70's Spanish Horror Part Nine

THE ANCINES WOODS

(1970)

Dir - Pedro Olea

Overall: MEH

 

For his second full-length, filmmaker Pedro Olea chose to adapt Carlos Martínez-Barbeito's novel El bosque de Ancines which was inspired by Spain's first documented serial killer Manuel Blanco Romasanta.  Also known as The Ancines, Woods, The Forest of the Wolf, and The Wolf's Forest, the film tells the tragic story of Romasanta, (here called Benito Freire); a 19th century, epileptic peddler who in real life claimed to have suffered lycanthropy as an excuse for his thirteen admitted murders.  Going in here expecting a standard werewolf movie ala the kind that Paul Naschy was aggressively championing around the same time would be a mistake, not only because there are obviously no hairy monster transformation of any kind, but there is also no nudity and only the most mild of bloodshed.  Some of this was due to Olea being forced by producers to tone down the violence for censorship reasons so that the result cannot fairly classify the film as exploitative.  While this is not a bad thing in and of itself, it does lend to a pedestrian watch that never really picks up a riveting pace.  José Luis López Vázquez is good in the lead though, having primarily come from comedies and delivering an appropriately pathetic performance while looking equally miserable and gnarly in the process.

 

THE WITCHES MOUNTAIN

(1972)

Dir - Raúl Artigot

Overall: MEH

 

The first of only three directorial efforts from Raúl Artigot, The Witches Mountain, (El monte de las brujas), is a head-scratching/borderline irritating viewing experience to say the least.  Considering that Artigot was primarily a cinematographer, one would think that this would at least have a handful of visual flourishes, even on such a clearly shoe-string budget.  Such is oddly not the case though as the entire movie is shot in a completely pedestrian manner with not a single sequence being remotely inciting to look at.  Artigot also has absolutely zero sense of dramatic pacing, which is of course hardly anything unique to this particular bit of Spanish horror fare.  Driven almost entirely by a two person cast, our fabulously mustached leading man Cihangir Gaffari only tells scream queen Patty Shepard to wait behind in the car about seven-hundred and eight times, though never is it necessary for him to embark on anything alone, so why bother making this such a hilariously stubborn plot point in the first place?  More sloppily edited as it goes along with stretched out sequences of no musical score while people stand or walk around, the use of loud, Latin chanted music which the characters can actually hear on the soundtrack is an interesting and creepy idea when it randomly breaks up the monotony of it all.  The ending screams "We're running out of film stock so quick, just shoot something!", leaving the whole thing off like an inept, accidental arthouse movie.

 

NO ONE HEARD THE SCREAM

(1973)

Dir - Eloy de la Iglesia

Overall: MEH

 

Following up the one-two punch of the noticeably different The Glass Ceiling and The Cannibal Man was another detour for filmmaker Eloy de la Iglesia with No One Heard the Scream, (Nadie oyó gritar).  Reuniting with actors Carmen Sevilla and Vicente Parra who had each been a lead in the aforementioned, previous movies, de la Iglesia reveals the absurd premise early on, which is persistently confusing for the audience.  In Sevilla's career mistress, we have a thoroughly illogical-behaving character who takes every opportunity in her predicament to not do what anyone of sound mind would.  She fails to immediately call the cops after witnessing a murder even though she has ample enough time to do so, goes along with a cockamamie accomplice scheme, also fails to turn in and squeal on her kidnapper when literally dealing with the police out in public and in a police station, fails to abandon said kidnapper and/or murder him when given a perfect opportunity, only of course to then fall in love with him because movies.  Thankfully the tone here is not altogether serious as de la Iglesia sprinkles some darkly sly humor among tight suspense sequences, suspense sequences that exist entirely on the moronic choices that Sevilla continues to make.  In this way it has a perverse angle where she clearly is attracted in some strong enough way to the dangerous, immoral circumstance she is in, but nonetheless, this is definitely silly stuff.