it has some charming facets.
A mysterious man known only as "John" (William Metzo) wanders the bars of New Orleans, looking for "something special". He asks every pimp and prostitute he meets where he can find girls who are evil. Literally. He talks about evil so much that you know the tongue is in the cheek. When he lures a girl to his apartment, he ties her to a table, slices her hand, her foot, then removes her heart...or, as he refers to it: "The part you use for your evil!" in a sacrifice to an Aztec deity. See? Charming in its' ridiculousness.
He dumps a body and the cops get involved. Curt Dawson stars as the cop on the case. He enlists the help of a hooker named Sherry (Gwen Arment) to help track down John. They fall for each other, romance ensues, leading to a falling out and Sherry falling into the clutches of the villain. Sound familiar?
This had to have been inspired by Blood Feast (see Video Nasty #1). Mardi Gras Massacre is one of those movies that needs to be viewed from a certain angle to be enjoyed. Feature Film? Snooze. 1970s Public Access Cop Show? Fun! Everything about this screams 70s, from the ridiculous clothes, gratuitous nudity...and even more gratuitous dance sequences! Scenes in strip clubs and discos feature extended shots of ladies dancing for no good reason but to pad the running time, and one of the victims gets into the act as well, combining the gratuitous nudity and gratuitous dancing by taking off all of her clothes and dancing her way to the slaughter. The fact that the pounding disco soundtrack rarely lets up and fights the dialogue through most of the movie is galling. The music ranges from the annoying to the awful to the occasionally good...for 1978 disco tracks, anyways.
And there are some facets to this movie that will make you smile: the longhaired Al Yankovic lookalike who pimps a girl to the killer while speaking entirely in rhyme. The mugging-gone-wrong sequence where a couple tries to attack John and all of them are silent the entire time. And, my favorite, the footage of Mardi Gras near the end. Apparently Mardi Gras in the late seventies was less like an extended wet t-shirt contest and more like a party you'd want to attend...that is, if the footage here is accurate.
All in all, Mardi Gras Massacre is amateurish and gratuitous, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Writer/Producer/Director/Cinematographer Jack Weis certainly tried, and if his goal was to make a police procedural with a lot of topless women, he succeeded...although he definitely put more effort into the nudity than the cops, and none of the nudity is erotic, it's just there. And all of the murders are shot exactly the same, but they didn't skimp on the effects budget and the heart-removal sequences are (relatively) tough to watch: the camera holds in closeup on a ceremonial knife plunging into a naked female torso (this is where the BBFC said "That's not cricket, old boy!") and hands removing the heart, all done without a cut, a ballsy technique for a low-budgeter. If you're one of the lucky few souls with a rental outlet or library that still stocks VHS and is open to all kinds of films (the only way one of those places is still open anyway), check it out and MST3K it with a box of wine and a few tasteless Glenn Quagmire-types. Good times, good times.
I'm not quite sure what's next...but since the only Nasty in my possession that does not belong to me is the aforementioned Jesus Franco slasher Die Sage des Todes, so that's a prime candidate. But I don't want to say one thing and do another. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
A mysterious man known only as "John" (William Metzo) wanders the bars of New Orleans, looking for "something special". He asks every pimp and prostitute he meets where he can find girls who are evil. Literally. He talks about evil so much that you know the tongue is in the cheek. When he lures a girl to his apartment, he ties her to a table, slices her hand, her foot, then removes her heart...or, as he refers to it: "The part you use for your evil!" in a sacrifice to an Aztec deity. See? Charming in its' ridiculousness.
He dumps a body and the cops get involved. Curt Dawson stars as the cop on the case. He enlists the help of a hooker named Sherry (Gwen Arment) to help track down John. They fall for each other, romance ensues, leading to a falling out and Sherry falling into the clutches of the villain. Sound familiar?
This had to have been inspired by Blood Feast (see Video Nasty #1). Mardi Gras Massacre is one of those movies that needs to be viewed from a certain angle to be enjoyed. Feature Film? Snooze. 1970s Public Access Cop Show? Fun! Everything about this screams 70s, from the ridiculous clothes, gratuitous nudity...and even more gratuitous dance sequences! Scenes in strip clubs and discos feature extended shots of ladies dancing for no good reason but to pad the running time, and one of the victims gets into the act as well, combining the gratuitous nudity and gratuitous dancing by taking off all of her clothes and dancing her way to the slaughter. The fact that the pounding disco soundtrack rarely lets up and fights the dialogue through most of the movie is galling. The music ranges from the annoying to the awful to the occasionally good...for 1978 disco tracks, anyways.
And there are some facets to this movie that will make you smile: the longhaired Al Yankovic lookalike who pimps a girl to the killer while speaking entirely in rhyme. The mugging-gone-wrong sequence where a couple tries to attack John and all of them are silent the entire time. And, my favorite, the footage of Mardi Gras near the end. Apparently Mardi Gras in the late seventies was less like an extended wet t-shirt contest and more like a party you'd want to attend...that is, if the footage here is accurate.
All in all, Mardi Gras Massacre is amateurish and gratuitous, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Writer/Producer/Director/Cinematographer Jack Weis certainly tried, and if his goal was to make a police procedural with a lot of topless women, he succeeded...although he definitely put more effort into the nudity than the cops, and none of the nudity is erotic, it's just there. And all of the murders are shot exactly the same, but they didn't skimp on the effects budget and the heart-removal sequences are (relatively) tough to watch: the camera holds in closeup on a ceremonial knife plunging into a naked female torso (this is where the BBFC said "That's not cricket, old boy!") and hands removing the heart, all done without a cut, a ballsy technique for a low-budgeter. If you're one of the lucky few souls with a rental outlet or library that still stocks VHS and is open to all kinds of films (the only way one of those places is still open anyway), check it out and MST3K it with a box of wine and a few tasteless Glenn Quagmire-types. Good times, good times.
I'm not quite sure what's next...but since the only Nasty in my possession that does not belong to me is the aforementioned Jesus Franco slasher Die Sage des Todes, so that's a prime candidate. But I don't want to say one thing and do another. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
Friday, October 8, 2010
A Nazi Mash Note.
Yesterday's package compounds my consternation.
The return address was a kissmark in bright pink lipstick with a swastika between the lips.
Inside the package: SS Hell Pack Volume II, a Shriek Show compendium of three Nazisploitation flicks, two of them Nasties (the third is Le Lunghe Notti Della Gestapo aka Red Nights Of The Gestapo). The Nasties in question are Luigi Batzella's La Bestia In Calore, under the title SS Hell Camp, but better known to Nasty lovers as The Beast In Heat from 1977. The other, Cesare Canevari's L'ultima Orgia del III Reich, better known as The Gestapo's Last Orgy and recently re-released under the provocative title Caligula Reincarnated As Hitler, also from 1977. The former details a genetic experiment involving a rapacious mutant, the latter a sadistic "love" affair between a Nazi officer and a prisoner. I have yet to see a Nazisploitation movie, and I'm a little scared.
I mean, I was born in 1979, not a member of the generation whose parents fought in WWII, so the subersive appeal is a little lost on me, watching this stuff is not a direct rebellion against the generation that preceded mine, as I'm sure these films were when first released. But let's face it, what's more fucked up than watching Nazis take sexual dominion over their prisoners? Ummmm.......Nothing! That's about as perverse as it gets.
Except when you get a middle-school missive from a genuine ex-Nazi.
The package also had a lavender-colored, perfume-scented note in a flowing female script that bore the unintended shakiness of the very elderly. I don't know much German, but I can see the words "Schadenfraude", "Lustmord" and "Ilse Koch", and it's signed "Aufseherin Herta Bothe", with more lipstick kisses and a smattering of Xs and Os.
Aufseherin Herta Bothe was an SS officer at Stutthoff.
I just got a mash note from a Nazi concentration camp warden.
And a photo of the now 89-year-old "Sadist of Stutthoff" in her SS uniform, licking her lips and winking.
I'm not sure I've got the words...but I've definitely got the shivers. This has El Presidente's fingerprints all over it. How and why he is doing this, I don't know. But my personal collection of Video Nasties has now swelled to 14, so I'm happy about that, plus today's delivery from Netflix has brought a copy of Jesus Franco's 1981 slasher Die Sage des Todes, better known in English as Bloody Moon. I'm now so inundated with classic exploitation that my head is spinning.
Instinct tells me that I should burn Frau Bothe's communiques...but prudence tells me I should frame them. After all, there aren't many Nazis left, right? I guess I should hold onto all of it. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
The return address was a kissmark in bright pink lipstick with a swastika between the lips.
Inside the package: SS Hell Pack Volume II, a Shriek Show compendium of three Nazisploitation flicks, two of them Nasties (the third is Le Lunghe Notti Della Gestapo aka Red Nights Of The Gestapo). The Nasties in question are Luigi Batzella's La Bestia In Calore, under the title SS Hell Camp, but better known to Nasty lovers as The Beast In Heat from 1977. The other, Cesare Canevari's L'ultima Orgia del III Reich, better known as The Gestapo's Last Orgy and recently re-released under the provocative title Caligula Reincarnated As Hitler, also from 1977. The former details a genetic experiment involving a rapacious mutant, the latter a sadistic "love" affair between a Nazi officer and a prisoner. I have yet to see a Nazisploitation movie, and I'm a little scared.
I mean, I was born in 1979, not a member of the generation whose parents fought in WWII, so the subersive appeal is a little lost on me, watching this stuff is not a direct rebellion against the generation that preceded mine, as I'm sure these films were when first released. But let's face it, what's more fucked up than watching Nazis take sexual dominion over their prisoners? Ummmm.......Nothing! That's about as perverse as it gets.
Except when you get a middle-school missive from a genuine ex-Nazi.
The package also had a lavender-colored, perfume-scented note in a flowing female script that bore the unintended shakiness of the very elderly. I don't know much German, but I can see the words "Schadenfraude", "Lustmord" and "Ilse Koch", and it's signed "Aufseherin Herta Bothe", with more lipstick kisses and a smattering of Xs and Os.
Aufseherin Herta Bothe was an SS officer at Stutthoff.
I just got a mash note from a Nazi concentration camp warden.
And a photo of the now 89-year-old "Sadist of Stutthoff" in her SS uniform, licking her lips and winking.
I'm not sure I've got the words...but I've definitely got the shivers. This has El Presidente's fingerprints all over it. How and why he is doing this, I don't know. But my personal collection of Video Nasties has now swelled to 14, so I'm happy about that, plus today's delivery from Netflix has brought a copy of Jesus Franco's 1981 slasher Die Sage des Todes, better known in English as Bloody Moon. I'm now so inundated with classic exploitation that my head is spinning.
Instinct tells me that I should burn Frau Bothe's communiques...but prudence tells me I should frame them. After all, there aren't many Nazis left, right? I guess I should hold onto all of it. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
The Creepy Minions Of El Presidente.
I received another gift from El Presidente today. While no one appears to have died this time, the circumstances surrounding its' arrival are troubling.
I still have not screened Mardi Gras Massacre. It's sitting on my bookshelf, gaining dread. At first, I had written off the odd package with its' ominous manifest as some kind of joke, or a trick to make me wary. But I've found myself scared of the tape, nonetheless.
Today's delivery was another videocassette, an old ex-rental copy of Frozen Scream, backing up a lead feature called Executioner II. As far as I have been able to determine, this is the only available version of Frozen Scream in the USA. (Executioner II is somewhat of a misnomer, as there was no Part I, much like Bill Cosby's ill-fated Leonard Part 6.) Both films feature the same lead actress, Renee Harmon, who also produced. In an article for a special Horror issue of SFX magazine, a chap like myself (only British) watched all the Nasties and rated them in a countdown. Frozen Scream came in at #73 out of 74 (this reviewer included the extraneous films Xtro and Shogun Assassin which were seized during the Nasty panic but never officially targeted for prosecution by the DPP. The film at #74 was Alain Deruelle's Terreur Cannibale, if you're wondering.), meaning that the writer in question (I don't remember his name, sorry) felt it was utterly worthless. I have seen few films I consider to be completely without merit (Sideways, Paul Haggis' Crash, Blow, the simply-awful Open Water), and as a fan of low- and no-budget filmmaking, I am confident there will be something good about it, but that remains to be seen, as I know next to nothing. The more obscure the Nasty, the harder it is to learn anything about them. I'm excited, though. I feel like those two freaks brought me a lost treasure.
Which brings me to the delivery. The doorbell rang and I opened up to find two burly, mustachioed men smoking cigars. While this is out of the ordinary, it was their attire that set off my internal alarms. One wore a powder-blue prom dress and tiara. His makeup looked to have been applied by a deranged Mary Kay rep. The other wore a curly blonde wig, lederhosen, and clutched an oversized lollipop in the hand not holding the cigar.
"Yoo heff peckidge," said the transvestite, holding out the brown-paper wrapped parcel.
"The Leader thanks you," said the boyman, flicking cigar ash on my shoes and biting a large piece from his lolly.
I took the delivery with trembling fingers and asked if I needed to sign.
"No signed. Yoo take. We go," said the man in drag. He and his partner turned around, clasped hands, and skipped away, singing a traveling song in a Teutonic dialect.
I watched them go, five hundred pounds of human singing and skipping to the corner. Once there, a black Volga limousine careened into view, screeched to a halt, and disappeared with the strange men as cargo.
Shivering, I went back inside and engaged the deadbolt. The package, and the videotape it contained, were thankfully free of bloodstains. The tape was in a clear rental case. The case was cracked, one spindle holder removed but included. I checked for a return address, and there was indeed writing there, but it appeared to be written in Enochian with green paint, rendering my questions as to the parcel's origins unanswerable.
So just who is this El Presidente? I don't know. He contacted me via email offering his help in acquiring rarer titles. Happy to have an ally, I didn't stop to consider what motives he may have...but I'm thinking about them now, that's for sure. And what the hell is he President of, anyway? Am I unknowingly aiding a coup? Providing information for a twisted cult? Unwittingly fueling a Tony Montana-style coke machine? Or something more sinister that my little mind couldn't possible fathom the true implications of...?
Whatever is really happening, I extend my thanks to El Presidente for his assistance in tracking down these rare finds...and please, I beg you, keep civilian casualties to a minimum. I can't be responsible for that. I'm a film geek, not a revolutionary. But maybe he's one of the good guys, so I'll keep in contact with him. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
I still have not screened Mardi Gras Massacre. It's sitting on my bookshelf, gaining dread. At first, I had written off the odd package with its' ominous manifest as some kind of joke, or a trick to make me wary. But I've found myself scared of the tape, nonetheless.
Today's delivery was another videocassette, an old ex-rental copy of Frozen Scream, backing up a lead feature called Executioner II. As far as I have been able to determine, this is the only available version of Frozen Scream in the USA. (Executioner II is somewhat of a misnomer, as there was no Part I, much like Bill Cosby's ill-fated Leonard Part 6.) Both films feature the same lead actress, Renee Harmon, who also produced. In an article for a special Horror issue of SFX magazine, a chap like myself (only British) watched all the Nasties and rated them in a countdown. Frozen Scream came in at #73 out of 74 (this reviewer included the extraneous films Xtro and Shogun Assassin which were seized during the Nasty panic but never officially targeted for prosecution by the DPP. The film at #74 was Alain Deruelle's Terreur Cannibale, if you're wondering.), meaning that the writer in question (I don't remember his name, sorry) felt it was utterly worthless. I have seen few films I consider to be completely without merit (Sideways, Paul Haggis' Crash, Blow, the simply-awful Open Water), and as a fan of low- and no-budget filmmaking, I am confident there will be something good about it, but that remains to be seen, as I know next to nothing. The more obscure the Nasty, the harder it is to learn anything about them. I'm excited, though. I feel like those two freaks brought me a lost treasure.
Which brings me to the delivery. The doorbell rang and I opened up to find two burly, mustachioed men smoking cigars. While this is out of the ordinary, it was their attire that set off my internal alarms. One wore a powder-blue prom dress and tiara. His makeup looked to have been applied by a deranged Mary Kay rep. The other wore a curly blonde wig, lederhosen, and clutched an oversized lollipop in the hand not holding the cigar.
"Yoo heff peckidge," said the transvestite, holding out the brown-paper wrapped parcel.
"The Leader thanks you," said the boyman, flicking cigar ash on my shoes and biting a large piece from his lolly.
I took the delivery with trembling fingers and asked if I needed to sign.
"No signed. Yoo take. We go," said the man in drag. He and his partner turned around, clasped hands, and skipped away, singing a traveling song in a Teutonic dialect.
I watched them go, five hundred pounds of human singing and skipping to the corner. Once there, a black Volga limousine careened into view, screeched to a halt, and disappeared with the strange men as cargo.
Shivering, I went back inside and engaged the deadbolt. The package, and the videotape it contained, were thankfully free of bloodstains. The tape was in a clear rental case. The case was cracked, one spindle holder removed but included. I checked for a return address, and there was indeed writing there, but it appeared to be written in Enochian with green paint, rendering my questions as to the parcel's origins unanswerable.
So just who is this El Presidente? I don't know. He contacted me via email offering his help in acquiring rarer titles. Happy to have an ally, I didn't stop to consider what motives he may have...but I'm thinking about them now, that's for sure. And what the hell is he President of, anyway? Am I unknowingly aiding a coup? Providing information for a twisted cult? Unwittingly fueling a Tony Montana-style coke machine? Or something more sinister that my little mind couldn't possible fathom the true implications of...?
Whatever is really happening, I extend my thanks to El Presidente for his assistance in tracking down these rare finds...and please, I beg you, keep civilian casualties to a minimum. I can't be responsible for that. I'm a film geek, not a revolutionary. But maybe he's one of the good guys, so I'll keep in contact with him. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Don't Open The Door!
Video Nasty #4
MANY PEOPLE VISIT...NO ONE EVER LEAVES.
Madhouse
1981
JULIA THINKS SHE LIVES ALONE...SHE DOESN'T!
Actual Title: There Was A Little Girl
Alternate Titles: And When She Was Bad, Flesh And The Beast, Scared To Death
NTSC Running Time: 93:16
Directed by Ovidio G. Assonitis
Written by Ovidio G. Assonitis, Stephen Blakely, Roberto Gandus, Peter Shepherd
Produced by Ovidio G. Assonitis and Peter Shepherd
Starring: Trish Everly, Dennis Robertson, Michael MacRae, Morgan Hart, Edith Ivey and Allison Biggers
Body Count: 5, plus a cat, a dog, a child (not shown), and the shock opener that has no relation to the rest of the film.
Availability: Uncut Region 1 DVD from Dark Sky Films.
BBFC Status
Why it's a Nasty: Animal stuff. No one is really sure which scene caused the most trouble, as all of the violence is rather sadistic and gruesome...but the power drill in the dog's head is probably the biggest offender.
What was cut: Well...nothing. After being seized and prosecuted, Madhouse was not released until...
Current BBFC Status: The uncut version of Madhouse was awarded an 18 certificate on April 27, 2004. Available on Region 2 DVD from Film 2000.
Madhouse was successfully prosecuted under the Obscene Publications Act, making it one of the DPP39.
Ahhh, the scourge of alternate titles.
One of the things about the Video Nasties is not just how many alternate titles have piled up for some of these films, but which title is the "true" title. In this case, it is not hard to figure out which title is correct: The case and disc of the film said plainly Madhouse, but the film itself carried the title card There Was A Little Girl, and after viewing the film I cannot possibly call it anything else.
Since this is the first time that we've needed to deal with a film with many titles, now is the time to explain how I will handle it. The courier-fonted bold-italic-underline at the top of the article is the Video Nasty title. After that, I will refer to it by whichever title I like best, which is usually the original, filmmaker-intended title...but not always. We'll talk about this more as we go through the list.
The film opens with a slow zoom in on a pair of twin girls in a black room under the opening credits. When we finally get close enough to see anything, we can see that one is being rocked in a chair by the girl standing next to her...who then pulls out a large rock and repeatedly smashes the other in the face. It's a great shock opener, and while it can be related to the events we are about to witness, it has nothing to do with the rest of the film. We are watching a story about twin girls, but not these twin girls.
We get a title card telling us that it is November 6th, and Julia's birthday is 5 days away. Then we meet Julia, a teacher at a school for deaf children. She goes to visit her sister Mary in the hospital (it's never clear whether it is a mental or physical hospital, but it doesn't matter because she's sick and crazy) for the first time in seven years. Big mistake, Julia. See, Mary spent their childhood torturing Julia, especially on their birthday, and Mary also has a pet Rottweiler that kills whoever it meets up with.
Before long, Mary escapes, her dog goes on a murderous rampage, and a mysterious station wagon is shadowing Julia. Most of the murders take place inside of her home, an apartment building in the middle of being renovated that has exactly two tenants: Julia, and her new-age freako landlady Amantha, who delivers one of the best lines of the film: "You know, dear, sometimes those of us with a sensitive temperament are often tried by the brutality of this world.", which could serve as this film's thesis. When the violence comes, it is definitely brutal and drawn out, in one instance leading a repeatedly terrorized character to engage in an act of overkill that is refreshing to see in a "slasher" movie, where those who are attacked often stab once and run, guaranteeing that they will be facing their merely wounded attacker again. Seeing a character who has been repeatedly put upon unload a tidal wave of rage on the tormentor is a "FUCK YEAH!" moment that horror movies (at least of this period) don't take the opportunity to include very often.
The acting in this picture is first-rate. The performance of Trish Everly as Julia was really a standout and I was hoping to find other movies that featured her. Of which there are none. I can find no other information about this woman except that she starred in There Was A Little Girl. Not even a guest shot on Gimme A Break or St. Elsewhere. It's a shame, because she would have been one hell of a scream queen, as demonstrated by the final reel of this film. Where are you, Trish? We'd love to see more of you! Also of note in the cast are Michael MacRae as Julia's rockin'-the-70s-moustache doctor boyfriend, Edith Ivey as spacey Amantha, Allison Biggers as deformed-and-loony Mary, and veteran TV actor Dennis Robertson as Father James, the twin's uncle. Most of the cast is no longer working in film or TV, sadly, since they are a talented bunch, but life is more than acting. Morgan Hart, who plays Julia's friend and co-worker Helen, lives one county away from me with her husband, Don Most, and their children. I wonder if she'd do an interview...
Speaking of interviews, the Dark Sky DVD has an interview with Ovidio G. Assonitis as a bonus feature, and I'm pretty sure all the stories are true. He states plainly that he is only interested in producing, directed when he felt the people he had hired weren't doing a good job, and that budget is king. I personally disagree with almost everything he said (and he damn near admits ghost-directing Piranha II), but I can't deny that the man has skill. There were several impressively shot sequences in There Was A Little Girl, especially a "final confrontation" scene between the sisters that effectively ratchets up the tension. He says in his interview that he was disappointed with the special effects, especially the dog-drilling scene, but I think he's being a bit harsh. It's a movie, jackass, it's gonna look a little fake unless you do it for real! Quit bitching. I had my hands over my mouth through the whole sequence, going "DAMN!" and cringing at the sheer harshness of it.
I definitely enjoyed There Was A Little Girl (a much more ominous title than Madhouse, don't you agree?) and I would recommend it if you like suspenseful psychological horror with a bit of gore and some surprises. One thing I love about insane characters is that they don't have to behave like anyone would in real life, and that is the case here, so don't be a stickler for reality and just go with it. It's creepy, well-acted, brutal, and a lot of fun. I'd also like to mention that at one point, Julia says to Helen "Don't open the door!" There are four Video Nasties with titles that begin with "Don't" and it would be great to see a re-release of There Was A Little Girl under the title Don't Open The Door, just to make it more confusing!
If anyone knows whatever happened to Trish Everly, please let me know, and I will feature it in a later column. I hope she's at least on the stage or something, her acting was better than what you normally see in a low-budget horror film. I'll stay on the lookout, too. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
Madhouse was successfully prosecuted under the Obscene Publications Act, making it one of the DPP39.
Ahhh, the scourge of alternate titles.
One of the things about the Video Nasties is not just how many alternate titles have piled up for some of these films, but which title is the "true" title. In this case, it is not hard to figure out which title is correct: The case and disc of the film said plainly Madhouse, but the film itself carried the title card There Was A Little Girl, and after viewing the film I cannot possibly call it anything else.
Since this is the first time that we've needed to deal with a film with many titles, now is the time to explain how I will handle it. The courier-fonted bold-italic-underline at the top of the article is the Video Nasty title. After that, I will refer to it by whichever title I like best, which is usually the original, filmmaker-intended title...but not always. We'll talk about this more as we go through the list.
The film opens with a slow zoom in on a pair of twin girls in a black room under the opening credits. When we finally get close enough to see anything, we can see that one is being rocked in a chair by the girl standing next to her...who then pulls out a large rock and repeatedly smashes the other in the face. It's a great shock opener, and while it can be related to the events we are about to witness, it has nothing to do with the rest of the film. We are watching a story about twin girls, but not these twin girls.
We get a title card telling us that it is November 6th, and Julia's birthday is 5 days away. Then we meet Julia, a teacher at a school for deaf children. She goes to visit her sister Mary in the hospital (it's never clear whether it is a mental or physical hospital, but it doesn't matter because she's sick and crazy) for the first time in seven years. Big mistake, Julia. See, Mary spent their childhood torturing Julia, especially on their birthday, and Mary also has a pet Rottweiler that kills whoever it meets up with.
Before long, Mary escapes, her dog goes on a murderous rampage, and a mysterious station wagon is shadowing Julia. Most of the murders take place inside of her home, an apartment building in the middle of being renovated that has exactly two tenants: Julia, and her new-age freako landlady Amantha, who delivers one of the best lines of the film: "You know, dear, sometimes those of us with a sensitive temperament are often tried by the brutality of this world.", which could serve as this film's thesis. When the violence comes, it is definitely brutal and drawn out, in one instance leading a repeatedly terrorized character to engage in an act of overkill that is refreshing to see in a "slasher" movie, where those who are attacked often stab once and run, guaranteeing that they will be facing their merely wounded attacker again. Seeing a character who has been repeatedly put upon unload a tidal wave of rage on the tormentor is a "FUCK YEAH!" moment that horror movies (at least of this period) don't take the opportunity to include very often.
The acting in this picture is first-rate. The performance of Trish Everly as Julia was really a standout and I was hoping to find other movies that featured her. Of which there are none. I can find no other information about this woman except that she starred in There Was A Little Girl. Not even a guest shot on Gimme A Break or St. Elsewhere. It's a shame, because she would have been one hell of a scream queen, as demonstrated by the final reel of this film. Where are you, Trish? We'd love to see more of you! Also of note in the cast are Michael MacRae as Julia's rockin'-the-70s-moustache doctor boyfriend, Edith Ivey as spacey Amantha, Allison Biggers as deformed-and-loony Mary, and veteran TV actor Dennis Robertson as Father James, the twin's uncle. Most of the cast is no longer working in film or TV, sadly, since they are a talented bunch, but life is more than acting. Morgan Hart, who plays Julia's friend and co-worker Helen, lives one county away from me with her husband, Don Most, and their children. I wonder if she'd do an interview...
Speaking of interviews, the Dark Sky DVD has an interview with Ovidio G. Assonitis as a bonus feature, and I'm pretty sure all the stories are true. He states plainly that he is only interested in producing, directed when he felt the people he had hired weren't doing a good job, and that budget is king. I personally disagree with almost everything he said (and he damn near admits ghost-directing Piranha II), but I can't deny that the man has skill. There were several impressively shot sequences in There Was A Little Girl, especially a "final confrontation" scene between the sisters that effectively ratchets up the tension. He says in his interview that he was disappointed with the special effects, especially the dog-drilling scene, but I think he's being a bit harsh. It's a movie, jackass, it's gonna look a little fake unless you do it for real! Quit bitching. I had my hands over my mouth through the whole sequence, going "DAMN!" and cringing at the sheer harshness of it.
I definitely enjoyed There Was A Little Girl (a much more ominous title than Madhouse, don't you agree?) and I would recommend it if you like suspenseful psychological horror with a bit of gore and some surprises. One thing I love about insane characters is that they don't have to behave like anyone would in real life, and that is the case here, so don't be a stickler for reality and just go with it. It's creepy, well-acted, brutal, and a lot of fun. I'd also like to mention that at one point, Julia says to Helen "Don't open the door!" There are four Video Nasties with titles that begin with "Don't" and it would be great to see a re-release of There Was A Little Girl under the title Don't Open The Door, just to make it more confusing!
If anyone knows whatever happened to Trish Everly, please let me know, and I will feature it in a later column. I hope she's at least on the stage or something, her acting was better than what you normally see in a low-budget horror film. I'll stay on the lookout, too. Because my name's Justin. JustinCase.
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