2024 Horror Part Nineteen

BROKEN BIRD
Dir - Joanne Mitchell
Overall: MEH

 

Films that have an eccentric and unlikable protagonist at the center of them can often be an uncomfortable watch, and the full-length debut Broken Bird from co-writer/director Joanne Mitchell leans into such a thing, regrettably to the movie's own detriment.  Rebecca Calder is a damaged woman from the moment that we meet her, someone who fails to connect with others in any healthy manner, which stems from an extreme childhood trauma that pushes her into her own delusions.  That is where she primarily hangs out, picturing herself killing it at poetry readings, having a fairy tale romance with a random museum employee that was nice to her, talking to the dead, and ultimately resorting to kidnapping in order to procure loved ones.  Meanwhile, Sacharissa Claxton is an emotionally ravished police detective whose marriage imploded and whose son has gone missing, and it is only in the film's closing moments that the two women's arcs join forces.  Mitchell unfolds her tail with frequent flashbacks and fantasy sequences that deliberately confuse the viewer and paint a disturbing portrait of Calder's psyche, none of which makes us sympathetic to her increasingly unwholesome behavior.  In this sense, the movie is just ninety-nine minutes of a disturbed person's exploits, a disturbed person that we are unable to connect with.

 

RUMOURS

Dir - Guy Madin/Even Johnson/Galen Johnson

Overall: GOOD

 

The latest collaboration Rumours between Canadian filmmaker, (and here absurdist), Guy Maddin and co-screenwriter and even co-directors this time Evan and Galen Johnson is an impossible movie to lock in to, no doubt by design.  As usual, one must take the work that Madin produces on its own terms, enjoying the head-scratching as much as the idiosyncratic chances that he takes.  Though this one has a contemporary look and feel and does not hearken to a bygone era of movie-making as did his early movies, Madin is still presenting something that toys with/amuses audiences without explaining the specifics.  The narrative details are quirky and in effect distracting, plus the pro cast play everything with so much sincerity that it only enhances the confusion.  Yet if one can simply laugh at the vague apocalyptic scenario, (if indeed that is what is going on), as well as the tacky genre elements that need not be spoiled, this is essentially a satire of modern political leaders who are nothing more than doofuses with their own eccentricities to fall back on when the world stops working correctly.  A top-billed Cate Blanchett is of course wonderful as the Chancellor of Germany, (as is everyone else on screen), but Roy Dupuis actually takes the lead as the Prime Minister of Canada, be it one who is prone to adolescent outbursts.  If anything else, casting Charles Dance as the President of the United States with no explanation as to his overwhelming Britishness represents just one of the many "sure why not" gags that the film has to offer.

 

THE WAILING

Dir - Pedro Martín-Calero

Overall: GOOD

 

Essentially a technological J-horror movie except Spanish, The Wailing, (El llanto), is also the full-length debut from filmmaker Pedro Martín-Calero and one that makes inventive use out of its numerous freaky set pieces.  In fact the film is a Spanish/Argentine/French co-production spoken in as many languages, following one woman at a time as they are perused by an invisible presence, well at least invisible unless there is a camera around.  Why this is the case is never explained, nor are any details about the malevolent entity itself, which gives Martín-Calero and his co-writer Isabel Peña free reign to follow an arbitrary form of supernatural logic.  While this can often be seen as lazy when it is presented in a hackneyed context, thankfully that is not the case here since the movie bypasses many of the hangups that contemporary horror cinema succumbs to.  There are no jump scares, no screechy noises accompanying the multitude of otherworldly images, and many of the scenes play out to an intimate silence that forces both the viewer and the characters to merely sit in whatever unexplained phenomenon is happening to them.  The lack of answers only enhances the unease, where everyone that we meet is being watched, toyed with, and doomed.  Few concepts are more terrifying on paper, and Martín-Calero's determination to maintain a still and forbidding atmosphere throughout is refreshing to say the least.

2016 Horror Part Eighteen

SWEET, SWEET LONELY GIRL

Dir - A.D. Calvo

Overall: MEH

With Sweet, Sweet Lonely Girl, Argentine-born filmmaker A.D. Calvo has crafted a muted throwback of sorts, a film that hearkens to a bygone era of the more low-key regional exploitation films from decades past, especially the ones that were largely set in antiquated Victorian houses with a small crop of characters.  Several contemporary indie genre movies have also gone this route, (think Oz Perkins' I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House, Ti West's The Inkeepers and The House of the Devil, H.P. Mendoza's I Am a Ghost, or to a lesser extent, Rose Glass' Saint Maude), and it is a harmless tactic that bypasses hackneyed jump scares and the like.  Instead and as the title would suggest, we have a somber character study about a, well, lonely young woman whose social anxieties leave her feeling left out while she cares for her agoraphobic, sickly, and curmudgeon aunt while falling for someone who takes a liking to her and represents all of the go-getter personality traits that she herself lacks.  The narrative hooks have all been utilized before, and the film is anti-wheel-inventing by design, but it has a sincere approach that occasionally makes its recognizable shout-outs enduring.  Unfortunately though, it fails to flesh-out Erin Wilhelmi's troubled protagonist, and worse yet, it drops a psychological and/or supernatural twist finale out of the blue, one that feels unearned and sloppy.

 

FOUND FOOTAGE 3D

Dir - Steven DeGennaro

Overall:WOOF

 

The full-length debut from indie filmmaker Steven DeGennaro, Found Footage 3D is a problematic meta commentary on horror movies which does the same things that it makes fun of doing.  Deliberately Scream-adjacent, its gimmick and sub-genre are referenced solely in the title, and the characters therein consistently discuss the major drawbacks of found footage and horror films in general.  It is a cluster-fuck by design, being a movie-within-a-movie-within-another-movie, struggling with itself to be original while failing spectacularly.  This is a conundrum to be sure, since its main antagonist is a roaring alpha douchebag writer/director/star who cartoonishly personifies a type of narcissistic hack that defends every cheap gag which he gets excited about, regularly proclaiming that the audience members are stupid and everyone should stop "overthinking" everything.  Yet the product that DeGennaro himself has produced insults the viewer in the exact manner that his main villain does, and that his on-screen crew fights him against.  So characters acting like morons, the camera rolling and being pointed at things for no rhyme or reason, horrendous CGI ghosts and monster faces, jump scares, psyche-outs; it is all fair game since its OK folks, the filmmakers behind the filmmakers are in on the joke.  Maybe some viewers will be too, but for the rest of us, we do not need a hundred-minute reminder of how idiotic these movies are.

 

COLOSSAL

Dir - Nacho Vigalondo

Overall: GOOD

 

Spanish filmmaker Nacho Vigalondo does a wacky thing with Colossal; a kaiju movie that behaves like no other kaiju movie has ever behaved.  That is because it is as much a low-key indie drama as anything, one with a comedic tone up until a point that just so happens to throw into the mix a giant robot and reptilian monster battling it out in South Korea's largest city Seoul.  The science, (or lack there of), behind the premise is not important, but somehow Anne Hathaway and Jason Sudeikis are the culprits of such kaiju tomfoolery, and Vigalondo is exclusively interested in delving into their dysfunctional dynamic.  Hathaway is a likeable drunk who has made a mess of her adulthood, and Sudeikis is a manipulative grown-up bully who runs a bar, but the extent of the latter's pathetic and deplorable nature only becomes crystalized as things progress.  Much of the movie's charm is how singular its genre melding is, and Vigalondo makes it a point to utilize Hathaway and Sudeikis' inherent comedic chops to keep the viewer amused.  Never does he stop and chuckle at the absurdity of the premise though, treating it matter-of-factly in order to emphasize just how much baggage these people have to work with.  The fact that it gets unloaded halfway across the world in a disaster film scenario nearly becomes an afterthought if not for Hathaway's heart of gold nature remaining steadfast.  While some of the implausibility carries over into the character's behavior, (Sudeikis is too unsympathetic to buy into at times), it is delightfully unique and well-crafted.

2022 Horror Part Twenty-Eight

THE DEATH OF APRIL

Dir - Ruben Rodriguez

Overall: WOOF

 

A poorly done and ultra-low budget found footage entry from prolific indie filmmaker Ruben Rodriguez, The Death of April makes top to bottom mistakes and hits most of the faulty found footage beats.  Done as a mockumentary with talking head interviews, on screen text, and scary music, it presents a scenario that grows increasingly implausible when a likeable young woman, (and we are told how likeable she is about seven thousand times by four different people), moves across the country to start her adult life as a teacher, only to become obsessed with a ghost that is doing ghost things in her apartment.  First of all, Katarina Hughes' protagonist seems to have a camera running during every second that she is at home, even before such rudimentary supernatural shenanigans start happening.  These include objects moving on their own, Hughes' entire personality changing as if possessed, her waking up to talk to disembodied voices, a seance gone awry, her brother's date arriving and having a psychic seizure attack, and other arbitrary events that lead Hughes to uncover that another woman around her age had been found murdered and also used to live where she now does.  Conclusions are drawn only because the script says so, and poor Hughes is gaslit by every other character even when clear evidence of her ordeal is presented in camera.  The film fails as an examination of mental illness since real paranormal activity is captured, the performances are uniformly weak, and all of the spooky gags are from the hackneyed grab bag.

 

PIGGY

Dir - Carlota Pereda

Overall: GOOD

 

The first solo full-length from writer/director Carlota Pereda, Piggy, (Cerdita), also serves as an expansion on her 2018 short film of the same name.  This is a relentlessly bitter watch, one that hinges its entire persona on the "bullies be bullying" trope that is found in many a tragedy, be it horror, thriller, comedy, or straight-faced drama.  Pereda's movie is almost entirely void of humor and instead stays in its miserable thriller lane, presenting us with a heavy-set and cripplingly introverted character who is bullied without end from her peers, while simultaneously being micromanaged, ignored, or also picked on at home by her mother, father, and younger brother, respectively.  It is a hopeless situation for Laura Galán's protagonist, the actor giving one of those fearless performances that asks a lot of her, yet still only a fraction of what her character must endure on the daily.  Wisely, Pereda throws a kink into the mix, eschewing the mere Carrie comparisons in favor of something that dips its toes into torture porn and slasher motifs, yet also steers just clear of those loathsome sub-genre's gratuitous schlock and nihilism.  This offers up a disturbing scenario where the brutalized go further inward than they already are, finding comfort in monsters who handle the vengeance for them.  The film is a success for what it achieves, even if it is too wearisome to visit more than once.

 

HOUSE OF DARKNESS

Dir - Neil LaBute

Overall: MEH

 

Justin Long's typecasting as a doomed scumbag continues with House of Darkness, the latest from filmmaker Neil LaBrute.  It is a movie that wields its one-note trajectory of comeuppance for the duration of its running time, pitting Long up against Kate Bosworth and her isolated Gothic castle after a night of hitting it off at a bar, though what part of America this is where such a spacious European abode is clandestinely located is never explained.  Right from the onset, audience members need to gear-up for a relentless stream of frustrating dialog where every sentence that Long utters is twisted by the woman, (eventually women), whom he is talking to.  As a guy that was just planning to have a few drinks and maybe get lucky under the sheets, Long is toyed with from the onset, stumbling over his half-truths while being playfully smirked at, all the while soldiering on like a clueless horndog who either thinks that he is reading the room perfectly or feels that his charm can win the day regardless.  The problem is that every person watching this will see exactly where it is going, picking up on all of the clues and genre motifs, as well as the simple fact that we have seen Long in so many situations like this before.  It is either perfect casting or awful casting in this regard, but at least any woman who has had to endure some "nice guy" awkwardly trying to get in their pants may get a kick out of its inevitable and bloody conclusion.

2017 Horror Part Eighteen

DIANE

Dir - Michael Mongillo

Overall: MEH

 

An indie psychological thriller with some ghostly activity thrown in, Diane has more ambition than it does the budgetary means to achieve that ambition.  The movie hinges on Jason Alan Smith's performance; an actor that is probably too good looking to make a convincing recluse of an army veteran, (think your average CW heartthrob except with no social life, no love life, and just a five o'clock shadow and a vague limp to make him somehow less fetching).  That said, he does a fine job with the material that pits him against his own tormented psyche that is reeling after a lovely lounge singer is found dead in his backyard.  Filmmaker Michael Mongillo goes for a combination of bog-standard supernatural flourishes, a soundtrack that has Carlee Avers singing what sounds like a smooth jazz standard as well as some indie folk tunes, and some trippy hallucinations.  Sometimes the style forgives the meager budget, but other times it is jarring and wears its amateurish constraints on its sleeves.  The dialog is also a mixed bag of clever and unconvincing, plus the whole thing comes off more like an mid-range television episode than a memorable work of an auteur, but this is hardly a detrimental thing.

KILLING GOD

Dir - Caye Casas/Albert Pintó

Overall: MEH

For their first collaboration together in the apply-titled Killing God, (Matar a Dios), filmmakers Caye Casas and Albert Pintó take on some heady themes in the guise of an abrupt apocalyptic scenario where a family full of schlubs come face to face with their creator.  The situation is both ridiculous and funny enough, bringing into question just how logical it is for the human race to carry on existing when it is made up of such flawed individuals.  It is a wise move then that writer/directors Pintó and Casas make their small crop of characters relatable.  Two are in a long and loveless marriage that has hit a stalemate due to one being a sexist curmudgeon and the other succumbing to another man's sexual advances, one is recklessly living it up in his elder years, and the other is a suicidal cuckold whose own marriage has fallen apart.  None of these people are fully likeable, but none of them are fully unlikable either as they merely represent various human foibles that any of us on any given bad day can fall victim to.  Emilio Gavira's portrayal as the all powerful foul-mouthed, dwarf-sized, and wine-chugging creator is a hoot, but everyone gives solid performances to the point where the impossibility of their situation becomes emotionally palpable.  On that note though, the film writes itself into an ending that is bound to disappoint on some level and the structure is too repetitive to stay on track.

 

THE NIGHT WATCHMEN

(2017)

Dir - Mitchell Altieri

Overall: WOOF

Lazy, obnoxious, and worst of all not funny, The Night Watchmen comes from Mitchell Altieri, (half of the Butcher Brothers filmmaking team), though he works from a script by Ken Arnold, Dan De Luca, and Jamie Nash, all three of whom fuck up the idiot-proof premise of killer vampire clown zombies run amok at a newspaper office.  Both Arnold and De Luca also appear on screen, and they at least seem to be enjoying themselves, but such enthusiasm does not translate to the audience unless one is incessantly forgiving of "jokes" that seem like they were the result of a rushed first draft writing session done seconds before shooting started.  The characters are wise-cracking idiots who all have arbitrary quirks no matter how much horrific bloodshed is happening all around them, and combined with something as hackneyed as creepy clowns, screaming monster faces, and gratuitous gore, it fails as an inventive genre hybrid from top to bottom.  In one of many horrendously painful scenes, our heroes want to prove that a guy is not a member of the undead, so they make him dance, he does an embarrassing sexy one, they insist he does another, that one is also not convincing enough, then the token black guy starts beat-boxing and the dancing guy gets killed anyway and farts postmortem, as do other dead bodies along the way.  Every horror comedy does not have to be wheel-inventing high-brow art but for fuck's sake, can we try a little harder than this?

2010 Horror Part Ten

YELLOWBRICKROAD

Dir - Andy Mitten/Jesse Holland

Overall: MEH

 

Though clunky in execution, the debut YellowBrickRoad from the writer/director duo of Andy Mitten and Jesse Holland boasts a bizarre premise that breathes some singular life into the ole "lost in the woods" style horror film.  In 1940, an entire town full of people randomly head into the wilderness after watching a local screening of The Wizard of Oz, most never to be heard from again.  Decades later, a group of curious journalists, a film crew, and some scouts decide to venture the same newly discovered route as the doomed townsfolk did, inevitably running into some nasty psychological torment.  Besides retro music and piercing feedback that seems to be blaring from loudspeakers that no one can see, the characters do not run into much that is unwholesome.  Instead, they begin to fail their own self-imposed mental checkpoints one by one, splintering apart from one another while exhibiting different kinds of wackadoo behavior.  Mitten and Holland's script has the right jumping off point and a disturbing outcome, but there is no overarching theme besides that the woods are dangerous and never trust your hand-written coordinates when you are clearly in the Twilight Zone.  Also, the characters are underwritten despite consistently decent performances, which makes the whole thing difficult to invest in.

 

UNCLE BOONMEE WHO CAN RECALL HIS PAST LIVES

Dir - Apichatpong Weerasethakul

Overall: GREAT

Taking inspiration from the 1983 book A Man Who Can Recall His Past Lives by Buddhist abbot Phra Sripariyattiweti, (who apparently met and interviewed a man that claimed such a thing), Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives, (Lung Bunmi Raluek Chat), is a contemplative experience, taking low-key filmmaking to a place where spirits, perceptions, and the subconscious all co-exist.  Though it deliberately bounces around, the main narrative is set in modern times and focuses on the last days of its title character; an unassuming farmer who is dying of kidney failure and reflects on both his earlier years and what can happen next as he is visited by a small crop of loved ones.  The fact that some of these family members are either ghosts or ape-like woodland creatures with red eyes is treated matter-of-factly, which goes hand-in-hand with an ethereal and folkloric mood, as well as references to such real world events such as a 1965 communist crackdown.  There is a permeating theme of everything, (either otherworldly or not), sharing real estate with each other, and writer/director Apichatpong Weerasethakul offers up no spoon-feeding for his audience.  Instead, the film plays out slowly and by its own terms, lingering on moments that are both simple and ridiculously strange, yet it all seems warm and inviting instead of challenging, which in and of itself is a rarity for art house cinema.

EMPUSA

Dir - Paul Naschy

Overall: WOOF

The final directorial effort Empusa from Paul Naschy is a nobble yet ultimately embarrassing attempt at rekindling his exploitation glory days on as shoestring of a budget as ever.  Shot in 2007 yet finished by its producer Angel Mora a year after Nashy's death, the Spanish horror icon that loves his monsters as much as he cannot resist putting female characters in his movies that find him irresistible seems to at least be poking fun at himself here.  Nashy was seventy-three when this was filmed, playing a foul-mouth occult writer in a ridiculous jet-black wig and durag who still has the sexual prowess to impress naked flirting females that are young enough to be his granddaughters.  Yet he also jokes about his withered age and throws several deliberately funny lines into the mix, plus someone had the horrendous idea to fill almost every second of screen time with goofy keyboard music.  While the idea of an elderly ladies man squaring off against Ancient Greek vampire babes while wise-cracking with his rotting corpse best friend should be enough to carry things through, the cheap production aspects leave little room for exciting set pieces or flashy cinematography.  Instead, this is painfully boring stuff, only coming alive at irregular intervals and primary being nothing more than actors sitting down and talking to each other, followed by another scene where actors sit down and talk to each other.

1990s Spanish Horror Part Four

IMMORTAL SINS
(1991)
Dir - Hervé Hachuel
Overall: MEH

The second of only two full-length films directed by producer Hervé Hachuel, Immortal Sins, (Veil of Dreams, Vengeance with a Kiss), is a contemporary set throwback, set in a Gothic location and involving a long condemned witch who works her mojo on any men in her accuser's family line.  These kind of formulaic tales write themselves, and Thomas McKelvey Cleaver and Beverly Gray's screenplay has nothing clever to add to a long-established cinematic mythos of unsuspecting city folks moving out into the European countryside only to get besieged by supernatural forces that are beyond their control.  There are some steamy nightmare sex scenes between Not-Wings Hauser Cliff De Young and Shari Shattuck, the latter playing the scheming succubus lady who is posing as an interior decorator because she has to pose as something.  This was one of many B-level productions from Roger Corman's Concorde-New Horizons to be shot overseas and with a local crew, and the "anything to save a buck" approach captures some of the remote Spanish countryside, not to mention the dark, fire-lit castle setting.  The film is atmospherically on point, but the story is a snore and it only comes alive within the last five or so minutes when we get some hearts being ripped out, some monster make-up, and a pool of water erupting into flames.

 

THE NIGHT OF THE EXECUTIONER

(1992)

Dir - Paul Naschy

Overall: MEH

If one wanted to be kind, they can see Paul Naschy's penultimate directorial full-length The Night of the Executioner, (La noche del ejecutor), as a fun action revenge parody, but it is more likely that it is simply a hilariously out-of-touch and ridiculous vanity project from a man who has done far better.  This is Naschy's low-end version of Death Wish, and it is presented in an identical style to his films from a decade and some change earlier, dating it right out of the gate.  Scenes start with zoom-outs, characters sit around talking in boring wide-shots, there is hardly any atmospheric lighting or cinematography, expository dialog is never disguised as anything but, and it has a lackadaisical pace that the early 90s were hardly on about.  Besides an unflinching rape and murder scene in the beginning to get things going, the rest of the action is clumsy and downright embarrassing, with Naschy usually just slowly shooting people instead of coming up with outrageous comeuppance kill scenes.  Playing a rich doctor, Naschy gives himself a humdrum training montage, learns how to throw knives and use guns with pinpoint accuracy in a manner of hours or days, literally walks headfirst right through a goddamn glass window, and picks off the criminals one at a time in order for them to formulate a plan and murder more of his loved ones.  There is plenty of other nonsense like cars exploding from a single gunshot yards away and badly-hung Nazi flags because evil, but if one can withstand how sluggish the majority of it is, there are definitely some things left over to laugh at.

 

KILLER TONGUE

(1996)

Dir - Alberto Sciamma

Overall: WOOF

A loud, aggressive, disgusting, and insufferably obnoxious trash "comedy", Killer Tongue, (La lengua asesina), is the first full-length from music video director Alberto Sciamma, and you can tell.  Edited at a dizzying rate, (coherence be damned), it cruises along like a jackrabbit on a drug-fueled quest towards self destruction.  An alien life form, (or something), crashes into the dingy home of ex-bank robber Melinda Clarke, who is awaiting the release of her lover from the clutches of Robert Englund's "prison" which is just him screaming at a couple of inmates in the middle of the desert where he makes them do torturous amounts of manual labor.  Clarke's body gets overtaken by the killer appendage of the title that turns her into a Goth rock dominatrix and makes her act like she is about to self-combust.  Oh, and the tongue talks, turns her dogs into drag queens, and a nun shows up with supernatural powers while more people scream, piss, fondle each other, and scream some more.  It is such an alarmingly hare-brained mess that its filthy, violent, profanity-ridden, bizarre, and gross-out trajectory has to be intentional.  What audience this dung heap could possibly be for is another question since it goes so hard and so fast in so many wild directions that it seems more like a parody of grimy exploitation movies than one that has any clue as to what makes some of those movies enduring.

1980s Spanish Horror Part Seven

REGRESO DEL MÁS ALLÁ
(1982)
Dir - Juan José Porto
Overall: MEH

The second of only two horror movies from Spanish filmmaker Juan José Porto, Regreso del más allá, (Back from Beyond, Return from Beyond), is an obscure and clearly minuscule-budgeted one. Set almost entirely at a contemporary-styled mansion that a couple rents to work on their novel and thesis respectively, it has a redundant nature where the woman incessantly has visions of the three people who were brutally murdered there. Save for one or two hazy framing effects, the ghosts are just actors in pale zombie make-up who either merely stand still or slowly walk up to Ana Obregón as she stares wide-eyed, cries, screams, and still insists on staying there because the movie needs to be longer than twelve minutes. The husband never sees anything of course, but at least he does not gaslight his partner, plus Porto goes for a curious stillness in the presentation. There is little incidental music and the numerous supernatural scenes play out in a calm and matter-of-fact manner. While the approach is unique and seems to be going for a sense of low-key and eerie intimacy, it unfortunately results in a sterile watch.  The twist ends up  being both predictable and logically undermines the long wait to get there, but at least some exploitative gore, nudity, and a genuine attempt at spookiness is appreciated.

 

AKELARRE

(1984)

Dir - Pedro Olea
Overall: MEH

A witch trial drama from filmmaker Pedro Olea, Akelarre, (Witches' Sabbath), hits all of the miserable and predictable beats even if it is presented sincerely instead of being merely exploitative.  Set during the end of the 16th century in Navarre, Spain and apparently shot on location there, it concerns your usual crop of corrupt clergyman and town officials who squash the peasants pre-Christian traditions by striking fear into the village with preposterous witch accusations.  It has false confessions brought on by torture, a Don's son who tries to free a condemned tavern maid after making repeated sexual advances towards her, (and then raping her anyway), plus the Catholic church depicted in the bog-standard and unflattering light where they go from town to town murdering innocent members of the lower class in the name of the Jesus.  As stock as the story and black and white as the characters may be depicted, Olea presents it as a timely tragedy where paranoia and superstition make natural bedfellows with corruption and class dynamics.  The pacing is without agency, but José Luis Alcaine's cinematography utilizes natural lighting to ideally capture the rustic setting.

 

THE SEA SERPENT

(1985)

Dir - Amando de Ossorio

Overall: MEH

Doubling as the final theatrically-released film from Spanish writer/director Amando de Ossorio as well as veteran actor Ray Milland, The Sea Serpent, (Serpiente de mar), is a rightfully neglected nature horror dud, one of oodles that sprung forth in the wake of Stephen Spielberg's Jaws.  There is no killer shark, but the creature that we do get is hilariously unconvincing.  The filmography of de Ossorio was always ill-equipped budget wise and this, (his only giant monster movie), is no different.  The creature resembles that "What! What'll come out no more!" stop-motion thing that shows up for one shot in John Carpenter's Big Trouble in Little China, if only it was made with papier-mâché for a third grade school art project.  Hardly a proper Loch Ness Monster stand-in, it is delegated to little screen time anyway.  In fact, it disappears for almost the entire second act which allows for the hackneyed plot to unfold as a series of frustrated people trying to convince other frustrated people that an oversized sea beast exists.  Besides Milland, Jack Taylor, Victor Israel, and even Spanish horror director León Klimovsky make appearances, but this and the stupid looking title monster are hardly enough to maintain interest.

1970s Italian Horror Part Thirty-Seven

COLD EYES OF FEAR

(1971)
Dir - Enzo G. Castellari
Overall: MEH

A home invasion thriller with plenty of giallo stylistic touches, Cold Eyes of Fear, (Gli occhi freddi della paura, Desperate Moments), was a Spanish/Italian co-production that was set and partially shot in London. Familiar genre faces Fernando Rey and Frank Wolff are present, the latter American actor and Roger Corman regular sadly committing suicide not long after production wrapped.  Here he portrays a convicted felon who is out for revenge, hatching a scheme with a liberal amount of holes in it that involves posing as a police man, hiring a two-bit thug, and breaking into the house of the judge who sent him to the joint for fifteen years.  Wolff turns in an increasingly unhinged performance, especially in the last act where his troubled psyche is manifested on screen in surreal fashion with some flashy camera zooms and whatnot.  In fact there are several moments where director Enzo G. Castellari and cinematographer Antonio Lopez Ballesteros spice things up, including an opening psyche-out scene in a club.  Excessive nudity and gore may be missing from the proceedings, but the high-tension melodramatics are in proper place.

 

MY DEAR KILLER

(1972)

Dir - Tonino Valerii

Overall: MEH

 

The only giallo from director Tonino Valerii, My Dear Killer, (Mio caro assassino), is formulaic in most respects, but it is competently done with some sleazy details in proper tow.  The film brings together genre regulars George Hilton and Helga Line, plus this serves as the debut from seven year-old German actor Lara Wendel who makes her first of several appearances in European movies where part of the plot hinges on an icky adult being attracted to her.  Also, she is briefly shown nude, so there is that.  Such unwholesome nonsense aside, it is the usual police procedural deal where a detective is one step behind the killer until the very end, with all of the clues hiding in plain sight and in seemingly insignificant details.  Some POV camerawork from cinematographer Manuel Rojas, a murderer who smashes people to death with a stature, (or a buzz-saw in one instance), a surprisingly subtle musical score from Ennio Morricone, and a laugh-out-loud opening scene where a guy gets lifted high off the ground and decapitated by a construction crane are all highlights.  Unfortunately, the plot specifics are convoluted, plus the movie has a talky and ergo less than agreeable agency to it so that by the time the killer reveal happens, it arrives with more of a yawn than a gasp.

 

STARCRASH
(1978)
Dir - Luigi Cozzi
Overall: WOOF

 

The Italians pathetically cashing in on Star Wars?  Surely you jest.  Starcrash, (Scontri stellari oltre la terza dimensione), is a delightfully terrible knock-off from director Luigi Cozzi that exhibits the best kind of bad movie magic, meaning something that comes off as a parody in all details yet takes itself seriously.  This equals unintended hysterics from front to back, down to a cornball plot that a five year old would think is stupid, embarrassing performances that are enhanced tenfold by embarrassing dubbing that is enhanced tenfold by embarrassing dialog, and D-rent special effects done on an A-scale.  Shot in Rome and scoring everyone from Christopher Plummer, David Hasselhoff, Joe Spinell, and the husband/wife team of Judd Hamilton and Caroline Munro, everyone sounds and looks ridiculous.  Though her voice was redone by Candy Clark since why pay someone to be in your movie AND say their own lines, Munro takes the lead, rocking out a bikini in most of her scenes where her hairstyle changes between interior and exterior shots.  The plot finds our heroes hitting one deadly brick wall after the other, easily escaping or being rescued with an increasing sense of zero suspense, all with unconvincing fight scenes, cheap lasers and model work, some stop-motion animation, and Flash Gordon schmaltz peppering every scene.  To be fair, the aesthetic is pure, colorful camp and it manages to look both low-rent and decadent at the same time.  A staple for any bad movie night.

1970s Spanish Horror Part Sixteen

PASTEL DE SANGRE

(1971)
Dir - Francesc Bellmunt/Jaime Chávarri/Emilio Martínez Lázaro/José María Vallés
Overall: WOOF

Spain jumps in the anthology horror game with Pastel de sangre, (Cake of Blood, Blood Pie), which features four different writer/directors each delivering a segment.  For most of the filmmakers, this was their first full-length credit and they would rarely if at all dip their toes into the genre throughout the rest of their careers.  Unfortunately, their joint venture here is an amatuerish and pointless mess.  Each story is both low on dialog and plot, going for an ethereal mood that just becomes frustratingly aimless.  José María Vallés' "Tarota" has a guy on a horse, a little person, weird masks, and a woman who might be a vampire. "Victor Frankenstein" by Emilio Martínez Lázaro is by far the most forgettable interpretation of Marry Shelley's novel ever filmed, barely qualifying as such since it just has a zero charisma doctor showing up and then disappearing so that his good-looking yet mute creature can arrive, smile at people, and strangle a few of them.  Francesc Bellmunt's "Terror entre cristianos" has vampires and Romans and then Jaime Chávarri's closing "La danza o las supervivencias afectivas" is possibly the worst of all, featuring two criminals who tie up a woman and then do nothing for roughly twenty minutes afterwards.

 

THE HOUSE WITHOUT FRONTIERS

(1972)
Dir - Pedro Olea
Overall: MEH

A conspiracy thriller from Spanish filmmaker Pedro Olea, The House Without Frontiers, (The House Without Boundaries, La casa sin fronteras), was made as General Francisco Franco's long-standing regime was winding down and it serves as an ambiguous mood piece where elderly upholders of power are patiently and systematically weeding out the younger generation who are not so willing to play ball.  While the premise and several intense moments are sinister and chilling, the deliberate pacing takes too much wind out of the proceedings.  The opening scene is repeated with different characters three different times and in each instance it successfully represents a macabre reminder of what is at stake, but the nebulous plot unfolds nonchalantly.  Numerous lingering shots are unnecessary, as are entire moments that propel nothing forward while only hinting at a melancholic dread that never becomes properly suspenseful.  Tony Isbert also makes for a painfully wooden lead, never once changing his flat-lined facial expression until the closing moments.  Though clearly an admirable and risky work for its era and home country, the movie feels an hour longer than it is and ultimately tiptoes around its more interesting ideas as opposed to successfully leaning into them.

 

VIOLENT BLOOD BATH

(1974)

Dir - Jorge Grau

Overall: WOOF

The second of three consecutive horror films from Spanish director Jorge Grau, Violent Blood Bath, (Pena de muerte, Penalty of Death, Night Fiend, Death Petulantly, The Private Life of a Public Prosecutor), boasts a particularly misleading title as there is little violence, even less blood, and no baths.  Instead, it is a low-level melodrama concerning a crotchety magistrate who favors the death penalty and is plagued by a series of copycat murders pertaining to criminals whom he had previously sentenced.  He also has a wife, (Austrian bombshell/scream queen Marisa Mell), that is over twenty years younger than him and who is gallivanting around in steamy fashion with her ex.  Despite a couple of hysterical breakdowns near the finale from Mell, the actors on screen seem to be sleepwalking through the entire thing, which is understandable due to Grau's insufficient pacing and a story that removes anything that could be considered exciting.  Well, we do have a hilariously random moment where women engage in a lobster-eating contest in their underwear, but there is otherwise nothing to see here that is worth remembering.  Characters talk, they talk some more, then they talk again before making room for a lot more talking, plus the twist is one of the most predictable in any quasi-giallo out there.

1960s Spanish Horror Part Three

FACE OF TERROR
(1962)
Dir - Isidoro M. Ferry/William J. Hole Jr.
Overall: MEH

A Spanish, "plastic surgery gone amok" horror film done on the cheap, Face of Terror, (La cara del terror), is unique among such movies in that the crop of not-American actors largely dub their own dialog with accents in tow, but it is otherwise a derivative and sluggish bore.  TV director William J. Hole Jr. added some extra scenes for the US release depending on which version you come across, but either one boasts the same lackluster results.  It plays the trope that all women with mental illness must be raving lunatics, but the annoyance of Lisa Gaye's antagonist over people gawking at her or trying to send her back to a crazy house comes off as reasonable.  That is because her extreme level of depression stems from her face being deformed, something which would make anyone unhappy to say the least.  The film detours with musical numbers, police trying to track Gaye down, and the attempts of Fernando Rey's doctor to recover from Gaye's earlier attack on him after he "cures" her unfortunate facial features.  It makes for a boring and talky watch that only mildly springs to life with clumsy set pieces, plus the cinematography is barely competent and the finale is clearly broadcast from the onset.

 

STRANGE VOYAGE

(1964)
Dir - Fernando Fernán Gómez
Overall: MEH

Splashing together some old dark house and hagsploitation motifs under what is primarily a lighthearted black comedy, Strange Voyage, (El extraño viaje), comes from director Fernando Fernán Gómez, who was a beloved Spanish renaissance man in various fields throughout his career.  While the story meanders with several side characters and never lands anywhere interesting, it does provide a melodramatic look into unassuming Spanish life during an era that was undergoing cultural change.  Most of the film focuses on the generational differences emerging during Francoist Spain, where the older townspeople are depicted as suspicious curmudgeons and the younger adults try to find their way out of their small, judgemental village while dancing and falling in love.  It also just so happens to throw in an accidental murder where an old spinster gets bludgeoned by her dim-witted siblings, one of whom is portrayed with schlubby charm by the world's lousiest/most prolific filmmaker Jess Franco.  We eventually get a convoluted explanation that ties some otherwise unrelated arcs together, but the road to get there is poorly paced and lacking in any convincing humor.  It is a shame though that Gómez never embarked on anything in the horror genre proper, since he stages some early scenes in a spacious house at night with suspenseful and spooky confidence.

 

THE MARK OF THE WOLFMAN
(1968)
Dir - Enrique López Eguiluz
Overall: GOOD

While the debut of Paul Nashcy's Waldemar Daninsky's character has some of the usual drawbacks for Euro-horror of the era, (namely sluggish pacing, laughable dubbing, and a hare-brained script), The Mark of the Wolfman is benefited by stylish visuals and of course Nashy's ferocious performance.  This was the actor's first starring role, which he allegedly debating in offering to a far past his prime Lon Chaney Jr before Naschy somewhat reluctantly took it on himself.  Considering that this launched his career as the Spanish Wolfman and easily the country's most stubborn-in-a-good-way proponent of throwback horror cinema, it is crazy to see anyone else in the part.  Director Enrique López Eguiluz helps to create a colorful, Bava-esque tone with vibrant lighting, Gothic locations, fog, and occasionally eerie music which accompanies the transformation scenes wonderfully.  Of course no European genre film would be complete without having been released under a plethora of alternate titles and this one is near the top of such a list with La Marca del Hombre Lobo, Hell Creature, Les Fantomes de Dracula en de Weerwolf, Le Notti di Satana, Hexen des Grauens, Die Vampire des Dr. Dracula, and of course the most misleading, Americanized title of all time in Frankenstein's Bloody Terror.

1960s Spanish Horror Part Two

HYPNOSIS

(1962)

Dir - Eugenio Martín

Overall: MEH

 

An early effort from director Eugenio Martín, Hypnosis, (Ipnosi, Nur Tote Zeugen Schweigen, Dummy of Death), is a European co-production between West German, Spain, Italy, and France that adheres to the formulaic trappings of Edgar Wallace krimi films.  Though a ventriloquist dummy is introduced in the opening scene and is even more garishly unsettling looking than most, this proves to be a misleading motif as the story instead concerns Jean Sorel trying to cover his tracks while making things much worse after a hypnotist is murdered in his dressing room.  The plotting is cumbersome and mostly hinders around Heinz Drache's police inspector interviewing and tailing to the same woman several times, all in an attempt to catch up to the suspect who doubles as someone that the audience knows is innocent.  This is because we are aware of who the murder is from the get go, rendering this as a police procedural without a mystery.  Martín hardly has the production backing to make anything stylistically noteworthy, but ghostly wailings of a dummy's cackle are inherently creepy and though we are fully aware that no otherworldly or even psychological trick is being played on us, there are still a few shadowy and suspensefully curious moments to break up the monotony.

FATA MORGANA

(1965)

Dir - Vicente Aranda

Overall: MEH

An incoherent art film with a murder mystery disguised underneath it, Fata Morgana, (Left-Handed Fate), was the second effort from Spanish director Vincente Aranda.  Model-turned-actor Teresa Gimpera runs around a deserted Barcelona as everyone that she meets becomes different levels of infatuated with her, all while her death seems to be preordained and a police detective, (who is the only frustrated one in the movie), tries to find her before it is too late.  Or something along those lines.  Antonio Pérez Olea's up-temp jazz score occasionally breaks the long moments of silence, a woman kills two guys with a fish knife, one character keeps taking off disguises, sometimes people talk directly into the camera, hoodlums cut out and steal a billboard with Gimpera's photo on it, and the whole film has meta references to further confuse things.  Our main heroine all but disappears for the final act as we switch to the detective before things end in a frustratingly abrupt manner, which all things considered, is in keeping with the nebulous giallo by way of Alain Robbe-Grillet/Jean-Luc Godard approach that Aranda takes here.

 

MACABRE

(1969)

Dir - Javier Setó

Overall: WOOF

The penultimate film Macabre, (Shadow of Death, Viaje al vacío), from Spanish director Javier Setó is unfortunately a lifeless, giallo-adjacent snooze-fest.  A co-production between Spain and Italy as many identically structured cheapies were, familiar genre faces Larry Ward, Giacomo Rossi Stuart, and Teresa Gimpera are all present, with Ward playing a set of identical twin brothers convincingly enough.  The ole "let's kill him by making him go crazy and take all of his money" scheme is utilized here, as well as a blackmail one involving Stuart who takes on the appearance of a typical, black trench coat and gloves giallo killer even if he does not play one.  Setó's presentation of the already stock material is lifeless, with hardly any murders taking place and any sleazy elements left alone.  Granted, the plot line revolves around a woman's infidelity with her husband's brother which is seedy enough on paper, but with hardly any set pieces besides Ward boringly getting treated for epileptic seizures, a woman getting killed so boringly that you hardly notice, and then Stuart getting thrown off out of a train, (also boringly), there is nothing here to captivate trash enthusiasts who expect a lot more, (or for that matter ANY), silliness, Euro-style, or camped-up melodrama.

1960s Spanish Horror Part One

PYRO...THE THING WITHOUT A FACE

(1964)
Dir - Julio Coll
Overall: MEH

The extramarital thriller Pyro...the Thing Without a Face, (Fuego, Wheel of Fire), was one of a handful of tacky B-movies from producer Sydney W. Pink, several of which were shot in Spain.  This one is no different in that regard, though the two top-billed actors were Americans Barry Sullivan and Martha Hyler.  The first half is an insufferable bore, revolving around Sullivan's guilt over his on-going affair with Hyler.  This is because none of the characters are interesting or sympathetic and they prattle on with each other to such a degree that viewers will long check out before anything promised in the movie's title takes place.  Eventually, the revenge plot takes over, first with Hyler torching her lover's home after he dumps her and then with Sullivan's now burned-up frame getting back at her. Julio Coll's direction is meandering and dull, but Pink's script deserves the brunt of the blame as it fails to properly exploit the plight of its adulteress pyromaniac or its architect-turned-ferris-wheel-repair-man, (?!?).  How three different women become hopelessly in love with Sullivan's moody character is both ridiculous and insulting, but at least the couple of seconds that we get of his melted, fleshy burn make-up at the very end looks nice and ghastly.

LA LLAMADA
(1965)
Dir - Javier Setó
Overall: GOOD

An obscure, supernatural romance that ends up growing increasingly chilling as things progress, La Llamada, (The Sweet Sound of Death), benefits from its minimalist production.  The script by John Davis Hart, Paulino Rodrigo Díaz, and director Javier Setó takes some liberties as far as logic is concerned in order to keep the plot moving, but it also fuses familiar motifs with genuine surprises.  A Spanish answer to Herk Harvey's American independent masterpiece Carnival of Souls, it covers some of the same ground of people questioning their existence from beyond the grave and it even borrows said film's gag of dropping out all of the noise on the soundtrack for a particular scene.  Though it is set in contemporary times, (possibly for budgetary reasons), Setó still manages to make atmospheric use out of cemeteries and a crumbling mansion which recall some of the period Gothic aesthetic that European horror was already indulging in by the mid 1960s.  The movie still cannot avoid some pacing lulls as Emilio Gutiérrez Caba and scream queen Dyanik Zurakowska's destined lovers exchange the same flowery dialog with each other throughout the first act, but the finale delivers the appropriate level of spookiness as well as a fitting plot twist that teases at a psychological undercurrent.

 

SOUND OF HORROR

(1966)

Dir - José Antonio Nieves Conde

Overall: MEH

As the title would dictate, Sound of Horror, (El sonido de la muerte), does in fact contain an impressively sinister sound design.  It arrives whenever an unearthed, invisible dinosaur monster whatever thing attacks a bunch of archeologists who were careless enough to blow up dynamite and not heed a superstitious lady's warnings about fucking around in a cave in order to find some treasure.  A typical tale of people doomed by their own greed then, it features a small crop of bland characters whose names are not even worth remembering, even if scream queens Ingrid Pitt and Soledad Miranda play two of them.  Director José Antonio Nieves Conde was not one to bother with the horror genre, and there is little for him to do with it under the confines of Sam X. Abarbanel's stuck-in-the-muck script, which just has everyone boringly talking, getting picked off, and running from a house to the cave until the ninety minute mark.  While it is clearly a detrimental byproduct of the inadequate budget that the deadly creature is left unseen, the film deserves some credit for the howling wind/human screaming noise that it utilizes at regular intervals, which serves as an unnerving substitute for a guy in a rubber suit or some bad puppetry.

2023 Horror Part Fifteen

POOR THINGS
Dir - Yorgos Lanthimos
Overall: GOOD

 

The latest from the innately quirky filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos, Poor Things fuses his singular brand of boundary-pushing singularity with Alasdair Gray's 1992 novel of the same name.  In development for nearly a decade and a half, Lanthimos continues his partnership with screenwriter Tony McNamara, cinematographer Robbie Ryan, and actor Emma Stone, the latter who turns in a showy and transformative performance as a sexually promiscuous science project with a childlike ignorance and stubborn curiosity for independent enlightenment.  The fact that her character has the body of a pregnant woman who committed suicide and the brain of said pregnant woman's unborn infant implanted inside of her is just one of many ridiculous details to a series of hilarious events that escalate as a bizarre coming-of-age/Marry Shelley's Frankenstein/feminist parody hybrid.  Aesthetically, it is a tour de force for Lanthimos and Ryan, who shoot a sprawling, steam punk Victorian London with gorgeous flash, making every nuance pop off the screen like a demented and lush fairy tale.  It is an expansive oddity that intellectually examines the human experience of both men and women, all while matching the pretentiousness of the materiel with a presentation that pokes fun at itself as much as it provokes.

STOPMOTION

Dir - Robert Morgan

Overall: MEH

For fans of British stop motion animator Robert Morgan, his apply titled, full-length debut Stopmotion will arrive with a certain degree of anticipation.  After three decades of exclusively working in short films, his eccentric, grimy, and disturbed aesthetic is finally brought to ninety-three minute life with the assistance of co-screenwriter Robin King.  Yet even though it is a visual and atmospheric triumph that delivers on the promise of its singular filmmaker, it is still a frustratingly unfocused endeavor.  Concerning a struggling artist's decent into obsession and madness, (which are often times logical bedfellows for physiological horror such as this), Morgan sticks within his comfort zone by making the protagonist a stop motion animator herself, one who has lived in the shadow of her mother's lauded craft.  Aisling Franciosi creates a compelling performance in the lead, but the material that she has to work with seems to hint at something more profound than it ever arrives at.  This may be intentional; to present a surreal, nightmarish landscape where creativity can only truly manifest itself via emotional detachment and physical suffering to the point where the results are more due to a broken psyche than anything tangibly on point.  It has a bizzaro-world flare that rarely lets up, but the style is far more inciting than the narrative.

SISTER DEATH
Dir - Paco Plaza
Overall: GOOD

Pulling off a nifty M. Night Shyamalan maneuver in its final scene, Paco Plaza's Sister Death, (Hermana Muerte), is an ideally spooky nunsploitation movie that benefits from an intriguing, be it conventional supernatural mystery at its core.  Set in 1940s Spain as a newly arrived novice, (who is dubbed the "holy girl" in her youth for allegedly receiving a vision of the Virgin Mary), embarks on her teaching post in a former convent where something otherworldly is clearly afoot, Plaza slowly teases what appears to be your usual crop of arbitrary ghost encounters via nightmares, noises, and poltergeist activity that only occurs when the plot requires something scary to happen.  Thankfully though, the director and frequent Álex de la Iglesia collaborator Jorge Guerricaechevarría's script switches gears abruptly in its last act, (broken up into three chapters here), which reveals some harrowing events via flashback that shed unsettling light on the proceedings.  Aria Bedmar is wonderful in the lead, suffering more than just the usual tests of faith for a cinematic nun and eventually undergoing a transformation that is both satisfying and emotionally ravaged.  There is nothing unique here and Plaza still cannot resist the urge for a predictable jump scare here or there, but its presentation is more sincere than schlocky and all the better for it.