70's American Horror Part Eight

WILLARD
(1971)
Dir - Daniel Mann
Overall: MEH

The broadly-received Willard, (an adaptation of Stephen Gilbert's short novel Ratman's Notebooks), is a likeable if not altogether spectacular film.  Daniel Mann had a pretty diverse resume by the time he made his only horror movie here, directing a number of comedies, dramas, and action films and then primarily going into television very soon afterwards.  Willard boasts some decent performances from its lead Bruce Davison as the feeble, pathetic title character, plus Ernest Borgnine, Elsa Lancaster, and Sondra Locke bring some recognizably to their smaller roles, (Borgnine in particular being his usual douchebagy villain).  The movie is a bit too tedious in nature and only near the very end do the rats themselves successfully pose their necessary threat.  Basically, everybody either dotes over Willard or treats him like an incompetent pest and he spends the entire movie going back and forth from his house where he is talking to all of his furry minions to his work where his boss is an asshole.  The ending which proves once and for all that Willard truly cannot catch a break is rather preordained and also comes off pretty sudden and anticlimactic.  There have been worse movies about hordes of animals terrorizing people to be sure, but this one could probably have used a lot more horror in general as well as more trimming of the plot to have aged better.

IT'S ALIVE
(1974)
Dir - Larry Cohen
Overall: MEH

Beginning his career with a number of blaxploitation movies, Larry Cohen's first horror film It's Alive is another frustrating effort from the writer/director.  Cohen's filmography is rather all over the place in quality, with some of his works being interesting, (God Told Me To), stupid and clumsy, (Q), or atrociously horrible, (The Stuff).  It's Alive is a problem in that Cohen's script lazily presents too many "wait/why/what?" moments that distract one from the strong performances by John P. Ryan and Sharon Farrell, some well-directed, nerve-wracking scenes, and an acceptable premise that should otherwise work.  It is very aggravating that after a very solid opening which abruptly, (and wonderfully), pulls the rug out from under us, the behavior of the police and the parents raises illogical questions one after the other.  Cohen cannot convincingly pull off how such a disturbing incident effects the people involved.  Meanwhile it is all very serious and frequently emotionally harrowing, but there are just too many implausible details mucking everything up.  The parents being allowed to immediately leave the hospital, the father immediately returning to work and excepting that his kid is a monstrosity even though no one has laid eyes on it, the cops lackadaisical investigating, the son who supposedly was left in the dark who is being compassionate to his mutant sibling, the mother being taken to the site of where they have cornered her child/creature in the first place, etc.  It is a shame because Cohen leaves all of his ridiculous quirks out of the equation for once, but he still unintentionally insults his audience's intelligence and patience.

THE DRILLER KILLER
(1979)
Dir - Abel Ferrara
Overall: MEH

Though the porno movie 9 Lives to a Wet Pussy proceeded this one by three years, The Driller Killer was the first non-adult debut from Abel Ferrara who also stars as the title-character/murderer.  Long considered part of the notorious video nasty blacklist of films in England, Driller Killer is far more tame than most, though it makes up for it with an unrelenting, grimy atmosphere.  Filmed in Ferrara's own Union Square apartment around the time when Manhattan was hardly considered the world's safest, cleanest city to live in, the movie has a seedy quality that is benefited from the rather amateurish way that Ferrara puts it all together.  The actors are not miked and you are bound to recognize none of them, plus a generous amount of time is spent watching the no-wave band The Roosters play gigs and rehearse, making the movie rather chaotic and noisy at all possible intervals.  The script by frequent Ferrara collaborator Nicholas St. John is poorly underdeveloped, but this may be intentional to make it all seem anarchistic since all of the characters are either miserable or drugged out lowlifes who seem both bored and perfectly fine while wallowing in such grunginess.  Some moments of humor work OK and the ending is borderline great, but it is kind of a drag to sit through for the majority of it, with everyone moping around, being occasionally obnoxious, and then the whole murdering angle just very randomly being tossed in there.