70's American Horror Part Thirty-Five

EMBRYO

(1976)

Dir - Ralph Nelson

Overall: MEH

 

Largely mislabeled as a horror film, Embryo is a mad scientist romp minus the romp.  By 1976, a countless number of movies had been made where some brilliant doctor with good intentions unleashes a creation that  goes along fine up until a point where unforeseen complications arise that emphasize the cautionary aspects of toying with nature.  While Barbara Carrera's incredibly polite, innocently curious, artificially-grown super genius here is a refreshing enough tweak on the Frankenstein monster, the only thing concerning that takes place until about the last fifteen minutes of the film is when a dog kills another dog.  This means that the plot is dominated by nothing more besides Rock Hudson simply teaching Carrera the ways of society and life, introducing her to acquaintances and trying to pass her off as just a really smart lab assistant.  The only other somewhat memorable instance occurs with Roddy McDowall's cameo when she wipes the floor with him in a game of chess, letting him win in the last move to further infuriate his ego.  Ultimately too boring and under-cooked as an engaging, "man playing god" story, it just has all of the makings of a forgettable, modestly budgeted 70s genre movie with a couple of notable names in the cast for good measure.

THE STRANGE POSSESSION OF MRS. OLIVER
(1977)
Dir - Gordon Hessler
Overall: MEH
 
The NBC television movie The Strange Possession of Mrs. Oliver brings together star Karen Black and screenwriter Richard Matheson again after he scripted and she appeared in Dan Curtis' much popular Trilogy of Terror from two years prior.  On paper, the concept of a mildly condescending, hotshot attorney's sheepish housewife who undergoes a supernatural transformation into a sexually liberated and independent woman is an effective one.  It takes a similar angle to Ira Levin's novel and the subsequent film The Stepford Wives where the horror is in how domesticated women are conditioned to be subservient to their money-making husbands.  Here though, there is no dark satirical angle and save for a nightmare sequence that appears twice, director Gordon Hessler fails to maintain a convincingly ominous atmosphere.  Matheson's story is to blame as well though since it never arrives anywhere interesting and the mystery as to what or who is exactly overtaking Black's character likewise never entices and ultimately seems inconsequential to the overall theme.  Performance wise though, Black is her usual assured self and pulls off the dual-role of sorts while George Hamilton is ideally cast as her dashing and ignoramus husband who probably means well if only to routinely apologize for his controlling mannerisms.

 

DON'T GO NEAR THE PARK

(1979)

Dir - Lawrence D. Foldes

Overall: WOOF

 

Out of the roughly seven-hundred and ninety-four "Don't" movies released in the 1970's and 80's, Don't Go Near the Park, (Night Stalker, Curse of the Living Dead), is probably the most amatuerish and relentlessly terrible.  Writer/director Lawrence D. Foldes was nineteen during the production and if any case can be made that teenagers should not legally be allowed to make movies in the first place, this is a logical exhibit A.  Right from the get go, the Hershell Gordon Lewis vibes come in hot with makeup and gore effects that a grade-school talent show would be ashamed of, awkwardly abysmal acting, a nonsensical story, rambling/completely unnatural dialog, stock cinematography, the same scenes showing up more than once, zero sense of urgency in the pacing department, and such wholesome ingredients as pedophilia, incest, child abuse, and cannibalism sprinkled in for edginess.  Though it is forgettable in every area one could imagine, genre fans who are also gluttons for punishment may at least find it to be mandatory viewing since it contains Linnea Quigley's lead debut, (and yes, she does take her clothes off in it).  Far too boring to make its tastelessness, ineptitude, and head-scratching stupidity engaging, it deserves all of the "DON'T watch this" jokes that it can get.

70's British Horror Part Twenty-Six

THE MUTATIONS

(1974)

Dir - Jack Cardiff

Overall: MEH

 

Famed cinematographer Jack Cardiff hung up his directorial hat with The Mutations, (The Freakmaker); a low-budget, updated mad scientist take on Tod Browning's Freaks.  It is notable for containing both Donald Pleasence and Tom Baker, the latter just before he embarked on his career-making turn with Doctor Who the same year.  Considering the sub-par production values and derivative plot line, it is no surprise that Baker is the most memorable aspect of the film.  Even under crude, deformed makeup effects with a marbled voice and in a villainous role, the actor's towering charisma still shines through and he makes an imposing brute for his unfortunate small number of scenes.  Elsewhere and similar to Browning's infamous initial film, several real abnormal performers are present, but Edward Mann and producer Robert D. Weinbach's script finds little to do with them besides retread a variation of the "One of us" scene.  Throw in some nudity and laughable monster costumes and it is dopey stuff to be sure, but the two master thespians on board give it an air of respectability at least, be it undeserved.

 

THE SPIRAL STAIRCASE

(1975)

Dir - Peter Collinson

Overall: MEH

A recognizable cast spearheads Peter Collinson's remake of The Spiral Staircase, itself an adaptation of Ethel Lina White's novel Some Must Watch.  While the plot follows a similar trajectory and all of the characters stick to their predetermined mannerisms, the updated setting and presentation make it singular enough from its 1946 predecessor.  The perpetually smirking Christopher Plummer as the psychiatrist, John Phillip Law as his asshole brother, Gayle Hunnicutt as the saucy Southern bell, and Jacqueline Bisset in the vulnerable, mute lead are all sufficient in their roles, plus Collinson and cinematographer Ken Hodges capture the claustrophobic setting where everyone holds up in a spacious mansion during a power-outing thunder storm.  It has a predictable outcome even for those who are unfamiliar with the source material though, which makes the long trek to get to the suspenseful parts too much of a chore.  While everyone is likable on screen, their endless banter grows monotonous, as do Bisset's frequent flashbacks to the trauma that melodramatically caused her to lose the ability to speak.  A classy production for such sensationalized stuff, but an unmemorable one all the same.

 

HOLOCAUST 2000

(1977)

Dir - Alberto De Martino

Overall: GOOD

Director Alberto De Martino was the go-to guy for knock-offs of famous horror blockbusters, having done 1974's The Exorcist cash-grab The Antichrist and three years later The Omen one with Holocaust 2000, (The Chosen, Rain of Fire, Lucifer's Curse).  An Italian/British co-production that was filmed in the UK, it has a typically suave Kirk Douglas in the hero lead and an effectively off-putting Simon Ward as his diabolical yet charming son.  The plot lingers too long before taking its end of days scenario seriously, with apocalyptic warnings being so gradually spaced out as to barely classify this as a horror movie until the third act.  Thankfully, Douglas still had effortless charisma at this point in his career though and he carries many of the predominantly talky scenes through.  Supernatural moments may be few and far between as well as more alluded to than overt, but De Martino stages said moments effectively, such as a helicopter beheading, a scientist getting attacked by electronic doors, and Douglas having a special effects laden nightmare while running through a beach in the nude.  The ending is more unsatisfactory than eerily open ended, but the film as a whole still manages to overcome its blatantly derivative nature.

70's British Horror Part Twenty-Five

SECRETS OF SEX

(1970)

Dir - Anthony Balch

Overall: MEH

 

While its moronic, Ed Wood-styled premise may perk up the trash connoisseur within the first handful of minutes, the novelty quickly wears off in Anthony Balch's sexploitation anthology snore-fest Secrets of Sex, (Bizarre).  The movie occasionally seems to be in on its own head-scratching joke, like when our mummy narrator, (yes that is a thing here), voiced by the instantly recognizable baritone of Valentine Dyall asks in the opening monologue what you would feel like to have sex "with this girl" or "with this boy" several dozen times, (not an exaggeration), and later proclaims "And it goes on and on and on..." to close things out.  In the middle of such nonsense though is a whole lot more nonsense where a series of sluggishly boring segments play out that seem to have no idea what point if any they are trying to make.  A sadistic photographer leaves her male model literally hanging throughout an entire lunch break, an older man gets duped into having a mutant baby, a guy and a cat burglar have sex/argue, a secret agent watches a silent stag film and goes to a weird party, a horny man-child gets sad that his call girl does not like his pet snake, and an old lady prattles on about dead lovers and plants.  Deliberately outrageous yes, but whatever it is trying to satirize gets lost in an amateur mess of detrimental pacing and awkward sleaze.

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE UNDERNEATH

(1972)

Dir - Jane Arden

Overall: MEH

 

A notable avant-garde work and benchmark in British cinema for being a feature length film directed by a woman, The Other Side of the Underneath is Jane Arden's adaptation of her own surreal play A New Communion of Freaks, Prophets, and Witches which debuted the previous year.  Largely performed by the all female Holocaust Theatre Company and serving as the cinematic debut for Arden, it is a series of episodes loosely related to women in a mental institution, or so one may assume considering that the movie has no conventional narrative as is usually the case in experimental art films.  While many of the images are memorable and have a bewitching quality to them, (and there is a chaotic energy at times which is exaggerated by Sally Minford's abrasive score), sitting through the full hour and fifty-one minutes is a grueling task.  Part primal scream therapy session mixed with meandering, documentary-like interludes, the lack of plot is not so much of a problem as is the exhausting nature of the entire experience.  Certainly meant to be challenging in such a respect, basking in the film's liberal running time and extended periods of aimless wondering are probably too much to ask.  As an examination of frustrated madness through an extremist feminine lens though, it is certainly commendable if not persistently enthralling.

HOUSE OF THE LIVING DEAD

(1974)

Dir - Ray Austin

Overall: MEH

For his last theatrically released film before exclusively carrying on in television for over two more decades, stunt man-turned director Ray Austin made the low-budget British/South African co-production House of the Living Dead, (Skaduwees Oor Brugplaas, Shadows Over Bridge Farm, Doctor Maniac, Curse of the Dead, Kill, Baby, Kill).  Somewhat of a House of Usher knock-off, it beats the old "She can't marry into the family, we're all mad" trope into the ground, with characters endlessly repeating themselves trying to get Shirley Anne Field to leave a plantation while she keeps saying that she never will.  Such monotonous dialog exchanges seem to take up ninety percent of the running time and Austin's piss-pour sense of pacing surely does not help matters much.  The bold color choices make an interesting clash with the Gothic setting full of earthy, wooden shadowiness, but the movie could have afforded more violence and sleaze since the plot is so stagnant.  Even with vague occult/mad scientist elements thrown in, the whole thing is an absolute snore-fest with only mild bouts of overacting and unintended, campy silliness present to liven things up within the last twenty minutes or so.

70's British Horror Part Twenty-Four

VENOM

(1971)

Dir - Peter Sykes

Overall: MEH

Certainly not the most gripping of horror films, Peter Sykes sophomore full-length from behind the lens Venom, (Spider's Venom, The Legend of Spider Forest), suffers from a confused plot which undercuts its potential suspense.  On paper, the combination of folk horror, Nazi crime film, and mad scientist romp might sound interesting if still positively messy, but unfortunately the latter attribute is the only one that applies here.  While there are superstitions villagers doing superstitious villager things, the script from Donald and Derek Ford does a piss-pour job of establishing any stakes.  Simon Brent's protagonist just bounces between getting willingly seduced by an up-to-no-good Nazi babe, (Sheila Allan), while chasing around the more allusive Neda Arnerić who nobody in town seems to want to divulge any information on.  Up until about the last twenty minutes of the running time, this is all that seems to be taking place and at that point, the gloves fly off with a barrage of half-baked ideas thrown aggressively at the audience.  It results in a disappointing finale to be sure, but despite the lousy story and bouts of inappropriate romantic music on the soundtrack, Sykes and cinematographer Peter Jessop try to stage some evocative shots here and there which as one could guess, is hardly enough to save the whole.

 

BLUE BLOOD

(1973)

Dir - Andrew Sinclair

Overall: MEH

Andrew Sinclair's Blue Blood, (an adaptation of Alexander Thymn's novel The Carry-Cot), is a rushed and inconcise psychological horror film, yet it also serves as one of numerous genre vehicles that contain a command performance from Oliver Reed.  Here, Reed portrays a perplexing and intimidating butler who is either utilizing black magic to gain lordship over the property that he is employed at or he is just dealing with a slew of mentally unstable people.  Part of the problem lies in a series of almost subliminal, Satanic ceremony sequences that are slap-dashed throughout the movie as it is never clear if they are supernaturally projected visions, mere nightmares, or just stylistic flourishes on the filmmaker's part.  Character's inconsistent behavior is yet another curious issue as they are logically concerned with certain troubling revelations, (most of which seem to spring up out of nowhere as if several scenes are missing), while at other times behaving as if they are under some sort of diabolical spell.  There seems to be a method to such aloof madness here, but it is hardly conveyed in a successful manner and becomes merely a well-decorated and artfully shot bit of celluloid with some underlying themes that are as vaguely sinister as they are impenetrable.  Reed's prissy English accent and no nonsense mannerisms are a hoot though.

REQUIEM FOR A VILLAGE

(1975)

Dir - David Gladwell
Overall: MEH

 

The barely full-length debut from David Gladwell, Requiem for a Village is a singular, meditative montage film with no decipherable narrative.  On the one hand, it is presented almost as a documentary on unassuming townsfolk who go about various, mundane moments in their life such as celebrating a low-key wedding, having a council meeting, and making horseshoes.  Yet a different way to interpret it is as a Tarkovsky-esque series of conjured memories which may or may not be from an elderly graveyard keeper who is occasionally shown muttering to himself while maintaining his duties.  Some of the sequences appear to be flashbacks, but such things are never made clear as there is no plot line to follow, with sparse amounts of dialog merely showing up as fly on the wall moments.  Interjecting with the tranquil mood and simple images though are surreal moments like people emerging from their graves in slow motion and a rape sequence near the end.  With all of the curious pieces combined, the film may present a non-bias view of country life; beauty, warts, and dreams all in harmony with each other.  It meanders too much to properly recommend, but it definitely stands as a unique work with very thinly-veiled folk horror elements for those who are curious to check out something that exists in its own universe.

70's British Horror Part Twenty-Three

I START COUNTING

(1970)

Dir - David Greene

Overall: GOOD

 

An adaptation of Audrey Erskine Lindop's book of the same name, I Start Counting frames its somewhat taboo, coming of age story amongst the backdrop of a serial killer who is picking off teenagers.  The main focus is on Jenny Agutter, (in her first lead role at the age of sixteen, playing a fourteen year old), who as she is beginning to blossom into womanhood, finds herself having romantic feelings towards her step-brother that is over twice her age.  This leads to the occasional psychological bout of fantasy even as she suspects him as being the murderer afoot in their community.  Taking a less judgemental approach to young girls who are prone to unhealthy attractions, (both with Agutter's quasi-incestuous leaning and her promiscuous friend who flirts with boys and danger more directly), the story is not over-bearing in any sort of preachiness.  Instead, it presents a relatable world where sexual awakening and curiosity is a natural element to one's development, except in this case, traumatic circumstances can complicate an already complicated, inevitable undergoing.  The performances are good, with Agutter in particular showing an impressive knack for vulnerability that is impressive this early in both her life and career.  It all manages to pack a number of thought-provoking surprises and does so without being overtly suspense-laden.

 

VAMPIRA

(1974)

Dir - Clive Donner
Overall: MEH

 

Made in the same year as the far more seminal Young Frankenstein, (and released in the states as Old Dracula on a double bill with Mel Brooks' aforementioned horror spoof), director Clive Donner's Vampira only packs in a small handful of laughs in its agreeable ninety-minute running time.  The premise itself is ridiculous and cringe-worthy in an unintentional manner, concerning David Nevin's Count Dracula going through various cockamamie schemes to resurrect his lost love and once he does, find a way to change her skin color back to Caucasian since having her be the strikingly beautiful, (and African American), Teresa Graves will apparently not do at all.  Also, he ends up in black face as a final gag at the end, oye.  Aside from its un-wokeness, Jeremy Lloyd's script is a lazy concoction of inconsistent plot points that even for a comedy, take several illogical liberties to get to the next set piece.  On the plus side though, Nevin is a hoot as the relatively polite, legendary blood sucker and Graves seems to be enjoying herself in a jovial fashion.  There are also some recognizable minor parts and cameos from the likes of Carol Cleveland, Veronica Carlson, and Nicky Henson for fans of British horror and Monty Python respectfully.

THE MEDUSA TOUCH

(1978)

Dir - Jack Gold

Overall: GOOD

 

Following in the post The Exorcist/The Omen trajectory of supernatural horror films presented in a camp-less, more grounded fashion not previously akin to such genre movies, The Medusa Touch is one of the more less-known in the field.  Based on Peter Van Greenaway's novel of the same name, director Jack Gold brings a stern tone to some far-fetched material concerning a novelist who wields his psychokinetic abilities for destructive purposes.  The style is most interesting as it bounces within single takes between the past and present day where Richard Burton's harbinger of doom lies seemingly comatose in a hospital bed as his psychiatrist Lee Remick, (speaking of The Omen), and French detective Lino Ventura piece together the chain of events that brought him there.  Dashes of dark humor are scattered hither and tither and the finale has a conventional sense of urgency to it, but most overt horror elements are underplayed.  We are given no explanation as to the source of Burton's power, focusing instead on the suffocating, misanthropic effect that it has had on him, ultimately bringing him to a mad, "end of days" type of self-fulfillment.  Not the most cheerful of tales to be sure, but the sincere approach, commendable performances, and tight pacing help make such bleak subject matter properly engaging.

70's Mexican Horror Part Three - (René Cardona Edition)

CAPULINA CONTRA LOS VAMPIROS

(1971)
Overall: WOOF

Taking a stab at both horror and juvenile comedy, René Cardona co-wrote and directed Capulina contra los vampiros, (Capulina vs. The Vampires), which finds the title, "The King of White Humor" actor up to relentlessly not-hilarious hijinks against the undead.  Gaspar Henaine, (Capulina), generally paired with actor Marco Antonio Campos in a decade's worth of films, but this solo venture finds him with a dwarf-sized co-star dressed as a jester who can teleport at will as the two stumble around like buffoons after Count Dracula gets accidentally resurrected.  There are also a slew of vampire babes who pose no threat whatsoever, two guys who run an inn and try to steal a treasure, and an early scene where Capulina makes a job headhunter practically pull his hair out in frustration.  None of it is remotely funny, but at least the movie somehow manages to steer shy of being a torturous viewing experience.  The set design has a fun, macabre haunted house vibe with red/purple lighting, fog, and preposterous vampire teeth making the whole thing about a tenth as "scary" as a Scooby-Doo episode.  If only any of the jokes worked, it might just be worth somebody's time.

 

NIGHT OF THE BLOODY APES

(1972)

Dir - René Cardona/Jerald Intrator

Overall: MEH

The English language version of René Cardona's initial 1969 film La Horripilante bestia humana, (The Horrible Man-Beat, Horror y sexo, Horror and Sex, Gomar - The Human Gorilla), was re-titled Night of the Bloody Apes three years later and is a ridiculous mad scientist/lucha libre hybrid.  To be fair, the script by Cardona and his son René Cardona Jr. is not any sillier than any other D-rent, pseudo-science monster romp from the previous two decades and is itself a remake of Cardona's own Las Luchadoras contra el medico asesino, (The Wrestling Woman vs. the Killer Doctor, Doctor of Doom).  In this regard, both the material and style are familiar to international genre hounds, but the gore is kicked up several notches here with several close-ups of surgery and the title beast ripping a man's scalp off and squeezing another's eyeballs out.  There is also ample amounts of nudity, usually of the casual variety where Norma Lazareno takes showers and hangs out in her birthday suite when not in her red devil wrestling costume.  Nothing that transpires is worth paying attention to as it is severely padded with the usual bouts of repetitive dialog exchanges, but it is garish fun when it decides to wake up a bit here or there.

 

THE INCREDIBLE PROFESSOR ZOVEK

(1972)

Overall: MEH

A wacky, action/mad scientist hybrid and the first of only two movies to star Mexico's Houdini Professor Zovek, the apply titled The Incredible Professor Zobek, (El increíble profesor Zovek), is pure ridiculousness that is mostly enjoyable once the stagnant first act is done away with.  After a series of lengthy "characters in rooms saying the same things over and over again" scenes, we eventually meet our world-domination-minded bad guy who is hiding away in a giant castle so that he can perform nonsensical experiments on people in order to control the world or whatever.  The crude, ghastly make-up effects are a riot, plus we have bikini clad women in executioner masks, hunky Mexican thugs showing off their oiled chests, diabolical midgets, robots, monstrous brutes, and a hawk that apparently likes to feast on human eyeballs, so we are told.  As far as our superhero tittle character, Zovek is hilariously lacking in screen charisma and has kung-fu skills that are merely a few notches above Rudy Ray Moore's, but his escapism/hypnotism/wrestling powers still come off as childishly charming.  The production values are assuredly minute and director René Cardona's skills behind the lens are as inconsistent as ever, (especially where the pacing is concerned), but the movie delivers the dumb in as noble a manner as possible.

THE INVASION OF THE DEAD

(1973)

Overall: WOOF

A nonsensical follow-up to the previous year's The Incredible Professor Zovek, The Invasion of the Dead, (Blue Demon y Zovek en la invasión de los muertos, Blue Demon and Zovek in the Invasion of the Dead), is unfortunately infamous for its escape artist star dying during production in an unrelated incident.  A celebrated figure in his homeland, Zovek had apparently just embarked on a nine picture deal when he fell to his death performing a helicopter stunt in Japan, leaving the production no other choice but to bring in luchador enmascarado Blue Demon, (Alejandro Muñoz Moreno), to shoot extra scenes to pad things out.  The resulting movie is a mess of incoherency, but more to the point, is it persistently sluggish and embarrassing on a technical level.  Cardona's script throws together Bible quotes, Tibetan prophesies, zombies, werewolves kind of, and invisible aliens with very little money to make any such random components interesting.  Granted some of the film's problems can be explained due to the tragic demise of their lead actor, but to be fair, Zovek is hardly the world's most charismatic thespian to begin with.  Also, he is still present in most of the movie anyway, with Blue Demon and his utterly pointless and unfunny sidekick simply adding to the boredom as they have very little to do for large parts of the running time.

70's Mexican Horror Part Two

BLACKER THAN THE NIGHT

(1975)

Dir - Carlos Enrique Taboada

Overall: MEH

Though it overstays its welcome at an hour and forty-two minutes in length, writer/director Carlos Enrique Taboada's Blacker Than the Night, (Más Negro que la Noche, Blacker Than Night, Darker Than Night), manages to create an eerie atmosphere with its bare-bones, quasi-silly story.  Things kick off with a wacky old, rich Aunt leaving her vast inheritance and estate to her niece who promptly moves in with her three girlfriends.  As said niece even mentions when given the news, there is always a "catch" with such things and the stipulation here is that she take care of her Aunt's cat Bequer; a cat who all of her pretty roommates unfortunately end up immediately hating.  The pacing drags with inconsequential, repetitive banter and one or two side plots that easily could have been omitted to keep things moving, but Taboada delivers the goods when it comes to the supernaturally-charged set pieces.  Most of them are fantastically shot with ominous shadows laying over the actor's faces, in drawn-out fashion, and to creepy silence.  On paper, a movie about an eccentric, old dead person getting revenge on attractive young ladies who do not care for her pet feline is assuredly ridiculous, but the treatment is admirably subdued and effective where it counts.

SATANIC PANDEMONIUM
(1975)
Dir - Gilberto Martínez Solares
Overall:  GOOD

Straightforward for 70s nunsploitation where "Satan temps a nun" is exactly what is going on, Gilberto Martínez Solares' Satanic Pandemonium (Satánico Pandemonium) is one of the most satisfying of such movies.  Cecilia Pezet, (who only appeared in a handful of film and television roles for a few years before retiring from acting altogether), carries virtually all of the proceedings.  On screen almost 100% of the time and running the gamut of emotions from alarmed, terrified, and repulsed as the celibate nun of her sisterhood, she then becomes diabolical, furious, and lustful when the wicked temptations grab a hold of her.  Watching the struggle unfold relentlessly throughout, Pezet is exceptional with most of the outcome being successfully shocking and horrific.  There are a few eyebrow-raising moments, particularly taking into account Mexico's censor-heavy time period.  Nudity and torture aside, there is also lesbianism, pedophilia, and racial abuse thrown in.  Blasphemy abounds though with Enrique Rocha's Lucifer being pitch-perfect as his almost cliche-like sinister charm makes it crystal clear who he is supposed to be long before he ever admits his name.  The film is also beautiful to look at, with very colorful set pieces that conflict splendidly with the utterly evil goings-on. 

 

THE BEES

(1978)

Dir - Alfredo Zacarías

Overall: WOOF

This Roger Corman-financed, non-union Mexican equivalent of Warner Bros. The Swarm, (which was released a mere five months earlier), is the aptly titled The Bees; one of the most relentlessly dumb nature horror movies from the 1970s if not ever.  B-movie regulars John Saxton and John Carradine are present with the former practicing yoga in his Enter the Dragon outfit and the latter utilizing a ridiculous German accent for no reason.  Originally slated to be written and directed by Jack Hill, Alfredo Zacarías instead stepped in and the script, (which both parties concocted), is loaded with more hilarious inconsistencies and moronic details as to seriously raise the question as to weather or not this is a thinly disguised comedy.  The pesky insects in question immediately sting some people to death while ignoring others and develop their own language, forcing Saxton's character to plead with the United Nations to "listen to what the bees have to say" in order to turn the world over to their new honey-making masters.  There is also a sub-plot with greedy businessmen, plus Angel Tompkins jokes around and flirts with John Saxton immediately after her husband, (played by Mexican horror regular Claudio Brook), was just brutally murdered.  With an ending that is both laugh-out-loud abrupt and absurd, a bee attack every two and a half minutes, completely inappropriate musical cues everywhere, and arguably Carradine's most embarrassing, (or greatest), performance, this assuredly belongs in the "bad movie hall of fame".

70's Foreign Horror Part Twenty-One

DREAM CITY

(1973)

Dir - Johannes Schaaf

Overall: MEH

 

An anarchist, dystopian nightmare, Dream City, (Traumstadt), is the type of arthouse, European cinema that was particularly prominent in the 1970s when more adventurous exports were making their way into grindhouse and midnight movie friendly theaters.  A clear critique on mankind's inability to embrace utopia due to our selfish, hedonistic nature when such things can blossom unchecked, it is a narratively challenging work that grows increasingly surreal as it goes on.  Per Oscarsson and Rosemarie Fendel, (the latter who also served as a co-writer), are a married couple that are invited to live in a secretive village where complete freedom is the only law upheld; a village full of artists from various mediums who seem to inevitably succumb to madness under the romantic yet unfeasible conditions.  The two-hour running time is excessive and the barrage of decadent, destructive set pieces eventually wear out their welcome with a story line that purposely does not go anywhere.  It all creates the appropriate cataclysmic tone and many of the images are surreal and striking, but it also definitely meanders to the point of being tiresome.

 

FRANKENSTEIN: A LOVE STORY

(1974)

Dir - Bob Thénault

Overall: MEH

 

A French television adaptation of Marry Shelley's novel that skews virtually every plot point therein, Frankenstein: A Love Story, (Frankenstein: Une histoire d'amour, Frankenstein 95), is only an interesting variation in parts.  The only film from director Bob Thénault, it suffers from lethargic pacing which is particularly problematic in the first act.  Emphasizing the proud and cold mental psyche of Victor Frankenstein, it paints him as a hugely unsympathetic protagonist.  Even Peter Cushing at least had a devilish charm to his vile portrayal, but Gérard Berner here is left with only being arrogant and nasty, coming off underwritten in the process.  The events of Shelley's source material are significantly tweaked or omitted altogether and the emphasis is more on Frankenstein's smug, blasphemous bravado that spits in the face of religious superstition which puts him at odds with the fiercely committed clergy that excommunicates him first from his university and then from his town.  We are never shown the monster that he creates, (which does not come into existence at all until past the halfway point), only hearing his chilling and calm voice as he torments his creator to the point of damnation.  It is too low on action and unfocused to recommend, but it is certainly singular amongst the heard of other Frankenstein movies.

ILSA, SHE WOLF OF THE SS

(1975)

Dir - Don Edmonds

Overall: WOOF

 

The first in a series of textbook Nazisploitation films and arguably the sleazy sub-genre's most prominent entry, Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS is abysmal stuff that is well deserving of its notorious reputation.  Such movies were a clear precursor to torture porn and this one plays out as both of those things; torture and porn.  Nearly every character on screen has their clothes removed at some point, (though mostly the women), and many are subjected to various atrocities against their will.  It is at least a saving grace that the camera shies away from explicitly showing some of these moments, including a castration and female prisoners getting their vaginas electrocuted.  Naming every other unabashedly sadistic display that is actually front and center on screen is a fruitless endeavor as it is all tasteless and played too straight to notice any tongues in cheek, if that was even the tone that the filmmakers were going for in the first place.  Dyanne Thorne in the title role is perfectly cast as the ice cold, sex-crazed, Aryan Kommandant and though both her and director Don Edmonds openly admitted that the material was appalling, they certainly delivered such nonsense in a professional manner.

70's Foreign Horror Part Twenty

LOVE BRIDES OF THE BLOOD MUMMY

(1973)

Dir - Alejandro Martí

Overall: WOOF

 

One of the defining characteristics of Euro-trash which made such films exploitative in the first place was that rape played a predominant role in the narrative, as well as being unabashedly shown on screen.  The second and last directorial effort from Alejandro Martí, Love Brides of the Blood Mummy, (El secreto de la momia egipcia), particularly abuses this trope with a "plot" that insultingly and merely serves as an excuse for such unwholesome nonsense.  Save for two book-ending segments that allow for George Rigaud's wealthy Egyptologist the opportunity to regale fellow Egyptologist Frank Braña with his perverse yarn, it is no exaggeration to state that the only thing that happens here is one scene after the other where a stone-faced mummy, (that is also a vampire because movies are stupid), violently undresses, mildly tortures, rapes, and then bites women.  In fact they even throw a tasteless montage in at the end, just to slam home the point that the entire film is a pointless exercise in lazy sleaze.  A musical score is oddly absent throughout, which can often be an effectively eerie, mood setting device to create a sense of tension, but here it just further enhances the lethargic pacing.  The finale is just as disappointing as everything else and save for its brazen commitment to be so noxious as to inadvertently be fascinatingly bizarre, it still ends up a loathsome, hugely boring watch.

PICNIC AT HANGING ROCK

(1975)

Dir - Peter Weir

Overall: GOOD

 

A conventional horror film Peter Weir's Picnic at Hanging Rock certainly is not, yet its aggressive stance against upholding any of the genre's cliches in place of enigmatic, anti-storytelling is likely to perplex viewers who are not accustomed to nearly two solid hours of meandering, period-set musings on largely impenetrable themes.  An adaptation of the 1967 novel by Joan Lindsay that was filmed on location in Victoria, Australia, it has many moments that are uniquely chilling merely by suggestion and the Pink Floyd-via-flute musical score creates a haunting atmosphere that is atypical along with the bright, sunny scenery.  A mystery with no resolution, the story is imprecise about what it is actually exploring since it deliberately skews conventional narrative, hinting at supernatural forces that could represent a threat against European colonialism and/or adolescent sexuality and intrigue.  The audience is left grasping for straws with such assumptions though, which is either a pivotal part of the movie's spell or a hindrance on the experience.  In any event, this remains a lauded work in the Australian New Wave and largely set off the rest of Weir's successful career.

 

THE KEEPER

(1976)

Dir - T.Y. Drake

Overall: WOOF

 

This highly confused and unengaging comedy/thriller hybrid inexplicably scored Christopher Lee in the title role, yet it is otherwise a complete mess of a movie.  The Keeper is the only directorial effort from screenwriter T.Y. Drake, who stepped in behind the lens at the last minute and handles his own lackluster material with the expected clumsiness of such a newcomer.  The film is unavoidably boring and the only moments of liveliness occur when Lee's apparently mischievous doctor sits on the other side of a glass wall and hypnotizes his patients into regressing to childhood, all for reasons that are never convincingly explained.  Besides Drake's unfocused story itself which is incomprehensible to a point, the biggest problem is the tonal inconsistencies and lazy performances.  Every attempt at humor is so awkwardly placed and dry that they seem more accidentally odd than anything, so therefor none of the intended comedic beats land in anyway.  Besides Lee, (who still manages to save face even if his presence in something so lackluster and amateurish is perpetually confusing), all of the other actors seem to be merely collecting a paycheck with the thespian abilities of a local theater group at best.

70's Foreign Horror Part Nineteen

THE WATER SPIDER

(1970)

Dir - Jean-Daniel Verhaeghe

Overall: MEH

 

The debut from French-born filmmaker Jean-Daniel Verhaeghe, (who would work exclusively and prolifically in television until his 2006 movie Le grand Meaulnes), The Water Spider, (L'araignée d'eau), is a slow-moving adaptation of Marcel Bealu's novel of the same name.  It concerns a mild-mannered yet self-centered entomologist who brings home the arachnid of the title, only for it to transform into a tarantula and then a lovely mute girl for some unearthly reason.  This leads to a domestic squabble with the gossiping townsfolk and his doting wife and the whole thing could be seen as a metaphor for man's complacency, selfishness, isolation, and temptations getting the better of him.  Surreal at parts with a haunting musical score and one or two curious set pieces, it is also comatose in its pacing which gives it a spell-binding atmosphere that is in keeping with the strange allure that has captured Marc Eyraud's less-than-sympathetic protagonist.  Eventually though, the long-tracking shots, minimal dialog, and lack of coherence leads to a frustrating experience and the movie overstays its ethereal yet aloof welcome.

 

THE DEVIL'S FEMALE

(1974)

Dir - Walter Boos

Overall: MEH

Due to its colossal success, The Exorcist quickly became one of the most aggressively copied films of its kind and West Germany's immediate answer to it was The Devil's Female, (Magdalena, vom Teufel besessen, Magdalena, Possessed By the Devil).  Though not as enjoyable as the blaxploitation cheapie Abby or Paul Naschy's Exorcismo, it comparatively fares better than the several Italian knock-offs that are out there and in any event, it is easily one of the horniest.  Dagmar Hedrich spends a predominant amount of time with her clothes off, sometimes ripping her nightgown in a fit of demonic passion, other times writhing around with her legs spread while forcing men to murder each other for a piece of her, and other times having her garments get supernaturally torn apart so that she can get invisibly penetrated by malevolent forces.  Of course what self respecting demonic possession movie would be complete without hilariously blasphemous dialog and "I wanna take communion.  But not in my mouth, but down here in my pussy" is easily one of the finest.  The film is frequently sluggish, the romantic music is largely inappropriate, and the ending is almost "blink and you'll miss it" abrupt, but it is an amusing, shamelessly derivative, sleazy hoot for bad movie night.

 

THE NIGHT NURSE

(1978)

Dir - Igor Auzins

Overall: MEH

 

Producer Robert Bruning and director Igor Auzins team up again with The Night Nurse; another Australian television film made by Bruning's Gemini Productions and their follow-up to the same year's The Death Train.  Set at a large estate owned by a wealthy, former opera singer who is several sandwiches short of a picnic, it concerns a newly appointed night nurse who immediately finds herself at odds with the persistently unpleasant caretaker.  An opening murder establishes the unwholesomeness at play, followed by a series of trivial events that cast less suspicion on certain parties while casting more suspicion on others.  Save for Kate Fitzpatrick's boyfriend who voices general concern the whole way through as to the fishy circumstances being upheld, the movie is almost entirely centered around three women, two of whom are portrayed as textbook old kooks with varying degrees of crotchetiness.  While it is handled well enough by Auzins, the performances are decent, and the finale is a predictable combination of the gruesome and undercooked, Ron McLean's story does not pack enough suspenseful and/or quirky moments to keep the momentum going.

70's Foreign Horror Part Eighteen

SHOCK TREATMENT

(1973)

Dir - Alain Jessua

Overall: GOOD

The hypocrisy concerning the length in which certain individuals will go to uphold their vanity is the central theme in Alain Jessua's Shock Treatment, (Traitement de choc, Doctor in the Nude, Shock!), a standard yet effective health spa thriller.  The set-up where nothing can quite be as jovial as it seems has been used before, in this case involving Annie Girardot's recently dumped business owner who retreats to a swanky clinic on the Brittany coast in France, run by the dashingly handsome Dr. Devilers, (hardly a sly name there), played by Alain Delon who looks every bit as darkly tanned as his posh guests and foreign employees.  Jessua presents everything unambiguously as there is no doubt that Girardot's fears are justified that something sinister is afoot, especially once the reveal spells everything out that the audience has long comprehended.  Even with such a lack of psychological tension or much of a mind-blowing finale, it remains an intriguing essay on a familiar concept of the wealthy justifying their existence at the expense of those less fortunate or who simply get in the way of their prolonged enhancement of an artificial, youthful existence.

 

THE CORPSE EATERS

(1974)

Dir - Donald R. Passmore/Klaus Vetter

Overall: WOOF

 

Serving as a pathetic, inaugural gore movie from Canada, it is hilarious that The Corpse Eaters, (i.e. the only film of any kind made by Donald R. Passmore and Klaus Vetter), opens with a warning to the squeamish ala 1931's Frankenstein which promises to flash a clip of an old man throwing up whenever anything gross happens.  The reason that this is hilarious is because nothing of any interest occurs at all for the first thirty-minutes besides people talking in a funeral home, a water jet skiing montage, an orgy set to a rerecorded version of Led Zeppelin's "How Many More Times" except with horns, and several unphotogenic, local theater actors summoning Satan for a hoot.  Considering that the only surviving print of the film runs a mere fifty-seven minutes long, it is a grievous faux pas that half of it is so amateurishly sluggish.  While the blood and guts do eventually rear their ugly head once the zombies show up to occasionally gorge on some people, things do not get much better and still regularly detour into horrendously shot, acted, recorded, and paced nonsense that even the most forgiving of no-budget filmmaking fans will find unwatchable.

BLOODLUST

(1976)

Dir - Marijan David Vajda

Overall: MEH

 

Though it boasts a deranged enough premise to garnish the interest of rabid Euro-trash hounds, Marijan David Vajda's Bloodlust, (Mosquito der Schänder, Bloodlust: The Black Forest Vampire, Mosquito), is a catastrophically boring slog with little going for it besides its sick, squandered potential.  Falling into the "crazy loner" camp of story, Werner Pochath plays a deaf and dumb mute with a vaguely disturbing childhood involving broken dolls, spilled red ink, and witnessing his father molest his sister.  With such traumatic ingredients in place, he carries about his day innocently enough with some people even considering him a harmless young man, including prostitutes who he visits on more than one occasion.  Yet of course his already wrecked psyche begins to crack which leads to him mutilating corpses and drinking their blood through a straw.  There are plenty of elements to be applauded at here then, (as was obviously the intention), but Vajda's skills behind the lens are severely lacking.  Aside from the troubled flashbacks which are front and center, it takes a long time for Pochath's behavior to start becoming truly alarming and once it does, the movie turns into a series of tedious sequences that could easily be interchanged as nothing progresses, there is no mystery for the viewer to be invested in, and zero suspense is mustered up until the police just nonchalantly arrest our wackadoo Norman Bates stand-in while he is at work, one second before the credits roll.

70's Foreign Horror Part Seventeen

THE MONK

(1972)

Dir - Ado Kyrou

Overall: GOOD

 

Long in the works as a project for Luis Buñuel, The Monk, (Le moine, Der Mönch und die Frauen), finally came to fruition some years later under the direction of Greek filmmaker and Buñuel's personal friend Ado Kyrou.  This was the first proper cinematic interpretation of Matthew Gregory Lewis' 18th century Gothic novel The Monk: A Romance and it adheres to many of the tropes of the era concerning the psychological price paid for temptation within the confines of extreme religious servitude.  Franco Nero plays the disgraced title character that is both devout and seemingly unshakable in his faith while enforcing it in a draconian manner, that is until he increasingly succumbs to a demon woman in disguise and her sexual devotion, an act which only leads him further and further into the arms of damnation.  Nero is appropriately over the top when necessary but also aghast and speechless at later intervals as if he is persistently comprehending the extent of his fall from grace.  There are touchy elements to the story, (namely that it involves the lustful desperation towards an underage girl), but Kyrou could have gone much further exploitative wise both with this and the eventual arrival of the inquisition, something which is generally ushers in gratuitous torture scenes that are thankfully lacking.

 

THE OVAL PORTRAIT

(1973)

Dir - Rogelio A. González

Overall: MEH

 

Shot in Canada by a Mexican director, written by a South American screenwriter, and co-financed by the low-budget American company Northwest Motion Picture Corporation, The Oval Portrait, (Edgard Allan Poe's The Oval Portrait), is an obscure, internationally produced Gothic horror outing.  Sadly, it is also not very good.  The presentation is squarely in line with TV movies from the era, with incessant, overblown music playing almost constantly and everything being shot in fully lit interiors sans a few exceptions where the handheld camera goes for wacky closeups as the thunder and lightning blares outside.  Enrique Torres Tudela's script takes as many liberties with Poe's source material as any other adaptation of the author's works, but the structure is clunky where the entire second act is a flashback which makes the rest of the narrative half-baked.  Even with super imposed spirits, poltergeist activity, ghostly laughing on the soundtrack, and a guy dancing with and making out with a corpse, the presentation is so melodramatic and the performances so hilariously dreadful that the entire thing becomes an unintentionally goofy mess.

 

SEVEN WOMEN FOR SATAN

(1976)

Dir - Michel Lemoine

Overall: WOOF

 

A star vehicle for writer/director Michel Lemoine, Seven Women for Satan, (Les week-ends maléfiques du Comte Zaroff), is Euro-trash of the most tortuously boring variety.  The title is misleading in most respects since there is no occult angle whatsoever to a story about the descendant of The Most Dangerous Game's Count Zaroff being just some businessman who hallucinates a couple of scenes involving women either being killed, sadistically treated, made love to, or just running around in their birthday suits.  There are about three pieces of music played over and over again, plus the plot is so utterly barren that it almost seems to not even be there.  As is usually the case with low-budget sleaze such as this, the naked moments slow what is already a detrimentally unengating presentation down even more, though the movie does not solely belong in the softcore pornographic realm since such exploitative gratuity takes up a comparatively small portion of the running time.  Lemoine does attempt a surreal atmosphere, but he does so awkwardly after too many sluggish bouts of absolutely nothing of interest taking place.  Some slow motion/funky synth/wah-wah guitar music, fog, and soft focus photography hardly provides enough jolts of faux-artiness to make any kind of a difference. 

70's Foreign Horror Part Sixteen

THE INVISIBLE DEAD

(1970)

Dir - Pierre Chevalier

Overall: MEH

 

Howard Vernon returns with another Dr. Orloff vehicle The Invisible Dead, (Orloff Against the Invisible Man, Dr. Orloff's Invisible Monster, Orloff and the Invisible Man, La vie amoureuse de l'homme invisible), the only one in the official series not to be directed by Jesús Franco.  Not that one would notice since Pierre Chevalier utilizes many of the lackluster hallmarks that Franco movies repeatedly indulged in, meaning wretched pacing, gratuitous nudity, women writhing around for minutes on end while the camera incessantly zooms in on their genitalia, various genre cliches, unintentional humor, and embarrassing plotting.  On paper, the concept of a mad scientist making an invisible ape man because science is nothing if not absolutely ridiculous, but the film never leans into such moronic material with a spoofing agenda.  Instead, it is all played dreadfully straight and dull with Paco Valladares making one of the least charismatic leads that anyone is likely to see and Vernon doing very little besides sitting in a chair to spin some incredibly boring exposition.  The finale throws flour on the guy in a gorilla suite while he makes cartoon noises, at which point Vernon shows up to announce that said gorilla set the house on fire and refused to obey him off screen, but even these hilariously inept moments are hardly enough to save the rest of the production.

ONE MINUTE BEFORE DEATH

(1972)

Dir - Rogelio A. González

Overall: WOOF

 

The first of two similarly themed Canadian/Mexican/US co-productions by director Rogelio A. González that were shot in Vancouver, British Columbia, One Minute Before Death is a dreadfully dull reading of the will/old dark house/premature burial melodrama with more cliches and despicable characters at its disposal than you can wave a stick at.  Utilizing the same crew and much of the cast for the following year's also lackluster Edgar Allan Poe adaptation The Oval Portrait, this one starts off with a weak scare and only gets weaker from there as Wanda Hendrix spends nearly the entire thing stuck in a bed, fully conscious as her odious relatives voice their disdain for her and/or reveal their diabolical plots to inherit her vast fortune.  Most of the proceedings are told via flashback as the romantic musical motif endlessly swells over it and without exception, everyone we meet is either a backstabbing and bitter curmudgeon or some poor fool who "never meant" to fall in love with another person to excuse them for their shady behavior.  All of Hendrix' pleadings of still being alive have been done to much creepier effect in other productions and the finale's attempts at beyond-the-grave comeuppance is yawn-inducing in its hokiness.

 

THE LAST WAVE

(1977)

Dir - Peter Weir

Overall: GOOD

As his follow up to Picnic at Hanging Rock, Australian filmmaker Peter Weir delivered the ultra-moody, Aboriginal supernatural mystery The Last Wave, (Black Rain) which creates some evocative atmosphere while remaining comprehensibly void.  The frustrating nature of the narrative is directly addressed though as Richard Chamberlain's Sydney attorney tries in vain to gain any direct answers from the Indigenous people that he is trying to defend against a mysterious murder charge, with his clients either remaining completely silent or speaking cryptically.  Chamberlain suffers from a series of premonitions which relate just as vaguely to the local, ancient concept of Dreamtime which somehow paint him as a decedent of mystical spirits, yet none of this gets either he or the audience any closer to pragmatic conclusions.  Weir adopts a severe tone, omitting humor almost entirely and letting the didgeridoo soundtrack work its ominous magic.  The cultural juxtaposition between the Aboriginal people's otherwordly, ancient customs and the established Victorian settlers contemporary set of laws and leisure remains a driving undercurrent.  It all might be too impenetrable to connect  in an emotional manner, but as more of a sensory, imaginative experience, it is chillingly successful.