(1983)
Dir - Marek Piestrak
Overall: MEH
The second theatrically released work from Polish filmmaker Marek Piestrak, The Wolf, (Wilczyca, She-Wolf, Die Wölfin, Vlcice, A nőstényfarkas kisértete), delivers poorly on its lycanthropian advertising, with arduous pacing and no werewolf sequences of any kind. In fact it is much more akin to Slavic vampire mythos that blur the lines between those of the traditional wolfman variety. The she-wolf's body of the title is staked when buried and she grows ravenous at the site of blood, partaking of it on the hand of her lover. While there are a couple of striking moments, (Iwona Bielska in ghastly spectre makeup, a black magic incantation involving a photo bleeding after being punctured with a sharp object, and a violent, bright-red-blood-splattered ending), that and some mildly chilling atmosphere centered around the late 19th century, remote winter setting are not enough to grip the audience. Story-wise, it is positively stagnant to the point of being difficult to even follow and all of the characters are problematically underwritten with Bielska being the only performer exhibiting any sort of charisma, be it of the diabolical variety.
(1987)
Dir - Pierre B. Reinhard
Overall: WOOF
Writer/producer Jean-Claude Roy and smut-peddler Pierre B. Reinhard jumped on the no-budget zombie racket with The Revenge of the Living Dead Girls, (La revanche des mortes vivantes, Rache der lebenden Toten), one of the dumbest and most pathetic genre excursions of the 1980's. A steady combination of sleazy, mild sex, a few zombies walking around in the fog and occasionally tickling people to death, and a ridiculous plot involving a shady chemical company and some horny people, perhaps the most ridiculous aspect is how straight and comatose-level dull it is all played out. Reinhard has about as much sense for competent framing as he does any semblance of maintaining an agreeable pace, but with dialog such as "You'd feel much better if you told me everything. I'm your wife and I love you and in two months we'll have a baby", "They're dead. They want people to die like them!", and "There must be 100,000 prostitutes in France", one can hardly blame him for putting in the minimal amount of effort. To be fair, there are some hilariously stupid sequences to break up the insultingly lame plot, the best of which are the three undead brides, (who all look like Gena Davis when she gets all old and creepy at the end of Beetlejuice), doing things like hanging out in a swimming pool for absolutely no reason and taking their clothes off to molest and stab another naked woman in the vagina with a sword. If the movie had more of that nonsense in place of everything else going on, it would have been an agreeably stupid waste of an hour and thirty-five minutes.
(1988)
Dir - James Bogle
Overall: MEH
As is apparently required by law, Kadaicha, (Stones of Death), is yet another Ozploitation film to utilize the plight of the aboriginal peoples as a narrative basis, something that many other movies in Australia have done. This serves as the directorial debut for James Bogle and is a by-the-books, straight-to-video supernatural yarn that acts as a Poltergeist and A Nightmare on Elm Street hybrid in some respects. There is a group of high schoolers, (all of whom look several years older than graduation age, as is the norm), who are targeted by vengeful, indigenous spirits that are unhappy with said kid's capitalist parents developing property on their sacred burial sites. Things play out as you would imagine, with everyone getting violently and gradually picked off by mysterious forces, which stumps the police and leads the survivors to get to the bottom of the diabolical mystery themselves. Sympathies lie with the appropriate parties even if the depiction of the aboriginal folk is stereotypically primitive, (there is a half-naked mumbo jumbo ceremony performed in a cave after all). Despite the film's potboiler nature which is at least not insulting in its results, there are no memorable set pieces, (besides a hairy spider jumping into a guy's eyeball), and the tone is deadly serious whereas some schlock here or there could have actually livened things up.
No comments:
Post a Comment