BEYOND THE DARKNESS

Cult, Horror, and Extreme

Cinema

By Phil Russell

A Bad News Press book

First published by Bad News Press in 2012
Beyond The Darkness: Cult, Horror, and Extreme Cinema
Text copyright © Phil Russell
This volume copyright © Phil Russell 2012
Design & layout: Phil Russell
Cover image courtesy of ContraFilm.
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored on a retrieval
system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise, on earth or in space, this dimension or
that, without prior permission in writing from the author/publisher.
Author's Acknowledgments: Many of the people below helped in so many ways
I'd have to create a new chapter just to describe how much they mean to me.
Jonny Eyres, Jenny Sinclair, Mike at MYO, Ronny at FilmBizarro.com, Mitch Davis
at FantAsia, Tyra Yeabsley, Chad West, Carlos Lopez, Kimberly Davis, Tomas
Olsen, and all at BD. David Kerekes at Headpress, Johannes Schonherr, Nick
Zedd, Asia Argento, and the folks at Amazon.com. To all of you, thank you so
much!

ISBN – 13: 978-1481865128

ISBN – 10: 1481865129

This book is dedicated to the memory of Ken Russell

1927 - 2011
 BEYOND THE
DARKNESS
Cult, Horror, and Extreme
Cinema

By Phil
Russell
 CONTENTS
Introduction – Page 7
Reviews – Page 13
Interview With Nick Zedd – Page 22
The Fall of George Romero – Page 158
The CAT III Phenomenon – Page 176
Mondo Movies and Shockumentaries – Page 337
Subversive! Spanish Horror Under The Franco Regime – Page 510
Is Censorship Still Relevant? – Page 516
The Vanishing Point of Cinema – Page 535

INTRODUCTION
Mainstream movies have always struck me as bland, boring,
safe, predictable, and prudish. However, the mainstream is
also necessary for cult movie fans as a point of distinction
between 'us and them'. One of the great pleasures of being
into this kind of stuff is to seek and ferret out new cinematic
treasures, and for that reason I have resisted the urge to
compile a comprehensive guide. Generally, this book
concentrates on the darker side of film; the controversial,
the shocking, and disturbing. It serves as a gateway into
extreme cinema rather than a complete guide. The intention
is to give readers an idea of what is out there, but by no
means is the territory fully mapped-out in these pages.
Rather than being content to seek out random, directionless
entertainment, as mainstream film fans do, devotees of the
darker side of cinema are more willing to discover these
oddities for themselves. For example, it was only a few short
years ago when the usually reliable IMDB listed just a
handful of films by Japanese provocateur, Hisayasu Sato.
But the last time I checked that number had grown to more
than 50! Barely any of his films have had a DVD release in
the
West, but with the recent success of Rampo Noir, cult movie
fans are quickly catching up with the filmic output of this
extraordinary director. Some of his films are covered in this
book, including one of the most fucked up movies you'll
ever see, Lolita Vibrator Torture. As for the rest, you'll have
to discover them for yourself.
There are a number of films covered here that have barely
been written about before, not even online, such as First
Transmission, The Video Diary of Ricardo Lopez, Love To Kill,
and Molester's Train: Dirty Behaviour. This is not an entry-
level book. It is assumed that the reader will be somewhat
familiar with the world of film and the horror genre in
particular, and be open to alternatives. It's not a complete
overview of extreme cinema (a complete A-Z guide would
include almost 3000 titles!). But hopefully you'll be
introduced to a few gems you have never even heard of
before. And if I can convert just one person to the sleazy
joys of a CAT III movie, I'll consider this book job done.
Everything from big-budget Hollywood flicks to micro-
budget amateur crap is covered here, and everything in
between. The style of the reviews are also varied; some are
short and straight to the point, others are more in-depth
attempts to engage with a film. Some are strictly objective
in approach, whereas others offer a more personal,
subjective point of view. Most were written in a sober frame
of mind, but there were one or two written under the
influence. I also attempt to explain my own interpretations
of some of these films but many will probably be widely off
the mark. But hey, don't mind me.
There are some people out there who prize certain films
depending on the levels of gore, violence, or sexual
depravity on display that the more mainstream types of
films don't deliver. If that's your main interest in film then
perhaps you should join a relevant web forum and compare
top ten lists of favourite decapitations with fellow geeks
because this
book will have little interest for you. Likewise, if you're just
interested in the real stuff. Mondo movies and
shockumentaries are covered in these pages but the
coverage isn't all that extensive. Although I have watched a
fare few of these types of films over the years, I generally
draw the line at the genuine stuff. If you've become so
jaded that even the grisliest and goriest of special effects
have no effect on you then by all means go check out the
fully illustrated Color Atlas of Forensic Pathology, or the AP
photos of the Liberian Civil War, or the police recovery
footage of the corpses under John Wayne Gacy's house,
because let's face it, there's no hope for you in fiction. That
stuff might just bring it on home to you the cost of human
destruction.
Films like Pasolini's Salo, however disgusting it may be, had
a point to make about the reduction of man to pieces of
meat in the world of late capitalism, and John McNaughton's
Henry-Portrait of a Serial Killer is a gruelling character study
that effectively shows how vulnerable we could be to an
unreasoning psychopath. But the celebration of these films
should not be at the expense of the more gratuitous and
exploitative side of shock cinema. Koji Shiraishi's Grotesque
may not offer anything even resembling a social and/or
political standpoint, but is a darn good piece of torture porn,
nonetheless. William Lustig's Maniac may not offer the same
psychological insight as the anti-hero in McNaughton's film,
but it remains one of the most brutal and harrowing slasher
movies ever made. Sometimes the horror and the
gruesomeness and the sleaze is reason enough to watch
these films, and there is nothing wrong with that. It's
perfectly natural to express an interest in the dark and the
forbidden; we shouldn't need to justify our viewing
pleasures by relying on some 'moral message' or serious
subtext. If a filmmaker decides to use shocking and
disturbing imagery in order to make a point about where
we're heading as a society, then that's great. And if the
same director decides to make a film that is gratuitous and
for the sole purpose of
shocking and amusing his audience, then that's also fine by
me. After all, we're responsible adults and we should be free
to decide for ourselves what we would like to watch. Cinema
as pure spectacle is accepted in the form of the musical or
the big-budget action film, but the censors always make a
point of cutting and banning this kind of thing in the horror
movie equivalent; the violent set-piece. A recent example is
The Human Centipede 2 which was briefly banned in the UK
in 2011 for being utterly gratuitous.
The Devils, Peeping Tom, and Scum have never been easy
viewing and had caused much controversy and scandal on
their initial releases, but at the same time these are among
the finest British films of the post-war years. Nagisa
Oshima's Ai no corrida is considered a masterpiece but has
been banned and censored across the world. Even the
former head of
British censorship, James Ferman, admired the film (and this
is the same man who seemed to have a personal vendetta
against The Exorcist and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,
both of which he happily banned in this country). But while
many of the films covered here have their own artistic and
social merits, an equal amount of coverage is given to films
that possess no such thing. Such then is Beyond The
Darkness, a book that juxtaposes the highs of the arthouse
cinema with the lows of the scuzzy underground flicks, and
much in between. You're just as likely to read about the
work of despised filmmakers such as Fred Vogel, Andrey
Iskanov, and Uwe Boll, as you are the films of such vital
artists as Abel Ferrara, David Cronenberg, and Lars Von
Trier.
My unshakeable enthusiasm for the most bizarre, deformed,
and outrageous cine-life-forms has sometimes led me down
some dubious paths - Hentai anime, Japanese AV crap, and
even German amateur gorefests - There are so many genres
and sub-genres to explore that it's easy to get lost and find
yourself completely alienated from the reasons why you
love movies in the first place. However, it's the willingness
to explore the nether-regions of the world of
extreme cinema and to dig through all the crap, that forms
the ethos of this book. I don't expect to stop taking unwise
detours in the film jungle any time soon. I remain utterly
and foolishly in love with movies. And I hope you are too.
Enjoy!
Phil Russell, January 2012.
[email protected]

REVIEWS
ABNORMAL - THE SINEMA OF NICK
ZEDD (1980-2001)
Dir: Nick Zedd /USA
This 2-disc set from the man who coined the term 'Cinema
of transgression' includes a dozen short films mostly shot on
8mm that span twenty years of his career. They're
presented chronologically but in reverse order for some
reason, and are a hit and miss collection displaying the
difficulties of being a super low-budget filmmaker whose
main objective is to shock, provoke, and push the
boundaries.
Tom Thumb In The Land of The Giants (1999) was shot in
Copenhagen and is fashioned in a faux trailer style (a la Jim
Van Bebber's Chunk Blower and Richard Gale's The Horribly
Slow Murderer With The Extremely Inefficient Weapon). A
child is running through a graveyard and is followed by a
being in black. The voiceover is very tongue-in-cheek and
sells the film well. The kid (played by Zedd's son) crawls into
a huge vagina at the end. Running time: 3 minutes.
Ecstasy In Entropy (1999) 17 mins. This looks like a tribute
to the old grindhouse movies of the 60s with its gritty style
and constant barrage of tinny pop music. A bunch of
strippers get into a fight and a man receives a blowjob
before unloading half a bucket of (fake) spunk onto a
woman's face. Then we switch to a colour scene where
someone dressed in black and wearing a mask strips and
attempts to rape a woman (Annie Sprinke), but she fights
back and amusingly drops some huge tit-bombs on his head
while she rides on his back.
Why Do You Exist (aka Screen Test) (1998) 16 mins. This
starts out quite fun and entertaining but outstays its
welcome by a good ten minutes. It basically presents a
group of people in front of the camera; a large woman puts
squirty cream allover her tits along with cinnamon and
cherries, and then licks it off (or as Zedd puts it, "consuming
a picnic on her tits"). More people posing and smoking a lot.
The woman painted in blue and strumming an acoustic
guitar (the 'Blue Lady' Kembra Pfahler) was another
highlight but overall this isn't up to much. The film also
features other underground personalities, including Brenda
Bergman and Dr. Ducky DooLittle.
War Is Menstrual Envy (1992) Perhaps the highlight of the
whole set. This excerpt from Zedd's feature film ranks
among the finest work he has ever achieved. A woman
painted almost entirely in blue (except for the pink nipples,
reminiscent of Barbara Steele in Curse of The Crimson Alter)
unwraps a mummified figure to reveal a man who has
severe burns to his head, face, torso, and arms. It's quite
clear that this guy is a real burns victim, and this makes the
clip uneasy viewing. This sequence is played out to a light
flute arrangement like from an old Disney movie, and this
gives the proceedings a dark fairytale edge. Then we cut to
the next scene in which the man is encountered by the
infamous fetish porn actress, Annie Sprinkle, and she
dresses him in a gun holster, a head scarf, and a pair of
shades, takes them off again, and then kisses and licks his
melted flesh. The man then sucks her tits for a while and
tries to caress them, but finds it difficult because all his
fingers have been melted together, and he struggles to
make that lustful contact he so desires. I'm not sure what
this clip means but it's mesmerizing stuff. The end credits
are displayed with graphic footage of real eyeball surgery.
Whoregasm! (1988) 12 mins. A short collage/experimental
film which juxtaposes images of hardcore sex and war
footage through a process of tricky and inventive editing
and over-lapping techniques. Perhaps Zedd's most
technically impressive film to date. Again, there's no
narrative here to speak of but it's quite engaging and much
more interesting than some of the crap that gets passed off
as experimental. Includes graphic shots of fellatio,
explosions, in-and-out penetration close-ups (some
performed by Zedd himself), more explosions, and an image
of a young boy whose hand is being held by a man who has
an erection (whether this is a 'doctored' image or a real one
I've no idea but it certainly adds to the transgressive nature
of the film), a transvestite sucking a foot, a policeman
screaming into the lens (that shot was taken from Zedd's
previous short, Police State), and the transvestite receiving
a blowjob from a woman.
Police State (1987) 18 mins. This micro-budget slice of punk
nihilism could have been so much better, but as it stands
it's a scrappy and uneven piece that at least adds a few
nuggets of interest on repeat viewings. Perhaps the most
disappointing film of the set due to the potential at its
disposal, Police State is about a young man (played by Zedd
himself) who is cornered and harassed for a while by a cop
before he is taken to the station, interrogated, beaten by
more cops, and is eventually castrated. It shows an obvious
disdain for the police and an Orwellian warning about where
we're at as a society, sleep-walking into totalitarianism,
which is a valid point to be made, but the acting, camera
work, and script could have been so much better. According
to the interview on the second disc, Zedd and his cohorts
were almost caught by the cops vandalising police cars with
spray paint during the making of the film.
Kiss Me Goodbye (1986) Another disappointing short but at
least this one only takes up three minutes of your time. A
man (again played by Zedd) wanders into a room to find a
woman reading a book. He kisses and then strangles her.
The end. Zedd appears as B.D. Shane, a 'dead star' and he
apparently strangles one of his fans.
Go To Hell (1986) 11 mins. This one isn't much better. Zedd
wanders around and sees a woman dressed in white and
some junky shooting up into his arm. The junky follows the
woman and beats her unconscious, and then Zedd shows up
and kisses her as an atomic bomb blast goes off in the
background. Music by The Swans who sound like an 80s
version of The Doors.
Thrust In Me (1985) 8 mins. Things improve a lot with this
one. This time Zedd plays two roles. Co-directed with
Richard Kern (it's also included on Kern's Hard Core
Collection). A tranny reads a book on suicide. Zedd walks
the streets. Tranny gets into the bath and slashes her wrist.
Zedd enters the apartment and takes a shit without noticing
the bloody corpse in the tub. He takes a picture of Jesus off
the wall and wipes his arse on it, and then notices the dead
tranny. He then fucks the corpse in the mouth and squirts
half a gallon of spunk on its head. He walks out onto the
rooftop of the apartment and gazes at the New York skyline.
Aww, who said romance is dead. It's a shame that Zedd and
Kern ended their friendship over a "misunderstanding" as
this film shows potential. Yes it's childish and you get the
impression that they're trying really hard to offend you
whilst at the same time pretending not to care what you
think. But there is an undeniable power to this clip that
probably stemmed from a competitive streak between the
two. It would have been interesting to see more
collaborations. A stunt porn star was also used.
The Wild World of Lydia Lunch (1983) 20 mins. Someone
once dubbed this 'The Incredibly Dull World of Lydia Lunch',
and to be honest I can't argue with that. Even many of
Lunch's fans find this a crushing bore. It starts in a dark
room where she reads a letter from someone complaining
about being stranded in London with increasing money
problems. Then it cuts to scenes of Lunch walking the
streets of London (well, we see a red phone box so I assume
it's somewhere in England), and a voiceover talks a lot of
nonsense. She teases a cute dog, hangs out in the park,
stands on street corners, and stares a lot into the camera
lens. It's as if she is trapped in some kind of post-punk-pre-
goth limbo.
The Bogus Man (1980) 11 mins. A satirical pseudo-
documentary with weird clips of rehearsed and repeated
voiceovers. A man in a ski mask tells of his warped ideas
about the American President being a clone. He explains his
conspiracy theory and shows us some footage of a doctor
under interrogation who shoots himself when asked why he
has blood on his hands. We also see footage of the
kidnapped President (actually, some dude in a Jimmy Carter
mask). He is tied to a strange vaginal chair that has phallic
prongs sticking out at either side, and someone cuts his
finger off. We're told that the tissue from each finger will be
used to generate more clones... The most disturbing scenes
though are the ones featuring the woman (or is it a man?) in
a full body suit dancing around in a room with an American
flag displayed in the background. One of the freakiest things
you'll ever see. This film is also notable as an early outing
for special fx legend 'Screaming Mad George' of A
Nightmare On Elm Street and Society fame.
1 of K9 (2001). This last clip is in black and white and lasts
just a couple of minutes. There looks to be an orgy going on
in the background and a woman takes hold of a dog's face
and starts kissing it on the mouth with tongues and
everything. The Doberman doesn't look to be too happy
about being slobbered on (I suppose it makes a change, it's
usually the dogs who slobber on us), and looks to be on the
verge of chewing her face off at any moment. But then a
man enters the frame, shoves the woman out the way, and
then he starts to kiss and lick the dog's mouth; he almost
has his tongue down its throat at one point. An amusing clip
but I've no idea what it means.
So there you have it, 12 shorts that vary in terms of quality
and re-watchability set over a twenty-one year period of
filmmaking history. None of them can really live up to the
scummy triumphs of Zedd's debut feature, They Eat Scum
(1979), but there are a few clips here that are worth a re-
visit from time to time. It's a good place to start if you want
to know what all the fuss was about in the New York
underground. I should also point out that the extras on the
second disc includes a very strange interview with Zedd
taken from some old cable TV show. See it to believe it.
Nick Zedd made his debut feature, They Eat Scum, in the
late 70s. Starring Donna Death as Suzy Putrid, she leads her
Death Rock band, The Mental Deficients, to world
domination when she kills her family and causes a core
meltdown at a nuclear power station. The film features
murder, cannibalism, bestiality, and a girl being forced to
eat a live rat. It was broadcast on cable TV in 1982 causing
much controversy when the Wall Street Journal condemned
the screening with a damning front page article. The
following year Zedd returned with his second feature film,
Geek Maggot Bingo, Or, The Freak From Suckweasel
Mountain. Coming on like
a twisted take on the Universal monster cycle of the 1930s,
Geek Maggot Bingo saw the return of Donna Death along
with Brenda Bergman and Richard Hell, and depicts an evil
doctor who uses a slave to procure victims for his fiendish
experiments.
In 1985 Nick Zedd wrote The Cinema of Transgression
Manifesto for his fanzine, The Underground Film Bulletin.
Written under the pseudonym Orion Jericho, Zedd calls for a
rejection of traditional film theory and instead declares that
he and his fellow underground filmmakers, including Richard
Kern, intend on breaking every taboo they can in the name
of freedom.
His next feature, War Is Menstrual Envy, appeared in 1992,
and is the first of his full-length films to break away from
traditional narrative storytelling.
THE CINEMA OF TRANSGRESSION
MANIFESTO
(Reproduced here with the kind permission of Nick Zedd)
We who have violated the laws, commands and duties of the
avant-garde; i.e. to bore, tranquilize and obfuscate through
a fluke process dictated by practical convenience stand
guilty as charged. We openly renounce and reject the
entrenched academic snobbery which erected a monument
to laziness known as structuralism and proceeded to lock
out those filmmakers who possessed the vision to see
through this charade.
We refuse to take their easy approach to cinematic
creativity; an approach which ruined the underground of the
sixties when the scourge of the film school took over.
Legitimising every mindless manifestation of sloppy movie
making undertaken by a generation of misled film students,
the dreary media arts centres and geriatric cinema
critics have totally ignored the exhilarating
accomplishments of those in our rank - such underground
invisibles as Zedd, Kern, Turner, Klemann, DeLanda, Eros
and Mare, and DirectArt Ltd, a new generation of filmmakers
daring to rip out of the stifling strait jackets of film theory in
a direct attack on every value system known to man.
We propose that all film schools be blown up and all boring
films never be made again. We propose that a sense of
humour is an essential element discarded by the doddering
academics and further, that any film which doesn’t shock
isn’t worth looking at. All values must be challenged.
Nothing is sacred. Everything must be questioned and
reassessed in order to free our minds from the faith of
tradition. Intellectual growth demands that risks be taken
and changes occur in political, sexual and aesthetic
alignments no matter who disapproves. We propose to go
beyond all limits set or prescribed by taste, morality or any
other traditional value system shackling the minds of men.
We pass beyond and go over boundaries of millimeters,
screens and projectors to a state of expanded cinema.
We violate the command and law that we bore audiences to
death in rituals of circumlocution and propose to break all
the taboos of our age by sinning as much as possible. There
will be blood, shame, pain and ecstasy, the likes of which no
one has yet imagined. None shall emerge unscathed. Since
there is no afterlife, the only hell is the hell of praying,
obeying laws, and debasing yourself before authority
figures, the only heaven is the heaven of sin, being
rebellious, having fun, fucking, learning new things and
breaking as many rules as you can. This act of courage is
known as transgression. We propose transformation through
transgression - to convert, transfigure and transmute into a
higher plane of existence in order to approach freedom in a
world full of unknowing slaves.
POSTSCRIPT: INTERVIEW WITH NICK ZEDD
Conducted via email on 1st February 2012

“I believe you must be obsessed to

produce anything of lasting value in
this world...My commitment was
total”
 – Nick Zedd
PR - Tell us about your childhood and where you grew
up.
NZ - I grew up in Hyattsville, Maryland, watched a lot of TV
as a kid, went to drive-in movies, had a big imagination,
played out having a television network in my head,
produced, wrote, directed and starred in my own movies
and television programs on a daily basis. I read a lot of
comic books, Famous Monsters of Filmland, Castle of
Frankenstein. I produced and performed scenarios with
puppets for my brother and myself as a kid. This was all a
rehearsal for making real movies later in life.
Many filmmakers started out with Super-8 as
youngsters, such as Jim Van Bebber and Sam Raimi.
Did you get to play around with cameras as a kid?
Yeah, I made my first 8mm movie when I was 12, animating
GI Joe dolls. I produced and directed a series of science
fiction films and their sequels from the age of 14 to 16,
using friends as actors.
I've always been fond of They Eat Scum. How did that
project come about? Must have been pretty daunting
to set out making an apocalyptic punk movie on such
a miniscule budget.
It started with a script I wrote while in film school after I
moved to New York. I produced, wrote and directed it using
people I knew, met or auditioned from the punk scene. It
was made with almost no input from the film teachers or
film students, like an outside project. I left
school before it was finished. I financed it by sweeping floors
in a wood shop part time. I used miniatures and stock
footage shot off a TV screen for the more expensive effects
or location shots.
It was just an extension of my directing style which I'd
begun 9 years earlier in Maryland; do-it-yourself, don't get
hung up on money or "professionalism," don't let anything
stop you, just do it. Things come out better when you keep
it personal, working with amateurs, with people who aren't
motivated by money; inspired to be part of something new.
My enthusiasm must have been infectious because I always
could get people to work for free.
The year I premiered it, I was invited to show it in San
Francisco and was flown there to screen it at some punk
venues with good local publicity and big crowds. Some place
in Berlin also showed a video of They Eat Scum in 1979
which amazed me. There was immediate interest as soon as
it came out. A local NY paper gave it a great review.
(Fortunately one of my film teachers wrote movie reviews.)
The other local paper gave it a scathing review, dismissing it
along with
Gordon Stevenson's Ecstatic Stigmatic, another brilliant and
legendary super-8 film made at the same time, so I was in
good company.
Who was the burnt guy in War Is Menstrual Envy?
Ray, who was Annie Sprinkle's boyfriend at the time. He was
a drummer who got burned in a camping accident as a
teenager.
Who was it who was dancing around in the body suit
in The Bogus Man? I found those scenes to be quite
disturbing.
That was Grier Lankton, a friend of Donna Death who made
costumes as sculpture and later had a sex change and
became female.
Johannes Schonherr held screenings of your films in
Nuremberg in 1990, and apparently feminists
attacked the event and threw cat shit at the screen.
And you were subjected to some front page tabloid
infamy. In the UK (and America) it's usually the
conservatives who picket and protest at cinemas, but
in Germany, according to Schonherr, it's more often
than not the leftists who are the most intolerant of
daring and challenging films. Can you share some of
the most memorable reactions to screenings of your
work, both the good and bad?
When I showed War Is Menstrual Envy at Anthology Film
Archives in 1993, a guy fainted and had to be carried out of
the theatre during the scene with Ray the burn victim and
Annie.
In San Francisco in 1979 when I showed They Eat Scum,
enraged punks were heckling and screaming at me so I shot
them with a water pistol.
On Nuremburg in 1990 the Rote Zora feminazis threw
garbage and cat shit over the audience and threw acid on
the movie screen, blew whistles and threw tracts in the air,
protesting the "provocation" of the program notes
describing the movies, which I hadn't read. I locked myself
in the projection booth when I heard a stampede of feet
from the theatre and people pounding on the door, but
Johannes opened the door anyway and fortunately the
feminists had left.
In Gothenberg, Sweden in 1993 I was arrested upon arrival
at the airport, then the police spent 3 hours examining my
movies and held me in a cell, threatening to put me in
prison. Afterwards they let me go, but warned me to never
show them because they were "sick" and "immoral." A week
later, police raided the apt I was staying in, arrested me and
took me to the station where I spent another 2 hours in a
cell while they looked at all my movies. The chief of police
told me the government instructed him to let me go, but
warned me to never show the movies in Sweden.
In Canada, my films were confiscated in 1988 and later
returned 4 months later by mail to NYC. In 2007, I was
removed from a train entering Canada by the police, who
escorted me over the border after looking at my films which
they declared "borderline criminal material" and told me I
was banned from the country for ten years.
Best recent reaction was last year in Mexico City when I
showed Geek Maggot Bingo at the Cinetequa, and a big
audience loved it and asked for autographs and lined up to
have pictures taken with me. This movie was not popular
when I originally showed it in 1983.
This morning I saw a news report claiming that
scientists have learned how to read minds by
monitoring brainwaves as a way of decoding inner
voices. It brings to mind Orwell's Thought Police and
also your film Police State. Do you feel that society is
heading towards totalitarianism?
Of course. Surveillance is everywhere. Now that people
spend most of their time on computers they can be
monitored and tracked thru social networking sites. The
populace has been made docile with superficial distractions
like text messaging, virtual reality sites and video games. A
massive dumbing-down is taking place all over the world.
But totalitarian control is being short-circuited by occupy
movements using technology against the global elites,
organizing online and with cel phones, taking to the streets
and rendering bogus electoral systems irrelevant.
Parliamentary cretinism has been revealed as a false
construct by mass passive resistance and organized protest
world-wide. Corporate media and their puppet masters are
dumbfounded at this turn of events which is a good sign
that things are changing. People are fed up all over the
world and want their freedom back.
It seems you take inspiration from all kinds of areas,
not just filmmakers. Who do you consider to be the
biggest influence on your work?
Whoever I'm in contact with at the moment. That changes
from week to week. The more isolated I become the more I
influence myself. I'm not really that inspired by anyone at
the moment.
What do you make of John Waters' early films?
They're fabulous.
How was it working with Richard Kern? Thrust In Me
seemed to bring out the best in you both. Would you
agree that there was a competitive streak between
you and Kern?
Sure. We were all competing with each other as filmmakers
in the early days. Later, I was competing with my main
collaborator Rev Jen, from 2001 to 2009. Creative
competition is a great catalyst. It's unfortunate that inflated
egos and insecurities can turn creative
collaborator/competitors into mortal enemies. I always
thought that producing end results far outweighed holding
grudges and being on pointless ego trips but you'd be
astounded at the level of assholism in most artists. They're
some of the worst people in the world to deal with; vicious,
petty, mean-spirited hateful creatures...It's unfortunate
when they also have some talent waiting to be exploited,
but I've become an expert in utilizing that talent until it
dissipates into self-destructive narcissism. Then it's time to
move onto the next "star" and break new ground. So much
can be accomplished when people put their egos aside and
can see the bigger picture. It's that narcissistic egotism that
kills so much creative potential, destroys creative alliances
that could produce historic art. I've seen it happen again
and again.
What's the New York underground scene like
nowadays? Is there anything interesting going on?
No, it's dead.
Tell us about Electra Elf.
That was a superhero comedy series I produced, directed
and co-wrote with Rev Jen from 2003 to 2009, shown on NYC
public access and syndicated to some cities in other states,
ultimately released by MVD as a boxed set of twenty
episodes. It was really sugar-coated subversion designed to
activate certain sexual fetishes while attacking the status
quo through political and social satire. Some episodes
completely deconstructed conventional narrative in order to
jolt the viewer awake with xenomorphic shock therapy
disguised as family friendly entertainment. It was an
exercise in anti-Simulation free thought. I loved making that
series as much as a cultist might love a new religion...It was
my reason for living for six years...I believe you must be
obsessed to produce anything of lasting value in this
world...My commitment was total.
What's the most shocking or disturbing film you've
ever seen? And what was it about the film that
disturbed you?
The 9/11 inside job, perpetrated by traitors in the US
shadow government and facilitated by brainwashed
imbeciles in corporate media who collaborated in promoting
the greatest hoax in human history (aside from the Christ
and Mohammad myths.) This Big Lie enabled the
illegitimate Bush crime family to jump-start two disastrous
wars of aggression that bankrupted our economy and
extended the profit margins for war profiteers and fossil fuel
conglomerates while expanding the global control grid of an
elitist blood-line (the
Rockefellers and the Rothschields) whose tactical agenda is
world genocide. The current administration is a continuation
of the same illegitimate neo-con lunacy. The false-flag 9/11
event and its promotion by corporate media to millions of
conspiracy dupes disturbs me as much as the Kennedy
assassinations, which similarly were covered up and
mythologized by corrupt fascists peddling disinformation to
the masses. The decline of everything positive in our lives
can be traced back to these pivotal events, orchestrated by
the most evil men in history.
What's your favourite book, and why?
Totem of the Depraved, because I wrote it, and it's a great
series of true stories. I'm the world's best living writer. No
lie, just fact.
Finally, what's next for Nick Zedd? Do you have any
future projects lined up?
That would be telling... It's better to surprise the world...
THE ADDICTION (1995)
Dir: Abel Ferrara /USA

In Abel Ferrara's earlier film, Bad Lieutenant, Zoe Lund

suggests that drug addicts are like vampires, and that
"vampires are lucky, they can feed on others. We have to
feed on ourselves". It was only natural that Ferrara would
eventually tackle the opposite: Vampires in the clutch of
addiction. He teamed up once again with his long-time
writing partner, Nicholas St. John, and together they came
up with a vampiric tale that contemplates the nature of
eternal guilt.
The plot concerns Kathleen (Lili Taylor), a postgraduate
philosophy student who is pulled into a dark alley and bitten
by a glamorous vampire, Casanova (Annabella Sciorra).
After having her wounds checked out at the local hospital,
Kathleen comes to realise that she is now addicted to
human blood. This affliction brings on a new outlook on life
and has a tremendous effect on her thesis. And when she
thirsts for the red stuff, she uses an oddly ethical approach
to her victims, giving them the opportunity to overpower
her ("Tell me to go away like you mean it"). But strangely,
none of her victims can sum up the willpower to avoid their
fates (much like drug addicts in real life who seem to
inadvertently will their own corruption and downfall by not
being steadfast enough to confront the situation before it
takes hold - Avoiding the confrontation, hence Sartre's 'Bad
Faith').
Kathleen digs deeper into her studies and wallows in the
graphic footage of atrocities at My Lai, Auschwitz-Birkenau,
and Srebrenica as a way of coming to terms with her own
eternal damnation. Her biggest life-lesson though comes in
the form of Peina (Christopher Walken), a wise old vampire
who discusses Nietzsche and Burroughs' Naked Lunch
before biting into her jugular, and informing her that
"Demons suffer in hell".
One of the most serious-minded horror movies of all time,
The Addiction is nonetheless disliked by many who are
turned off by its harsh philosophical probing and abrasive
visual style. The film's central motif is moral responsibility;
when Kathleen is first approached by the vampiric Casanova
she is given the opportunity to deal with the situation head-
on ("Tell me to go away"), but Kathleen can only manage a
pathetic "please" in response. In the world of Ferrara and
Nicky St. John, this kind of feeble stance amounts to
consent. Accordingly, by refusing to face up to evil and deal
with it openly, Kathleen and other victims just like her,
deserve all they get.
kathleen later succeeds in luring a young student to her
place. And after feeding on her blood, she blames the
terrified girl, insisting that "It was your decision". The victim
pleads "Don't you care what you did to me! Doesn't it affect
you?" She replies, "Why didn't you tell me to leave, to get
lost like you really meant it? My indifference is not the
concern here; it's your astonishment that needs studying."
In another scene Kathleen looks in the mirror and muses "Is
it wrong for me to draw blood? No. It's the violence of my
will against theirs." A comment that also relates to Sartre's
Being and Nothingness. Free will is of vital importance to
Ferrara and St. John in their idea of evil: If you don't put up a
fight then the vampire, the evildoer, takes that as a form of
social consent. In this case, in the supernatural world of the
vampire film. In addition, this concept of evil also relates to
the real life evil in the form of murder, genocide, and drug
addiction. The theme of refusing to confront evil recurs
throughout the film in its many and varied ways, and also
examines attitudes of moral ambivalence and apathy
towards evil that exists in modern society.
It's possible that Katleen's blood addiction isn't real. Maybe
her obsessive studying has caused her illness through
mental exhaustion. Perhaps she is a plain old drug addict,
and she fantasizes on vampirism as a way of making light of
her condition (and this could also relate the film to George
Romero's Martin in that it is never confirmed or denied
whether Martin is in fact a real vamp. Martin has flashbacks
to times set in old Europe where he drank blood from
victims, but those episodes could be plain old fantasy).
Lili Taylor is superb as Kathleen, even surpassing her
performance in Mary Harron's I Shot Andy Warhol.
Christopher Walken and Paul Calderon (both of whom
appeared in Ferrara's King of New York) add some solid
support. Still one of the most irredeemable American
filmmakers working today, Abel Ferrara has managed to
combine exploitation with a high-minded sensibility for more
than three decades. From The Driller Killer in the 70s, Ms.45
in the 80s, Dangerous Game in the 90s, and RXmas in the
00s, this native New Yorker has never once compromised on
his dark vision, even when working within the studio system
(Body Snatchers). The Addiction remains one of his darkest
efforts, a black and white gem which asks some important
questions and never flinches in its search for answers.
Essential viewing.
AFTERMATH (1994)
Dir: Nacho Cerda /Spain

Rarely does a short film attract such global recognition

when it is limited to playing only a few film festivals, but
Nacho Cerda's Aftermath has become something of a cult
classic and has divided its audience down the middle
between those declaring it a masterpiece of horror and
others a crude and overblown piece of nonsense. But make
no mistake, once seen this film is not so easily forgotten.
Aftermath presents a day in the life of a necrophiliac
pathologist whose job in the local morgue puts him into
close contact with the recently deceased. No sooner have
his colleagues left the building when the nameless pervert
(played by Pep Tosar) indulges in a bit of 'how's your father'
with a female corpse. The film is about as explicit as a non-
pornographic movie can be, with the infamous scenes of
Tosar defiling the corpse with a knife and plunging the blade
in between the legs whilst jerking off, and then climbing on
top for a bit of gross penetration. The film is beautiful to
look at considering the subject matter, with some
impressive photography, an insane performance by Tosar,
giving it a sheen of glossiness.
Whereas previous necro-shockers like Lucker The
Necrophagous had a cheap and nasty aura about it,
Aftermath offers the production values of a Hollywood film
(albeit on only a fraction of the budget), at complete odds
with the rank and disgusting imagery on screen. Indeed,
horror fans didn't get to witness such nasty and perverted
scenes in such glossy looking productions until the equally
troubling likes of Grotesque and A Serbian Film came along
more than a decade and a half later.
The film basically puts us in the company of a sicko for half
an hour, during which time the hopelessly defenseless
cadavers are opened up and sexually violated with nary a
word of dialogue in the whole film. The camera prowls along
investigating the lifeless slabs of meat whilst Verdi's
Requiem plays out on the soundtrack. It's a film that is
tailor-made to kill your spirit; one day it will be your corpse
laid out on a slab similar to the ones in Aftermath, and it's
that helpless identification with the subject matter that
affects viewers the most: It's personal, it makes you feel
vulnerable, it presents to you your own mortality that is
both natural and open to abuse. And of course, most people
don't want to be reminded of such things.
Emerging as part of Cerda's 'Death Trilogy', sandwiched
between his black and white student film, The Awakening,
and his beautiful shot in scope Genesis, Aftermath
premiered at the Sitges Film Festival in October 1994 after
seven months of intense work from pre-production to its first
screening. It was met with staunchly polarized opinions from
both those who were impressed and those who were
appalled, and it became one of the most talked about films
of the year, leaving similarly themed, big-budget dreck like
Curdled for dust.
This word-of-mouth buzz and excitement followed the film
across the Atlantic to its North American premiere at the
1997 FantAsia Film Festival in Canada where almost a
thousand avid horror fans reacted in wild delight as Cerda's
shockfest unspooled before their eyes (the 2003
documentary, In The Belly of The Beast, includes some
invaluable footage of this event and also the fascinating
reactions of people like Mitch Davis and Jim Van Bebber
defending the film as a masterwork, and Chas Balun
dismissing it as an over-hyped, pretentious student film).
Aftermath picked up the Public's Prize at FantAsia and Cerda
became a cult celebrity in Montreal. The film became a
mainstay on the bootleg video circuit (along with Genesis)
until it was released on DVD by Unearthed Films. Later,
German company Dragon released the Death Trilogy in a
metallic box set with a shed load of extras including an
anatomical figurine!
AFFLICTION (1996)
(aka Idiots with disgusting hobbies) Dir: Mark Hejnar /USA A
mondo style film about a bunch of soulless and talentless
people who try to shock with their redundant artistic
statements. Razorblades, human dartboards, shit, and
graphic sex. Basically the purpose of this documentary is to
present a barrage of shock images based on extreme
controversial personalities (aka Idiots with disgusting
hobbies).
There's GG Allin of course in full display demonstrating his
coprophiliac fetishes, the idiotic Mike Diana, who got
arrested for obscenities, throwing up on a cross and the
bible and masturbating with a cross, there's the even more
idiotic 'Full Force Frank' who caused a fuss with his ideas on
mass-murder and his gun fetish, music clips with extreme
bands and stage performances, montages of random
imagery and shock footage, self-mutilation, piercings,
genital torture, gender benders, and sick or gory hardcore
sex scenes. This documentary doesn't take a stance either
way except to present it all in what it thinks is an art-piece,
but this is humanity at its most absurdly depraved and
idiotic. Not for the easily offended or anyone else.
AI NO CORRIDA (1976)
(aka In The Realm of The Senses)
Dir: Nagisa Oshima /Japan

Based on the true story of a woman who in 1936 was found

wandering the streets of Tokyo with a severed penis tucked
into her kimono, Nagisa Oshima's sexually explicit and
deeply disturbing Ai no Corrida became infamous when it
was seized by US customs in 1976, delaying its screening at
the New York Film Festival.
In 1930s Japan, ex-prostitute Sada (Eiko Matsuda) gets a job
at an inn owned by Kichizo (Tatsuya Fuji) and his wife.
Kichizo begins an affair with Sada, eventually leaving his
wife so that he can be with her. They stay at a geisha house
in the red light district and indulge in constant sex. Their
shenanigans are enough to even embarrass and shock the
other prostitutes. In need of money, Sada agrees to become
a prostitute herself and resumes contact with an ex-client of
hers, who was once her school principal, and Kichizo has sex
with a maid at the geisha house. Their sexual escapades
become increasingly bizarre and dangerous, experimenting
with domination and strangulation before the grisly finale...
Blurring the line between pornography and art, Ai no Corrida
was tailor-made to break taboos. With graphic scenes of
unsimulated penetration and fellatio, the film was
nonetheless not intended to arouse sexual desire in the
audience, and was instead created by writer/director
Oshima as a completely honest depiction of encroaching
madness brought on by an insatiable sexual mania.
Fuji and Matsudo are haunting in their roles as the doomed
lovers, and Oshima takes great care in presenting the
scenes in a serious manner with a delicate visual beauty of
sparse colour, decor, and composition. And this sensitive
approach is aided by an aesthetic which borrows from
classical Japanese block prints and Kabuki theatre,
combined with themes of sadomasochism and voyeurism.
Oshima once remarked on Japanese culture, saying "People
hurry to live and hurry to die", and Ai no Corrida ultimately
serves as a mirror on the ceremonies of the society which
spawned it.
The film premiered in Japan in 1976 with black optical blocks
concealing the sexual details on screen (which for many
years was a customary part of Japanese censorship).
Oshima side-stepped the problems of making an 'obscene'
film in Japan by having the footage processed in France, but
this didn't stop the authorities from charging him with
obscenity, and for years he was left to defend his film and
his reputation in the courts.
When Ai no Corrida reached the UK it was denied a
certificate by the BBFC but was allowed to play under a club
license at the Gate's Cinema Club in Notting Hill in the late
70s for members only. By this point, the head of British
censorship, James Ferman, had successfully altered the
law with the introduction of the Obscene Publications Act.
But even with the new bit of leniency brought in by the OPA,
Ai no Corrida was not granted an official BBFC certificate
until 1991.
Ferman, who was clearly an admirer of the film (although
you certainly couldn't say the same of The Exorcist or The
Texas Chainsaw Massacre, both of which he happily banned
in the UK), personally approached Oshima for permission to
employ an altering to one of the most problematic scenes in
the film in which Sada reaches out and tugs at a young
boy's penis. The scene caused problems for the British
censors because, although Sada's character is clearly insane
at that
point in the film, the scene could not be passed intact
because she grabs the boy's penis for real. With very good
reason, UK law forbids any kind of sexual involvement of
children in films, however integral to a plot such things may
be, but Ferman re-set the scene by zooming in onto the top
half of the screen. Thus in his words, "You see her
intentions, but you don't see the contact".
Due to the Video Recordings Act, it was almost a decade
later when Ai no Corrida was finally passed for a home video
certificate in the UK in 2000, with the only form of
censorship being the aforementioned optical zoom.
ALEXANDRA'S PROJECT (2003)
Dir: Rolf De Heer /Australia

The wife of a newly promoted business man takes the kids

and leaves him. But she also leaves behind a nasty video
tape for him to watch... This is a slow-burner but stick with it
because there are some cruel surprises along the way. The
performances of all involved are very impressive, the
characters who seem to have everything are actually
struggling to cope with their depressingly empty lives, and
the whole scenario has been deliciously thought through
by director Rolf De Heer (whose previous work includes the
equally unnerving Bad Boy Bubby and Dance To Me My
Song).
Brief exchanges between the husband Steve (Gary Sweet)
and his colleagues and neighbours come to mean so much
in retrospect. The finger and cucumber speech is quite
funny and it points towards some home truths about the
mindset of men in general. Overall though, Alexandra's
Project is the kind of film that delights in subverting the
conventions of feminist tracts. The film never confirms
whether Steve is really the scumbag he is accused of being,
and in all the time we spend with this character in the film,
he seems like a fairly decent kind of bloke. And this leaves
us to question the mental state of Alexandra herself; is she
justified in her actions, or is she just a sick and twisted
nutcase? Well, that is very much left up to the viewer to
decide.
Personally, I like to think that De Heer was merely poking
fun at audience reactions to films, with many willing to go
with whatever scenario is presented to them having only
heard one side of the story. He seems concerned with
mankind's almost deliberate 'blind spot' for anything that
requires us to think for ourselves and make up our own
minds.
Reactions to this film has been allover the place since it
premiered in 2003. Some believed Steve's character to have
been to blame for the evil that comes his way. Others, whilst
recognising that Steve could be innocent, were still offended
because it never occurred to them that this is exactly what
director De Heer was getting at in the film. To put it bluntly,
Alexandra's Project is the story of an insane woman who has
managed to manipulate a weak-willed neighbour to aid her
in getting revenge on her husband. She prostitutes herself
and even uses her own body as a weapon against Steve
with the help of their neighbour.
Whether the neighbour understands that he is just a pawn
in an evil game is never revealed, but in either case it says
a lot about the male of the species in that many of us would
stoop to some pretty base levels just so that we can get our
balls wet. And that the power of sex rests almost entirely
with Alexandra.
Regardless of how Alexandra portrays him, Steve seems to
be a decent, hardworking father and husband. In fact, he
actually serves as a kind of stereotypical role-model of the
modern world; he resembles one of those perfectly formed,
diligent men who populate TV commercials; suited and
booted and prepared to do anything for his family. He even
goes to the trouble of stopping smoking because his young
daughter asked him to.
The first half hour or so plays like a simple family drama
even though we know that things are not okay with Alex
(Helen Buday). Not only is she distracted by her 'project' but
something else seems to be amiss, and we don't find out
exactly how hurt or angry she is while the kids are around.
The shock tactics of the film come at you slowly; De Heer
preferring to turn up the heat gradually, making sure the
revelations hit you where it hurts. And it works. There is a
scene where Steve, having paused the tape, mumbles at
the screen "I wonder what other tricks you have in that sick
little mind of yours", and it's a pivotal moment because we
the viewers are thinking the exact same thing.
Not recommended to gorehounds, but anyone who has a
taste for the more sublime and sombre type of shocks could
do a lot worse. The film also features one of the most
awkward striptease moments in cinema history.
ALICE, SWEET ALICE (1976)
(aka Communion; aka Holy Terror)
Dir: Alfred Sole /USA
Alice (Paula Sheppard), a disturbed, destructive, foul-
mouthed little girl loves making life hell for her family
members and the residents in the area. Her mother (Linda
Miller) is a devout Catholic who prepares for her other
daughter, Karen's (Brooke Shields) communion. But Alice's
nasty streak gets out of hand, and when good girl Karen is
brutally murdered in church, the finger of blame is pointed
at Alice. Throughout the police investigation and the
intervening of nervous relatives suspicious of her, Alice
doesn't show a glimpse of sorrow for her dead sister, runs
rings around the police, and continues her spiteful attacks
on the neighbours (most notably the obese Mr. Alphonso,
played by Blood Sucking Freaks' Alphonso DeNoble), and
more murderous mayhem ensues...
Through a string of excellent performances, complex
plotting, and scenes of brutal violence, Alice Sweet Alice is a
merciless attack on Catholicism. It's a film whose
sociological viewpoint actively demands viewer
participation, despite its roots in low-budget horror. The
film's low end scale actually helps the proceedings, with its
New Jersey setting offering up some believable locations
and a sense of stuffy religious repression and the eruption of
household tensions. Organised religion is the film's central
target point, with its double-crossings, maliciousness, and
ruthless treatment of its characters, randomly picking them
off regardless of whether they deserve their fates or not.
The knife attacks are spectacular, as good as anything seen
in 70s horror, and it isn't just the special effects that make
the stabbings impressive, it's the overall execution of
performances, editing, and the build-up, too. Many horror
fans of the time would have put money on director Alfred
Sole becoming the next big thing in American horror,
but that honour went to John Carpenter instead, even if his
first big hit, Halloween, owes much to Sole's masterpiece.
It's a shame there wasn't room at the top for both of these
talented filmmakers. Sole's future genre offerings were
scarce with the jokey slasher movie Pandemonium not even
coming close to the greatness that is Alice Sweet Alice.
The film was originally released theatrically as Communion,
then on video in edited form as Holy Terror. Alfred Sole was
never happy with the cut of either of those presentations,
and was eventually given the chance to tighten up his film
in the editing room. But this new version has caused
controversy with some fans annoyed at the deletion of a
scene where Dom receives a phone call from his latest wife.
The Anchor Bay DVD reinstates the footage, offering
something of a definitive cut, and thus making everyone
happy.
AMERICAN HISTORY X (1999)
Dir: Tony Kaye /USA

The leader of a white supremacy gang must face up to the

effects of his lifestyle and the consequences it has on his
family... Told from the perspective of an admiring younger
brother (the superbly cast Edward Furlong), American
History X charts the development of Derek Vinyard (Edward
Norton), a smart young man who becomes a neo-Nazi after
his father is shot dead by a black thug. He shaves his head,
has a swastika tattooed on his chest, and rallies the local
disaffected youth into joining him in his racist crew before
he kills a pair of black thieves who attempt to steal his car.
When Derek is released from prison after serving three
years of his sentence, his younger brother, whose boyish
looks bely his own racial hatred, is shocked and offended to
discover that Derek is a reformed man who not only has
grown back his hair but also wants to make amends for his
previous crimes. Needless to say, his new perspective on life
is not shared by the vicious gang he has left behind...
Films which deal with racism, especially those churned out
by the Hollywood system, tend to generalise the subject and
rely on cardboard character types in order to drive the point
across to the viewers that "racism is not good". And this
approach to the touchy subject leaves no room for the
complexities that are sometimes found at the roots of
racism. And though American History X does have its
problems as a film, such as relying on easy stereotypes and
an uncomplicated morality, it does at least have the
courage to explore the subject-matter in all its ugliness
before delivering the expected moral message.
Edward Norton is magnetic as Derek, and is easily the most
complex character in the film. We watch his development as
a young man and the dangerous shifts in his ideals. His
fierce rhetoric is perhaps the most important aspect of the
film, and it's easy to make comparisons with the fiery hatred
of right-wing radio hosts in America. It's the kind of
poisonous bile that goes for the heart and not the head in its
way of recruiting people into this reductive way of thinking.
And American History X as a film is also guilty of these kinds
of simple tactics.
Derek's racism is shown to have started when his father
complains about the faults of preferential treatment in the
workplace while the family have dinner. And later, Derek
realises the error of his ways when he befriends a black man
in jail. Such simple mechanisms offered to the viewers as a
way of showing a young man embarking on a new way of
life, and indeed seeing the error of his ways, remains
unconvincing. And the black man also happens to be funny
and serves as perhaps the only source of humour in the
whole film; are we supposed to think 'oh look at him, a black
guy... but he's a funny black guy so he must be a good guy
really, and maybe I should have some sympathy for him'?
These are just a couple of examples of the film dispensing
with the complexities of real life racism and resorting to the
clean and easy filmic methods of telling a story.
While Derek is in prison it is a character called Cameron
(Stacy Keach) who takes over as leader of the gang, and he
serves as a typical tyrant, a man who leeches onto the
simmering rage of the local youth and turns them on to the
'joys' of racial hatred - He ultimately gives them a direction
in life. The film is all the more interesting for having a
scumbag character like Cameron, because despite the
needless simplicity of much of this film, Cameron's
character actually serves as a more honest and realistic
hate monger. And his existence in American History X
seems to shield the other kids from being directly to blame
for their recruitment into such a gang. Cameron's main
method of grabbing new skinheads is through the raw
power of hardcore punk music; he allows aggressive bands
to make a racket at his house, and the youngsters can't get
enough. It's a well-known fact that in real life hardcore has
been successful over the years as a source of recruitment
for neo-Nazi/White power gangs because the aggression of
it often rings home in bored, disenfranchised youth. It's the
simple and uncomplicated noise that wins the hearts of
these kids; that's their hearts, not their minds.
The film was directed by Englishman Tony Kaye, who had
previously made TV commercials. He had a very public
falling out with the studio over final cut of the film which he
was unhappy with, and some commentators more or less
accused him of cutting off his nose to spite his face. But as
it stands, American History X is one of the better films that
deals with racism. Lookout for some superb set-pieces
including one of the most vicious acts of violence of any film
made in the 90s. There's also a brutal attack on a
convenience store, an argument at the dinner table that
erupts into violence, and a gruelling prison rape.
AMERICAN PSYCHO (2000)
Dir: Mary Harron /USA

Not since the days of Joseph Ruben's The Stepfather (1986)

had a major American film tackled social satire in the form
of a slasher movie, and not since the days of Kathryn
Bigelow's Near Dark (1987) had we seen such a violent film
directed by a woman. Patrick Bateman (Christian Bale), a
good-looking, wealthy Wall Street banker, tries to alleviate
his soul-crushing boredom by engaging in ferocious acts of
murder. Prostitutes, homeless bums, or even his colleagues
are fair game for his senseless wrath and lack of
conscience. No one around him suspects a thing as Patrick
effortlessly blends in to the shallow narcissism and petty
one-upmanship of big city life. We're left smirking at
Bateman's monologues which detail his meticulous hygiene
habits, snooty materialism, and ridiculous taste in music in
between bouts of stylish slayings until he loses his sense of
sanity altogether...
Attempts to bring Bret Easton Ellis's outrageous novel to the
big screen was never going to be easy; published in 1991,
American Psycho the book was met with much controversy
as it was widely misinterpreted as a nasty misogynist tract
that wallowed in extreme violence and torture disguised as
a thinly-plotted social satire. Mary Harron (who had
previously directed the underrated I Shot Andy Warhol) does
a fine job of replicating the antiseptic and blackly hilarious
feel of the book. Unfortunately, the horrendous tortures of
prostitutes in Ellis' original (which left me despairing for the
evils of mankind when I read them) are not really touched
upon in the film; Harron is a well-known feminist so maybe
that's why she avoided depicting those gruelling chapters,
and instead stays with the satirical vibe of the book.
Bale's Bateman is a touch more anxious and comical in the
film than in the original, but the 'business card' scene is
almost spot-on same as the book, and Bateman's loathsome
yuppie monster and his world of literal cutthroat capitalism
is fairly well portrayed overall. Andrzej Sekula's scope
photography is a marvel, almost every frame can be taken
out and used in a glossy haute couture magazine (except for
the bloody bits, of course), and John Cale's modernist score
keeps things from becoming too cosy.
American Psycho was met with problems both during and
after production; Bale left the set when Leonardo DiCaprio
expressed an interest in playing Bateman, but returned
(along with Harron) when DiCaprio changed his mind. Lions
Gate had no idea how to market the film and released it as
they would a major blockbuster, which led to many
mainstream movie-goers (who were used to the likes of The
Sixth Sense and Hollow Man) scratching their heads at the
ironies of an art film which unspooled before their eyes. It
also ran into trouble with the MPAA who demanded lengthy
cuts to the threesome frolics and the first axe murder
scenes (they were later reinstated on the unrated region 1
DVD by Universal). In the UK and elsewhere in the world the
film was untouched by the censor's chainsaws and all region
2 releases are uncut.
ANGEL HEART (1987)
Dir: Alan Parker /USA

In 1955 New York a mysterious boss of a law firm, Louis

Cyphre (Robert De Niro), sends a seedy private eye, Harry
Angel (Mickey Rourke), to investigate the disappearance of
a popular singer who is in debt to him. Angel heads off in
search of the crooner and meets an odd bunch of occultists
and weirdos from New York to Louisiana where he eventually
discovers that the missing person had opted out of a pact
with the devil. He then seems to plunge quite literally into
hell.
Based on the novel Falling Angel by William Hjortsberg,
Angel Heart was met with shock and awe by film fans and
critics at the time who were expecting just another Faust
knock-off, or something similar to Wes Craven's Serpent and
The Rainbow. The pervading grimness, graphic bloodletting,
and spooky twists and turns, however, seemed to be too
much for everyday movie-goers. Often accused of being
thoroughly unpleasant in detail, which it is, but devotees of
the darker side of horror should get a kick out of this
scorching hot tale of eternal damnation. It's quite simply
one of the greatest horror movies of the 80s.
The MPAA demanded cuts to the scene where Rourke and
Lisa Bonet writhe on the bed covered in chicken blood, but
the same scene has been reinstated in its entirety on all
DVD editions. It's always a sick pleasure to see the innocent
Cosby kid Bonet getting naked and covered in chicken
blood, so fans of celebrity skin watch out for that.
Resembling a cross between a gritty detective yarn, film
noir, and full-bloodied horror, Angel Heart failed to make
much of an impact at the box-office. It raked in around $17
million, just about breaking even with its budget costs.
However, it was on home video where the film quickly
established itself as a cult classic with fans around the world
appreciating the grim tone and mish-mash of genres.
ANGST (1983)
(aka Fear; aka Schizophrenia)
Dir: Gerald Kargl /Austria

lack that self-consciousness. One of the most disturbing and

realistically executed killer movies of all time. In this straight
forward story we follow a nameless criminal who has just
been released from prison for stabbing his mother. But
there's not a trace of guilt or remorse at all. In fact quite the
opposite; in a series of fascinating but twisted voiceovers
we soon learn that this creepy little man has no thoughts of
trying to build a new life; the only thing that's on his mind is
the search for new victims.
'Addicted' to and aroused by the fear he sees in his victms
eyes, we're challenged to tag along with this maniac as he
goes about his work. He gets into a taxi and eventually tries
to strangle the female driver. But because of his suspicious
behaviour before-hand, she seems ready for anything and
manages to fight him off and escape. So he wanders
through the woods until he arrives at a large family home.
He breaks in and snoops around and discovers a man in a
wheelchair who appears to be both physically and mentally
disabled ("I knew I would kill him but not immediately"). And
when the rest of the family get back from a shopping trip,
they're completely oblivious to the monster who is lurking in
their home. The maniac then sets about a series of deeply
unpleasant murders - The disabled son is slowly drowned in
the bath tub in a truly agonising scene, the middle-aged
mother is strangled, and the young daughter is repeatedly
stabbed up and mutilated. He then rapes her bloody corpse
in a frenzy (in the first full-on depiction of necrophilia in film
history). And all of this is shot more or less in real time.
Unsurprisingly, this film is often referred to as 'Europe's
answer to Henry-Portrait of a Serial Killer' (even though it
pre-dates that film), but unlike John McNaughton's
masterpiece, we get to see everything in unflinching detail
in Angst. It's also based on the crimes of convicted mass
murderer, Werner Kniesek, who killed three people in
Slazburg, Austria in 1980 (and who, incidentally, made a
failed escape attempt during the film's production). Quotes
are taken from real life killers throughout; "I just love it
when women shiver in deadly fear because of me. It is an
addiction which will never stop." Those are the words that
Kniesek used when addressing the Judge in court. Quotes
are also used from the true confessions of the 'Vampire of
Dusseldorf', Peter Kurten (true crime buffs will also spot
similarities in the film relating to the latter case of Jack
Unterweger).
Erwin Leder's central performance as the crazed killer is so
full of bug-eyed, manic energy and unpredictability, it
reminded me of Klaus Kinski at his nuttiest or even an actor
from the silent era. It's the shifty and erratic behaviour that
draws so much attention to this character, and is ultimately
his downfall. And Leder captures that fear and twisted
excitement so well. In real life, psychopathic killers are
usually very good at concealing their sickness to appear
quite normal to the everyday public. Even moments after
committing the most horrendous crimes, the psycho killer
can revert back to outward normality in a flash. But the
killer explored in this film seems to lack that self-
consciousness.
A major influence on Gaspar Noe, especially his Seul Contre
Tous, Angst features a soundtrack which is more well-known
than the film; Klaus Schulze of Tangerine Dream provides
the ominous electronic score, of which the track 'Surrender'
seems to be playing constantly, complimenting the ice-cold
set decoration, colouring, and lighting of the film. Kudos to
Zbigniew Rybczynski, whose handheld camera work was
really quite innovative for the time. In fact, his work is so
impressive that it's easy to forget that much of the film was
indeed shot in real time. He also co-wrote the script and
edited the film (according to French filmmaker Pascal
Laugier, he even directed the movie too! Apparently 'Gerald
Kargl' was just a pseudonym used by Rybczynski so that he
could avoid facing responsibility if the film were to cause
outrage! Unfortunately, I've been unable to verify this as
fact).
Angst was released theatrically in Austria in the early 80s to
some good reviews, but made no money and disappeared
pretty fast. It then turned up in France on VHS under the
title Schizophrenia and even garnered a bit of a cult fan
base. In the UK it was the 'video nasties' era and potential
distributers felt it would be a waste of time and money to
release it here only to see it banned immediately, so the
film was deemed 'too outrageous' and distributers wouldn't
touch it. In America the film was slapped with a XXX rating,
usually given to hardcore porn titles, so the market potential
there was pretty slim... Over the next couple of decades
Angst became a much talked about but little seen film, with
awful looking scuzzy bootleg videos being the only way for
horror fans to see it. Barrel Entertainment announced that
they would release Angst uncut on DVD but the company
went bust soon after, and it wasn't until 2005 that we saw a
significant release of the film when German DVD label Epix
Media issued the full uncut version in a very satisfying
transfer.
Kargl (or Rybczynski, or whoever he is) fully financed the
film on his credit card, and after completion he found
himself stuck making TV commercials for years while he
paid off his debts. He sacrificed a potentially great career to
bring us this masterpiece.
POSTSCRIPT: THE REAL KNIESEK

Kniesek's psychiatrist described him as "extremely

abnormal but not mentally ill". The real life Kniesek was
mixed race but is white in the film. When released from
prison, he drove to a town called Poelton, broke into a villa
owned by a widow, Gertrud Altreiter, and found the son in a
wheelchair. Later the mother and daughter returned from a
shopping trip. He tied them up and gagged them, and
dragged them into different rooms in the house. The
daughter actually tried to seduce him as a way of softening
him up but he was having none of it. He strangled the son
and displayed his corpse to the mother and daughter before
strangling the widow. The 25 year old daughter was then
tortured and raped for hours before she too was murdered.
He also killed the family cat, whereas in the film it's a pet
dog which he takes with him and treats nicely. He also spent
the night in the house with the bodies.

"I killed them simply out of lust for murder", he claimed, "I
even gave the elder woman some medicine so that she
would live longer". He tried to commit suicide in his prison
cell but failed. A few years later he made an escape
attempt, but failed.
ANTICHRIST (2009)
Dir: Lars Von Trier
/Denmark/Germany/France/Sweden/Italy/Poland

Lars Von Trier grew up in a very liberal Danish household in

which his parents didn't believe in setting rules, and he was
basically given free reign to do whatever the hell he liked.
Some critics and psychologists have suggested that this
kind of boundless freedom is the cause of his supposed
depression and neurosis in later life, and the reason why he
now seems to suffer from every phobia known to man, and
why he insists on making films designed with maximum
mischief in mind. If this is so, then it follows that we who
lived a more normal childhood with rules and punishments
have developed a fascination for all that is wild and chaotic
and forbidden. Well, at least in my case that's certainly so.
Thus, judging by this kind of logic, Antichrist should be
absolute bliss for a horror fanatic like myself. It seems like
the perfect match; the work of an artist at a complete
distrust of the world projected from a screen into my own
retinas that lens a mind that yearns for the darkness and
the forbidden and the horror. Except, of course, that
Antichrist is not really a horror movie, at least not in the way
that most of us expect a horror movie to be.
Antichrist opens with a monochrome prologue shot in stylish
slow-motion. It shows a man and a woman having sex in the
shower (Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg, with a little
help from a couple of porn actors standing in for the graphic
penetration shots). In the bedroom, their young child, Nick,
climbs out of his cot and lifts himself up onto the sil to
watch the falling snow from the open window. And just as
his parents reach orgasm, he falls to his death.
After collapsing at the funeral procession, Charlotte is
hospitalised for a month (I'll be using the actor's names,
Charlotte and Willem, because the character's names are
not mentioned on the credits or in the entire film). Willem
visits her daily and she mentions that "Dr. Wayne said my
grief pattern is atypical". It seems odd and a bit sarcastic for
her to use psychological terminology to express her state of
mind. The words sound cold and clinical the way her
emotions and raw grief are labeled like stages on a chart; it
doesn't seem natural to put a medical spin on her deep
sorrow, even if the words did come from Dr. Wayne
originally. Perhaps she used the words because Willem is a
trained therapist and has a good understanding of
terminology and psychological states, or maybe she used
the words because they offended her, and she passes them
on to her husband as a way of making him angry at Dr.
Wayne for addressing his suffering wife in such a cold and
clinical way. If so, it seems to have worked. For, though he
doesn't confront Dr. Wayne, he criticises the doctor's
treatment of her and checks her out of hospital the very
next day. But in the meantime Charlotte blames herself for
Nick's death. He tries to deflect the grief away by reminding
her that he was with her when he died and that he should
be just as much to blame. It's a comment which she later
uses against him.
The next day when he checks her out of hospital with the
intention of treating her in his own way, she accuses him of
being arrogant. He argues against that by saying "No
therapist can know as much about you as I do", and tries to
assure her that he is doing it because he loves her. He takes
Charlotte back to their apartment where the therapy can
begin.
Her grief gets worse, and she understandably resents the
fact that her husband is treating her like a patient. She
lashes out at him as a way of trying to break his cold
medical manner; "You've always been distant from me and
Nick. Now that I come to think of it, very very distant." He
doesn't react in the way she wants - that of a loving father
and husband - but as a psychologist; "Ok. Can you give me
some examples?" he asks. She tries again, "I never
interested you until now that I'm your patient."
A man of Willem's profession should have known it would be
a bad idea to attempt a treatment of his wife at such a
difficult time. Her reactions are cruel and hurtful, and
obviously disastrous to their relationship. She wouldn't have
had that kind of ammunition or personal connection to her
designated therapist had she stayed in hospital, and Willem
probably recognises this but stubbornly sticks to his guns,
no doubt as part of his male pride - He knows what's best
for his wife. He stays unmoved even when she interprets his
cold manner as proof that he isn't grieving; "You're
indifferent as to whether your child is alive or dead. I bet
you have a lot of clever therapist replies to that, haven't
you?"
Charlotte's grieving gets worse, or at least much more
physical and aggressive. Dafoe is there with her every step
of the way, helping her through her night terrors and nightly
panic attacks, but he insists on keeping the strict doctor-
patient role. He also uses terminology to explain her state of
mind; according to him, Charlotte has reached the "anxiety
stage" of her mourning, and this echoes the earlier words of
Dr. Wayne (the 'atypical grief pattern'), which probably
offended her, and now sees her husband monitoring her in
the same clinical way like a slide under a microscope. She
later pounces on him for sex in a frantic and hysterical
manner; he pins her down to the bed and jokes "You should
never try to screw your therapist". He's actually only half
joking. He knows they were having sex the moment their
son died, and will be aware of how much guilt and
resentment it would later cause if they were to give in to
their physical desires at that moment.
Willem takes Charlotte out to Eden, a place of country
wilderness and isolation where she was supposed to have
taken Nick on a holiday. Eden connotes an obvious biblical
reference, but also, as the couple trek through the woods to
their cabin, she complains that "The ground is burning", a
clue to her new hellish perspective on life and nature.
Willem goes off alone through the woods while Charlotte
rests and he sees a deer in a clearance; the deer is in the
process of giving birth, but the birth has gone wrong and
the fawn hangs from the doe's behind, swinging from side to
side in the embryonic sack, at the mercy of nature and its
elements. The deer's eyes have that look of bewilderment
and confusion, a frightened animal in the midst of nature,
and when the camera zooms in on Willem's eyes, we can
see that he shares that same haunted look; it's a shot that
reminds us that he's in pain too, not just his wife, and for all
his knowledge and expertise in psychology, he doesn't really
hold the answers, and the environment is just as harsh and
unforgiving to him as it is to everyone else.
Eden brings the couple face to face with nature. Even when
they are out in the open air their voices sound strangely
echoed; this perhaps reflecting the enclosure and isolation
of their grief. Mother Nature is shown in all its stark reality;
its harshness and obliviousness as dead animals decay in
the earth. Nature doesn't care, nature just is.
The unimaginable pain of losing a son is made all the more
difficult to accept in an environment that is unmoved and
unsympathetic. Charlotte hears Nick crying and she races
through the wilderness and the woods calling his name -
This is not a nightmare sequence, it's a real waking
moment, and it goes to show how even her own mind is part
of this unforgiving nature; the pain and the torment in her
heart is just as brutal and unsympathetic as the space and
sky that surrounds her. She wants to lash out at the injustice
of it all, but who can she blame? She first attacks Willem
and accuses him of being arrogant once again. She then
attacks nature itself, explaining that everything she thought
was beautiful about Eden has now become "hideous" to her.
Acorns rain down onto the cabin making a loud clattering
sound and she describes the noise as "cries", and concludes
that "Nature is Satan's church".
Eden was supposed to help Charlotte, but her exposure to
the place is having the opposite effect; it seems she
connotes the screams and 'cries' of nature with that of her
own son whom she thought she heard crying earlier that
day - Nick, her own flesh and blood, had no more
significance in the world than a spilled acorn; just another
piece of nature's debris. These backward steps into
negativity are of much concern for Willem, because her new
perspective on life goes against his own training and male
rationality. He tries to counter this by stressing that
"Thoughts distort reality, not the other way round", but his
words only seem to confirm the opposite (as they will do
again later in the film), and serve as an illustration of how
men and women are very different. And this is perhaps the
first true sign of misogyny in the film.
For Willem, his relationship is of paramount importance to
him even though he is systematically wrecking it in his
own bullish and pig-headed way of trying to do what's best.
He seems to have put his own grief on hold in order to help
his wife get through the worst of her pain. Charlotte treats
him as part punch bag, part crutch, part shoulder to cry on,
part therapist, and part husband. She lashes out and attacks
him just as much as she needs him; she even bites him at
one point and draws blood, perhaps as a direct way of
testing his strength, of testing how much room she has for
her emotions to manouevre. But it's important to remember
that it was Willem who put himself in that position by
checking her out of hospital in the first place. Meanwhile,
Charlotte's emotions are back and forth; happy one moment
and explosive the next.
Late one night while she sleeps, Willem browses through
Charlotte's research papers. She had been writing a thesis
on gynocide throughout the ages, and something written in
those pages causes him deep concern. Charlotte's initial
feminist stance in studying the history of misogyny had
eventually led her to the opposite opinion; she concludes
that because nature is fundamentally evil, and that women's
bodies are governed by this nature through menstruation
and pregnancy, then women as a whole must be evil too.
The later scene where Willem confronts her about this the
following morning is very pivotal and is the most important
scene in the film. But later that night Willem makes the big
mistake of sleeping with Charlotte, and thus opening that
can of worms, guilt, on her part which will come back to
haunt them both. It's ironic how Willem's natural bodily
urges causes the final breakdown of their relationship, and
also goes to confirm - at least in this instance - that nature
has indeed had a destructive and seemingly evil effect on
both his and Charlotte's well-being. And perhaps Charlotte
recognises this; before sex, she demands to be hit, and
when Willem refuses, she accuses him of not loving her. She
then storms off and masturbates by a tree in the woods.
Willem the psychologist then disappears completely, and
what we're left with is Willem as his true self; a confused
and bewildered animal in the midst of nature who ultimately
has no more understanding of the world and its mysteries
than that poor deer he saw in the woods earlier. The unruly
spark of nature's ways are everywhere all around him; a fox
even looked him in the eye and uttered the words "Chaos
reigns", but still he resisted to acknowledge it until now. He
approaches Charlotte outside by the tree and he fucks her
and he slaps her as many times as she wants him to
because he has now given himself up to the chaos; he is
now in her world and his slaps are a cry for help just like the
clattering of acorns on the cabin roof, and she will show him
how evil nature can be.
With the sunrise Willem thinks himself to be back in control.
It is hinted throughout the film that the daytime
represents the world of the masculine with calm, order,
clear sightedness and rationality, whereas the evening is
the realm of femininity, a world of darkness, mystery, and
the irrational (an idea also explored in Dario Argento's
Suspiria). The next scene is a key point in the film. Willem
confronts Charlotte about her thesis; he tells her "Good and
evil, they have nothing to do with therapy. Do you know how
many innocent women were murdered during the 16th
Century alone just for being women? I'm sure you do. Many.
Not because they were evil". Charlotte's reply is resigned
but shielded, just blase words of agreement uttered by
millions of women over the centuries under the domination
of the masculine rationale, "I know. It's just that sometimes I
forget". Willem continues, "The evil you talk about is an
obsession. Obsessions never materialise, it's a scientific
fact. Anxieties can't trick you into doing things you wouldn't
do otherwise; it's like hypnotism, you can't be hypnotised
into doing something you wouldn't normally do, something
against your nature. Do you understand me?... You don't
have to understand me, just trust me". There is a desperate
pleading in his voice as if his own convictions are crumbling
in the face of the opposite that he sees all around him.
Indeed, he even CONFIRMS that Charlotte is evil by his own
statement.
In the autopsy report it is mentioned that Nick had a slight
deformity in his feet, but that it was "nothing significant".
Dafoe believes the deformity to have been caused by
Charlotte who would sometimes put his shoes on the wrong
feet. He shows her a photograph of Nick sitting in the grass
with his shoes on the wrong way round and she still doesn't
notice until he points it out to her. Now, director Lars Von
Trier is clearly trying to 'put the boot in' here with regards to
offending the fairer sex; the whole sequence may seem to
be 'nothing significant' but this is just a ploy to make the
implied accusations seem less significant than they really
are (everything is
significant in this film to such an extent that even the main
character's names are not even mentioned because they
represent men and women as a whole). With this scene Von
Trier implies that women are bad mothers, that they harm
their children in a series of small and insignificant ways,
until the accumulated damage results in your typical adult.
In my experience it has always been the mothers who are
quick to notice when their children have their shoes on the
wrong feet, and I've certainly never known any mother to
have even accidentally put their kids’ shoes on the wrong
way round. But there is also some ambiguity here relating to
the earlier scene where Willem sees the deer in the woods;
sometimes nature goes wrong, sometimes the birthing
process goes wrong, sometimes children have slight
deformities at birth that have nothing to do with how they
are raised. The implication that the 'evil' of women is just an
extension of the 'evil' of nature itself. Thus Von Trier is
suggesting that if nature doesn't get you then your mother
will.
Earlier in the film, Willem drew up a pyramid chart and
asked Charlotte to list the places where she would feel the
most afraid and exposed. She placed Eden near the top of
the chart. But later on Willem comes to the conclusion that
Eden wasn't the true answer; he scribbles out the word and
replaces it in thick marker pen with the word 'ME'. It's
nightfall, and he has once again entered the world of the
feminine; only now is he willing to fully acknowledge that
Charlotte is indeed evil and that she fears herself more than
anything else in the world. She immediately attacks him in a
hysterical frenzy, beats him unconscious, jerks him off, and
then bores a hole through his leg with a hand drill before
attaching a heavy iron lock onto him by hooking it through
the wound and tightening it with a wrench. She then
wanders off and throws the wrench under the cabin porch.
Willem comes to in agony and manages to crawl outside to
the woods and slide himself into a fox hole that is
hidden in the roots of a tree. Charlotte returns to find him
gone and then charges through the woods looking for him
and calling him a bastard. In a blackly comic scene, nature
is shown to be on Charlotte's side when a black crow
squawks loudly in the fox hole giving away Willem's
presence. He tries to silence the pest by grabbing its beak
but this doesn't work. In the end he resorts to beating its
head in as a way of putting an end to the squawks, but it's
too late; Charlotte knows where he is and she uses a garden
spade to beat him and jab at him, causing the earth to
crumble in around him. Poor Willem has had a bit of a rough
night; he's been knocked out, mutilated, beaten with a
spade, and buried alive. Way to go Doc! Nice therapy you've
got going there, looks to have worked a treat!
A remorseful Charlotte later returns to the scene and digs
him up. She drags him back to the cabin and continues in
her misogynistic observations ("A crying woman is a
scheming woman"). She masturbates using his hand. This
brings out her guilt - as shown with flashbacks to the night
their son died - and she takes a pair of scissors and snips off
her own clitoris. For Willem, enough is enough; he ends up
slaying the beast and burning her body out in the open. And
in a strange epilogue, he is descended upon by hundreds of
blank-faced women.
Antichrist was met with cries for it to be banned wherever it
played. It's dark, violent, sexually and emotionally explicit,
and undoubtedly misogynistic (even the film's title logo,
with the T in Antichrist displaying an O on top reminiscent of
the female symbol, implying that femininity is connected to
evil). But the film is also expertly made and offers two
stunning performances from Dafoe and Gainsbourg. Von
Trier's films have never been beautiful to look at but
Antichrist is an exception; Anthony Dog Mantle's superb
camera work is a marvel to behold, and the stylish slow-
motion shots in Eden are nothing short of breath-taking (the
film looks astonishing on Blu-Ray).
The film is a mix of the sacred and the profane, good and
evil, darkness and light, art and artifice; it borrows heavily
from the horror genre - The cabin in Eden looks very similar
to the cabin in The Evil Dead, and the subliminals are clearly
taken from The Exorcist. Von Trier also uses horror
influences to create that eerie atmosphere and dark
demonic imagery. But perhaps the biggest influence came
from Andrzej Zulawski's Possession; this underrated
masterpiece also explores the fundamental differences and
incompatability of men and women, and also boasts a
superb performance from Isabel Adjani as the hysterical and
shrieking woman, and sticks to a cold blue-ish colour
scheme and themes of darkness, and the enigma of nature
and the feminine, and possession.
Von Trier claims to have been depressed when he wrote and
directed the film, but it's difficult to take anything he says
seriously anymore. In an earlier film, The Boss of It All, he
claimed that it was shot in 'Otomovision', a computer
technique that was "A principal for shooting film developed
with the intention of limiting human influence by inviting
chance in from the cold". As ridiculous as this may sound,
many film critics took it seriously and went into great detail
about this 'technique' when reviewing the film.
As for Antichrist, it's very much up to you to decide how
seriously you take it. Von Trier opens himself up for
accusations of misogyny by linking womankind with the
cruel and chaotic 'evil' of nature. But Gainsbourg's
character, after all, is meant as a symbolic representation.
The overall message is a troubling one, and seems to be
that nature was created by an evil and irrational Antichrist,
and the only way for man to get through this hell is to live
by violent domination, not rationality. Only then can he get
to grips with nature and fruitfully pro-create.
ASSAULT! JACK THE RIPPER (1976)
(Orig title- Bôkô Kirisaki Jakku)
Dir: Yasuharu Hasebe /Japan

A young couple agree that they both feel sexually aroused

by the act of murder and bloody mutilation, and so embark
on a sex and killing spree. I'm not sure what Jack The Ripper
has to do with any of this, but hey, the Ripper still sells,
right? This couple seem to get along fine until the boyfriend
(Yukata Hayahashi) ventures out alone for his own thrill-kills,
and leaving his girl behind (how selfish!).
The roof-top crotch-stabbing and unplanned escape debacle
says a lot about a killer's complacency and arrogance that
sets in if they're not careful. The girlfriend sees news reports
of his murders on TV and goes ape shit until she realises she
may lose him, then calms down a bit. The absurdity of this
sequence is that she feels so jealous of missing out on the
action (not necessarily the violence, but missing out on HIM,
knowing that he's been out there getting his sick kicks
without her) that it feels like a dark send-up of the dynamics
of the modern relationship. She tries to show him what he's
been missing and unbuttons his jeans; we're expecting a
nice blowjob scene but she pulls out his murder blade
instead (symbolic?).
Before long it becomes clear that it's the boyfriend who has
the real murder-lust, and the girl just agrees and tags along
with him out of a desperate and deranged love (shades of
Brady and Hindley, moreso than Jack The Ripper). We get
oodles of soft core sex scenes which usually get pretty
boring in this type of fare, but here they're done quite well,
and the girlfriend (played by Tamaki Katsura, who was
requested to sport an afro hairstyle for the film by director
Hasebe) has the most beautiful breasts which makes it all
the more easy on the eyes. The body count rises
dramatically at the film's finale and we're even offered a
warped tragedy of sorts (although I'm sure many viewers
certainly won't see it that way).
Emerging as the second part of Hasebe's 'Violent Pink
Trilogy' which kicked off with Rape! and concluded with the
notorious Rape! 13th Hour, Assault! Jack The Ripper was
received the most positively by the critics. It was still
treated as an outcast movie by the mainstream public, but
the producers at the Nikkatsu studios were so happy with
the critical appraisals of their film that they decided to up
the ante and push the rape theme into overdrive with their
next Roman Porno offering, Rape! 13th Hour. It was a move
which backfired horribly when 13th Hour was widely
deemed to be one of the most offensive movies of all time
and almost ruined the Nikkatsu Corporation. The fact that
the very same critics who hated 13th Hour for its ugly
misogyny but were happy to write lovingly about a film
which depicts a pair of deranged sex killers beggars belief.
Assault! Jack The Ripper is arguably the best in the trilogy,
and includes many odd little quirks that make Japsploitation
all the more interesting, like the connection between food
and sex that is always hinted at throughout the film, the
scene in the abandoned bowling alley - Was that an actual
police car siren, or was it the filmmakers inventing their own
sound effects on the cheap? Also, the crazy self-mutilating
girl in the taxi at the beginning - perhaps a little homage to
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre? And the crotch-stabbing
scenes give Giallo a Venezia a run for its money.
AT MIDNIGHT I WILL TAKE YOUR SOUL
(1963)
(Orig title: A Meta-Noite Laverei Sua Alma)
Dir: Jose Mojica Marins /Brazil

Welcome to the strange films of Jose Mojica Marins, a heady

mixture of gothic horror and desolate cruelty, wanton
surrealism and German Expressionism, Catholic guilt and
Nietzschean nihilism. He wrote, directed, produced, and
starred in Brazil's first ever horror movie, and created that
country's most infamous character, the cackling
gravedigger known as Ze do Caixao (or 'Coffin Joe').
His horror career began in 1963 with At Midnight I Will Take
Your Soul, which offers up two introductions before the film
itself begins; one from Coffin Joe himself and another from
an old gypsy woman who urges viewers to leave the theatre
before it's too late... Coffin Joe is the undertaker of a
desolate village who attacks the residents for his own
warped amusement. He keeps the local women in bondage
and tortures them with deadly spiders, picks fights in bars,
eats meat on Good Friday, and cuts off someone's finger
with a broken bottle. Turns out that Coffin Joe is looking for
the perfect female to be the mother of his son, but the
residents don't seem to offer any suitable candidates, that is
until the beautiful Terezinha shows up.
Shot in thirteen days, At Midnight is a remarkable
achievement for a home-made horror movie. Taking its
inspiration from the Universal horror cycle of the 30s and
the EC comic books of the 50s (especially Tales From The
Crypt), it also bares a close resemblance to Mario Bava (the
graveyard scenes in Black Sunday), and Terence Fisher
(whose 50s
Hammer horrors were also a big influence on Marins). All of
the actors used in the film were non-professional, either
friends or relatives of the director, and they did a
remarkable job, especially the young women who
underwent all manner of discomfort and humiliation in the
making of the film.
It is Marins himself though who deserves the bulk of the
credit for single-handedly creating the Brazilian horror genre
and creating its most infamous son, the maniac with long
curly fingernails, top hat, and piercing eyes (you only have
to look at pictures of Coffin Joe and Strewel Peter to know
who Freddy Krueger's parents really are). At Midnight
became a huge hit with audiences in Brazil where it played
non-stop for sixteen months in Sao Paulo alone
while Catholics complained of its blasphemous content. But
this kind of interference from the nation's Catholics did
nothing to quell Marins' thirst for the forbidden; he would
return a couple of years later for the even more outrageous
This Night I'll Possess Your Corpse.
AUDITION (1999)
(Orig title: Odishon)
Dir: Takashi Miike /Japan

"Kiri, kiri, kiri". When Audition made its Western premiere at

the Edinbourgh Film Festival in 2000, most of those in
attendance had never heard of Takashi Miike or the fact that
he was fast becoming one of the most outrageous
filmmakers on the planet. And when the projector bulb
dimmed at the end, some of those lucky enough to have
caught the film wished they hadn't as it turned out to be a
completely different filmic experience than what they had
expected, and were unable to rid their memories of the
sadistic tortures they had just witnessed.
Mainstream horror doesn't get any more stomach-churning
than Audition, an almost perfectly crafted venus flytrap of a
movie that runs like a quirky romantic drama for an hour,
and features a man in the middle of a mid-life crisis
searching for love. However, what he finds instead is the
ultimate Sadean nightmare in the flesh. So if you still
haven't seen this film yet then I urge you to stop reading
now and go and check it out.
After the death of his wife Yoko, Aoyama (Ryo Ishibashi)
raises their son alone. His movie producer friend knows all
about Aoyama's loneliness and suggests that he hold an
audition to find his next beau. Realising how much of a
hassle dating is to a middle-aged man, Aoyama agrees, and
together they set up a fake film audition. The girl of his
dreams appears in the form of Asami (Eihi Shiina); young,
beautiful, and artistically talented, they begin their tentative
relationship, but she remains very vague when asked about
her personal life and past relationships. Even those who
knew her are less forthcoming about her mysterious past.
And then things take a turn for the worse...
This is the film that propelled Takashi Miike to global
notoriety, but those expecting a flashy and gory piece of
ultra-violence like Dead Or Alive or Ichi The Killer may be
disappointed because Audition is not that kind of film. It's a
slow-burner that takes its time in its build up before it shows
its teeth, but trust me, it bites. And it works best on those
who have no idea of what's in store (like the fans and critics
at the Edinbourgh Film Festival).
Many interpretations have been bounded around concerning
the subtext of the film, from feminist revenge fantasy, a
comment on modern dating rituals, to postmodern genre-
blending, and even as a cross between Fatal Attraction and
Misery! Some critics have seen similarities with Joseph
Conrad's Heart of Darkness in Audition's portrayal of a
man's complicit relationship with Hell. Dressed in ghostly
white, Asami has been deemed a mental emanation of
Aoyama's rather than an actual woman. But the most
interesting interpretation centres on the cerebral aspects of
dream distortion.
The final reel of the film is a physical illustration of the
mixture of guilt and fear that Aoyama feels towards both his
ex (Yoko, who died), and the mysterious Asami. The horrific
scenes at the end of the film are all a dream. That is, all that
happens between Aoyama being covered with a sheet after
going to bed with Asami and his waking up for a glass of
water is all dreamt. The dream continues when he goes
back to bed. His new beau's 'baggage' is, of course, only
alluded to, but it's enough for Aoyama's imagination to work
into a terrifying expression of his own fears and personal
sense of guilt via dream distortion. Two thirds of the movie
are played
out straight forward like a conventional drama; it's only near
the end when events take on a disturbing and surreal tone.
Freud wrote that the ego works as a censor and relaxes
somewhat while you sleep, but is still at work repressing
unconscious drives. If your dream becomes too explicit in its
meaning then the censor hasn't been sufficient enough in
distorting the dream and the whole thing is just wiped from
your memory (we supposedly dream all the time, night after
night, but we can only remember the occasional dream after
waking). The interesting thing here is that Aoyama perhaps
won't even remember his nightmare the next day, it's just
too revealing for his ego to acknowledge. Much of it will be
repressed, edited, or wiped from his consciousness
altogether. And his unconscious will continue to throw up its
symbols of baggage, guilt, fear, helplessness, and torment -
We are the monsters and agents of our own nightmares.
As for Takashi Miike, he has gone from strength to strength,
becoming one of Japan's most bankable filmmakers with
subsequent fare like Visitor Q, Izo, and Imprint, and breaking
box office records with Kuroozu Zero II and Yatterman (both
of which raked in more than three billion yen, out-selling
even the most popular of mainstream releases in Japan). A
truly staggering feat for an artist who has never once
compromised on his edgy vision. Only in Japan is it possible
to become a household name by continually rattling your
audience and bombarding them with some of the most
extreme imagery of the decade.
AUSCHWITZ (2011)
Dir: Uwe Boll /Canada/Germany

Uwe Boll became infamous for a series of ineptly made

video game adaptations like Alone In The Dark and House of
The Dead which have been described as cinematic train
wrecks but still managed to garner a bit of a cult following.
More recently he has taken the indie route with a string of
disturbing low budget films focusing on the dark side of
human nature in Seed, Stoic, and Rampage, all of which
were reviled by international censors and critics but adored
by his growing army of fans. But, perhaps driven by the
desire to be taken seriously as a filmmaker, Boll has also
tried his hand at films based on true events, with the
interesting Tunnel Rats, Darfur, and most problematic of all,
Auschwitz.
Those expecting a quick exploitationer based on the worst
atrocity of the 20th Century will be in for a surprise here as
Boll makes it clear in the film's introduction that he is
undoubtedly very passionate about that time in history, and
also angry that many people (according to Boll, at least half
the world's population) have no idea about the Nazi death
camps. His mission statement is clear: People should never
forget what happened at Aushcwitz.
First up we get documentary footage of college students
being interviewed on camera about their understanding of
the death camps. It soon becomes apparent that their
knowledge is hazy at best. Then we're shown a dramatised
account of a train load of Jews arriving at Auschwitz. They
are changed out of their clothes and then marched to the
gas chamber. Boll himself cameos as an SS officer who
guards the doorway (perhaps his small role serves as a
reminder of his indirect complicitness with the Holocaust,
simply for being German? A nation's guilt personified?). The
film as a whole is very sensitive to the suffering of the
victims, unlike Andrey Iskanov's Philosophy of a Knife which
seems to wallow in the gruesome torture and ethnic
cleansing of World War II. Boll's film is certainly no easy ride
though; we see people being gassed, corpses pushed into
the ovens and licked by the flames of modern barbarity,
little boys are shot in the back of their heads. Real archive
footage of piles of bodies awaiting mass burial is also
inserted into the film lest the audience should fail to
comprehend the horrors played out before
our eyes. Even the deliberate and methodical way the
Cyclon B is poured into the air ducts is chilling. As the
deadly fumes fill the chamber and the victims scream and
bang on the iron doors with their fists, we can hear the
arrival of another train load of doomed souls at a nearby
station. The bored soldiers sit around casually discussing
their work whilst looting through a mound of personal
possessions belonging to the Jews. Boll closes the
proceedings with a little speech in broken English; here he
justifies the making of the film: "We have to make sure that
crimes doesn't happen. We have to make sure that
something like this is not getting forgotten or that
somebody can repeat it".
The original teaser trailer for Auschwitz caused a storm on
the web as it graphically shows the corpse of a child being
pushed into an incinerator, and people were accusing Boll of
gross exploitation on such a sensitive subject even before
the film itself had been released. Auschwitz was then
rejected by the Berlin Film Festival which resulted in the
director threatening to sue the programmers for 'breach of
trust and unfair competition in its selection process'. When
the film finally did see the light of day the critics weren't too
kind, and they labeled it a shoddy exercise in bad taste. In
an attempt to defend his film, Boll commented "If you see
all the Auschwitz movies made in a row, from Schindler's
List to The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas, in all those you will
not see what actually happened in Auschwitz [...] It's not a
movie about heroes or survivors, it's a film about the daily
routine of a human slaughterhouse. And I think it is
important that one movie actually shows what really
happened at Auschwitz". That's all well and good a
comment but it was soon to backfire on him as people then
went to see the film expecting detailed historical accuracy
in the minutae of everything from the uniforms, sets, and
methods of execution, including exactly how many Jews
were put into the chamber at each time, etc. And of course,
those hoping for a film with that kind of detailed accuracy
came away disappointed too.
Boll was also under fire from people who accused him of
exploiting the Holocaust in a previous film, Bluberella,
in which a gun-toting overweight woman goes to war
against the Nazis. Boll claims that Bluberella was made
simply as a way of securing the funding for Auschwitz.
AUTO FOCUS (2002)
Dir: Paul Schrader /USA The story of Bob Crane, a Californian
DJ who became a star when he landed himself a role in the
US sitcom, Hogan's Heroes, and then descended into sex
and drugs debauchery and eventually hit rock bottom as his
marriage disintegrated and was found bludgeoned to death
in his own bed.
Writer/director Paul Schrader is at the top of his game here
as he continues in his fascination with sex as a substitution
for a life of substance, the seduction of porn, and reckless
characters who add to their own corruption and downfall.
Schrader doesn't flinch from depicting the sexcapades that
made up Bob Crane's life. Schrader remains completely
committed and non-judgmental in his approach to telling
the sad story, unsentimentally cutting open Crane's
addictions to fame and technology and sex (the latter
nowadays referred to as 'sex addiction', a term that I have
never agreed with; sex is a biological need, you can't
become addicted to it. Some have a stronger sex-drive than
others - and more opportunities, that's all), and clinically
exploring these matters like some kind of cinematic autopsy.
Also on top form is actor Greg Kinnear whose performance
here surpasses anything he has ever done in his career,
before or since. He manages to make Crane likable even as
he spirals way out of control, never asking the audience to
sympathise with this stupidly oblivious sleaze ball. And he is
aided by the brilliant Willem Dafoe, who plays the gadget
man, Carpenter, who is a master at pathetic seediness and
neediness. The mutual dependency between these two
characters forms the core of the movie as Carpenter
provides the contacts and Crane the star power. The scene
where Crane learns of a wandering finger after an orgy is
hilarious (“You put your finger in my ass?!!!”).
AVERE VENT'ANNI (1978)
(To Be Twenty) Dir: Fernando Di Leo /Italy
Two beautiful young women meet on a beach and discover
that they both have something in common - They're both
"Young, hot, and pissed off", so they head off to Rome and
their attitude gets them into all kinds of adventures. They
stop by at some commune of low-life hippies and indulge in
sex, fights, tantrums, and lesbianism (but this is 70s
lesbianism which basically means lots of kissing and
stroking and little else). Whilst staying at the commune
they're asked to pay their way, so they reluctantly agree to
go door to door selling encyclopedias, and this leads to
more fun and games. It's supposed to be a comedy but the
gags are old and worn out for the most part. The 'La la la la
la' on the soundtrack becomes annoying very quickly, as do
the two young leads (Gloria Guida and Lilli Carati). Much of
the film plays like a tourist's travelogue. Anyway, after
cavorting with stoned radicals and a pretentious filmmaker,
the commune is raided by the police, and the girls are
ordered to get out of Rome or face being arrested. So they
decide to leave, but on their journey home something
dreadful happens...
There seems to be some kind of vague political/sociological
message here but it's never made clear (perhaps a
comment on the death of 60s idealism and a rude wake up
call to the violence and cynicism of the 70s?). The ending of
the film is notorious, but be sure to catch the uncut version
because the American version has a completely different
ending, apparently. The last ten minutes are very dark but
it's not enough to save it.
AXE (1974)
(Orig title: Lisa, Lisa; aka California Axe Massacre)
Dir: Frederick Friedel /USA

Not your typical video nasty. For, although it was made on a

tiny budget of $25,000 and is a fairly grim and downbeat
affair, Axe is nonetheless an atmospheric mood-piece that
possesses genuine artistic merit, despite its lurid title.
Three criminals are on the run after a killing and a bungled
robbery. They race their getaway car to a remote farmhouse
where they intend to hideout until the dust settles. The
people who live in the house - the wheelchair-bound mute
grandfather, and a disturbed teenage girl, Lisa - seem like
easy prey to the trio of hoodlums, but this kind of cocksure
bravado overlooks just how dangerous Lisa is...
Axe was written and directed by former fashion
photographer Frederick Friedel who was just 25 years old
when he shot the film. His naivete and inexperience
ironically helped rather than hindered the proceedings; he
kept the production on a miniscule basis, with just a handful
of sets and characters, and his way of stretching the
running time to meet the 'feature length' requirements was
frankly ingenious - He allowed the scenes the space to
breathe in the editing room and allowed the end credits to
run their full course, creating an intense atmosphere to
prevail throughout, and it also offered composers George
Newman Shaw and John Willhelm the chance to shine with
their fantastic score that plays uninterrupted at the end. The
result is a beautiful, poetic mood-piece that is unlike
anything else ever shown at a drive-in theatre. Friedel (who
cast himself in the role as Billy, one of the crims) is also
aided by some decent performances from Jack Canon who
plays the leader of the gang, Leslie Lee who plays the
withdrawn Lisa, and Douglas Powers as the grandfather
whose mute and crippled existence limited his role to his
intensely expressive eyes.
All was going well for the film when it played a few dates
under its original title, Lisa Lisa, until Friedel secured a
distribution deal with Harry Novak and his Box Office
International company. Lisa Lisa, along with Friedel's follow-
up film, Date With a Kidnapper, had their titles changed
immediately to Axe and Kidnapped Coed, respectively.
Novak was also skilled at ripping people off, and Friedel
barely saw a penny of revenue from the film's modest
success at the drive-ins. Stung and disillusioned by the
experience, Friedel backed away from the movie business
and was unable to pay back his financiers, and this resulted
in family members of those who bankrolled the film
committing suicide, and Friedel wanting to murder Novak.
That's the tragic side of indie filmmaking for you (see
Stephen Thrower's excellent book, Nightmare USA, for the
full story).
In the UK, Axe found itself on the 'video nasties' list and was
kept out of our homes for years until the BBFC relented and
passed it uncut in 2005, allowing us to finally lay eyes on
this idiosyncratic gem. Sometimes referred to as 'America's
answer to Repulsion', Lisa Lisa works best at night in a hazy
frame of mind. Don't expect a traditional 'join-the-dots' type
of narrative, but a dark and troubling dream, and you're on
the right track.
BAD BIOLOGY (2008)
Dir: Frank Henenlotter /USA
Bad Biology sees the welcome return of writer/director Frank
Henenlotter after a 16 year break from directing, and the
results are typically unpredictable in keeping with the native
New Yorker's track record. Basket Case (1982) was a grim
and twisted tale of familial love, Brain Damage (1988) was a
bizarre psychedelic trip on the dangers of drug addiction,
Frankenhooker (1990) was an insane cartoon update on
Mary Shelley's classic novel, and the Basket Case sequels
(1990, 1992) were coying and sentimental freakshows. Even
the style of each of his films had its own unique flavour, and
Bad Biology is no exception.
Aspiring photographer, Jennifer (Charlee Danielson), is not
your average kind of girl. For a start she is equipped with
seven clitorises which makes her a nightmare to deal with in
bed, as many men realise to their horror as they are quite
literally banged to death while she takes polaroid snapshots
of their death throes. Her strange biological makeup is
somehow super-charged, and she gives birth to mutant
babies only moments after conceiving. She then quickly and
efficiently dumps the screaming spawn into trash cans, the
bath tub, or wherever she happens to be at the time.
Jennifer's ferocious sexual appetite goes unmatched until
she has a chance encounter with Batz (Anthony Sneed), a
young man who is also the victim of his own bad biology
after a gone-wrong circumcision at birth; all his life he has
tried desperately to self-medicate his manhood with all
manner of experimental drugs and steroids, and now his
cock is a huge aggressive monster with a mind of its own,
and this makes Batz a very unsociable person. You would
think that Jennifer and Batz are a match made in heaven,
but things aren't that simple...
Bad Biology offers all the hallmarks of Henenlotter's
previous work - warm colourful settings, the exaggerated
cartoonish style, outsider characters with dark secrets, etc -
but this latest offering also treats us to a harsh, nasty, and
cynical black humour several shades darker and meaner-
spirited than all of his previous works combined. It's an
approach which may disorientate some of his regular fans,
but I thought it worked well and is definitely in keeping with
the cynical times we live in. He also shot the film in 35mm
and not the HD video that many expected, and that's a
welcome relief. Charlee Danielson isn't a great actress but
her game attitude and keen energy more than make up for
her sometimes stilted line readings, and Gabe Bartalos' wild
special effects work is as crazy and impressive as anything
seen in Henenlotter's films; the mutant babies and huge
killer cock in particular.
Early screenings of Bad Biology were shown via video
projection for some reason. It went on to wow fans at the
festivals and one-off screenings before showing up in the UK
on its first DVD release by Revolver, untouched by the
hands of the BBFC (it was also released uncut in France
under the title Sex Addict!). Shriek Show eventually
unleashed the film on disc in America in its most impressive
print to date, uncut and with a shed load of extras missing
from the UK and French versions.
With the moderate success of Bad Biology we can only hope
that Henenlotter will be encouraged to get back into the
director's seat very soon.
BAD LIEUTENANT (1992)
Dir: Abel Ferrara /USA

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did so many bad things". After causing
much controversy in the 70s and 80s with a pair of
notorious video nasties, Driller Killer and Ms.45, director
Abel Ferrara shocked the world once again in the 90s with
Bad Lieutenant, an intelligent and fiercely uncompromising
journey into the pit of human darkness, boasting a riveting,
uninhibited performance from the brilliant Harvey Keitel.
Taking its inspiration from a newspaper headline about the
rape of a nun, Ferrara co-wrote the script with Zoe Lund
(formerly Zoe Tamerlis who starred in Ms.45 as the angel of
vengeance), and together they fashioned a tale about a
New York cop who self-destructs on drink, drugs, and
gambling. The nameless cop becomes even more troubled
when he discovers that the nun has forgiven her attackers,
and the Lt. must try to put aside his own desperate need for
vengeance if he is to save his wretched soul...
The resulting film was met with outrage from the press, so
much so it even surprised Ferrara himself who was certainly
no stranger to cinematic controversy. For, although Bad
Lieutenant is a raw exercise in requisite shocks, it's also a
classic tale of Catholic redemption. The BBFC recognised
this and passed the film uncut for a British cinema release
after seeing the light at the end of a very dark tunnel. But
when it came to home video classification, Ferrara's film
didn't make it through unscathed; a minute and a half of
cuts were imposed by the censors due to an altering of
legislation that stemmed from the original Video Recordings
Act (which Ferrara's films, Driller Killer and Ms.45, ironically
helped usher in).
In America the MPAA imposed an NC-17 rating on the film
which resulted in Blockbuster Video refusing to stock it, and
instead oversaw a drastic re-cut that was so empty and
incoherent it has since been referred to as 'The really not
that bad at all lieutenant'. The video release was also beset
with contractual problems over the Schooly D soundtrack;
Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin had allegedly watched the
video and noticed that his song Kashmir had been sampled
without permission in the song Signifying Rapper. A lawsuit
followed which resulted in the removal of all home video
editions of the film. I think that's a bit cheeky of Jimmy Page,
after all Led Zepp ripped off plenty of classic blues numbers
themselves back in the day, but I digress.
In the year 2000 Film Four broadcast Bad Lieutenant in the
BBFC-approved version with the Schooly D track restored.
Other video and TV prints include an acoustic track 'Bad
Lieutenant', written and performed by Ferrara himself. But
it's Harvey Keitel's stunning performance which saves the
film and stops it from falling by the wayside. Even with the
camera following him and rarely leaving his side for most of
the running time, his method master class basically carries
the film from start to finish. Whether he's shooting up
heroin, jerking off in front of a couple of girls, walking
around stark bollock naked whilst drugged up to the
eyeballs, or wailing like a sick parrot, he somehow manages
to add a touch of humanity to the role which, for many
viewers, has made Bad Lieutenant just about tolerable.
Look out for the late great Zoe Lund as Keitel's junky
mistress, and Ferrara's buddy Paul Hipp who makes a cameo
appearance as Christ himself. Despite some of the knee-jerk
reactions to the film, and despite what the Washington
Post's Desson Howe said about it ("A notch nicer than
Satan"), Bad Lieutenant has had many good write ups over
the years. Martin Scorsese claimed it to be one of the finest
films of the 90s. What more encouragement do you need?
THE BEAST (1975)
(Orig title: La bete)
Dir: Walerian Borowczyk /France

Talented Polish painter Walerian Borowczyk moved to France

in the 60s taking with him a Bunuellian sense of mischief
and a strong desire to use erotic cinema as a way of
attacking and undermining bourgeois values. His early films
were animated and well received (The Theatre of Mr. and
Mrs.Kabal, 1967), but he soon moved onto live action with
his impressive Goto, Island of Love (1968), and the
ambitious medieval epic, Blanche (1971).
He returned three years later with Immoral Tales (1974), a
quartet of erotic stories which earned him a solid reputation
among the arthouse elite. But all of that positive acclaim
came crashing down with his next film, La bete, which
features a sequence in which a pretty young woman is
chased through the woods and ravished by a well-endowed
hairy beast, complete with wild prosthetics and cum shots.
The story of La bete focuses on Lucy Broadhurst (Lisbeth
Hummel), an English woman who travels to the L'Esperance
estate where she intends to marry the brutish son, Mathurin
(Pierre Benedetti). Whilst the family await Lucy's arrival,
members of this deranged household have sex and plot
murder, all in the guise of social respectability. Lucy is
welcomed to the estate by the sight of horses copulating on
the driveway and she takes a polaroid snapshot for herself.
After finding an illustrated diary belonging to the lady of the
estate, Romilda, Lucy has a nightmare of being chased
through the woods by a humongous beast with a huge
erection. Mathurin dies the next day just as Lucy's sexuality
awakens. And when the Cardinal arrives explaining his own
ideas on bestiality, Lucy is sped away in her chauffeur-
driven car.
A horny and explicit piece of incendiary filmmaking, La bete
explores the sexual subtexts of classic fairytales like Little
Red Riding Hood and Beauty and The Beast. The infamous
20 minute segment featuring the monster in the woods was
originally envisaged as being part of Borowczyk's previous
film, Immoral Tales, but instead seemed to develop a life of
its own and became the centrepiece of an entirely new film.
Whether seen as a horror film, a satire, dark fantasy, or
erotica, Borowczyk clearly delights in stripping away the
facade of polite convention. It's a film that uncovers the
bestial nature of polite society, as seen in the horses
breeding on the drive, and taking inspiration from Luis
Bunuel for an amusing comedy of manners spiked with a
subversive edge. The Spanish surrealist's The Discreet
Charm of The Bourgeoisie looks to have been used as a
healthy template.
The film caused an almighty stink when it first hit screens,
and found itself banned and censored all across the world.
The critics who had previously championed Borowczyk's
work turned against him and felt personally insulted by the
film, and for years it was almost impossible to see in
anything even resembling an uncut copy. An English
language version appeared on VHS under the title Devil's
Ecstasy, but most of the offending footage had been
removed (including the horses). An uncut French print
played at UK and American arthouse cinemas in 2001 in a
limited run, but on DVD it was Cult Epics who came to the
rescue with a 3 disc set of La Bete in a Director's Cut which
is actually missing around four minutes of dialogue that
Borowczyk himself cut out of the film (the third disc
presents the original fully uncut version with English hard
subs).
THE BEAST IN HEAT (1977)
(Orig title: La Bestia In Calore; aka SS Hell Camp)
Dir: Ivan Katansky (Paolo Solvay aka Luigi Batzella) /Italy
After a short-lived video release in Britain, The Beast In Heat
was swept up in the moral panic that was the Video
Recordings Act 1984, and has been an outlawed 'video
nasty' in the UK ever since. But its 'Banned' status may be
just down to the fact that no distribution company has
submitted the film for classification in this country since
those draconian days. In any case, I wouldn't expect a
deluxe Special Edition of this title to hit the shelves anytime
soon.
The haphazard 'plot' to Beast In Heat centers upon a Nazi
torture chamber run by the fiendish Macha Magall with the
aid of an aphrodisiac-fuelled troglodyte, all in the name of
science, whilst a group of resistance fighters struggle
against the Nazi Stormtroopers in the surrounding
countryside. If the film lacks coherence overall, that's
because it's basically two movies spliced together; director
Luigi Batzella recycled some footage from his 1970 war film,
When The Bell Rings, added the new sequences featuring
Magall, and bingo, he had a sleazy new cine-product on his
hands. The old footage takes up around 60% of the film's
entire running time, but it holds together quite well, much
better than many would have you believe (heck, we've all
sat through Marino Girolami's Zombie Holocaust which was
pasted together in a similar fashion). The intro credits come
and go whilst a red swastika is flaunted before our eyes
accompanied by wonky sounding electronic music. This
most despised symbol of the 20th Century seems to linger
on the screen forever before the movie starts proper; and
it's then that we're led into the torture chamber where the
evil Dr. Kratsch commands the tasteless and ludicrous
proceedings (the old UK video version is amusingly dubbed
and offers up some insane dialogue). We get rape, baby
shooting, a woman being eaten alive by rats, another
woman tortured with electrodes attached to her vag, a fat
hairy man strung upside down and whipped (long rumoured
to have been played by the film's producer, Xiro Papas!),
and a young woman having her fingernails ripped off; but
the real show-stopper is Sal Boris who plays the caged troll
forced-fed on aphrodisiacs; it's basically a reprise of his
similar role in Tinto Brass' Salon Kitty (1975), taken to the
extreme. It's one of the most ludicrous performances in the
history of shock cinema, and makes this film essential
viewing for that reason alone. As punishment, women are
thrown into the cage where the eponymous 'Beast' attacks
and rapes them with gusto. At one point he gets so carried
away in his frenzy, he even rips out a bunch of pubic hair
from his victim and proceeds to eat them, leaving behind a
raw bloody patch.
The DVD is available uncut on Region 1 under the title SS
Hell Camp, in Italian with English subs. This is
Nazisploitation at its nuttiest.
BEAUTIFUL GIRL HUNTER (1979)
(aka Star of David - Hunting For Beautiful Girls)
Dir: Norofumi Suzuki /Japan

A twisted war veteran intrudes on a home, ties up the

couple who own the place, robs them of their savings, and
then subjects the woman to forced deep-throating and
penetrative rape. Later, when the ordeal seems to be over,
the partner cruelly lashes at the woman with a bull whip,
accusing her of enjoying the experience. And his rage only
intensifies when she reveals to him that she is pregnant
with the rapist's baby...
A few years later and the household is fast deteriorating.
The 'father' can barely look at the youngster because he
reminds him of the rapist, and constantly slaps, threatens,
and abuses the boy, much to the dismay of the mother. He
often subjects his wife to brutal S&M sessions, involving
another woman whom he ties up, whips, abuses, and forces
to urinate on each other. The boy, Tatsuya, witnesses much
of this by spying through the keyhole. Wife can't handle it
anymore, and she commits suicide by plunging her own
throat down onto a blade (similar to the suicide of a murder
suspect in David Cronenberg's The Dead Zone, in which a
man plunges himself face-first down onto a pair of opened
scissors).
Not surprisingly, Tatsuya grows up to become a deeply
disturbed sadistic sex maniac, partly because of his
traumatic childhood experiences, and (according to the film)
partly due to his own wretched gene pool. He spikes a lady's
drink and then carries her unconscious body down into his
basement that he has renovated into his own secret torture
dungeon that resembles the spacious lab in Paul Morrissey's
Flesh For Frankenstein. He strips and rapes her, and when
she regains consciousness he berates her and blames her
for his own emotional turmoil. His deranged activities go
unchecked, even using his own birthday party as an alibi so
that he can escape down into his basement to indulge in his
sick urge to rape and murder his captives.
Meanwhile, Tatsuya's biological father is still up to his old
tricks. He may be older but he still has no trouble in
overpowering young girls and savagely raping and
strangling them out in the wilderness. And like father like
son, Tatasuya becomes bolder in his kidnapping antics, and
in a scene which serves as a chilling reminder of the crimes
of
Ted Bundy, he approaches a high school girl pretending to
be a photojournalist and manages to lure the poor girl into
his car. Back at the basement she is abused and forced to
masturbate.
Through a series of short flashbacks we get some more
backstory on Tatsuya; as a school student he became
obsessed with the Nazi's and Auschwitz, and is seen jerking
off to images of Jews being hung and gunned down by firing
squads (Ian Brady displayed similar traits). He deflowers the
school girl and she eventually becomes completely
subservient to him, willing to do absolutely anything for her
'master'. It's interesting to note here that director Suzuki
composes the sex scenes in such a way that there is no
need for those distracting 'blurs' that crop up all the time in
Japanese sex movies. Here Suzuki pushes as much as he
could get away with in this type of soft core fare.
Next up, Tatsuya kidnaps a pop star (Hiromi Namino, who
was Miss Japan at the time in her first film role in which her
nudity caused much fuss in the Japanese press) and her
assistant. By treating the pop star like shit and treating her
assistant with a bit of care and kindness, he succeeds in
exposing a knot of resentment between the two, and the
master-slave dynamic is reversed when the assistant bull-
whips the pop star to within an inch of her life.
In perhaps one of the most offensive sequences in the film,
Tatsuya seems to take pity on the schoolgirl and he dumps
her on a beach in the middle of the night. And in a later
scene he spies on her while she's back at school, and she
seems to have rebuilt her life - Not only is she more popular
than before, but she seems to have developed a new lease
of life; she's happy, smiley, care-free, and the centre of
attention. The implications of this scene are very dubious.
And dangerous. To suggest that her awful experience at the
hands of a madman who had deflowered and turned her into
a nervous subservient wreck, and then showing her to have
gained from it and even to
have appreciated the experience - This sequence gives the
film one of its most authentic notes of misogyny.
Anyway, the pop star makes an unsuccessful escape
attempt. And while an injured Tatsuya is dealing with her,
the assistant manages to escape from the house. But in a
cruel (and ludicrous) twist of fate, she runs straight into the
arms of Tatsuya's father. Cue a long-overdue family reunion
as father and son meet for the first time and team up for
more depraved fun involving the captives, an Alsation, and
of course, rape, torture, and murder.
Throughout the film, Tatsuya has been courting a pretty
young girl; they go on dates, go horse riding, and generally
spend a lot of time together. He tells her that he keeps birds
in his basement and the girl is keen to see them but he
always avoids taking her home. Indeed, viewers are not sure
whether Tatsuya is just luring her along as part of another of
his twisted games, or whether he genuinely cares for her.
But in a nasty and cruel finale, we discover that yes he
really does care about her, but he has a funny way of
showing it... But as it turns out, this girl has her own warped
agenda to deal with involving her faith, incest, and the star
of David. A touch of redemption maybe? I don't think so!
When asked why his films contain so many images and
references to Christianity, director Norifumi Suzuki replied
"I suppose sacred things are actually quite erotic. The idea
of defiling something sacred like a nun or a nurse or a
schoolteacher is very erotic". Certainly, if you look through
the films of Suzuki (Truck Yaro and School of The Holy Beast,
for example) you'll find that the defiling of sacred things is
an ongoing theme in his work, and Beautiful Girl Hunter is
no exception. Having worked for the Toei studio for a
number of years, Suzuki was eventually head-hunted by the
Nikkatsu Corporation who offered him bigger budgets and a
free choice to make whatever kind of film he liked, just as
long as it would fit in with the 'Roman Porno' tradition.
Suzuki settled on Star of David, a Manga by Masaaki
Soto, and in just 19 days he had written, directed, and
edited the film in a flash. The result is a vile and
misogynistic piece of trash that perhaps isn't supposed to
be taken seriously. But it's also beautifully shot with neon-lit
photography, and permeates a dark and brooding
atmosphere, and boasts some fantastic performances. For
all the shocking and disagreeable elements the film may
possess, it's certainly never boring and is expertly made; in
today’s PC climate nobody makes big-budget shock films
like this anymore. Suzuki once described Beautiful Girl
Hunter as a film which "deals with the joys of being evil".
BEAUTIFUL TEACHER IN TORTURE
HELL (1985)
(Orig title: Oniroku Dan: Bikyoshi jigokuzeme)
Dir: Masahito Segawa /Japan

Beautiful Teacher In Torture Hell is a typical entry in

Nikkatsu's Roman Porno series of the time. It's simple
premise sees a newly recruited teacher, Ran Masaki,
subjected to a barrage of nasty goings on from both the
pupils and the teachers, including violence, rape, and
imprisonment. Masaki is picked up on her first day at the
train station by a fellow teacher, and their drive through the
isolated mountain roads is blocked by a group of thugs who
attack the women. Masaki just happens to be a fencing
teacher, and she puts her sword skills to use by beating off
two of the thugs with a stick. She then rescues the other
teacher from rape by beating the third yobbo into
submission.
Despite the incident on the journey to her new job, Masaki
seems to settle into her new role. That is until she is bopped
on the head and knocked unconscious in the basement. She
awakens in a hospital ward surrounded by a pupil and a
couple of creepy looking teachers, but she has no memory
of what happened to her. She has marks on her wrists which
suggest she has probably spent some time tied up
somewhere. She settles at her friend's house to recuperate
but the event has clearly affected her deeply. The two
women then get naked and have a sexy bath time together,
but Masaki rejects her friend's sexual advances. She wakes
up in the middle of the night to find her housemate in an
S&M session with the creepy looking dude. She spies on the
action for a while until she is spotted, and then goes back to
bed.
Back at school the following morning, the creepy dude
enters Masaki's classroom and hands her an envelope
containing naked photos of her that were obviously taken
while she was unconscious in the basement. She flees the
school premises and confronts the young pupil, Yuki, about
the incident and to find out who is responsible for her
ordeal, but to no avail. After burning the photos, she enters
the gym one night after school to find Yuki being tied up and
tormented by the thugs who attacked her on the mountain
road at the beginning. They threaten the girl with a knife
and cut off her panties. Yuki pleads with her teacher to help
her and Masaki reluctantly obeys the boys demands that
she take off her clothes and have a fencing duel with one of
the thugs. After beating the thug's arse with the stick she is
set upon by the other boys and gang raped whilst a third
records the event on film.
After the ordeal, Masaki takes the girl home and ends up
staying the night at her house. However, it soon becomes
clear that Yuki's father is the school headmaster and the
whole episode that night was just a ploy to get her to the
house. Yuki, the gang of thugs, the creepy guy, and even
her own housemate were in on the conspiracy. Masaki is
then trussed up in the basement for more depraved fun
where everyone gets in on the act; bondage, tit-slapping,
forced fellatio, vibrator fun, an enema, and a hanging. Even
the young pupil gets in on the action when she climbs into
an aquarium for a bit of teacher molestation.
With a running time of just over an hour, Beautiful Teacher
In Torture Hell is a silly piece of brainless exploitative
garbage. But if you're a fan of Japanese Pink films then
you'll probably lap it up anyway as this is no better or worse
than the usual Nikkatsu fare of the time. The script was
written by Nikkatsu veteran Oniroku Dan, and the visuals
are typically stunning and put most American and Italian
exploitation pics to shame with the beautiful lighting,
textures, framing and photography. The story is deliberately
stripped down to its basic essentials so that we're basically
left with a string of sleazy sex and bondage scenes. And it's
this latter element that perhaps puts the film into context as
a precursor to the whole 'Torture Porn' movement of recent
years.
Even by the Japanese standards of the time this is an
extremely cynical and pessimistic film. We can't even rely
on the innocence of youth here as the young pupil Yuki turns
out to be just as fucked up and debased as the adult
characters. The film is populated almost entirely with sly
and manipulative scumbags, and the only decent character
is subjected to all of the vile abuse! Even many of the most
disreputable Pink films of the era had their bad guys getting
their comeuppance at the end, but not so here; actually
quite the opposite; in the coda we see another young
teacher arrive at the train station, and it's clear that this
new recruit will be subjected to the same abuse.
THE BEYOND (1981)
(Orig title: L'Aldilà; aka Seven Doors of Death)
Dir: Lucio Fulci /Italy

Italian gore maestro Lucio Fulci is best known for his quartet
of extremely violent and gory zombie movies, which
includes Zombie Flesh Eaters, City of The Living Dead,
House By The Cemetery, and of course, The Beyond. It's a
series of films in which all of the elements come together in
a perfect way, and everyone involved in the making of the
films were at the top of their game; from the performances
of the cast, to the stunning photography and lighting effects
of Sergio Salvatti, the gruesome and innovative special
effects of Gianetto De Rossi, Dardano Sacchetti's
nightmarish scripts, Fabio Frizzi's haunting music, and the
meastro himself, Lucio Fulci, tying it all together in a
masterful way. And even among such grisly company as
Zombie Flesh Eaters and City of The Living Dead, The
Beyond remains not only the finest film Fulci ever made, but
also a landmark of Italian genre cinema. And of all the
spaghetti horrors out there, only Ruggero Deodato's
Cannibal Holocaust can rival The Beyond's grim spectacle
and gut-punch nihilism.
The film opens with a sepia prologue set in 1927 Louisiana
in which a torch-carrying lynch mob enters the Seven Doors
Hotel, make their way to room 36, and chain-whip the
room's occupant, Schweick, a painter and "ungodly
warlock", before they nail his wrists to the wall and pour
acid in his face. While this is going on, a woman reads from
the Book of Eibon (pronounced 'A-ban'), an occult text that
catches fire as Schweick's face dissolves into an acidic
mess.
Cut to modern day 1981 where the long-abandoned hotel
has been inherited by New Yorker Liza (scream queen
Catriona MacColl). One of the workers helping to renovate
the building falls from the scaffold after seeing a pair of evil
eyes, and John McGabe (exploitation favourite David
Warbeck) arrives on the scene to try and keep things under
control. Strange occurances and more nasty goings on begin
to happen in and around the hotel, including an unfortunate
plumber who has his eyeball ripped out, dead bodies rising
in the morgue, and an extended spider attack in the local
library. Liza first meets Emily (the woman reading from the
Book of Eibon in the prologue) on an eerily deserted stretch
of road, but Emily's eyes have turned a milky white. Turns
out that
the book holds a dark secret concerning the gates of hell
which are located somewhere within the Seven Doors Hotel.
Soon enough, Liza and John are fighting off hordes of
walking corpses, and this leads to the film's stunning finale
in which the characters seem to plunge into hell.
As with many of Fulci's films, The Beyond is often accused of
being a confusing mess, especially by those who rely on
mainstream storytelling where everything comes together
with a satisfying 'click' at the end. Fulci has little concern
with traditional filmic manners or the niceties of character
development or rationality. However, true fans of Italian
terror and Fulci in particular, know that those odd
peculiarities are what makes these films so interesting and
so different. If you want proof that Fulci was a talented
filmmaker, you only have to look at the last few minutes of
The Beyond. Everything in the Fulci cannon suddenly makes
perfect sense in the film's finale; a nightmare logic that
spirals into hell as the heroes find themselves eternally
trapped in a dark netherworld.
In the prologue we're led to believe that Schweick was an
innocent painter hunted down by a superstitious lynch mob.
The themes of good and evil are muddied though when we
see that the hellscape at the end looks identical to
Schweick's painting. This supposed innocent painter, it turns
out, really was responsible for opening the gates of hell. At
the beginning and end of the film we're shown two forms of
evil; the physical and the metaphysical. The lynching and
the walking corpses represent physical evil and earthly
horror, whereas the closing scenes of the film shows evil as
a vast nothingness. The blank eyes of Liza and John express
an existential terror rather than physical horror at their
comprehension of an infinite emptiness. And this idea is
made clear in the film's grim voiceover that declares "And
you will face the sea of darkness and all therein that may be
explored".
Fulci's masterpiece was neglected for years with a heavily
censored American VHS under the title 7 Doors of Death
was the only way for fans to see it. In the UK it was added to
the video nasties list and banned until 2001 when the BBFC
finally passed it uncut, by which time the film's reputation
rocketed thanks to the uncensored Japanese laserdisc and
American midnight screenings by Grindhouse and Quentin
Tarantino's Rolling Thunder Pictures. For the first time fans
were at last given the chance to fully appreciate Giannetto
De Rossi's stunning visual effects which include an eyeball
being ripped out of a plumber's head, an Alsation biting a
chunk out of a woman's throat with blood gushing out of the
gaping wound, a little zombie girl getting her head blown
off, and a bunch of creepy-crawly tarantulas chewing on a
man's face. It was only then that the film secured its long-
overdue status as a cult classic. Oh, and Fabio Frizzi's
excellent score was reinstated too.
BEYOND THE DARKNESS (1979)
(Orig title: Buio Omega; aka Buried Alive)
Dir: Joe D'Amato /Italy

A morbid and graphic shocker from the king of sleaze, Joe

D'Amato, Beyond The Darkness follows the exploits of a
disturbed young man, Frank (Kieran Canter), who has
recently lost his girlfriend. Taxidermy just happens to be his
favourite past time, and so he tries to preserve his beloved
by embalming her. But, as in any self-respecting horror
movie, Frank's plans to live happily ever after with his doll
are quickly dashed when stragglers and strangers become
suspicious of his weird behaviour, and pretty soon he finds
himself on a graphic and gruesome murder spree, wiping
out those who may know too much. Cue burnings,
dismemberments, fingernail-ripping, eye-gouging, and an
acid bath.
Boasting a creepy and morbid atmosphere and a downbeat
soundtrack courtesy of Goblin, Beyond The Darkness marks
one of the highlights of D'Amato's long and varied career.
For years this film was really only available in horrible
looking VHS bootleg copies where the picture quality was so
dark and scrappy that many of the scenes were barely
visible, and reviewers trashed it as a cheap and nasty piece
of garbage (the video version was also cut). However, the
DVD release was something of a revelation as the original
source materials were used to re-master the footage. Not
only were the legendary gore scenes reinstated and now
clearly visible, but also other more subtle qualities could be
appreciated for the first time for many viewers, including
the beautiful interiors of the inherited villa where Frank
lives, and Enrico Biribicchi's creative and intriguing camera
work.
Beyond The Darkness ultimately stands as a tragic and
twisted love story with a necrophiliac edge (though Frank
doesn't have the time to get too intimate with his girlfriend's
corpse because he's too busy murdering and dismembering
those who enter his life). It's an insane and desperate love
that spirals out of control, and not even his dead mother's
housemaid (with whom he has a perverse sexual
relationship, and who helps him to dispose of the bodies)
can talk him into letting go of his beloved Anna. Joe D'Amato
perfectly combines the fever dreams of Edgar Allan Poe with
the down-at-earth morbid realism of Marijan Vadja's
Mosquito The Rapist for a true nightmare on film. Younger
horror fans who are more accustomed to the flash-trash
style of many modern films will probably find it difficult to
deal with the laid back tempo and eerie mood, but they sure
don't make 'em like this anymore. British filmmakers George
Dugdale and Peter Mackenzie Litten later explored similar
territory in blackly comic style with Living Doll in the early
90s.
BLACK CHRISTMAS (1974)
Dir: Bob Clarke /Canada

"Ho ho ho, shit!" An icy gem of a film that continues to scare

the hell out of each new generation of horror fans.
It's Christmas Eve and a group of college girls are preparing
for the holidays. The festivities are soon spoiled when
they're pestered by obscene and threatening phone calls -
possibly the creepiest and most disturbing phone calls in
film history; the killer's voice yelps and shifts tone so crazy
and spouts incomprehensible gibberish of pure
maliciousness it'll put you on the edge of your seat right
away - One of the girls is murdered and dumped in the attic.
The police are quick to link her disappearance to a spate of
attacks on young girls in the local area, but as is the way
with any seasonal slasher, the killings continue...
There are lots of jump-out-of-your-seat moments in Black
Christmas, and along with Mario Bava's A Bay of Blood, this
served as a blueprint for the slasher movies that followed in
the late 70s and early 80s. The spooky close-up shots of the
killer's eyes recalls taut classics like The Spiral Staircase and
Profondo Rosso. John Carpenter's Halloween takes credit for
kick-starting the slasher boom but that film owes a huge
debt to Bob Clarke's underrated masterpiece. It is also laced
with a biting sense of humour that also inspired the later
unfunny slasher imitators; the ongoing fellatio joke ("I know,
it's something dirty ain't it"), and the killer's obscenities on
the phone ("Let me lick it! Let me lick your pretty pink
cunt!"). It was also an influence on another underrated gem,
Fred Walton's When A Stranger Calls in 1979.
THE BLANCHEVILLE MONSTER (1963)
Dir: Alberto DeMartino /Spain

Emily has a lot of growing up to do. She returns to her

family castle after completing her studies to discover that
her home life has drastically changed. Her brother is now in
charge of the estate, the servants and maids whom she
knew for years and were almost part of the family have died
and been replaced by new members of staff who are cold
and unfamiliar. Her father, Count Blancheville, has been
horribly disfigured and lives secluded in one of the castle's
isolated towers. Count Blancheville believes that the family
curse will be lifted if Emily dies before her 21st birthday
(some kind of ancient 'prophecy'). Emily is 20 years old and
her birthday is only 5 days away. To make matters worse,
her father escapes from the tower and disappears, only to
show up trying to convince Emily to embrace 'sweet death'.
This underrated and rather obscure Spanish oddity still
hasn't received its due on DVD but is worth hunting down
for fans of Eurohorror and the cine-bizarre. It has an eerie
atmosphere and a grand gothic setting reminiscent of Roger
Corman's Poe adaptations of the early 60s. Emily returns
home as the picture of youth; one can only guess how much
fun she had while away at college, making new friends and
having the space and the freedom to shape her own ideals
and identity with her whole life ahead of her. Time brings
inevitable changes to any household, and in this film those
changes are exaggerated. Death has taken away the
servants from old age, her father has been "horribly
disfigured", but in a metaphorical sense this disfigurement
is simply old age. Many youngsters are forced into
adulthood due to circumstances beyond their control;
debilitating terminal disease and death itself can alter
family life beyond recognition (the new members of staff are
blank faced and unfamiliar, and this could represent a
personification of this change).
Much of the film centres around the struggle of Emily to stay
young and irresponsible and fight against the changes
which demands her to grow up and allow her youthful spirit
to die. The 'family curse' is of course death itself, the curse
of every family. The bed-ridden father sends out a phantom
shape of himself to stalk and harass Emily, trying to lure her
by guilt and pity into giving up her life to care for him and to
keep the family unit going. It seems appropriate that the
father's method of 'killing' Emily are by poisoning, because
in situations where youths are expected to take on the
responsibilities of adulthood, many feel they are being
poisoned with duties and burdens. When the doctor informs
Emily's brother that she has been poisoned, he adds "It's
not her body that is threatened, it is her spirit". Whilst in
bed sick with the delirium brought on by the poison, her
fever dreams represent the adolescent battle between
freedom and responsibility. In these dreams Emily wanders
around the desecrated ruins of the castle dressed in a
swirling and virginal white dress, seemingly looking for a
way to escape, but instead she always bumps into her
father who whispers things like "You have reached the
eternal lair; you are dead Emily, you are dead".
It all ends in the nightmarish finale where Emily is comatose
at her own funeral. Not literally dead but spiritually nullified.
"Why can't you hear me?" she calls out to the mourners,
"I'm alive! I'm alive!" She is then entombed in the
mausoleum in a splendid metaphor of the painful birth of
the adult; we are always forced into adulthood. And of
course, the 'family curse' continues... In the coda, Emily
escapes from the nightmare of the mausoleum, but finds
herself in wedlock; her youth and vitality gone, replaced by
conformity and boring old adulthood.
The film can also be read as an attack on the Franco regime
that ruled over Spain at the time (see the Subversive!
article at the back of this book), in which the adults, the
'ruling elite' instill madness on the youth as a way of holding
onto their own corrupt power (as seen in The Bell From Hell),
and women are subjected to the chauvanist rule of
patriachy where the freedom and sexual awakening of
young women is seen as the ultimate evil of Catholicism (as
seen in The Blood Spattered Bride).
BLOOD AND SEX NIGHTMARE (2008)
Dir: Joseph R. Kolbek /USA

This shot on video shocker was something of a unique entry

in the slew of amateur gore movies that were being churned
out of North America in the late 00s, because for a start, the
film actually lives up to its title.
Nick is horny. Nick is frustrated. Nick really needs to get his
end away. So when his girlfriend Amy returns from a family
funeral in Japan, he manages to twist her arm into agreeing
to spend a few days with him at a sex resort in the country.
When they arrive at the Pleasant Mountain Adult Retreat,
Nick expects to find a haven of campfires and swingers, but
the place seems eerily deserted. They book into their cabin
and are visited by the local handyman, Walter. But Walter's
creepy manner and leering eyes sets the couple on edge.
And when a pair of fellow swingers are butchered in graphic
detail nearby, Nick and Amy must put aside their sexual
frustrations and get the hell out of there... But who's the
murderer? Could it be weird Walter or the sex maniac killer
who died in the woods years earlier?
Coming on like a spare change remake of Porno Holocaust
and shot on a cheap video camera with a miniscule cast and
crew, Blood and Sex Nightmare at least delivers on its title
promise. The performances and script are kind of average at
best, but the bloody FX are quite impressive, and the whole
show flies by in a brief but brilliant 81 minutes. Indie trash
regular Tina Krause supplies the obligatory T&A, indie
rapper Eyez The Filmmaker Emcee cameos as an
unfortunate victim, and the DVD was released by Bloody
Earth, making Kolbek a
household name among DIY film lovers everywhere.
BLOOD FEAST (1963)
Dir: Herscell Gordon Lewis /USA

The first gore movie ever made. With a budget of $24,000,

director Herscell Gordon Lewis and producer David F.
Friedman scored a tremendous hit on the drive-in circuits of
America in the early 60s and became exploitation legends
overnight. The plot of Blood Feast concerns a young woman,
Suzette, who dates the local shit-for-brains cop, Pete. They
attend a lecture on Egyptian cults; meanwhile, young
women are being murdered by the local caterer, Faud
Ranses, who sets his eye on Suzette becoming his latest
sacrifice to the Egyptian God, Ishtar.
Blood Feast is funny and revolting, the acting is terrible, the
lighting is flat; cheap and nasty amateur time. But the film
does have at least one positive aspect to talk about, and
that's the defiantly in your face, gore-for-gore's-sake
attitude - Tongues are ripped out, legs are cut off (see the
newspaper headline!), tabletop eviscerations, skulls are
ripped open, entrails fondled in loving close-up, etc.
American audiences had seen nothing like it before, and
punters queued for miles to see it. Movies had always shied
away from showing gruesome death before Lewis and
Friedman showed up. Banned in Britain during the video
nasties era, it was then passed with 23 seconds of cuts in
2001. Available uncut on Region 0 DVD.
BLOODY MOON (1981)
Dir: Jess Franco /Germany

This Halloween-inspired Euro-slasher would sit perfectly on a

bouble-bill with Juan Piquer Simon's Pieces, a film which in
turn owes a chromosone or two to this deranged offering
from cult legend Jess Franco.
Facially-disfigured Miguel is an unwelcome lurker at an
evening pool party. The object of his affections rejects him in
favour of another guy, so Miguel dons a Micky Mouse mask
and tries it on with her. Not knowing who he is, she
succumbs to his advances, and pretty soon they're back to
her room for some fondling on the bed. But when she
removes the mask, she is horrified when she discovers who
she's been canoodling with. Outraged by this indignity,
Miguel grabs a pair of scissors and stabs her to death.
A few years later and the disturbed young man is released
into the care of his sister, Manuela, who along with their
wheelchair-bound mother, operate the day to day running of
a language school. Pretty soon we learn that Miguel and his
sister had an incestuous relationship before the murder, and
when little sister refuses to rekindle their sex frolics, poor
mother meets a fiery death. Meanwhile, another pretty girl,
Angela (Olivia Pascal of Behind Convent Walls) is being
stalked by Miguel, and no one believes her when her hot
young student friends are offed in grisly fashion.
The most shocking thing about this film for many viewers
was the fact that director Jess Franco delivered a pretty solid
body count movie. Having earned himself an unflattering
reputation as being one of the most prolific but incompetent
filmmakers of all time, some dismiss his entire filmography
on the basis of having seen only one or two of his movies.
But true fans of this maverick of schlock know that his back
catalogue (which at the moment stands at around 169
features) contains dozens of surprisingly accomplished
films, and even a handful of absolute gems. And it has
become something of a rites of passage for Franco fans to
wade through all the crap to find the treasures.
Bloody Moon is far from being a masterpiece but is
entertaining from start to finish, with a barrage of T&A,
inventive murder scenes, ludicrous dialogue ("So, where's
the cadaver, honey?"), and tributes to John Carpenter's
Halloween. One topless chick is stabbed in the back and the
blade exits her body through the nipple, another woman is
tied down onto a rock and sent hurling into the path of an
oncoming circular saw. A young boy tries to save her but the
maniac scares him away, and the woman is decapitated
complete with blood spurting from the neck wound (this
scene was inserted into the gore montage in Pedro
Almodovar's Matador a few years later). The young boy is
squished when he runs in front of a passing Mercedes.
Another of Angela's friends is strangled with a pair of fire
tongs, a snake is unnecessarily decapitated with a pair of
shears, and a man is brutally cut wide open across the chest
with a chainsaw.
After an extremely limited theatrical release, Bloody Moon
was released on VHS at the dawn of home video, but uncut
copies weren't available for long in the UK due to the arrival
of the video nasties fiasco. All of the tapes were removed
from circulation when the film was prosecuted and banned.
The Canadian VHS by CIC was uncut but difficult to get hold
of on these shores. UK fans had to make do with the diluted
version by Vipco (which was missing 80 seconds of gore)
until it was passed uncut by the BBFC in 2008. The Severin
DVD is the best option to date with the best transfer from
the original negative, the complete cut of the film, and a
fantastic audio commentary by Franco (who cameos early in
the film as the psychologist).
BLUE VELVET (1986)
Dir: David Lynch /USA

It seems incredible now to think of him as the savior of 80s

American cinema, but David Lynch emerged on the scene
with Eraserhead in the late 70s, a surreal and disturbing
dream of dark and troubling things. It was a midnight movie
favourite that became an international cult classic and
allowed him to head towards the mainstream with his
follow-up, The Elephant Man, which in turn earned him a
BAFTA and an Oscar nomination. The Hollywod A-list
seemed to be within his grasp for a while until he helmed
Dune, a multi-million Dollar disaster which could have ended
his career. But two good things came out of Dune: Actor Kyle
MacLochlan and producer Dino De Laurentis. De Laurentis
never lost faith in Lynch and gave him $6 million to make
his next film. And while Coppola was skint, Scorsese tired,
and Spielberg adapting literary works, David Lynch quietly
went about filming his own script, Blue Velvet, a nightmare
voyage through the underworld of suburbia.
College student Jeffrey Beaumont (MacLachlan) heads home
after his father suffers a heart attack, and whilst walking
through a clearance in the woods he discovers a severed
human ear. He takes the evidence to the police but his
curiosity overwhelms him and he teams up with sweet-
natured school girl Sandy (Laura Dern) to help him find out
more about the ear, and who it belonged to. Their sleuthing
leads them to nightclub singer Dorothy Vallens (Isabella
Rosselini). Jeffrey sneaks into her home in search of clues
but ends up having to hide in the wardrobe as Dorothy's
psychotic 'boyfriend' shows up. Frank Booth (Dennis
Hopper) subjects Dorothy to bizarre sexual games and
sadism, and Jeffrey has to play peeping tom through the
slats in the closet doors while all of this is going on. It soon
becomes clear that Frank holds a terrible secret over
Dorothy...
The late great Dennis Hopper steals the show as Frank. His
daring performance is a stunning creation; terrifying,
perverse, and brutal. His snarling delivery and child-like
tantrums are enough to put viewers on the edge of their
seats almost three decades later. Lynch picked up his
second Best Director nomination at the Oscars, his long-
time composer, Angelo Badalamenti, provides the grandiose
Hermann-esque score, and film fans the world over were
relieved that, at last, a true filmmaker was back to his full
strengths, leaving the likes of contemporary hits like Top
Gun and Back To The Future paling into insignificance. But it
wasn't all praise from the critics; horror expert Mark
Kermode was physically assaulted in a pub after he wrote a
damning review of Blue Velvet, and stateside critic Roger
Ebert famously hated it, and argued that the scenes of
sexual despair should have featured in a sincere film, not a
bubblegum pop movie. He did at least acknowledge the
film's strong sexual horror, but was angry that the power of
the scene was squandered in its half-arsed context.
Blue Velvet opens with a superb visual metaphor as we see
the white picket fences, green lawns, and friendly
neighbourly faces passing by and tending their gardens. It's
a dream-like sequence of middle America perfectly
encapsulated. But then the camera dips and we're suddenly
faced with the underbelly that is crawling with insect life.
Dorothy's character is perhaps the most haunting in the
film; we discover that her husband and child have both been
kidnapped by Frank, and he blackmails her into playing
along with his strange sadomasochistic games in order to
save the lives of her loved ones (he has already cut off one
of her husband's ears). Some have suggested that Dorothy
takes a masochistic pleasure from her encounters with
Frank, and she certainly does seem to be playing along, but
is it genuine or is she just playing it safe and giving Frank
what he wants so as to save the lives of her family
members? Even during the most intense scenes with Frank,
there's something not right; she seems totally withdrawn
and distanced from herself, perhaps as a way of turning
herself into a passive object so that the abuses can almost
have the effect of happening to another person, and not
herself.
The theatricality of that scene has led psychoanalysts to
suggest that the intensity of that S&M session stems from
Frank's impotence. His loud, aggressive manner is almost
comical in an old 'arch-villain' way. He bellows "Don't you
look at me!" and it seems fairly obvious that he doesn't
want to be looked at because he is ashamed; there is
nothing there - No erection. He fakes these crazy 'sex'
sessions so as to conceal his impotence. All the shouting
and wildness and sexual gestures serve as a mask to
conceal the fact that he can't get it up! He apparently has
no idea that Jeffrey is hiding in the closet and spying on
them, but at the same time he seems to be in some kind of
exhibitionistic performance; but for whom? He doesn't know
about Jeffrey, and he doesn't want Dorothy to look at him,
so we can only assume that he is simply performing for
himself, so that he can convince himself of his potency with
a strange game of sexual charades.
Another late great, Jack Nance (of Eraserhead), and Brad
Dourif (who provides the voice of Chucky in the Child's
Play movies) lend good support as members of Frank's
gang, and Dean Stockwell plays the doomed detective. But
film fans often need reminding that Blue Velvet is not
perfect. Sure, it's one of the best of the 80s but Lynch has
improved in almost all areas in his subsequent efforts. Twin
Peaks was more effective in exploring the small-town
underbelly, and its villain, Leland Palmer, is more dangerous
than Frank Booth simply because he conceals his evils and
appears quite normal, even friendly, on the outside. In Blue
Velvet the characters only get into problems when they
venture into unknown areas, whereas in Twin Peaks evil is
everywhere; it's all a part of the character's families and
their home lives - a much more disturbing idea. Blue
Velvet's take on sexual obsession, identity, and even its
garish musical numbers were all done to better effect in
Mulholland Dr. and Lost Highway.
Blue Velvet is best viewed today as a Hitchcockian greatest
hits package: The aforementioned Hermann-esque score,
nods to Shadow of a Doubt, MacLochlan's voyeuristic
character reminds one of James Stewart in Rear Window,
and the sexual obsession with Dorothy strays into Vertigo
territory. This tribute to Hitchcock's greatest achievements
is also alluded to when Sally says to Jeffrey, "I can't figure
out if you're a detective or a pervert".
BODY SNATCHERS (1993)
Dir: Abel Ferrara /USA

"Where you gonna go? Where

you gonna run? Where you
gonna hide? Nowhere, because
there's no one like you left".
With a slight difference on the previous entries in the Body
Snatcher's series, here we have an environmentalist who is
investigating chemical waste on an American military base.
Meanwhile his unsettled family are slowly falling apart due
to a 'wicked' stepmother and constant in-fighting. But
there's also something genuinely sinister going on among
the local soldiers and it's up to the daughter, Marti, to save
her family from the invading aliens who are taking over the
bodies of the residents and turning the entire community
into a mindless conformity.
Jack Finney's 1955 novel The Body Snatchers was originally
filmed by Don Siegel in 1956 as Invasion of The Body
Snatchers, a classic of conformity which was a thinly veiled
attack on the communist witch hunts of the McCarthy years.
It was remade in 1978 by Philip Kaufman (and coincided
with the release of George Romero's blackly comic satire on
mindless consumerism, Dawn of The Dead). This latest
update by Abel Ferrara continues with the series' addressing
of the universal, political, and personal fears of the loss of
identity, and a smart move of the filmmakers was to shift
the action to a military base where the commonly held
attitudes of 'patriotism', 'discipline', and 'duty' become
enmeshed in paranoia, at constant odds with the idea of the
military as a fighting force for freedom. It thus becomes
even more difficult for the film's heroes to differentiate
between the mindless drones of the alien
invaders and the mindless drones of the local marines. The
military setting also allows for an explosive finale with guns,
bombs, and even an Apache helicopter getting in on the
action.
Body Snatchers had a complicated production history with
no less than five writers credited with the screenplay. It was
B-movie legend Larry Cohen who wrote the original script
(based on Finney's idea, of course), and that version was
initially given the green light for shooting. Writer Denis Paoli
and director Stuart Gordon (the pair behind Re-Animator
and From Beyond) were hired to polish up on some of the
dialogue, but ended up creating whole new scenes and
ideas along the way. Stuart Gordon was originally set to
direct, but due to the unorganised situation during pre-
production, his patience ran out and he decided to head off
to Australia to direct the Christopher Lambert vehicle,
Fortress, instead. Body Snatchers once again found itself in
limbo for a while until Warner Brothers took a chance and
roped in bad boy director Abel Ferrara whose dark
imagination would no doubt take the project to where it
needed to be. Every smart director has a writer, and Abel
had Nicholas St. John, a man who is often referred to as the
angel to Ferrara's demon. Nicky St. John managed to rescue
the abandoned script by solving the narrative problems, and
after much delay the film was ready to shoot.
With a budget of $20 million, Body Snatchers was Ferrara's
most expensive film to date, shot in beautiful scope by
Bojan Bazelli, and including the spine-tingling alien scream
that was purloined from W.D. Richter's script for the 1978
version. Gabriel Anwar is serviceable as teen heroine Marti,
Forrest Whitaker is as you've never seen him before as the
increasingly 'delusional' odd man out, and Meg Tilly's
stepmother Carol adds a dark foretaste to the horrors of the
invaded family. The film also boasts plenty of creepy and
disgusting special effects courtesy of
Phil Cory, with probing tendrals, dissolving carcasses, and
slimy pods being a real treat for horror fans. Also of note is
the excellent theme tune by Ferrara's regular composer, Joe
Delia.
Warner Brothers felt uncomfortable with the end result and
had no idea how to market the film. They basically sat on it
for almost a year unsure of how to proceed. Ferrara
managed to get a screening at the Cannes Film Festival
where the critics were willing to take him and his film
seriously, and this led to many positive reviews. Bolstered
by this good reception, Warner Brothers put the film out on
the festival circuit and it became an instant cult classic at
the Dylan Dog Horror Festival in Milan where thousands of
hardcore horror fanatics appreciated the sharp satire and
dark imagination at work. This overwhelming response
saved the film from its 'straight-to-video' hell and was given
a moderately successful theatrical run in America.
BRAINDEAD (1992)
(aka Dead Alive)
Dir: Peter Jackson /New Zealand

The final part of Peter Jackson's celebrated 'splatter trilogy'

which kicked off with Bad Taste and continued with Meet
The Feebles, is also the funniest and goriest. The basic plot
concerns Lionel (Timothy Balme), whose tarot reading
girlfriend, Paquita (the gorgeous Diana Penalver) joins him
for a date at the local zoo. But Lionel's mother Vera
(Elizabeth Moody) disapproves of their relationship because
she believes the girl to be "experienced", and does all she
can to disrupt their date until she is bitten by a Sutran rat
monkey and transformed into a contagious zombie. Lionel
takes her home but is unable to stop the spread of the
undead, and pretty soon he has to deal with a zombified
nurse, priest, and a very annoying zombified toddler. And
then all hell breaks loose.
Braindead is a bloody spoof which takes a nostalgic look at
50s New Zealand, subverts it with a sharp social satire, and
then adds a whole lotta blood. It's a film which marks the
zenith of extreme movie gore whilst at the same time is a
lot of fun, coming on like a feel good family comedy that just
so happens to have sick jokes, hungry zombies, and a
lawnmower bloodbath at the end. It's a bizarre mix that has
delighted global audiences over the years, but not so much
the critics, many of whom failed to see the funny side, like
The Daily Mail's Christopher Tooky who sniped "It's a good
job the director grew out of making this stuff". Yeah, so that
he could bombard us with utter tosh like Lord of The Rings,
King Kong, and Lovely Bones? No thanks, I'd settle for
Braindead any day. Another critic labeled the film "The end
of civilisation as we know it". High praise indeed!
With the international cult success of his homemade debut,
Bad Taste, Jackson struggled for a long time to find anyone
willing to finance Braindead, and eventually set out to work
on Meet The Feebles instead, a strange puppet parody
which became the focus of his frustrations as a filmmaker,
and the result was a very nasty piece of work which
attacked everything from showbiz, to war veterans, to AIDs
victims. But all of that spiteful aggression is nowhere to be
seen in Braindead, which despite the high levels of violence
and sick gore, is a very upbeat experience. And with this
film Jackson seems to have exorcised some kind of demon
from his psyche, because after Braindead he seemed to
have matured and moved on to more adult-orientated
projects like Forgotten Silver and Heavenly Creatures before
selling out to Hollywood.
Incredibly, the BBFC passed Braindead uncut whilst films
like Straw Dogs and Reservoir Dogs were still being refused
home video certificates. The film did, however, cause much
controversy in America when the MPAA cut it to ribbons for
an R rating (it was also re-titled Dead Alive to avoid
confusion with the Bill Pullman film of the same name). The
morons at Blockbuster Video refused to stock the unrated
version, so video company Vidmark supplied them with the
R-rated cut which is just as silly and incoherent as the
Blockbuster versions of The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, and
Her Lover, and Bad Lieutenant.
It's a testament to Peter Jackson that he stuck to his guns
and made exactly the type of movie he wanted to make
without compromise, leaving viewers slack-jawed in
amazement as Lionel gets out his lawnmower for the bloody
showdown. Often topping polls for being the goriest movie
ever made, but there is also a lot of heart here, even if you
do have to pass through an avalanche of blood, guts, and
body parts to get there.
BRANDED TO KILL (1967)
(Orig title: Koroshi no rakuin)
Dir: Seijun Suzuki /Japan

Japan has produced many risque and unique filmmakers

over the decades, from Koji Wakamatsu (The Embryo Hunts
In Secret), Teruo Ishii (Horrors of Malformed Men), and
Norifumi Suzuki (School of The Holy Beast), to latter day
saints like Shinya Tsukamoto (A Snake of June), Takeshi
Kitano (Violent Cop), and Takashi Miike (Gozu). But nowhere
will you find a more unique talent under such restricted
conditions as Seijun Suzuki, an uber-prolific artist who was
as inventive as anyone working in the medium, and who
was producing up to four movies per year at the height of
his powers whilst maintaining a distinctly wacko style all of
his own.
Branded To Kill is his finest hour, a strange nihilistic hitman
movie made in the late 60s for the Nikkatsu Corporation,
Japan's biggest film studio who released a couple of new
movies every week due to their frantic schedule. Nikkatsu
demanded that their filmmakers have only one week for
pre-production, three weeks to shoot the film, and three
days for editing. Ironically, working under such hectic
circumstances seemed to bring out the best in Suzuki who
thrived on a spontaneous approach to filmmaking, and he
would add all kinds of surreal and perverse touches to his
pictures, much to the annoyance of the execs at Nikkatsu
who had continually warned him against it. But the great
Suzuki would just carry on regardless.
The plot of Branded To Kill concerns lone hitman, Hanada
Goro (Jo Shishido), who is ranked third in his assassination
organisation but is under some stiff competition. He
becomes obsessed with Misako (Annu Mari), a femme fatale
who has her own fixation on dead birds and butterflies. She
recruits him for a seemingly impossible contract killing, and
when he fails in his mission due to some blackly comic
timing, he becomes the target of the Number One ranked
hitman known only as The Phantom, whose methods of
hunting threaten Goro's sanity just as much as his life...
Branded To Kill borrows elements from classic American
noir, French new wave, and the expressionistic style of The
Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, but Suzuki blends those disperate
elements into something fresh, exciting, and original. It's a
confusing tale for many, but it's also astonishing to look at;
almost every frame in the film is perfected to Kubrick-esque
proportions, even if many of those frames contains images
of demented sexuality and shockingly casual violence. The
result is a feast for the eyes and the brain, as beautiful as it
is outrageous, seductive and repulsive, entertaining and
appalling.
The executives at Nikkatsu were not impressed with
Suzuki's freewheeling style, and they immediately fired him
for making "movies that make no sense and no money". But
in the meantime he became something of an icon among
the counter-culture movement, and after much prompting
from fellow filmmakers, like-minded students, and the
general public, Suzuki successfully sued Nikkatsu for
wrongful dismissal. Suzuki was henceforth blacklisted and
unable to direct another feature for years.
Branded To Kill's reputation has gradually flourished over
the decades into cult classic status, and is generally
considered to be an 'absurdist masterpiece', and has
achieved a certain level of international arthouse acclaim,
with luminaries like Jim Jarmusch, John Woo, and of course
Quentin Tarantino all citing Suzuki's film as being an
influence on their own works.
THE BROOD (1979)
Dir: David Cronenberg /Canada

Controversial psychiatrist, Dr. Hal Raglan (Oliver Reed), has

created a treatment called Psychoplasmics whereby his
patients are taught how to manifest their anxieties into
physical mutations spawned through the pores of their skin.
Sometimes the teachings of this method brings out sores
and cancers in his patients, and his treatment of Nola
(Samantha Eggar) unleashes mutant killer humanoids who
murder those responsible for the 'mother's' rage. Her ex-
husband, Frank (Cindy Hinds of Black Christmas fame)
becomes suspicious of Raglan and his methods, and he
attempts to find out why his daughter is covered in bruises
and why people are falling victim to a clan of pint-sized
killers. He eventually discovers that Nola can project her
hostilities in physical form by giving birth to furious mutant
offspring, and the showdown begins...
The Brood presents a typical Cronenberg scenario; a mad
doctor creating radical new techniques that goes badly
wrong and have an ambiguous effect on the human body. I
use the word 'ambiguous' because the body horror elements
that Cronenberg unleashes on his characters aren't
necessarily destructive of the human host, but serve rather
as an altering of the biological make-up of the victim. The
disease sits in its own warm human shell, beyond good
and evil, and unleashes its life-force as needs must. In
Shivers it was a slug-like parasite that invaded the human
body and turned its hosts into sex-crazed maniacs; there
was no real damage done to the hosts other than wanting to
have sex all the time. In Rabid it was a spike which emerged
from a woman's armpit and fed on the blood of her victims
with the unfortunate aside of infecting her 'partners' with
rabies; she still wanted 'intercourse', but her idea of sex had
become radically different from the rest of society, and
crucially, her new biological disposition didn't really do her
any harm. The virus, or disease, or (in the case of The
Brood), the physiological mutations taught by Raglan are
only evil in relation to other humans (and their nervous
systems), and their attempts to hit back against the
alienating condition and resist the 'orgy'. But beyond that,
Cronenberg always treats his body horror scenarios and
bizarre diseases with respect. He famously proclaimed "I am
syphilis" whilst promoting Shivers a few years earlier, and
has since commented that he would be interested in seeing
a beauty contest based on the internal organs of humans
and a reality TV show of terminal patients angled on the
perspective of the cancer (and Cronenberg is one of the
sanest and most intelligent directors in this book!).
Cronenberg wrote the script for The Brood in an agitated
state in the middle of a nasty divorce and custody battle.
And it's these autobiographical details combined with his
obsessions on the bizarre mutations of the human body that
led to the birth of his most quintessential film. Amazingly,
The Brood was originally only a side project; he was
supposed to be working on a script called The Sensitives
(which later became Scanners), but because of his ongoing
divorce and parental strife, he found it difficult to
concentrate on writing it, and instead tried to deal with his
anxieties by developing a whole new screenplay that was
much more in tune with the way he was feeling at the time.
He has since described The Brood as "My version of Kramer
Vs. Kramer", adding that he seriously wanted to kill his ex-
wife.
What follows is a nasty and poignant little movie set in the
bleak of winter. It's a much more character-driven piece
than his previous work, but there are still some fantastic set-
pieces of brutal carnage, such as the murder by mallet and
the scene where a playschool teacher is beaten to death in
the presence of her traumatised pupils. Reed is as good as
ever as Raglan, Hinds is likable as the concerned father, and
Samantha Eggar is superb and way over the top in her role
as the dangerous mother, Nola. Also lookout for Cronenberg
regular, Robert Silverman, as a disgruntled ex-patient, listen
out for Howard Shore's modest but effective score (the first
of many for Cronenberg), and marvel at the dark subtext
concerning familial anguish, child abuse, domestic hell, and
of course, the revolt of one's own body.
THE BUTCHER (2010)
Dir Kim Jin-Won /South Korea

Remember the scene in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre

where Marilyn Burns is strapped to the chair surrounded by
the crazy cannibal clan at the dining table? Well, this Korean
effort is a feature-length tribute to that classic scene. The
director represents the father, the maniac in the pig mask
represents Leatherface (he even gets to play with a
chainsaw), and the lad in the red t-shirt represents the idiot
self-mutilating son. Unfortunately, there's no Grandpa in this
one.
The Butcher is your typical 'Torture Porn' offering; the
gimmick here being that we get to watch the action mostly
from cameras that have been attached onto the heads of
the victims. We get the usual warehouse/mill setting, a
small group of characters, most of whom are there to
scream and beg for their lives, and of course, lots of blood
and gore. The film would have worked much better as a
short, or at least trimmed down to an hour or so because it's
quite over-stretched and time-padded in places. If you have
a sick sense of humour, however, you'll probably find much
to enjoy here. The director treats his assistants almost as
harshly as the victims, and bellows orders like "Pull the shit
out of her stomach and make 'em eat it!!!" Yeah, eat your
heart out Mr. Spielberg.
The mounted 'photography' gets annoying at times; I know
this was meant to create a verite effect but it does become
nauseating after a while. It's also a dark film, not just in
terms of subject-matter, but the print quality on the DVD is
much too dark and it's difficult to see what's going on in
some scenes.
The black humour is a treat and is perhaps the film's
strongest asset overall. In the middle of some power tool
torture, the director gets a phone call from his mum and
spends the next few minutes talking to her about church
and the bible like a good Christian. And when he hangs up
he gets right back to the power tools. There are also some
satirical and self-deprecating swipes at the movie business;
the director mentions selling the film to America because
"they like bloody things", and you can't help but chuckle
because the director of The Butcher, Kim Jin-Won, no doubt
had similar plans for this film. Also, the young assistant
wears a t-shirt that reads 'I Love Korea' in English - Perhaps
a cute comment on Western dominance seeping into
everything, even corrupting these Koreans through useless
commodities and trashy cinema?
It takes a while for the gore to be explicitly shown, but the
film makes excellent use of sound design - It's one of the
nastier sounding movies I've ever watched. Your neighbours
will probably think you're watching a real snuffy. Snuff 102 is
still the most disturbing and troubling of all the 'torture porn'
films, but The Butcher is worth a look in a less demanding
mood, especially for those who have a rank sense of
humour. Banned in many countries around the world (even
in its native land), this gritty exercise in sadism ultimately
has a gleeful sense of fun and mischief about it, like a young
child who delights in showing us a mouthful of chewed up
food. A cross between The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and
Last House On Dead End Street, shot on DV.
CAGED HEAT (1974)
Dir: Jonathan Demme /USA

Roger Corman's greatest contribution to film was his

willingness to nurture new talents. In the 60s his AIP studio
was crammed with up and coming young directors including
Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola, Peter Bogdanovich,
Joe Dante, and Jonathan Demme, filmmakers who would go
on to define the age of modern cinema. So just remember, if
it wasn't for Corman we would probably never have had
Raging Bull, The Godfather, or Silence of The Lambs.
Jonathan Demme's stint as a writer/producer for Corman put
him in good stead to make his debut feature, Caged Heat, a
women-in-prison title for the drive-in market, whose
memorable tagline ('Rape, riot, and revenge. White hot
desires melting cold prison steel') sounds very typical of the
exploitational angle of many similar types of films. However,
Demme's take on the sleazy genre manages to strike an
impressive balance between violence, nudity, and sadistic
authority figures, whilst keeping the proceedings in line with
the popularity of feminist ideology.
Jacqueline Wilson (Erica Gavin) is sentenced to a spell at
Connorville Women's Prison for armed robbery. The institute
is run by the crippled Governess, McQueen (Barbara Steele),
and her cronies, including her side-kick, Pinter, and a neo-
fascist doctor, Randolf. She befriends inmates and together
they hatch an escape plan which sees them back on the
streets. Together with 'Crazy Annie', an old friend of
Jacqueline's, the gang pull off a bank robbery, stealing the
thunder from a couple of male would-be robbers. The
escapees then decide to return to Connorville to save their
captive friends from the sadistic experiments of the evil Dr.
Randolf...
All the usual women in prison ingredients are here - the
obligatory shower scenes with full frontal nudity, the
violence and bitching, the riots and rebellions, and fiendish
personel - But Demme expands on this limited genre by
centering on a likable bunch of renegade women, and
stylistically pushes the boundaries for such fare; legendary
DP Tak Fujimoto supplies the eye-popping visuals, John Cale
the unorthodox score, Erica Gavin a rousing lead
performance, and horror starlet Barbara Steele presents her
usual iconic campy quality, all adding to the legitimate
proceedings of a prison film which is far greater than the
sum of its exploitational parts.
The US drive-in crowd always had a taste for dangerous
foul-mouthed women, and this has resulted in a few strange
concoctions over the years, such as Russ Meyer's Faster
Pussycat, Kill! Kill!, but very few were as interesting or as
unique as Caged Heat. I'd settle for this over Silence of The
Lambs any day.
CAMERA (2000)
Dir: David Cronenberg /Canada A short autobiographical film
by David Cronenberg which was made to celebrate the 25th
anniversary of the Toronto Film Festival. Camera charts the
short (six minute) monologue of an ageing man who has
become terrified of the movie camera - "Get that damn
camera out of here, it will do irreparable damage to us all!" -
Voicing his concerns about the camera, "that clunky old
ghost", the man (Videodrome's Lewis Carlson) laments on
the absurdity and cruelty of a machine that preserves our
youth whilst life continues to haggar our flesh. Shot on video
and 35mm, this short comes on like a Philip Larkin poem
with all the dark cynicism of age and fears of encroaching
death; but it's also infused with Cronenberg's traditional
obsessions - "It was like I had caught a disease from the
movie" - and is shot in his usual cold and detached manner
(which is ironic considering how close to the bone this
project was to Cronenberg who was approaching his 60th
birthday at the time of filming). Camera is available on the
Videodrome 2 disc set (Critereon's deluxe edition).
Alternatively, you could probably catch it on Youtube.
CANNIBAL (2005)
Dir: Marian Dora /Germany
Armin Meiwes is a German cannibal who achieved global
notoriety after cooking and eating a voluntary victim whom
he contacted via the web. The two men recorded the whole
event on video camera, and parts of that footage were
broadcast on a UK TV documentary series, Bodyshocks, in
an episode entitled The Man Who Ate His Lover (I'll never
forget the scenes of Meiwes cooking the penis and then
complaining that it was "too chewy" to eat) .
This bizarre and discomfiting story had a touching
poignancy about it; Meiwes was not a sadist, he was quite
willing to allow his volunteer, Bernd Jurgen Brandes, to back
out of the plan at any time. And though their short-lived
relationship seemed sick and debased to most people, there
was also something undeniably beautiful in their mutual
understanding and willingness to go ahead with their heart's
desire, knowing full well of the consequences.
The real life event had an immediate impact on the media,
and the intense drama within sent shockwaves across the
world. It's no surprise that filmmakers were quick to explore
the story, with Grimm Love being a touching portrait of the
doomed pair, but ultimately failing to capture the emotional
depths at its disposal. Marian Dora's take on the story,
Cannibal, takes us even further away from the dark heart of
the event, and instead stands as a grim exploitative
shockfest.
Unlike Grimm Love, Dora's film doesn't dwell too much on
the relationship between Meiwes and his mother; instead
we're shown only a fleeting (but vivid) childhood memory
where she reads to him that dark fairytale, Hansel and
Gretel, at bedtime. A memory which seems to have buried
itself deep into his subconscious, and implies that it was
those terrifying descriptions of the youngsters who are
eaten by the wicked witch that had fascinated him, and
became a chief motivation in his life.
Most of the film takes place in Meiwes' unkempt home which
looks like a grim backdrop for a Richard Kern photo shoot.
Actors Carsten Frank (from Jess Franco's Incubus) and Victor
Brandl are adequate in their roles, and clearly have no
qualms about shedding their clothes. Dora also serves as
cameraman (as he did in Le Petite Mort: Die Nasty), and his
directorial style reminded me of Andrey Iskanov in the way
he uses up-close and personal camerawork, his willingness
to unleash his characters' fantasies and fears in a
hallucinatory but physical form, and the use of child-like
repetitive chimes on the soundtrack.
Grimm Love is perhaps the better film as it is more
believable and more faithful to the true story (though it's
certainly far from perfect). Grimm Love was also quite
touching and genuinely heartfelt in places, whereas
Cannibal isn't; a soppy piano ballad just isn't enough to
move an audience. Overall, Dora's take centres much more
on the S&M fantasy of the event, and does little to shed any
light on the mindset of the characters involved. It's a shame
then that Dora doesn't seem interested in exploring the
most interesting aspect of the story. On the plus side, he
does deliver on the shocks: In particular the infamous cock-
biting and severing scenes which are very strong and is the
most excruciating genital mutilation seen since Ryan
Nicholson's Torched. With that scene I guarantee you'll be
shielding your nads for safety.
CHRISTIANE F. (1981)
(aka We Children of Zoo Station)
(Orig title: Wir Kinder vom Bahnof Zoo)
Dir: Uli Edel /W.Germany

Many first encountered this film on the back of the David

Bowie soundtrack and had no idea what was in store for
them. It is a disturbing classic that has left scores of film
fans reeling over the decades as this bleak narrative
features youngsters falling to the depths of debauchery with
no redemption in sight. Along with Requiem For a Dream,
Christiane F is one of the most effective anti-drug movies of
all time. The plot is based on the true story of a thirteen
year old girl who arrives in Berlin after her parents’ divorce,
and whose desire to be accepted by the local youths leads
her to becoming a desperate junky and street prostitute.
Even before her addiction to heroin, life isn't exactly much
fun for Christiane; she lives in a grim tower block that
"stinks", her sister moves away to live with their dad, and
her mother is rarely there for her. On the positive side, she's
a big Bowie fan and she hangs out at a local night club
called Sound, a place where fellow Bowie fanatics hang out,
do drugs, and watch Night of The Living Dead in a conjoined
cinema club.
Christiane soon becomes attracted to Detlev, a young
homeless kid who is part of the scene at Sound - he
introduces himself to her after she spots a junky on the nod
in a toilet cubicle (she thought he was dead). Her
relationship with Detlev means she gets to hang out with
druggies, wastoids, and punks, and go on petty crime
sprees to pay for their kicks. This early part of the film
bristles with a positive vibe of youthful optimism. But
perhaps inevitably, dropping LSD becomes passe for the
group, and when Christiane learns that Detlev and his
buddies are hooked on smack, she is tempted to try it for
herself...
Christiane (based on real-life counterpart Christiane
Felscherinow, on whose autobiography this film is based)
dyes her hair pink on her fourteenth birthday and uses her
birthday money to buy some heroin and shoots up for the
first time using a kit borrowed from a complete stranger.
And it's all a slippery slope from there - street hooking for
dirty and abusive scum at Zoo station, shooting up in filthy
toilet cubicles, needles clogged with blood, and the
nightmares of withdrawal are all par for the course here. We
see Christiane transform from a bright and pretty young girl,
to a sick and repellent, greasy street bum in less than two
hours. Heroin chic it most certainly ain't.
If the powers-that-be were serious about their anti-drug
campaigns, they could simply make it mandatory for all
impressionable teens in the country to watch this film,
because believe me after watching this harrowing
masterpiece only the stupidest of the stupid would consider
the lifestyles depicted here as cool or hip.
The drug abuse explored in the film is so unglamorous that
it makes viewers shake their heads in disbelief when
Christiane goes right ahead and gets herself hooked on
heroin, despite the degenerate junkies that surround her
and who should have made her realise what damage the
drugs can do. But having said that, Christiane seems to drift
in to her addiction by just going along with the flow, by not
having any kind of motivation either way except that she
wants to be with her new boyfriend, or as William Burroughs
puts it in his classic novel, Junky; "Heroin wins by default".
She isn't forced by bullying or by peer pressure into taking
drugs; in fact, when Detlev discovers that she has taken H
he goes mad and gives her a harsh telling off.
Parental neglect is an issue that is dealt with in subtle
fashion in the film by director Edel; Christiane's mother is
rarely ever at home and generally has no idea what her
daughter gets up to while she stays out all night. Even when
she does learn of Christiane's
habit (after the girl OD's in the bathroom), her way of
dealing with the situation is suspect at best.
The David Bowie soundtrack - which comprises some of his
most new-wavy stuff taken from such classic albums as
Station To Station, Low, and Heroes - is nothing short of
incredible; we have TVC15, Look Back In Anger, Warszawa,
V-2 Schneider, Stay, and Helden/Heroes, the latter
becoming the theme tune to Christiane and Detlev's co-
dependency. Bowie even makes an appearance as himself in
a live performance of Station To Station in which he looks to
be just as wasted as his audience. And it's a credit to the
Thin White Duke that he accepted the role, despite the
inevitable controversy of the subject-matter.
Natja Brunckhorst's performance as Christiane is
astonishing; she has an assured manner and maturity which
far exceeds her years. In fact, the entire cast of young
actors in this film do not put a foot wrong - Each and every
one of these performances is astonishingly good. The
aforementioned Bowie tracks are also perfectly woven into
the dark fabric of the film, wearing off as each reel becomes
bleaker and more depressing until we reach the equally
downbeat ending. Uli Edel's sleek and detached direction is
also expertly done, as is Pankau and Jurges' mesmerizing
camera work; they manage to make late 70s Berlin look like
a neon-lit hellscape. Quite simply one of the greatest
movies ever made. Unmissable.
The real Christiane F has been on and off drugs since the
late 70s. She was in a band called Sentimentale Jugend with
her then boyfriend Alexander Hacke, with whom she
appeared in the early 80s cult movie, Decoder, alongside
fellow junky William Burroughs and Genesis P. Orridge. She
lost custody of her son in 2008 when it was discovered that
she was back on drugs.
LA CLASSE DE NEIGE (1998)
(Class Trip)
Dir: Claude Miller /France

A nervous child is driven to his school skiing trip by his

father. Having been raised from a young age on terrifying
stories about marauding gangs of organ thieves, ten year
old Nicolas (Clement van den Bergh) seems prematurely
aware of the hidden dangers of life and finds himself trying
to deal with his anxieties through a series of disturbing and
often violent fantasies. Meanwhile, a youngster has gone
missing on the trip, and Nicolas' father may have something
to do with it...
La classe de neige is a chilling tale based on Emmanuel
Carrere's best-selling novel (itself based on a true story),
and went on to win the Jury Prize at Cannes. The film is
chock-full of stunning performances from the youngsters
whose youthful faces nevertheless provide an inner-maturity
and nuance which far exceeds their years. Director Claude
Miller, who was a protoge to Francois Truffault for many
years, is best remembered in the English-speaking world for
his 80s thriller, Garde a vue (which was remade in
Hollywood as Under Suspicion), lends a cold eye to the chilly
proceedings and flits around the dark heart of children's
fairytales like Hansel and Gretel, Sleeping Beauty, and The
Little Mermaid, and updates those allegories to an
unnerving effect. Indeed, he even treats us to a re-telling of
W.W. Jacob's classic horror story, The Monkey's Paw, in a
particularly bloody and gruesome fantasy sequence.
American filmmaker Larry Fessenden would later try his own
hand at depicting the disturbing daydreams of traumatised
youth in his underrated Wendigo, which also borrows the
ice-cold look of Miller's film.
Often compared with Neil Jordon's The Butcher Boy and
Atom Egoyan's The Sweet Hereafter, La classe de neige is a
grim but subtle fairytale shocker which has its roots in that
most unacceptable of modern taboos. It's a film where
childhood is anything but sweet.
CLEAN, SHAVEN (1993)
Dir: Lodge Kerrigan /USA

A journey into the mind of a paranoid schizophrenic; do you

really want to go there? Often described as the closest thing
to experiencing schizophrenia on film, Lodge Kerrigan's
Clean Shaven follows Peter Winter (Peter Greene), who
escapes from a mental institution and heads off in search of
his daughter, and seems to leave a trail of bodies behind. En
route, we get to witness his torment through heard voices,
screams, and self-mutilation, and the soundtrack is one of
the most challenging and abrasive you'll ever hear.
Coming on like a less exploitative version of Romano
Scavolini's Nightmares In a Damaged Brain, the film is bleak
and convincing in its portrayal of mental suffering, and
features a solid central performance from Greene. There's
an awful sense of loneliness and isolation in the dread-
ridden atmosphere, and the auditory hallucinations are
spine-chilling; even though most of the words can't really be
heard properly, the tone and volume of this demanding
voice is enough to put viewers on edge. But what tips them
over is the self-mutilation; the scene where Peter cuts
himself with a razor in the shower is hard enough to watch,
but later in the car when he convinces himself that there is
a transmitter implanted in his fingertip, and then uses a pen
knife to dig up his fingernail. Even the hardiest of extreme
movie devotees have squirmed in their seats at this scene.
Amazingly, this film was partly financed by Warner Brothers!
God knows what they thought they were investing in. Clean
Shaven played theatrically on the underground circuit in
America in the early 90s, and then vanished. It
has since found its way onto DVD enticing an international
audience to take the dread-ridden journey into psychological
hell.
A CLOCKWORK ORANGE (1971)
Dir: Stanley Kubrick /USA

Tagline - "Being the adventures

of a young man whose principal
interests are rape, ultra-violence
and Beethoven".

Stanley Kubrick's most controversial film follows Alex

(Malcolm McDowell) as he leads his gang of young rogues
through nightly rounds of "ultra-violence", with beatings,
rape, stolen cars, and breaking and entering, all for kicks.
They wear white jump suits, codpieces, and black bowler
hats, and communicate in a strange lingo made up of
broken Russian and cockney slang called "nadsat". Alex
dislikes school but has a passion for Beethoven and sexual
violence. The victims include subversive writer (Patrick
Magee) who is severely beaten before his wife (Adrienne
Corrl) is gang-raped.
After violently dealing with insubordination among his
"droogies" (Russian for friends), Alex is smashed in the head
with a milk bottle and left for the police during a raid on a
house. In police custody he learns that his beating of a
woman with a huge phallus has resulted in her death, and
pretty soon Alex finds himself in prison. In order to shorten
his sentence, he volunteers to undergo a radical new
treatment for violent criminals, or 'Aversion therapy'. The
treatment is still in its experimental stages, and although
Alex has a torturous experience, by the end of the therapy
he does seem to be cured. He still has the violent urges, but
those feelings are countered by extreme nausea.
Released back into society, Alex is no longer a natural being
with free will, but a technologically manipulated drone
(hence 'A Clockwork Orange' of the title), and even the
thought of his beloved Beethoven is enough to make him
physically sick. The outside world suddenly becomes very
menacing to Alex, where vengeance is visited upon him by
his ex-droogies who are now policemen, and his old victims
(including Magee, who has some special payback in mind).
After a suicide attempt, the media make Alex into a
celebrity and the shadow Prime Minister uses him as proof
of a broken society in a cynical ploy to win votes. But
perhaps the biggest cynic is Alex himself, whose phrase "I
was cured alright" ends the film on a morally dubious note.
Kubrick's free-thinking, anti-authoritarian take on Anthony
Burgess' novel on Catholic redemption is extremely
effective, regardless of what allegorical take you put on it.
It’s visually astonishing, disturbing, ever quotable, and
featuring one of the most memorable portrayals of evil in
the history of film. With his lurid narration which is at once
intimate and engaging, it's difficult not to feel sympathy for
Alex, especially when you consider the dreary leap-frog
games going on around him in the political sphere, with
power-hungry parasites using him as a pawn in their
reckless antics.
With A Clockwork Orange, Stanley Kubrick even surpasses
the directorial virtuosity that he displayed in his previous
film, 2001: A Space Odyssey; almost every trick in a
filmmaker's arsenal is utilised, with fish-eye lenses,
beautifully choreographed set-pieces, expert use of lighting
and arrangement, fast motion, slow motion, etc. McDowell
puts on the best performance of his career, gleefully reeling
off Burgess' self-invented slang terms (good is "Horrorshow",
sex is "The old in-out-in-out") with a sadistic glint in his eye,
and perfectly capturing the faux-innocence of youth ("It
wasn't
me, brother, sir").
A Clockwork Orange was released in the UK in January 1972,
not long after the controversies which met Ken Russell's
The Devils and Sam Pekinpah's Straw Dogs. A wave of
media-led controversy shot the film to box-office success,
and this in turn led to some imitative behaviour among
young fans who started wearing the white boiler suits and
bowler hats as a way of emulating their anti-heroes. The
media leapt onto 'copycat' crimes, such as a Dutch tourist
who was gang-raped by youths who sang Singin' In The Rain
(a song Alex sings during a gang-rape in the film) whilst
they did it. And the case of a 16 year old youth who kicked a
homeless man to death. The press described the kid as
being fascinated by A Clockwork Orange, although it later
turned out he was obsessed with the book and had never
seen the film.
The controversy escalated when the British censors were
seen to be lenient on the film, and unlike The Devils and
Straw Dogs, A Clockwork Orange was passed uncut with an
X rating. This led to calls for the head of censorship,
Stephen Murphy, to resign. Even the government got
involved when the Home Secretary, Reginald Maudling,
demanded to view the film at the BBFC headquarters before
its release, and this led to accusations of state censorship.
However, while all this hassle was going on, something very
strange happened; director Stanley Kubrick simply banned
the film himself due to concerns of copycat violence, and
that ban remained in force for almost 30 years until he died
in 1999. Still a hot topic today, no film fan should miss it.
COMBAT SHOCK (1986)
(aka American Nightmare)
Dir: Buddy Giovinazzo /USA

"Today's one of those days where everything that can go

wrong, does". Combat Shock is a grim and repellent little
movie that was eventually picked up by Troma and given a
theatrical and home video release, becoming a cult classic
among 80s videophiles in the process.
The DVD box art makes this look like some all-action, gung-
ho heroic war movie, but anyone buying or renting the DVD
who were expecting a Rambo clone or a Platoon would have
been shell-shocked at what they actually got for their
money.
Without a doubt, Combat Shock is one of the nastiest,
bleakest, most depressingly downbeat movies ever released
by Troma; and it also happens to be a near-masterpiece of
zero-budget filmmaking. Imagine Taxi Driver remade by John
Waters with a bit of Eraserhead and The Deerhunter thrown
in, and you should have some idea of what to expect here,
but nothing can really prepare viewers for how ugly this
movie is...
The Director's brother, Ricky, stars as Frankie, a down-on-
his-luck, severely traumatised 'Nam vet who lives in a rank
and grubby tenement block with his shrieking wife and
mutant baby. They have no money and no food, and he
receives a letter from the landlord informing him that his
family have been evicted and should vacate the premises
by 6pm. To make matters worse, he is in debt to a trio of
local thugs who constantly hassle him and beat him up, and
his best friend is a sick junky who has resorted to robbing
lone women at gunpoint as a way of feeding his addiction.
Plagued by constant flashbacks to his traumatic experiences
in a makesift POW camp, and being hunted through the
jungle by the Vietcong, this deeply troubled ex-marine - a
trained killer - crumbles psychologically, and this leads to
one of the bleakest and most shocking movie endings of the
80s.
Combat Shock is a labor of twisted love; director Buddy G
filmed most of the Vietnam scenes on Staten Island, and to
be fair it's almost a perfect illusion; had he decorated the
close-ups with exotic plants, those scenes would have been
much more convincing as a Vietnam warzone, but he
nonetheless captures that sense of hostile terrain perfectly.
Buddy earned his living at the time as a music teacher, and
most of the cast members (even the extras) were his drum
students who agreed to appear in the film in exchange for
free drum lessons. So he got his music students to dress up
and run around Staten Island with fake guns. Love it. The
only downside is that most of the amateur actors aren't
really good enough to convey the severity and desperation
their roles needed, such as Mike Tierno who plays the junky
and who uses a rusty wire coat-hanger to manually insert
heroin into a raw wound on his arm because he doesn't
have a syringe at hand. Also, the hoodlums were a bit
miscast and look about as tough as The Village People (they
were probably decent drummers though).
On the plus side, actress Veronica Stork who plays the
annoying wife is superb in her grating role, and leading
man, Ricky G, whose burned-out stare and grubby clothes
make him one of cinema's most memorable budget-psychos
(he also contributed the quirky and eccentric music score).
Director Buddy G shows remarkable visual flair with some
interesting camera work, tightly-paced editing, and a real
knack for picking out shooting locations - We have scenes
shot in genuine urban cesspools of grime and squalor, which
seems to mirror the fractured state of mind of our troubled
protagonist.
Needless to say, if you're accustomed to such Troma
crappola as Fat Guy Goes Nutzoid or Surf Nazis Must Die,
then Combat Shock will come as something of a nasty
surprise.
Originally shown on the festival circuit under its original
title, American Nightmare, it played well at the grinders in
New York's Times Square district before Lloyd Kaufman and
Michael Herz of Troma offered a distribution deal. The MPAA
demanded cuts to the film but the folks at Troma decided to
push their luck and release it uncut. They were eventually
found out and ordered to remove the more graphic shots or
face a hefty fine (in the book version of Sleazoid Express,
Bill Landis claims that this kind of practice was fairly
common for Troma who would release the uncut versions of
their films into theatres, regardless of what the censors had
to say on the matter). Troma also added the stock war
footage which definitely improves the film, especially during
the opening credits.
And while we’re on the subject of Troma, it's worth pointing
out that their DVD release of Combat Shock includes an
excellent audio commentary by Buddy G, and he is joined
by European gorehound Jorg Buttgereit for a fact-filled,
laugh-out-loud funny audio track that is worth the price of
the disc alone.
Buddy G continues today as a music teacher and he
occasionally teaches video production classes at New York's
School of Visual Arts. His career as an indie filmmaker has
been marred by frustrations since his promising debut; he
got the gig to direct the legendary Maniac 2 but the project
fizzled out when actor/producer Joe Spinell died suddenly.
Also in the late 80s he wrote a screenplay called Dead and
Married for Vestron. It was a dark comedy but in the finished
cut of the film all the sick jokes had been watered down to
such an extent that the finished product (re-named as She's
Back) didn't work.
Numerous self-written scripts remain unfilmed, such as the
intriguing Dirty Money, the controversial 123 Depravity
Street, and even the relatively commercial Jonathan of The
Night. He has written short stories, poetry, and even novels,
the third of which he adapted to the screen himself under
the title Life Is Hot In Cracktown. The crowning achievement
of his career so far is undoubtedly No Way Home (aka Life
Sentences) in which, by a mad miracle, he managed to cast
Tim Roth, James Russo, and Deborah Unger in his film which
is about a man who is released from jail and who must face
the daily grind of poverty, drugs, and violence.
COME AND SEE (1985)
(Orig title: Idi i smorti; aka Kill Hitler)
Dir: Elem Klimov /Soviet Union

Produced to mark the 40th anniversary of Russia's victory

over the Nazi invaders in World War II, and based on the
novella The Khatyn Story by Ales Adamovich who was a
partisan himself during the conflict, Come and See follows
young teenager, Flyora, who joins the Soviet partisans in the
woods near his home. With a naive sensibility Flyora reckons
on being a hero with an easy triumph over the Nazi's, but as
the film progresses we witness his descent into trauma and
madness as the Byelorussian holocaust literally tears his
world apart. It's a horrendous coming-of-age story, from
naive innocence to blind hatred to costly experience, his
face physically alters throughout the film from fresh youth
to haggard old war veteran.
Made during the Perestroika period, Come and See is
perhaps the most brutal and emotionally draining war film
you'll ever see. Director Elem Klimov was obsessed with
authenticity in the making of his film and went to some
alarming extremes in order to replicate the harsh
environments of war - The explosions weren't created with
safe pyrotechnical trickery, they were real. The bullets were
also real. And it's astonishing to see lead actor Aleksei
Kravchenko running around with real explosions going off
around him, sometimes as close as three feet away. In some
scenes he has live rounds just missing his head by
centimeters. All weapons used here (guns, bombs, flame
throwers, etc) are genuine. Even the uniforms in the film are
100% authentic originals. Adding to the realism is Aleksei
Rodiomov's handheld camerawork which gives the
proceedings an intimate edge. Real footage showing the
aftermath of Nazi atrocities in the area is inserted into the
film to drive the authenticity home.
Originally entitled Kill Hitler, Come and See is a
hallucinatory, heartbreaking, traumatic, and
uncompromising experience - Not for all tastes. There's a
scene where civilian villagers are rounded up and forced
into a barn by Nazi soldiers where they await their fate with
dread. An officer appears at the window offering the chance
for anyone to leave, but on condition that the children are
left behind. Of course, no one is prepared to desert their
children to die alone. And unlike the Jews in Spielberg's
Schindler's List, there's no respite at the final moment. No,
the barn is then merrily set on fire by the Nazis. And while
the civilians are screaming and burning alive, the Nazis
shoot at the barn with machine guns and flame throwers,
and we are forced to watch all of it.
For a while this film was used as propaganda to warn
citizens of the Eastern Block about the dangers of fascism,
but it certainly wasn't made with propaganda in mind.
There's no nationalistic one-upmanship to be found here,
the 629 villages decimated are well documented. There's no
communist rhetoric either, and many of the partisan heroes
in the film are flawed characters. It's a film about the
suffering of ordinary people during wartime. In fact I would
say there is ten times as much propaganda in films like
Saving Private Ryan.
In the UK, Come and See was given an uncut 15 certificate,
which may puzzle some readers, but it's one of those films
that really ought to be seen by the largest possible
audience, even school students. However shocking the film
may be, it's never gratuitous and certainly not exploitative,
and the British Board of Film Classification have recognised
this.
The Kino DVD release is disappointing - It looks to be a
rushed job presented with very little care in full screen
format and appears to have been lifted from the VHS
version with no attempt at re-mastering. The film is also
split over two discs which means having to change discs
midway through viewing. Such an important film treated in
a cheap and shoddy fashion is not good enough. Hopefully a
much better presentation of Come and See will be released
in the near future.
THE COOK, THE THIEF, HIS WIFE, AND
HER LOVER (1989)
Dir: Peter Greenaway /UK

"I'm gonna kill him, and I'm gonna... EAT HIM!!" Perhaps
Greenaway's finest film to date, and one of the highlights
of 90s cinema, The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover
centres on Le Hollandais, a lush restaurant owned by
gangster Albert Spica (Michael Gambon) whose wife
Georgina (Helen Mirren) has an affair with Michael (Alan
Howard), a mild-mannered bookish type, before all hell
breaks loose. The film boasts excellent performances all
round but Gambon steals the show as Mr. Spica, a foul,
obnoxious, ignorant brute whose verbal tirades are blackly
hilarious and whose poisonous presence soils the
atmosphere of any room he's in. Every time he opens his
mouth something vulgar comes out (an accusation he
amusingly levels at one of his cronies). There's superb
camera work courtesy of veteran DP Sacha Vierney, Jean
Paul Gaultier provides the costumes which compliments the
decor of each luschious room in the restaurant, and Michael
Nyman contributes one of his finest scores.
Due to the outrageous violence, sex, and nudity, this film
(along with Pedro Almodovar's Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!),
was one of the first to receive an NC-17 rating in America,
prompting those idiots at Blockbuster Video to destroy all of
their uncut copies and replace it with the R-rated alternative
which loses a whopping thirty minutes of footage. Now the
R-rated version implies a more perverse ending than
Greenaway intended; during the cannibalistic finale in which
Georgina forces her husband at gunpoint to eat Michael's
dead body, she suggests that he "try the cock, you know
where it's been", then there's a cut showing Spica eating a
piece of meat from a fork with the audience believing that
he is eating Michael's penis. Whereas in the uncut version
we know that that particular
piece of meat came from Michael's hip area (David
Cronenberg's The Brood suffered a similar glitch in narrative
when British censors demanded cuts to the scene where
Samantha Eggar gives birth to a furious humanoid creature
and proceeds to lick away the blood, with the cut version
implying that she is eating her child!). But all censorship
hassles are over now and The Cook is widely available on
DVD in all its uncut, NC-17 glory.
CRASH (1996)
Dir: David Cronenberg /Canada

Disaffected couple James and Catherine Ballard (James

Spader and Deborah Unger) have a jaded sex life and only
seem to get excited whilst listening to each other's stories
of sexual escapades. One day James has a head-on car
collision with Helen Remington (Holly Hunter), whose
husband is killed in the accident, and the pair are treated at
the same hospital. The two eventually discover that the
crash was sexually arousing, and this is when they are
approached by Vaughan (Elias Koteas), a mysterious man
posing as a doctor so as to get pally with crash victims to
fuel his own obsessions. Turns out that Vaughan is also
turned on by car wreckages and mangled humans, and he
takes James and Helen on a voyage of discovery where they
get to meet more members of this shadowy subculture, get
to witness the re-enactment of the fatal crashes that killed
Jayne Mansfield and James Dean, and sink further into the
cold and dreamy perversion for everything flesh and metal
that is mangled on the highways.
Based on the cult novel by JG Ballard (described by Jean
Baudrillard as "The first truly hyperreal novel"), Crash sees
the return to form for David Cronenberg after the
disappointing Naked Lunch and flat M. Butterfly. It's not an
easy film to get to grips with in one viewing but there is
much to be enthralled and appalled by here as we're
presented with technology that becomes an extension of -
and deconstruction of - the human body. The characters are
like human crash test dummies; there's no psychology, no
erogenous zones (at least, not in the old sense); the human
body is physically altered and transformed, revealing new
sex organs in the process (check out the scene where James
has penetrative sex with a wound on Rosanna Arquette's
leg). Like Ballard's book, Cronenberg chooses not to get
involved with the events on screen and keeps an observers
distance from the characters - There's no real desire among
them, no libido, no death drive; just the plain banality of the
anomaly of death. Vaughan's body is a reflection of the
twisted and dented metal stained with sperm: No orgasms,
just ejaculation. And for many viewers it's the cold and
necrophiliac vibe of Crash that unnerves the most.
The film was met with anger and walk-outs when it played
at the Cannes Film Festival, but still managed to win the
Special Jury Prize. It also won the Genie Award in Canada
where it was the most successful domestic film of the year.
Glowing reviews and healthy box-office led many to believe
that Cronenberg had tamed down the extremes of Ballard's
book, but the hassle really began when Crash hit the UK.
After its screening at the London Film Festival, Heritage
Secretary Virginia Bottomly demanded it be banned (she
hadn't even seen it), the London Evening Standard went to
town on the film describing it as being "beyond the bounds
of depravity", and Westminster City Council banned it
immediately. With its subject-matter it was inevitable that it
would be largely misunderstood and cause offence among
moralists. Film critics led by Alexander Walker were also
campaigning to have the film banned, and The Daily Mail's
Christopher Tookey got his knickers in a twist complaining
that the film "Promulgates a twisted morality of its own:
namely that life is about the pursuit of sexual gratification,
whatever the consequences. It is the morality of the satyr,
the nymphomaniac, the rapist, the paedophile, the danger
to society." If that wasn't idiotic enough, he also took the
time to condemn the film's positive depictions of gay and
lesbian sex, and sex with the physically handicapped, which
did more to expose his own right wing agenda more than
anything.
The BBFC remained completely unmoved throughout the
whole Crash debacle, and they even held screenings of the
film for lawyers, forensic psychologists, and disabled groups,
and concluded that "Rather than sympathising or identifying
with the attitudes or tastes of the characters in the film, the
average viewer would in the end be repelled by them, and
would reject the values and sexual proclivities displayed". It
was subsequently released uncut in the UK which led The
Daily Mail to condemn the decision, commenting "All the
psycho-babble in the world cannot refute the simple fact:
The film is sick. It should not be shown".
The message of Crash is a grim one indeed about the
direction human sexuality is heading in. It's also beautifully
shot and is perhaps Cronenberg's best looking film since
Videodrome, and Howard Shore contributes the eerie,
guitar-based theme tune to stunning effect. Although you
can never beat the experience of seeing Crash in the
cinema (or the drive home afterwards), DVD editions look
fantastic. It's just a pity that the Cronenberg commentary
track (available on the Criterion laserdisc) is still missing in
action.
DANGEROUS GAME (1993)
(aka Snake Eyes)
Dir: Abel Ferrara /USA

Harvey Keitel stars as Eddie Israel, an increasingly unhinged

filmmaker struggling with his latest project, Mother of
Mirrors, an autobiographical film based on the collapse of
his own marriage. Madonna stars as Sarah Jennings, a bad
actress whom Eddie guides through scenes as his fictional
wife. He also hires Frank Burns (James Russo) to play his self
as Sarah's drunken and abusive husband. But, as things turn
out, Frank is drunk and abusive to Sarah for real, both on
and off camera, and events from Mother of Mirrors soon
spills out into real life...
What makes Dangerous Game so remarkable is that Eddie's
character is clearly based on director Abel Ferrara himself.
Those paying attention will notice that the clapperboard for
Mother of Mirrors will sometimes read 'Abel Ferrara' instead
of 'Eddie Israel'; Eddie's stories and anecdotes about his
experiences with sex and drugs are based on Ferrara's own
past; Ferrara's wife, Nancy, plays Eddie's wife in the movie,
and his ways of screaming at his cast and crew are allegedly
based on Ferrara's own aggressive directorial methods.
Basically, the film has three layers - The film itself
(Dangerous Game), the film-within-the-film (Mother of
Mirrors), and the real life drama that enshrouds the
proceedings and can only be guessed at. It was originally
titled Snake Eyes but was changed when Brian De Palma
took the title for his own movie - A much more appropriate
title in fact. Characters in Dangerous Game sometimes
shout out for the attentions of Ken Kelsch and Nicholas St.
John; Ken Kelsch served as DP and Nicky St. John wrote the
script, but neither of them were actually in the fictional film!
It would have been nice if Ferrara himself had made an
appearance to guide Harvey Keitel in his tough moments,
just as Eddie intervenes in Mother of Mirrors to help his cast
members, but perhaps that would have pushed the boat too
far. As to what is fact and what is fiction; well, Ferrara's fans
have been arguing about that for the best part of two
decades. But one thing's for sure; this is a rewarding,
sometimes shocking and compulsive viewing experience.
DAS KOMABRUTALE DUELL (1999)
Dir: Heiko Fipper /Germany

"WARNUNG! This film contains

extreme violence, and isn't suitable
children or viewers under the age of
18. Kids, pregnant women, and
psychologically unstable men might
suffer severe mental trauma from
watching this movie. The HF
team takes no responsibility!"
Made in the late 90s but not released on DVD until 2008,
Das Komabrutale Duell opens with segments that were shot
in
8mm. And to be fair it looks alright; in amongst all the
jumbled gore footage of mangled humans, including
women's faces that have been smashed in and their tits cut
off (this is a bit odd and random because there are next to
no female characters in the entire film!). We do get a brief
backstory - A vicious gang of sadists called The Eightlets
Mafia are in the middle of a street war with the Bandera
family. Problem is, the Bandera family are near immortal,
and all attempts to do away with them is doomed to failure
as the Bandera clan just keep on coming back for more...
And that's basically it; the rest of the pic is shot on video
and shows how the Bandera's are chased, captured, brutally
beaten, cut up with chainsaws, shot, stabbed, have their
heads smashed in with sledge hammers, but they will not
die. This all sounds like a gorehound's dream but the special
fx are mostly quite lame and never even remotely realistic.
The blood looks like watered-down tomato puree, the
victim's being beaten and shot and dissected are obviously
plaster mannequins (perhaps an homage to Lucio Fulci?),
and the whole project seems to have stemmed from the
imagination of an extremely disturbed eight year old. The
fact that the cast and crew are made up of grown men in
their 20s and 30s only adds to how ridiculous this film is, but
there's no doubt that these guys enjoyed making this
movie, they're clearly having a great time.
A bloody awful film then, but it is at least more watchable
than other German amateur jobs like Familienradgeber and
Hunting Creatures, but that isn't saying much. Included on
the end credits is a warning from the filmmakers; "Don't
even think of pirating this movie, or you'll be the next coma-
brutal duel" - HF Pictures 1984-1999. Interestingly, I have
never seen this film available on any illegal download site so
I assume the threat must have worked! Maybe other
production companies should follow suit. Das Komabrutale
Duell was also banned in its native Germany in 2007.
DAUGHTER OF DARKNESS (1993)
Dir: Ivan Lai Kai Mingh /Hong Kong

Daughter of Darkness is part of producer Wong Jing's loose

trilogy based on lurid news headlines that also includes
Brother of Darkness and Red To Kill. Anthony Wong plays the
police chief who is investigating the brutal murder of an
entire family. The film begins as a silly comedy with the
police breaking into a house to discover the bodies. Wong's
experience on the job means that he is used to the sights
and smells of crime scenes, but his younger colleagues are
tentative when entering the building. Three battered bodies
are found in the living area. Wong heads upstairs and finds a
further corpse in the bath tub. He fondles the dead girl's
breasts claiming it's a useful way to get an idea of how long
the victim has been dead for. The local press has descended
on the scene with their cameras and notebooks but are kept
at the doorway. Wong accepts a bribe and allows a reporter
inside to take snapshots. In a macabre and silly scene, Wong
displays an insensitive and twisted humour when he starts
posing with the dead bodies during the photo shoot.
The only relative to have survived the massacre is Amy (Lily
Chung, who played Ming Ming the retarded girl in Red To
Kill), and Wong immediately puts her and her boyfriend
under suspicion. And in a scene reminiscent of Hitchcock's
Rear Window, he follows the couple to the boyfriend's flat
and watches them have sex in the apartment from an
opposite balcony. Cue more silliness as a guy falls from the
baloney into a skip, Wong indulges in a bit of bra sniffing
(which causes him to sneeze!), and a steamy sex scene in
the shower. The young couple are questioned at the station
and it soon becomes apparent that the girl is responsible for
the murders. And in a series of disturbing flashbacks, Amy
tells the whole story of how she felt driven to commit the
massacre due to a long and sustained period of abuse.
The wacky humour soon dissipates once Amy tells her story;
one night she and her boyfriend are walking home after a
date and they catch her father sleeping with another
woman. The father (played by Brother of Darkness' Ho Ka-
Kui), slaps her and has an altercation with the boyfriend.
She goes home and is scolded and humiliated by her
mother and jealous siblings. Later that night the father gets
up to take a piss and winds up peeping on Amy through the
keyhole as she takes a shower. He jerks off. Amy opens the
door and catches him at it, so she goes and tells her mum,
but mum doesn't believe her, and the whole family
converge on her once again to scold and lecture her about
'telling tales'. The father is especially pleased with himself
during this little episode.
Amy returns home one day to find her father frolicking with
another woman in the house. Father doesn't seem to mind
being caught in the act and continues to toe-fuck the
woman with his big toe. He then gets out the camera and
takes a few pictures of his naked floosy, much to her
annoyance, and she takes her belongings and storms out.
Left alone and horny, daddy then turns his attentions onto
his daughter; he bursts into her room drunk and starts
taking snapshots of her in her transparent nightdress. He
then rips the dress off and rapes her in her bed. Mother then
returns home from her own bit of extra-marital fun and
suspects that another woman has been in their bed. Mum
and dad then have a blazing row.
Wong and his assistant conducting the interview at the
station are shocked and saddened by the story so far, but
the tale only gets worse... Amy runs away from home and
stays at her boyfriend's flat. A while later her dad shows up
at her work place and hands her an envelope which contains
the naked pictures he took of her. He then cruelly scatters a
handful of the pictures across the floor of the workshop and
she has to scurry around trying to retrieve them all before
any of her workmates can see them.
It's Amy's birthday, and after a long and steamy sex sesh at
her boyfriend's place, she grabs a knife and heads off home
for a bloody massacre. She walks in to find dad sitting on
the couch watching TV with a pair of panties on his head,
and a lit birthday cake on the coffee table. She slashes him
with the knife but he manages to wrestle it away from her.
He then ties her hands to the ceiling, strips her, and rubs
her body in cake before licking it off. He then bends her over
the dining table and rapes her from behind. Amy's sister
comes downstairs and sees what's going on but she doesn't
do or say anything, she just turns and heads back up the
stairs.
Boyfriend suddenly kicks the door down, charges in and
attacks the father. A violent struggle ensues and the
boyfriend pistol whips him unconscious. But just as the
couple embrace and the ordeal seems to be over, dad gets
back up and beats him with a long piece of wood. Amy then
shoots her father at close range, and he staggers backwards
onto the floor begging for his life. She shoots him a further
five times in the groin. She collapses to her knees in the
middle of the room, and this is when mother and brother
return home. They immediately try to calm her down but
she is giggling and has clearly lost her mind. Mother begs
for her life but is shot dead on the spot. Brother makes a run
for it up the stairs but she catches him and drags him back
down and stabs him to death. She then goes upstairs to
hunt for her treacherous sister and finds her hiding in the
wardrobe. She drags her out and drowns her in the bath tub
in a long and harrowing sequence.
Amy then returns downstairs and sits in stunned silence at
the enormity of her crimes. Dad then suddenly sits up,
Michael Myers-style, and attacks her, pinning her on the
ground and strangling the life out of her. She manages to
reach a broken Buddha ornament and stabs him in the
throat with the sharp end.
Wow, what would Jeremy Kyle have to say? Daughter of
Darkness is a quintessential CAT III movie in that it includes
all the typical ingredients that make these films so bizarre
and outrageous. The slapstick and darkly comic interludes
that set up the story, the leering and exploitative angles,
the faux-Hollywood erotic thriller template, the bright
colourful settings, the factual basis, and extremely violent
finale, it's all here. The film also does much to expose the
facade of the modern nuclear family where, despite
appearances, no one really knows what goes on behind
closed doors in the average family unit. Director Ivan Lai
also seems to have a snipe at the useless conformities of
organised religion, especially in the scene where the father
returns home one night and lights an incense stick for his
Buddha statue and offers a blase prayer; he seems to do
this purely because it's a 'done thing'
and not because he has any religious convictions - Actually,
he doesn't seem to have a spiritual bone in his body, and
instead runs on a purely animalistic instinct to satisfy his
mad primal urges. Quite a statement for a low-budget
exploitation movie! (And this Buddhist sham has also spread
across the world in recent years as many Westerners
consider it cool and chic to have a Buddha in their homes to
create a facade of spirituality, but this type of thing seems
to be embraced the most by idiotic 'culture vultures' and the
most shallow and soulless cretins of
society).
In court, Amy is sentenced to death by firing squad, and she
gives birth to a baby boy while on death row. The baby is
immediately taken away from her. She is then led down a
corridor and out into the open where she says her goodbyes
to her boyfriend and their baby before she is executed.
DAWN OF THE DEAD (1978)
Dir: George A. Romero /USA

In the late 60s a zombie movie called Night of The Living

Dead changed the face of modern horror forever. With its
mixture of creepiness and a sharp social satire, this lurid
black and white classic introduced audiences to a new
master of horror, George A. Romero. Across the decades
Romero would occasionally return to his living dead roots,
and alongside such classics as The Crazies and Martin, he
would add to his zombie series, and each one seemed to
pick up on some social dislocation that was relevant for the
time, and as a whole these films served as a cracked mirror
reflecting back on the era in which they were made.
In the 60s with Night of The Living Dead, it was the Vietnam
war and the civil rights struggle which was strongly hinted
at (despite Romero himself who has always denied that he
intended any such 'messages' in the film). In the 80s, Day of
The Dead presented scientific progress being hijacked by
the military for the purpose of conflict and destruction. Land
of The Dead (2005) focused on the callous conservatism of
the Bush administration, Diary of The Dead (2008) on the
information overload of the Youtube generation, and
Survival of The Dead (2010) on man's lack of progress since
the days of the 'wild west'. But it was in the 70s with its
mindless consumer culture that Romero offered up the
blackly comic gore-fest, Dawn of The Dead.
The film opens on a chaotic scene in which a TV station
struggles to make sense of the situation as they see the
living dead chomping their way through civilization. Fran
(Gaylen Ross) and her helicopter pilot boyfriend, Stephen
(David Emge) decide to flee before the mayhem takes over.
Meanwhile, a brutal SWAT team including Peter (Ken Foree)
and Roger (Scott H. Reiniger) launch an assault on an
infected housing project, which expands upon themes in
NOTLD in which, in the eyes of the law, there is no
difference between racial minorities, political radicals, and
flesh-eating zombies; they are all gunned down in cold
blood.
Pretty soon Peter and Roger join Fran and Stephen (or
'Flyboy') for a chopper flight into the wilderness where they
hover above fields crawling with gun-toting rednecks before
settling down in a huge shopping mall. It's here that the
gang of human survivors stay put surrounded by zombies
who are seemingly drawn to the comforting consumer
paradise by a faint nagging memory that continues to
possess them, post mortem. Interestingly, the zombies here
aren't as menacing as they are in NOTLD; they're slow,
pathetic parodies of humanity, stumbling around dazed and
confused and falling into water fountains whilst instinctively
gnawing at useless consumer products. The survivors aren't
much better; they winge and argue amongst themselves
endlessly in their materialistic haven as they load up all the
products they can until a marauding biker gang turns up
and spoils all the fun. And then the situation spirals
completely out of control...
In a market swarming with glossy Hollywood horrors, Dawn
of The Dead was something of a controversial hit. The film's
huge success in Europe and Asia put other horror efforts of
the time (like Nightwing and Prophecy) to shame. Romero's
sly take on 'retail therapy' and the pleasure of blowing lots
of cash still rings true today. It would make a great double-
bill with Philip Kaufman's remake of Invasion of The Body
Snatchers (1978) which was made around the same time
and also touches upon themes of mindless conformity
(or even a triple-bill with Willard Huyck's Messiah of Evil
which pre-dates Dawn and also has much to say on the
subject, too).
It's also worth noting that Dawn was the first film to fully
explore the concept of a man being bitten and slowly
turning into a zombie himself. Night of The Living Dead
hinted at the idea with the sick girl in the basement, but
Dawn presents us with the slow, harrowing details, from
delirium to the cooling down, to death and transformation.
And this idea has been duplicated in countless zombie
movies ever since. But even here, Romero remains
disinclined to reveal whether the zombie pandemic is
something that affects a human corpse, or is a contagious
disease that affects the blood. Decades later, when new
classics like Danny Boyle's 28 Days Later and Zack Snyder's
Dawn remake hit the screens, this idea had become so
confused that, technically, the 'zombies' weren't really
zombies at all. Almost every single zombie movie has to
tussle with this idea to a certain extent, to gauge its path
and find its feet in zombie lore.
Dawn of The Dead exists in at least three different versions,
all of which were the subject of controversy with the
censors. The European print, which was put together by
none other than Dario Argento, is the shortest, but
ironically, caused the most offense to the BBFC. This version
concentrated more on the gore and dropped much of the
satirical stuff, and for this reason it was heavily censored.
Romero's preferred 128 minute final cut was treated less
harshly but still it didn't escape unscathed. For although the
censors seemed to 'get' the joke, they remained insistent on
locking out some of the more extremely gory moments. This
same version was released unrated in America as Romero
feared the MPAA would give it an X rating (to most
Americans an X means porno). A longer 'Festival Version'
was shown at Cannes and did the rounds in 16mm format.
This version includes many extended and alternate
sequences but the Goblin soundtrack is missing, and it runs
for 140 minutes.
On home video the film has suffered a lot with the UK
censors, with the 'Director's Cut' being shorn of a few
seconds up until 2003 when it was finally passed uncut. Say
what you will about Mr. Lucas' many re-releases and special
editions, but as far as George's go, it's actually Romero who
takes the biscuit with endless DVD repackaging. After
numerous bootlegs and not-quite directors' cuts (including
that in the Trilogy of The Dead box set), the fully uncut edit
of his zombie masterpiece is here in all its glory. Okay, so
those extra few seconds of gore don't make much difference
to what was already one of the finest horror movies ever
made, but it's a welcome addition to any self-respecting
horror fan's collection, nonetheless. With a budget of $1.5
million and boasting the very graphic head-popping special
effects by Tom Savini (who also cameos as the leader of the
biker gang), DOTD went on to become one of the most
profitable indie movies in history. Essential viewing.
Black Friday is an exciting day for consumers in America, as
on the day after Thanksgiving the nation's superstores
dramatically reduce the prices on all of their snazzy
products, and the public arrive in droves to take advantage
of this special day on the calendar to load up their shopping
baskets with mountains of gadgets, LCD TV's, and designer
label clothes. In November 2011 we witnessed a more crazy
Black Friday than usual; in addition to the stampedes and
fisty-cuffs and hair pulling and general greed, one woman
resorted to using pepper spray on her
rival consumers, and one man, when cornered by armed
robbers in an outside car park, refused to hand over his
precious bargains, he was shot dead on the spot. Say what
you want about the rampant consumerism of the 70s but
things nowadays have escalated to the point where people
are willing to die over a few cheap products; what can you
say about a culture in which a man feels that his shopping
goods are more important than his life? George Romero has
said that the scariest thing about Dawn of The Dead was
watching an American audience 'getting off' on the fantasy
of running riot in a shopping mall, and it was only then that
he realised how raw a nerve he had struck with his film.

POSTSCRIPT: THE FALL OF GEORGE ROMERO

Unfortunately, Dawn of The Dead seems to have marked the

high point of Romero's creativity and artistic control. The
Pittsburgh native has found it increasingly difficult to find
funding for his projects, and when he has, the results have
often failed to impress his fans. He still comes up with
interesting concepts but they're usually let down by a bland,
middle-of-the-road directorial style, perhaps more suited to
TV than the big screen.
The trouble began with Creepshow (1982); Stephen King
wrote the screenplay, an uninspired anthology of shorts
which Romero couldn't do much with. King may have ruled
the paperback market, but his film scripts have never been
up to much. The film itself is nothing more than a silly
distraction, a throwaway piece aimed at youngsters.
Day of The Dead (1985) was Romero's last truly satisfying
film, a gruelling masterpiece that can stand shoulder to
shoulder with his finest work even though the film went
through some production problems with the financiers
wanting him to trim down the gore. Monkey Shines (1988)
was suspenseful in places and has some decent
performances,
but overall it suffers from that awfully safe, TV vibe that has
marred quite a few of his films. The same sort of problems
returned again when Romero teamed up with Dario Argento
(the pair became friends during the making of Dawn of The
Dead) for Two Evil Eyes (1990). Argento's half of the film
was great; a mixture of several Poe stories that presented a
new take on the macabre. Romero's half, The Facts In The
Case of M. Valdemar, however, totally lacks any kind of
menace and has a bland music score and a flat TV movie
vibe; it's about as scary as Murder She Wrote.
Another Stephen King adaptation, The Dark Half (1993), had
a very interesting concept, but Romero doesn't dig deep
enough; had he fully explored the roots of King's novel and
the real life events that inspired it, he may have had
another masterpiece on his hands. My main criticism of the
film though is that it seems he was just trying to cash-in on
King's name alone. Bruiser (2000) was Romero's first self-
written work in more than a decade and remains one of the
most disappointing efforts of his career; it's a badly written
mess of cliches and mundanity.
After a long time trying to secure funding, Romero was at
last able to return to his living dead series in 2005 with Land
of The Dead. And although the film was met with muted
applause from fans and critics, it was Romero's best film in a
long time. It does have its problems; it fails to capture the
epic quality of his initial trilogy, it offers up a cliched villain
and an unlikable, bland hero, and is basically more of a
sketch of a film than a finished piece. The main problem, I
find, is that in this fourth installment, the zombies are now
the sympathetic ones but this angle isn't explored in any
kind of detail - A black zombie's facial expressions cannot
carry the bulk of a movie's plot, it was never going to work.
Diary of The Dead (2008) began the annoying trend of
pushing the zombies to the background while Romero
concentrated on his 'progressive aspect' by exploring the
topic of the day; in this case the internet and 24 hour
news coverage. The characters were more bland than ever
and the film also suffered from a very inconclusive ending.
Survival of The Dead (2010) was released straight to video
in all territories, but ironically, it is the finest entry in the
series since Day of The Dead twenty five years previously.
While again the zombies are hidden away in the background
for much of the film's running time, Romero treats us to a
bunch of characters who are forced to be ruthless to each
other as an essential part of the survival instinct. We are
thus transported back to the lawless days of the wild west.
All in all though, it's at a loss compared to the grim nihilism
and rough edges of his earlier work.
Romero's films are often left of centre in outlook: ethnically
and sexually integrated, pro-feminist, gay-friendly, anti-
macho and skeptical about capitalism, they represent the
'progressive aspect' of the horror genre (an aspect that
mainstream critics love to sink their teeth into as a way of
justifying their love of violent splatter movies!). Recent
interviews with Romero show a man who feels
uncomfortable with the violent and ideological excesses of
his earlier films, and who seems to be more concerned
nowadays with peace and love, and is as far away from
wanting to push the envelope of horror cinema as one can
get. It's a real shame that this once great filmmaker chooses
to play down the darkness and bleakness of his best work
and instead attempts to soften the blow with his most
recent output. It's an attitude which continues to disappoint
his fans.
DAY OF THE DEAD (1985)
Dir: George Romero /USA

The third installment in George Romero's living dead series

is a moody, claustrophobic gem set almost entirely in a
huge subterranean storage compound in Florida that serves
as a makeshift laboratory and military base. The army have
been ordered to protect a small group of scientists who are
trying to find a solution to the zombie pandemic. Hordes of
walking corpses have been penned into an enormous cave,
and the scientists use them as guinea pigs for their
research. The chief scientist, Dr. Logan (Richard Liberty),
nicknamed 'Dr. Frankenstein', tries to domesticate the
zombies so that the human survivors (who are now
outnumbered by 400,000 to one) can keep them under
control. One zombie, 'Bub', shows promise and responds to
various influences like music and hand gestures, and offers
hope to the ever-dwindling civilisation. But the army, led by
Captain Rhodes (Joseph Pilato), puts an end to the research
and takes over with reckless abandon, ultimately leaving
themselves exposed to the millions of hungry zombies who
are waiting outside...
George Romero's initial living dead triptych offers up three
of the greatest zombie movies ever made. Night of The
Living Dead (1968) was the first truly modern horror film
with its verite ambience and savage social commentary.
Dawn of The Dead (1978) attacked the mindless consumer
attitude of the 70s and beyond, and Day of The Dead (1985)
took us underground to explore the pseudo-scientific
engineering being hijacked for murderous military deeds.
The film also follows on from his earlier efforts like The
Crazies and Martin in the way it addresses the lack of
communication as being a big problem to any kind of
solution.
Romero originally intended to create an epic three hour
movie of Day, but financiers would only pay up if he agreed
to tone down the blood and gore (1985 was the year that
the MPAA started clamping down on movie violence).
Fortunately, Romero saw sense and slashed his budget and
script in half, brought back effects maestro Tom Savini, and
delivered hell on earth as mankind makes its last stand
against the living dead.
Looking back, it's incredible how Romero decided to scrap
his "mainstreamed" idea for the script and plunge into a
much more darker and bleaker territory of the film, because
not only was his third installment set to compete with his
earlier Night and Dawn, but there were also a couple of
contemporary zombie movies competing at the box office
around the same time, Dan O'Bannon's Return of The Living
Dead and Stuart Gordon's Re-Animator. And, as mentioned
before, the MPAA was tightening its restrictions, and its
interference would have a negative effect on those who
enjoyed watching violence on the big screen for years to
come (notice how slasher franchises became increasingly
silly and 'comedic' in the latter half of the 80s, the Friday
The 13th and Nightmare On Elm Street sequels, for
example).
Fans and critics treated the film with disdain on its initial
release and Day of The Dead quickly died at the box office,
only to break out of the grave as the film earned a huge cult
following thanks to home video and late night cable
screenings. It is now generally regarded as one of his finest,
with many hardcore horror fanatics ranking it in their top
five greatest movies of all time. It's interesting how opinions
can change like that; from disappointment to admiration in
a few short years. Indeed, Romero's latest trilogy of the
dead, consisting of Land of The Dead, Diary of The Dead
(dubbed 'Diarrhea of The Dead' in some circles), and
Survival of The Dead have been treated non too favourably
in recent years, and perhaps that too will change a little
further down the line. In Romero's defense, it's important
not to forget that he no longer has complete control of his
finished films anymore; his latest efforts have been studio
financed, thus he has the bigwigs to answer to nowadays.
Even a masterpiece like Martin was greeted with boredom
and confusion on its initial release.
It's no coincidence that Day of The Dead was made right
after Creepshow. The characters in Day seem to have
stepped out of an E.C. comic strip with the sly, nasty,
perverted bad guys meeting their grisly fates. Romero
perhaps wasn't through with that side of things. And how
could he be? Creepshow is a piece of juvenile garbage and a
waste of Tom Savini. But rest assured, Savini sure wasn't
wasted on Day of The Dead, he really went to town on this
one; characters are literally torn apart before our eyes, arms
are hacked off, heads blown to pieces, and guts are literally
spilling out onto the floor.
Although the film has been available uncut in the UK since
1997, the BBFC initially snipped out 30 seconds of gore for
both film and video, including the shot of one of the soldiers
having his back bitten by a female zombie, the close-up
shot of the machete cutting through Miguel's arm when he
has his limb amputated, the scene where a zombie is
decapitated with a shovel, a soldier having his fingers bitten
off, and the zombies feasting on the innards of Captain
Rhodes.
DEADGIRL (2008)
Dir: Marcel Sarmiento and Gadi Harel /USA
Wow. A pleasant surprise. We need more teen comedies like
this. Ok, this isn't a comedy per se, but there's lots of sick
and twisted humour here... Two high school students
discover a zombified girl in some deserted basement, and
she becomes a sex slave to a group of horny outcasts. The
film stumbles at the beginning with idiotic characters and
some awful dialogue, but once it gets going this is actually a
pretty decent little film. The character JT becomes an
increasingly unhinged psychopath in his determination to
keep their secret safe (he's also in danger of becoming cool,
especially when he comes out with lines like "Jail is full of
motherfuckers like us"), and the main character, Ricky, is
infuriatingly incompetent - He is supposed to be the film's
moral conscience, but like the young lad in The Girl Next
Door, he does too little too late to help the damsel in
distress; so there goes his credibility (amazingly, in a move
that makes me wonder what on earth the filmmakers were
thinking, Ricky encourages the school jock to partake in a
bit of forced fellatio with the deadgirl; we know it's all part
of a revenge plan whereby the girl will bite off his cock, but
still, it does seem a bit morally dubious when the film's
'hero' looks to be actively contributing to her woes). The film
has much to say on the destructive power of adolescent
sexuality and gets darker and more twisted and interesting
with the passing of each reel.
DEAD OR ALIVE (1999)
(Orig title: Hanzaisha)
Dir: Takashi Miike /Japan

Tagline - "WARNING: This motion

picture contains explicit
portrayals of violence; sex;
violent sex; sexual violence;
clowns and violent scenes of
violent excess, which are
definitely not suitable for all
audiences".
Takashi Miike is in typically outrageous form with Dead Or
Alive. It's a basic cop vs. crims scenario but Miike, in his own
way, manages to keep things fresh and exciting. Ryuichi
(Takeuchi Riki) leads a small gang of outcasts who, because
of their Chinese heritage, have no place in either the Yakuza
or triads, and so they wage a street war against both.
Detective Jojima (Aikawa Sho) is on their heels, but he also
has some personal problems of his own to deal with. His
wife is having an affair, and he cannot afford to pay for a
life-saving operation for his dying daughter. He urgently
needs 20 million Yen and his allegience to the law is
seemingly swept aside...
Dead Or Alive is a nice slice of cinematic excess which kicks
off with an incredible opening sequence montage; a naked
woman falls from a high-rise building clutching a bag of
cocaine; also strippers, bloody shootings, gay sex, throat
stabbings, arterial spray, freaks, gangsters, clowns, and a
man snorting what must be the world's longest line of coke.
The film is also typical of Miike's fast and makeshift shooting
style with a very loose and improvised feel. Those who are
only familiar with Miike's Audition will be surprised by how
chaotic and undisciplined this film is, as Audition was so
much more tightly constructed. However, if you enjoyed
Gozu and Ichi The Killer then chances are you'll find much to
savor here too.
The story of how the film came into being is an interesting
one. Miike was approached by money-hungry film producers
who offered him two male lead actors and a basic plot
structure. He was given free reign to create whatever the
hell he liked just as long as he stuck to the basic plot
requirements. The producers felt safe in the knowledge that
their actor's star power alone would be enough to secure a
hit. Miike's reaction was to purposely make an anti-
mainstream film with as many crude and offensive scenes
as he could get away with, knowing full well that it would be
aimed at mainstream audiences. I wonder what those two
producers must have thought of the end result; they can't
have been too dismayed though because Dead Or Alive
eventually did become a hit across the world and not just in
Japan. It also spawned a couple of well-behaved sequels,
too.
People often criticise DOA for being directionless, claiming
that it can't decide what kind of film it wants to be and so
ultimately fails to satisfy on any level. I think that's a bit
harsh; you only have to see a couple of Miike's films to know
how much he likes to play around with genre conventions,
and like his other work, such as Gozu, there's a real
anything-can-happen-next vibe in DOA which far outweighs
anything the critics have to say. Just take a look at the final
showdown between the two lead actors; both Tekeuchi Riki
and Aikawa Sho were big stars in Japan and it would have
been sacrilegious for fans of either actor to see their hero
being killed off by the other, a seemingly no-win situation
you would think. However, Miike's way of dealing with fan
expectation is so sarcastic and over the top that the ending
must be seen to be believed.
Direct to video in all territories including Japan, in America
DOA was released in both R-rated and unrated versions. The
R-rated version loses a whopping 9 minutes of footage
including the throat stabbing and subsequent blood gushing
over the two men having sex, a guy being shotgunned in
the back and the noodles he just ate exploding out of the
exit wound in his stomach. Also animal porn, genital licking,
a woman being drowned in paddling pool of diarrhea, semen
spitting, a severed hand, more bloody shootings, and a guy
ripping his own arm off. Be sure to catch it uncut.
DEAD RINGERS (1988)
Dir: David Cronenberg /Canada
Dead Ringers offered solid evidence of David Cronenberg's
maturity and development into a truly great filmmaker, and
builds on his previous character study, The Fly, and
combines it with his interest in the metaphysical, to
ultimately create yet another milestone in his exotically
extreme ouevre. Stunningly powerful, deeply moving, and
loaded with bizarre and disturbing ideas, Dead Ringers'
expose of male fantasies has much to say on the fragility of
masculinity and is presented in the director's usual cold,
detached, and unflinching manner.
Based on the book Twins by Bari Wood and Jack Geasland
(which was in turn inspired by the real life story of respected
twin gynecologists, Steven and Cyril Marcus who in 1975
were both found dead in their littered New York apartment,
a double suicide by overdose brought on by their addiction
to barbiturates), Cronenberg presents Elliot and Beverly
Mantle, a pair of outstanding gynecologists who open a
brand new state-of-the-art fertility clinic and share a
luxurious apartment. Although physically identical, the twins
have very distinctive personalities; Elliot is a self-assured
lady magnet, whereas Beverly is shy and introverted. Elliot
is happy to procure women
for Beverly by seducing them, having his wicked way, and
then passing them off to his brother when he's done,
unbeknownst to the women. When famous actress Claire
Niveau (Genevieve Bujold) enters the clinic for help with her
infertility, she also brings trouble in the form of jealousy; for
although both brothers take turns in bed with her, Beverly
falls in love, thus driving a wedge between them...
Not your average horror roller-coaster ride then, Dead
Ringers' shocks are much more suggestive this time, but no
less horrifying. Gone are the more openly grotesque and
spectacular shocks of the exploding head (Scanners),
gaping stomach cavities (Videodrome), and squeamish
fingernail ripping (The Fly), and in their place are disturbing
questions on the nature of identity, masculinity, narcissism,
eroticism, and misogyny; a far cry from contemporary horror
hits like Friday The 13th Part VII or A Nightmare On Elm
Street Part IV, which were more concerned with churning out
bloodless kills and corny one-liners (actually, the biggest
screen monsters of the time were the MPAA whose tough
new stance on movie violence was strangling the life out of
the genre). The censors though couldn't touch Dead
Ringers, for although it explores some dark and disturbing
themes and subject-matter (misogyny, drug addiction, and
um, custom-made gynecological apparatus for 'mutant
women', to name but a few), Cronenberg's quietly
devastating horrors were simply censor proof.
The true star of the show is Jeremy Ions whose double role
as the twins offers a nuance so perfected that viewers can
tell immediately which twin he is playing without him
resorting to bug-eyed dramatics or cliched characteristics.
And he is aided by Bujold whose striking performance stops
her role from becoming a mere plot device.
DEEP THROAT (1972)
Dir: Gerard Damiano /USA

The world’s first porno blockbuster, Deep Throat tells the

tale of Linda Lovelace who visits her doctor (Harry Reems)
complaining that she cannot reach orgasm. After some tests
Reems discovers that the reason is because her clit is
located deep down in the back of her throat. Cue much
hilarity as a newly cured Lovelace gobbles every cock in
sight and has that long sought after orgasm after all...
Not exactly the best place to start if you're getting into 70s
porn, for although Deep Throat is one of the most well-
known pornos of all time, the film itself looks bloody awful.
The lighting and sets are flat and completely uninteresting,
and as for the sex scenes themselves, they're all rather
boring. The film serves as nothing more than a curiosity
nowadays. To have it available on DVD is surprising because
I can't imagine why anyone would want to watch this more
than once. The sex scenes are also ultimately a turn-off
after hearing the awful rumours and allegations concerning
the making of the film, such as the rumour that Lovelace
was under-age when the film was shot, and the alleged
practices of Chuck Traynor. The DVD presentation is
disappointing with print damage and speckles galore. It was
shot for $22,000 and the cast and crew had to hitch hike
from New York to Miami where the shooting took place.
The film has a sinister dark side due to the involvement and
practices of Lovelace's then husband/manager, Chuck
Traynor, a hate figure not only among the anti-porn
movement and feminists, but even among long-time porn
fanatics and many who have worked in the industry.
Lovelace later spilled the beans and accused Traynor of
beating and coercing her into selling her body and
appearing in porn films. Feminist author Andrea Dworkin
helped Lovelace to
put a case together and took the matter to court where she
accused pornography of being a violation of women (see
also her scathing book on the subject; Pornography: Men
Possessing Women). In a 2000 documentary for Channel 4
entitled The Real Linda Lovelace, Traynor was interviewed
and confronted with the allegations that he had ordered his
own wife's gang rape and had forced her at gunpoint to
have sex with a dog on camera in a Miami motel room. His
reaction to these claims was horrifying; he seemed basically
non-plussed by the idea and acted like it was no big deal,
and didn't really deny anything.
As for Linda Lovelace, I think her sad story has more to do
with the fact that she had found herself in an awful
relationship rather than being a victim of porn per se. She
married a man who battered and abused and exploited her
for a couple of years, ironically making her a star. To put a
ban on porn won't make it go away, it will only make it more
difficult to regulate and drive it underground. Nor will it put
an end to the violence and abuse of women.
THE DEVIL'S EXPERIMENT (1985)
(aka Unabridged Agony; Orig title - Za Ginipiggu: Akumano
Jikken)
Dir: Hideshi Hino /Japan

Devil's Experiment was the first entry in the Guinea Pig

series from Japan, and one of the first shot on video
shockers ever made. Nowadays 'torture porn' is everywhere,
a cheap and simple way for filmmakers to make an impact,
rather like the power chord in punk rock. With the advent of
the camcorder which became widely available in the early
80s, the everyday public was able to contribute to the
medium with home-made amateur epics like Boarding
House, They Don't Cut The Grass Anymore, and Black Devil
Doll From Hell. Over in Japan meanwhile, there was a
growing market for micro-budget shot on video dreck; the
burgeoning AV (adult video) market was becoming ever
popular, with specialist superstores filled to the brim with
amateur and very small production companies filling the
shelves with assembly line trash. These videos were mostly
porno products, but with the natural evolution of the horror
genre, it was only a matter of time before a company came
along and injected a bit of grue and nastiness into the
market.
At the auspice of producer Satoru Ogura, Devil's Experiment
was made back to back with the second in the series, Flower
of Flesh and Blood, and like that film it's a plotless exercise
in cheap and nasty sadism. And although Hino's Flower of
Flesh and Blood is open to interpretation as far as those
interested in subtext are concerned, there's really none of
that to be found here. What we get is quite literally torture
porn in its most stripped down and obscene basics. Three
young men kidnap a woman and spend the next 40 minutes
torturing her before finishing her off with some nasty and
graphic eyeball needling. The eyeball trauma is the single
most impressive and realistic looking scene in the entire
Guinea Pig series, but the rest of the film ranks among the
poorest, too.
The film's insistence on scene after repetitive scene of
slapping the captive woman across the face becomes
irksome very quickly; the oft-quoted "Banality of evil" is in
full force here as we're witness to a seemingly endless
display of slaps (the actors are clearly seen just slapping
their own hands, and it's so lame and unconvincing) that
reach an almost nullifying effect on the viewer. But rather
like the scene in Mariana Peralto's Snuff 102 in which a
woman is repeatedly punched in the face, this silly and
clearly unrealistic violence ultimately curtails the edgy
nature of both films, and instead serves as a disturbing
realisation that we the viewers are simply wallowing in the
lowest detritus of 'shock video', for better or worse.
Oh, but it definitely gets worse; the three lads put the
woman in a swivel chair and spin her around. And around,
and around. She is also kicked around on the floor, has the
skin on her knuckles twisted with a pair of mole grips, is
forced to listen to white noise on headphones at very high
volume for 20 hours, has her finger nails ripped off, is hung
from in a tree in a hammock, is burned, covered in maggots
and animal guts, is cut open with a scalpel, and then the
nasty eyeball trauma. And that's it.
It's interesting how Japanese censorship forbids the sight of
pubic hair, and yet has no problem with the most vile and
misogynistic nonsense like this (another example is
Tamakichi Anaru's Tumbling Doll of Flesh which mixes
pixelated sex scenes with graphic tongue torture!). Along
with the rest of the Guinea Pig series, Devil's Experiment
became an underground cult collector's item in the west,
but I'm sure that many of those who hunted high and low for
the bootleg VHS would have been disappointed with the end
result. The whole series is available uncut from Unearthed
Films.
DIARY OF A SERIAL KILLER (1995)
Dir: Otto Chan Juk-Tiu /Hong Kong

A notorious serial killer recounts his tale to cellmates in a

Hong Kong prison the night before his execution. He starts
out as a sex maniac whose busy wife can't keep up with his
insatiable libido. He turns to hookers for violent sex. He gets
a bit carried away one night and ends up killing one of them
in mad lust, decides he enjoys the thrill of murder, and so
continues killing more. He also indulges in kidnap and
torture to satisfy his sick urges whilst keeping the 'family
man' bullshit going for a while before the whole shithouse
crumbles around him.
Judged alongside similar Asian atrocities, such as Men
Behind The Sun or the infamous Guinea Pig series from
Japan,
Diary of a Serial Killer is either a fearless challenge to
established cinematic limits or a reckless descent into the
abyss, depending on your point of view. Photographed with
stunning visual flair and expertly edited, the film alternates
scenes of naive sentimentality with eruptions of graphic
horror, taking time to establish the groundwork before
unleashing the forces of hell against its audience.
With lots of softcore sex and violence, Diary of a Serial Killer
is your typical CAT III shocker of the mid-90s. It is also
awash with that strange candy-coloured lighting so typical
of Hong Kong cinema of the time and makes the
proceedings look like it could have been made ten years
earlier (see also Robotrix and A Chinese Torture Chamber
Story for more 90s CAT III movies that look like they could
have been made in the 80s). The killer is a nasty piece of
work, displaying all the sick characteristics you've read
about in true crime books. He takes souvenirs from his
victims; the tits usually, and he also uses string tied around
the wrists and ankles of his victims to make macabre
puppets of their corpses and has 'conversations' with them
to amuse himself. He seems to love his wife and child very
much but doesn't show any signs of remorse for his crimes
until his murderous urges strike closer to home. The writers
have obviously studied the characteristics of real life killers
and have heaped all of this stuff into the script making for a
very cliched type of killer with the old textbook traumas and
all that, but the film is still quite entertaining.
The killer is very protective of a naive young woman. She
may as well have the word 'victim' stamped on her
forehead, but he somehow manages to suppress his urge to
kill her, perhaps because she reminds him of more carefree
and innocent times. She refers to him as "brother" and their
(sibling?) relationship is quite sweet and innocent until they
have a sex sesh in the back of his car!
Allegedly based on a true story, and hugely indebted to
Doctor Lamb.

POSTSCRIPT: THE CAT III PHENOMENON

In 2010 a CAT III movie came along entitled Dream Home

which focused on the extreme lengths that one crazy
woman will go to secure her ideal living space. The fact that
the film was also loosely based on a true story only added to
the viewer's discomfort as Josie Ho went about her goal with
a ruthless single-mindedness.
At its core, Dream Home represents a frustrating aspect of
Hong Kong life; the poor, cramped living conditions, and
busy, almost ruthless lifestyle of its citizens. Of course, all
big cities have their daily grind and bustle, but in Hong Kong
the environment is more concentrated than your average
city. And it's these harsh unnatural conditions and the
relentless hyper-capitalist mindset of its inhabitants that
make Hong Kong one of the most chaotic cities of the Far
East. Anger, madness, and violence is rife, and the tabloid
papers are often strewn with lurid headlines detailing the
bizarre and shocking crimes of those who cannot handle the
pressures of life anymore.
With no safety nets of social housing or even a minimum
wage, it's the poor who feel the worst effects of this kind of
lifestyle, and they're often the first to crack under the
pressure cooker of Hong Kong life. It's hot, humid,
competitive, cramped, and hostile. The streets are a frenzy
of traffic and stressed out commuters, the bright neon-lit
city scape is littered with thousands of signifiers and
advertisements all vying for your attention, becoming an
illuminated blur of capitalist calamity. And even when you
get home you can't really relax due to the crowded living
conditions with families sharing tiny apartments in high-rise
tower blocks with barely enough room to stretch their legs.
Such breakneck speed and intolerable conditions leave
behind a debris of madness and murder.
The main reason for all of this chaos is fairly obvious. In
1947 the British 'borrowed' the island of Hong Kong
on a 50 year lease as a way to have access to the 'Tiger
economies' of the far East. Shortly afterwards, mainland
China fell under the rule of Communism. Hong Kongers
knew that in 1997 their land would be handed back to the
Chinese, but very few of them relished the idea of living
under Communist rule. And after Margaret Thatcher failed to
secure anything in the way of the British having a say in the
running of the island once it was to be handed back, the
race was on for the citizens to make their fortunes and
escape the territory before the handover which would
commence on the 1st of July 1997.
This rush to get things done seeped into everything; the day
to day running of the city, the financial sector (Hong
Kong was one of the world's fastest growing economies),
and especially in the cinema. Whether it be the hyper-
kinetic Kung-Fu vehicles of Jackie Chan, the fast and furious
gunplay of John Woo's action epics, or the lightning speed of
the production schedules of the sleazy CAT III movies, this
race against time was clear to see in the nation's cinematic
output.
Although there had been a few outre films released in the
80s, such as Dangerous Encounter of The First Kind and
Devil Fetus, the CAT III rating wasn't officially made law in
Hong Kong until 1988. The idea was to give filmmakers the
room to produce sex, violence, and horror films with the
encouragement of cashing-in on the export (and domestic)
potential of such films. A slew of extreme Hong Kong
productions hit the screens soon after and caused a scandal
the world over.
The CAT III rating is similar to the American equivalent of
the NC-17 - No one under 18 years of age was permitted to
see these films (whereas the NC-17 forbids anyone under
the age of 17). In America, films are often drastically cut to
avoid the stigma of the NC-17 rating, but in Hong Kong the
sleaze and the controversy was worn like a badge of honour,
and at their height these films made up around 39% of the
country's annual output.
Early CAT III releases were dominated by sexy thrillers such
as Erotic Ghost Story, Robotrix, and Naked Killer - basically
violent softcore films. But just around the corner was a new
breed of gruesome ultra-violent killer movies like Doctor
Lamb, The Untold Story, and Daughter of Darkness, and
these films starred such legends as Simon Yam, Anthony
Wong, and Lily Chung. Doctor Lamb tells the tale of a
psychotic taxi driver who rapes and mutilates young women
before taking photographs and hiding the bodies in the
confines of his house. The Untold Story focuses on the
confessions of a man who murdered his restaurant owner
boss and his family before serving up their bodily remains to
the locals in the form of 'BBQ pork buns'. And Daughter of
Darkness puts us in the shoes of a young woman who
resorts to murdering her entire family after years of rape
and abuse from her parents and siblings. All three of these
films are spiced up with grim and repulsively dark comedy,
and all three are also based on true
newspaper headlines.
The Category III ratings system applies to films produced
anywhere (the French horror Haute Tension received the CAT
III rating, for example), but the ones produced in Hong Kong
have often been clubbed together and treated as a genre in
itself. Thus many international cult classics, such as Run and
Kill and Ebola Syndrome, are referred to under the umbrella
term 'CAT III' movies. The significant cultural impact of these
titles cannot be overestimated; there is no such umbrella
term for the NC-17 movies in the West, perhaps because
they constitute only a fraction of the sheer number of their
Hong Kong equivalents.
On the 1st of July 1997 the British handed back sovereignty
of Hong Kong to China, and it was around this time that the
production of CAT III titles started to dwindle. Hong Kong has
since been given some autonomy by the mainland, and
been allowed to continue in its capitalist drive, but many
citizens have complained that freedom of
speech has taken a steady decline ever since. For more than
a decade since the handover in '97 Hong Kong has
continued to release the occasional outre film, such as
Naked Poison, There Is a Secret In My Soup, Gong Tau, and
Revenge: A Love Story, but the CAT III industry is a shadow
of its former self. A recent trend in the Hong Kong film
industry is to imitate the cinema of the mainland where
romantic comedies rule the roost (if a film is a hit in China it
can rake in millions in revenue that just isn't available in
Hong Kong). Also, the Chinese have a strict censorship, and
horror movies are generally outlawed there, which is
perhaps another reason why CAT III movies have dwindled
since the handover.
It's doubtful that we'll ever see a resurgence in the
production of sleazy and extreme horror in Hong Kong while
the mainland continues to frown on such films. But with the
miracles of the internet and DVD, and indeed VCD (on which
format many CAT III titles found a release for home viewing),
we at least have a rich and diverse back catalogue to
explore with more than twenty years of frantic and
outrageous filmmaking at our disposal.
DIVIDED INTO ZERO (1999)
Dir: Mitch Davis /Canada
A short 34 minute film by Mitch Davis with heavy use of
symbolism, grotesquerie, unsettling soundscapes, madness,
and catharsis, and also boasts a very dark and grim
atmosphere... A troubled serial killer recounts his life story,
from self-mutilating youth to fully-fledged perv, he tells all in
a calm and matter-of-fact way. Doesn't deliver quite the
same lasting effect as his later collaboration with Karim
Hussain, Subconscious Cruelty (although it does share
similarities with that doomy masterpiece and wouldn't be
out of place as a segment in that film), but you'll find much
here that is enthralling and appalling in equal measure, such
as the notion that nature is a destructive evil (later hinted at
by Charlotte Gainsbourg's character in Lars Von Trier's
Antichrist), and the gruesome revelations that give the film
its
splendid title. Reminded me of Jorg Buttgereit's Schramm,
minus the humour and blatant violence. Recommended.
DOGTOOTH (2009)
(Orig title: Kynodontas)
Dir: Yorgos Lanthimes /Greece

An eccentric father keeps his wife and children locked in the

grounds of their home and is determined to raise them so
that they'll never need to know about the evils of the
outside world. But of course the kids are growing up fast
and the father begins to lose control.
This strange little film can be summed up in the scene
where the father goes to collect his dog that is in training
with the police force; "A dog is like clay" he is told, "Our job
here is to shape it. We teach them how to behave. And we
are here to determine what behaviour the dog should have.
Do you want a pet, or a friend or a companion? One that
obeys orders?" Whether you see this film as a comment on
the over-protectiveness parents often put on their kids in
the name of love, or as others have said, a comment on the
Greek government's (and indeed western government's)
treatment of its citizens (people as pets), it's important to
remember that the film also works on a very literal level.
Cats as demonizing propaganda, suspicion of outsiders, the
beating of the daughter over the head with the naughty
video tape can be read on many different levels. The
wordplay censorship reminded me of Doublethink and
2+2=5 from George Orwell's 1984 ("A cunt is a large lamp",
"A zombie is a small yellow flower"). The household is very
much a patriachy - It's a shame we never get to hear the
mother's side of the story; she seems totally out of it and
depressed.
The kids have reached adolescence and have begun to
question everyone and everything around them - The
attempted brainwashing can't keep them down for very
long. The cast are totally game but Aggeliki Papoulia who
plays the sister steals the show with her deranged
performance in which she does a Rocky Balboa, a crazy
dance, and even punches her own teeth out in one scene.
She deserves a ton of respect, especially as her role was all
but ignored at film festivals. The chloroform game is
extremely dangerous and fucked up, as is the 'evil' kitty
getting the shears, and the father's insistence on keeping
the game running as smoothly as possible. The graphic
incest scene surprised me because it wasn't used as a way
to show the kids’ rebellion but as a simple and natural
curiosity!
Dogtooth immediately gained a large cult following after it
was denied top honours at Sitges and other film festivals.
The fans feel that the film's often graphic and provocative
nature was the only reason why many ignored it and tried
brush it under the carpet.
THE DRILLER KILLER (1979)
Dir: Abel Ferrara /USA

The Driller Killer became infamous in the UK in the early 80s

as a principal title on the video nasties list. But was the film
really all that bad? Well, the answer is simply no because
despite all the negative attention heaped on the film at the
time, and the original VHS cover which graphically shows a
man being drilled through the forehead, The Driller Killer
actually bares a closer resemblance to the art films of Andy
Warhol rather than a sleazy stalk and slash epic.
However, the film nonetheless got swept up in the
controversy and was prosecuted under the 1984 Video
Recordings Act, a farcical piece of legislation which Ferrara's
film ironically was partly responsible for bringing about, and
which affected home video viewing in the UK for the best
part of two decades.
Often wrongly listed as Ferrara's debut feature (he actually
directed and performed in the earlier XXX porno, Nine Lives
of a Wet Pussy), The Driller Killer stars Abel Ferrara himself
as Reno, a struggling artist living in a squalid apartment in
New York surrounded by bums, druggies, and a noisy rock
band next door. His lack of concentration drives him to
madness, and he eventually goes on a killing spree with a
portable power drill.
Many have dismissed the film (including Ferrara himself on
the Cult Epics DVD commentary), mainly because it doesn't
pander to any notions of popular taste or commercial
manners (slasher or otherwise). The film instead makes
great use of gritty realism and a DIY punk aesthetic in the
harsh natural light, improvisation, and location shooting
which no doubt has left many slasher movie fanatics
scratching their heads over the years. But all this is really
just bleak window dressing, and what Ferrara and his writing
partner, Nicholas St. John, really concentrated on was the
crumbling psychological state of Reno's mind.
The painting of the buffalo is a work in progress - Reno's art
represents his mind's eye. As the painting develops,
incidents which annoy or distract Reno have a direct effect
on the painting. Early in the film, Ferrara employs quick-fire
edits between the drill and the buffalo's eye; these cuts
express the simmering rage that is gathering in Reno's
head. The buffalo also represents Reno as he would like to
be; a wild, free, and careless animal instead of a starving
artist in a crummy apartment. When he fantasizes on future
success, the buffalo is proudly displayed in the background
like a thought-bubble on the verge of breaking free. But in
reality, Reno is faced with tensions from the other members
of the household, an art dealer who doesn't understand his
work and refuses to buy his paintings, a dreadful rock band
who live next door and insist on rehearsing late into the
night, financial troubles, and the homeless bums (one of
whom is Reno's father) who are a constant reminder that he
too could soon be joining them on the streets. And of
course, at this stage the painting becomes increasingly
frayed and off-balance, reflecting the building tensions in his
mind.
When the painting reaches its conclusion, the distractions
and annoyances continue to irritate Reno, and instead of
starting afresh with a new canvas and a new painting, he
snaps - and this is the most important part of the film - The
urges and demons which he channeled into his art have now
broken loose into reality. And he immediately sets forth to
drill those who represent his fears and anxieties. The beast
breaks out of the painting and onto the seedy streets of New
York.
The Driller Killer was originally promoted with lurid artwork
and posters which implied that half-dressed bimbo's would
be drilled by an unhinged psychopath, but this exploitational
tease couldn't be further off the mark. For a start, all of the
on-screen killings are dealt out to male victims, and overall
the film stands as a rumination on the sometimes torturous
process of creativity and as a study on encroaching
madness. It's a film that is actually closer in spirit to Roman
Polanski's Repulsion than to big apple sleaze like William
Lustig's Maniac. Indeed, Ferrara's follow-up to The Driller
Killer, Ms.45 (which also found itself on the DPP's nasties
list),
revisits similar territory from a female perspective.
The film was re-released in the UK in the late 90s with 54
seconds of violence cut by the distributers themselves. The
BBFC's chief censor at the time, James Ferman, suggested
that the uncut version probably would have been passed
had the film been submitted to the board intact. And it
wasn't until 2003 that The Driller Killer finally received an
uncut 18 certificate. The film's salacious reputation has
roped in many horror fans over the years only to leave
many of them disappointed with the overall lack of
bloodshed (there are a couple of great scenes of violence in
the film though, such as a bum being drilled through the
forehead that looks very realistic; but I suppose it's the
scene where Ferrara eats a pizza that remains the most
disgusting), but The Driller Killer is not the film many think it
to be.
ELEPHANT (1988)
Dir: Alan Clarke /UK

A ruthless and relentless comment on the troubles in

Northern Ireland, Elephant is a short 39 minute assault to
the senses depicting the seemingly unstoppable tit-for-tat
murder and counter-murder in that troubled part of the
world at the time. With no real narrative to speak of, the film
presents a series of chilling shootings, back to back, with
nothing to explain what's going on. Instead we're shown the
sickening violence with no context other than the bloodshed
itself.
Whether each killing is revenge for another, or a pre-
emptive strike, or a punishment is not made clear, nor
whether the shootings are being carried out by Loyalists or
Republicans or both. Each deadly scenario is played out to
such a spot-on and chillingly accurate way it makes big-
budget Hollywood gunplay look kind of silly in comparison.
With no music on the soundtrack and no dialogue to distract
us from the relentless onslaught on screen, director Alan
Clarke doesn't allow for a moment's respite from the
horrors.
It's also ironic how a film which strives to avoid all artistic
notions and entertainment value boasts such superb
performances from both the killers and the victims; these
'sketches' of characters nonetheless offer vivid portrayals of
cold-blooded killers and desperate victims, the most
memorable of which are the shootings at the taxi rank, the
football field, and the large abandoned warehouse complex
(reminiscent of the warehouse cum squat in Geoffrey
Wright's
Romper Stomper, a later film which was influenced by
Clarke's work).
Each scenario is also rehearsed and directed to within an
inch of its life; in fact, it might just be the most perfectly
directed film of Alan Clarke's career. From a horror fan's
perspective, Elephant resembles the stripped-down kill-a-
thon antics of a lurid slasher movie; but instead of 'stalk and
slash' we get 'stalk and shoot'. And the special effects are
amazingly realistic and unflinching with trickling blood and
exploding squibs adding to the senseless onslaught of this
extraordinary body-count movie. All the details concerning
the build-up to the killings are discarded as a way of
exposing the evil practice of murder. But even the most
bland and mundane of the slasher movies had some kind of
narrative as a way of 'joining the dots' and making the 'pay
off' seem cinematically justified when a dumb jock or bimbo
cheerleader meets the sharp end of a blade or axe. Alan
Clarke didn't need to play that game, the narrative of his
'story' was headline news, day in and day out.
The slasher film is often accused of being grim and
irresponsible - an outcast genre. And Clarke takes that
disreputable template and turns it into a political statement
that says more about the troubles in Northern Ireland than a
dozen other movies. And the reason for its success is
simple: Just like the bastard slasher movies, Elephant is a
purely visceral experience, it is designed to affect viewers
on a primeval level, make them gasp, make their skin crawl
and their hearts race as the film's perspective changes from
predator to prey from one sequence to the next. It's
certainly not a popcorn movie, and you won't hear any bad
jokes or see any sex scenes or drug taking before the
killings start. No, Clarke used the slasher template because
it's the most effective way of expressing the startling
hunting ground of life and death on the big screen, with the
'boogeymen' often wearing black ski masks and invading
the lives of others and taking them out with the cold and
precise manner of a gun. And the
audience walks away wanting no part of that in their lives.
EMPEROR TOMATO KETCHUP (1970)
(aka King Ketchup Tomato)
Dir: Shuji Terayama /Japan

This cinematic attack on Japanese state policies and culture

of the time is wild, shocking, and even a bit dull in places.
However, some of the imagery here is jaw-droppingly
risque... It's a film about an imaginary revolution where the
children have seized control of the country and have
condemned their parents to death for restricting their free-
expression and sexual freedoms. Many themes that
subsequently cropped up in Terayama's later work are also
included here - Adults raping young boys, white powdered
faces, clocks, and studio sets falling apart. Many scenes of
disturbing and playful decadence look to be ad-libbed and
were probably drawn from Terayama's own experiences in
the theatre.
In the opening sequence we watch people doing seemingly
random and mundane things like climbing up buildings,
pulling an old boot out of the toilet, dancing in a garden,
someone standing in the middle of a sun dial, body builders
flexing their muscles, a goat wandering around aimlessly in
some bleak and desolate wasteland. This intro lasts for
about ten minutes and has a green tint on the lens. The
soundtrack is brooding and rhythmic like we're anticipating
something to happen.
Next we get a pink tinge on the lens for the opening credits
which involve still images of historical figures, children in
school photos, and artist's impressions of historical events
played out to traditional Japanese music, presumably as a
way of showing a bygone era. Then the screen turns black
for a few seconds and we can hear a high-pitch noise.
Something's wrong, but what is it?
Well, there are street riots, and historical faces are crossed
out with children’s crayons (Karl Marx, et al), and a
jangly guitar on the soundtrack culminating in victorious
kids standing on street corners in military uniform, waving
flags; the winners of some kind of revolution. The rest of the
film is tinged in a dull sepia tone as the kids have taken over
and are now in power. The adults are stripped, tied up, and
used as sex slaves.
The most notorious scene in the film is undoubtedly where a
trio of women pin a young boy onto a bed, strip him, and
stroke, tickle, and roll around with him on the bed whilst
they too get naked and simulate playful sex positions. It is a
scene that will offend and infuriate many, and should make
any normal person feel uncomfortable. And it's hard not to
conclude that the kids were exploited by the adults in the
making of the film in the same way the adults were
exploited in the film by the kids, making any message that
Terayama intended to convey all the more difficult to
accept.
At the end of the film, three youngsters put on fake beards
and mustaches as a way of making themselves seem more
grown up and authorititive, and putting their mark over the
new regime. This looks like a shoddy and pointless recap of
Orwell's Animal Farm, with the revolutionaries exploiting the
situation for their own self-interests in a similar way as the
animals in Orwell's book who gradually expose their hunger
for power by adopting human traits; the very same 'evils'
that they had successfully overthrown in the revolution.
There are two versions of this film doing the rounds; a black
and white 'highlights' version which was produced in
Germany for the European market (under thirty minutes
running time), and Terayama's full version which runs for
about a hour and is mostly in sepia. This latter version also
has two short films spliced into the footage, bringing the
total running time to around 88 minutes. Those shorts are
The Cage and Paper-Scissors-Rock-War which plays out the
destructive finale.
Director Shuji Terayama (1936-1983) was also a poet,
playwright, essayist, and theatre director with a healthy
interest in all that is strange and chaotic. He made a
number of films in the 70s and his style and attitude
matured considerably during that decade, becoming one of
Japan's most revered artists. He was involved in naive
revolutionary provocations for many years (Emperor Tomato
Ketchup was only a part of it), and preferred practical
knowledge rather than books, which is strange coming from
a writer. Pastoral: To Die In The Country is a Fellini-esque
mix of childhood memories, symbolism, and bizarre
surrealism, and is generally considered to be his
masterpiece, although a case can be made for Fruits of
Passion (1983).
EMANUELLE IN AMERICA (1977)
(aka Brutal Nights)
Dir: Joe D'Amato /Italy

Sex, nudity, hardcore sex, more nudity, bloody violence, bad

dubbing, groovy music, censorship troubles, snuff footage,
torture, hairy porn, bad acting, bad clothes and bad hair,
bestiality, lesbianism, orgies, sleaze, blowjobs, penetrations,
secret brothels, freakish fantasies - This film has everything
you could possibly want from 70s exploitation.
Exotic beauty Laura Gemser stars as the nympho Emanuelle
who embarks on her international jet-set lifestyle as a globe-
trotting photo-journalist doing all she can to find the latest
scoop. No danger is too great for her if it means getting hold
of a good story or two. En route, she witnesses all manner of
lusty perversions, from horny aristocrats to sleazy snuff
movie dealers, but her 'undercover' work is about to get her
into big trouble...
Emanuelle In America is part of a range of Italian
exploitation pics that were made to cash in on Just Jaeckin's
1974 film Emmanuelle, which was an international box-
office success in softcore erotica. The Italian versions were
often made by Joe D'Amato and starring Laura Gemser in
the lead role, and these films were much more exploitative,
adding all kinds of bizarre elements and hardcore sex into
the mix.
The film stomps through the narrative with very little
method, but D'Amato wasn't famous for his pacing skills, so
the film's series of mini-structures allows him to get away
from traditional narrative constraints. Some may still find it
plodding of course, but in the vast jungle of 70s exploitation
you could do a hell of a lot worse. D'Amato never claimed to
pursue any artistic notions in his epics, he always made his
intentions clear: To entertain the fans. And this remains the
sleaze standard to which all exploitation aims to match.
Made during a time when filmakers were free to explore the
darkest areas of human behaviour and have the results
played out on the big screen in glorious 35mm celluloid, EIA
is still a jaw-dropping experience for jaded fans today. The
hardcore scenes, the castration, gyno shots, orgy dinner
parties, gruesome and graphic snuff footage, 2 on 1
interracial action, cumshots, and even a pornstar (Paula
Senatore) jerking off a horse; all these sequences are shown
so casually from one scene to the next in D'Amato's usual
blase manner - Just another day on a movie set! The only
disappointment is that we never see Gemser in any
hardcore action.
Controversy surrounded the film while it was still in
production; legend has it that one actress was so distressed
by the awful screams coming from the snuff set that she
thought it was real and informed the police. The producers
had to prove that no one was being hurt or killed on the
sets. The snuff footage looks amazing; the dirty, grainy
shots of girls having nipples hacked off, meat hooks inserted
into vaginas, and huge dildos filled with red hot tar forced
down their throats; it has that awful air of authenticity about
it and looks exactly the way you would imagine a snuff
movie to look. Not pretty (and these brutal sequences are
said to have influenced David Cronenberg's Videodrome).
D'Amato himself has said that the snuff footage was shot in
35mm and then the negative was scratched to make it look
rough, printed in 8mm, and then blown up again.
Look out for sleaze veteran Lorraine de Selle (Cannibal
Ferox) as the lesbian in the steam room, and Gemser's real
life husband, Gabriele Tinti, as the host of the decadent
party at the Venetian mansion. The 100 minute full uncut
version is available on DVD from Blue Underground and
looks tons better than those old bootleg tapes. Included are
interviews with D'Amato and Gemser (the latter is audio
only).
ENTER THE VOID (2010)
Dir: Gaspar Noe /France

A two and a half hour audio-visual extravaganza from the

man who brought you Seul Contre Tous and Irreversible.
Enter The void opens with an extraordinary credits
sequence created by German experimental filmmaker
Thorsten
Fleisch in which the assorted cast, crew, and composer's
names are embellished on the screen in a dazzling variety
of big, bright and colourful logos against a black
background, and played out to a thumping electro tune by
LFO. It reaches a crescendo of psychedelic intensity as the
credits flash away on the screen so fast that it's impossible
to focus on the names of those involved in the making of
the film.
The plot is simple: An American drug dealer in Tokyo is shot
dead by the police. His spirit then rises from his body,
reflects on his troubled life and relationships, and is then
seemingly reincarnated as the son of his sister Linda and his
best friend Alex. But what makes this film special is the way
Gaspar Noe tells the story.
The film is viewed entirely from the perspective of lead
character Oscar (Nathaniel Brown), with the camera
permanently mounted at his viewpoint. It's incredible to
think that this technique has rarely been done before in film,
because, after all, that is the way we experience life, in the
first person. And it also serves as an obvious way of merging
the director's vision, the lead character's journey, and the
viewer's gaze, as all three come together at a specific
meeting point to enquire about what happens to us when
we die.
Oscar is reunited with his sister Linda (the beautiful Paz de
la Huerta) after years apart due to being raised by different
foster carers after a nasty road accident killed their parents.
Oscar's good friend Alex (Cyril Roy) has lent him a copy of
The Tibetan Book of The Dead, and the passages from the
text have an influence on his drug-induced hallucinations;
strange organic patterns and psychedelic snowflake shapes
accentuated by the downbeat ambient sounds of Coil and
Throbbing Gristle. Bizarre CGI effects that resemble
blooming symmetrical smoke clouds in a faint luminous
glow of reds and amber dominate the screen to illustrate
the intoxicated mind of the lead character.
With a long tracking shot in real time we pass through the
dark neon-lit streets of Tokyo as Alex and Oscar head for the
nightclub, The Void, to make a simple drug deal. This scene
- in which the characters discuss their latest experiments
with DMT and other hallucinogens, and Alex relates to the
high as being similar to the spiritual passages in The Tibetan
Book of The Dead - has a strong documentary feel, but also
has its own kind of spatial awareness and is nicely
composed. It has a verite vibe with its city sounds and
passing vehicles, and people seemingly unaware of the
characters or of Noe or of a film called Enter The Void. It's a
scene that reminded me of Hitchcock's Vertigo with James
Stewart stalking the ice-cold blonde, or later in Brian De
Palma's Body Double in which Craig Wasson stalks the
brunette; both these sequences show the respective
directors exploring the environment - with its bright clean
surfaces and weatherless atmosphere; real streets become
toys; movie sets - just as much as the narrative which is
temporarily put on hold.
Alex doesn't enter The Void, he hangs back and waits
outside, presumably because he knows how risky it is to be
carrying drugs in Japan where the laws are very strict. Oscar
enters the club to sell to a friend but is confronted by cops
instead. So he locks himself into a toilet cubicle and
frantically tries to dispose of the drugs down the bowl but
the flush doesn't work. The police hammer at the door and
Oscar in his panic stupidly shouts out that he has a gun and
is going to shoot. The hammering stops, but moments later
Oscar is shot through the door.
With a gasp of shock and pain he sinks to the ground, his
hands covered in blood, and we get to listen to the confused
last monologue in his head (rather like The Butcher
character in Seul Contre Tous in which Phillipe Nahon holds
a loaded gun to his head in a serious contemplation of
suicide, his finger squeezing at the trigger and his thoughts
flaring off into a web of anger, confusion, and nihilism);
"This isn't happening, I'm tripping", "I'm dying. I'm dead".
His voice drifts off into silence, and his spirit lifts out of his
body and up towards the light. Time seems to have
momentarily paused. It slowly revolves in the light and looks
down at its own empty shell, a pitiful young corpse slumped
in a public urinal. The police enter the cubicle and we can
hear screams. Oscar's spirit floats over the club and out into
the street in a bird’s eye view. The police cars, the
ambulance, the sirens, the crowds, the confusion; the
aftermath of his own death. Alex flees from the scene and
the camera swoops down behind him as he sprints down a
dark backstreet.
The spirit then enters another nightclub where Oscar's
sister, Linda, works as a stripper. Benoit Debie's camera
acrobatics are in full force here as the bird’s eye view
observes Linda's beauty as she poses and gyrates on a lit
stage before floating across the tops of backstage rooms
looking down on the lives of strangers (and this recalls
another of Brian De Palma's films, Snake Eyes, in which the
camera pans just above ceiling level over the rooms of a
hotel floor), before settling on Linda's dressing room where
she has sex with her exploitative
Boyfriend, Mario. Oscar's spirit embodies Mario while he's
fucking her and lingers with an incestuous curiosity towards
her (and it isn't the first time incest has cropped up in Noe's
work). Mario buttons up and leaves, and this is when Linda
switches on her phone and receives a message from Alex
informing her of her brother's death.
There is a beauty in the bird’s eye view in the way it
presents Tokyo as looking like a huge expansive toy train
set. But it's also infused with a forboding sense of danger
and anxiety, perhaps fear on the part of Oscar and his
sudden alienation from life - The film presents a dark
Disneyland quality to viewers with its bright neon lights
illuminating the darkness and scenes of nightlife and
hedonism and drug taking forming an ambience of mild
pulsating pyschedelia. The film strolls along at a leisurely
pace, the narrative feels like it is moving along in real time
on first viewing, and this gives the viewers the space to
formulate their own thoughts on the matter, and also gives
the (very limited) plot all the time it needs to reach its
'conclusion'. Indeed, this is as far away from
mainstream filmmaking as one can get. Oscar's spirit dwells
upon events from his past - Him and Linda playing on a
swing as children, and then a cut to the startling head-on
collision with a freight truck that killed their parents.
Another childhood memory where Oscar and Linda are
seperated into different foster homes, with Linda screaming
and refusing to be seperated from her brother, but to no
avail.
Things that impressed Oscar and made an impression on his
life are re-formulated into a surreal blend of sensations in
his out-of-body experience. The film becomes increasingly
hallucinatory when a scale model of a cityscape seen in a
friend's flat later becomes a real living bustling city in which
his spirit floats and seems to regard with a heavenly
perfection (the scenes were filmed with complicated crane
shots and by helicopter above Tokyo, but were digitally
manipulated in post-production to look strangely toy-like
and artificial); there's no wind, no weather, no cracks or
potholes on the roads or pavements; it resembles a plastc
perfection like a child's idea of utopia. The toy model of the
city seen in the flat is also the origin of the Love Hotel which
later becomes the centre of paradise where the occupants
get to indulge in their sensual fantasies.
This vortex of sounds and visions feels hallucinogenic; the
surreal imagery and the chugging beat of the music sticking
to its rhythm carries the viewer along as if in a drug-induced
state. It's a film as pure feeling, pure experience - Not
intellectual. It's a film to be felt rather than understood,
much like David Lynch's Eraserhead. Is it pretentious? Sure.
But it's also steadfast in its direction and is totally
uncompromising when it comes to telling the story in its
own expansive way. And with such a long running time the
film doesn't meander, despite looking at first glance to be
an undisciplined and sprawling mess. The film is actually
presented exactly the way it needs to be for maximum
effect, much like Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Oddyssey,
from which it takes its biggest inspiration. If Kubrick's film is
about mankind's struggle with technology over the
centuries, Noe's film is about mankind's struggle with the
meaning of life and the idea of perception itself. It's very
much up to the viewer to interpret what's happening on
screen.
Gaspar Noe creates bizarre, narratively unorthodox films,
and some have suggested that the reason he does so is
because he lacks skills with dialogue and even the most
simple narrative simplicity, and that he conceals this by
presenting his stories in a fractured and aggressive style
(indeed, the 'script' for Enter The Void was a one hundred
paged 'description' with no written dialogue). Others have
argued that Noe is simply bored by the more conventional
forms of narrative and is driven by the desire to shake
things up and present us with a more challenging and
unusual approach. All three of his feature films so far have
their own unique and radical forms of trajectory (which is
more than can be said of such staunchly independent
filmmakers such as Gregg Araki, Catherine Briellat, and
Bruno Dumont, who all stick rigidly to the old tried and
tested methods of straight forward storytelling).
Seul Contre Tous (I Stand Alone) is broken up with lengthy
misanthropic monologues, on-screen captions, and comes
across almost like a non-fiction polemic or manifesto of
hate; Irreversible is a rape-revenge film told entirely from
back to front - It starts with the end credits and continues
with the revenge attack, then the rape itself, and ends at
the beginning with the peaceful morning before the anger
and heartache begins - Thus only falling into context for
viewers once the film has finished. Enter The Void presents
its action strictly from the first-person perspective, but this
doesn't make it isolated or solipsistic, because the viewers
are right there to go along with it and invest their own
thoughts and feelings, and is actually Noe's most inclusive
film to date as far as its audience is concerned.
Oscar's spirit looking down on his corpse in the morgue is a
powerful scene and perhaps represents the epitome of
alienation, but at least Oscar is there in the experience;
existence hasn't necessarily been extinguished for him, at
least not in the way that athiests and nihilists would
suggest. At the end of Michelangelo Antonioni's The
Passenger, Jack Nicholson's character dies on a bed in a
hotel room, and the camera - if not embodying his spirit -
lingers on the scene, gently easing towards the open
window and soaking up the everyday enormity of life in a
small village - Life continuing without him. In Enter The Void
we're witness to a similar but more concentrated form of the
same idea. Cinema is perhaps the most effective artform to
capture those scraps of reality (dead film stars like James
Dean and Steve McQueen are still right there in life-like form
in Rebel Without a Cause and Bullit), and is the closest thing
we can get to experiencing non-being; a world without you,
without me, and without Oscar.
The last 20 minutes of Enter The Void are amazing. We (that
is we via Oscar's spirit) drift over the toy world city-scape of
Tokyo looking directly down on all the bright lights, and the
tiny cars passing by, and the ant-like efficiency of the
modern world; it's a perspective that is at once beautiful
and unsettling, alienating. Life continuing in all its
calamitous beauty and delicacy. The sex scenes in the Love
Hotel are offset by a grim and depressing ambient
soundtrack and flickering lights. The scenes weren't shot out
of focus but are difficult to see properly because of the
numerous digital layers added in post-production. It floats
along with an eerie dream-like quality. Lots of couples
having sex, their genitals illuminated in a glowing radiance
as if to express the life-affirming potency in all its glory.
Alex, who has been a long-time admirer of Linda, finally gets
to make love to her, and Oscar even embodies his old friend
during the act so that he too can experience that carnal
togetherness he has desired from his sister for so long. He
then passes into Linda's womb and watches from inside as
Alex ejaculates into his sister's vagina. He follows the sperm
as it reaches the egg and finds a gateway back into life just
like in The Tibetan Book of The Dead. Oscar is reborn once
again, reincarnated, and the cycle of life continues. The film
fittingly has no end credits.
EVIL DEAD TRAP (1988)
(Orig title: Shiryo no wana)
Dir: Toshiharu Ikeda /Japan

Baring no relation to Sam Raimi's Evil Dead movies, Evil

Dead Trap became something of a cult favourite on the
bootleg video circuit in the 90s before being passed
surprisingly uncut by the BBFC in 2003.
Television host Nami receives a package in the mail that
includes a video tape showing the gruesome murder of a
young woman. Desperate to improve the viewer ratings on
her show, Nami gathers together a bunch of colleagues to
serve as her camera crew, and they venture out to the
location where the snuff tape was shot (a large derelict
warehouse complex) in order to report on the crime and to
look for clues as to the killer's identity. But, of course, things
go badly wrong, and the TV crew are picked off, one by one,
by the mysterious killer in spectacularly brutal fashion.
The second half of the film takes a detour into supernatural
territory, borrowing themes of twisted familial love from
classics like Basket Case and Psycho, and horror fans have
always been divided on which half of the film they like best.
Slasher fans love the first half with its gruesome and stylish
slayings, whereas those who prefer oddball plotting,
shunting body horror, and the climactic fireworks of CAT III
movies, prefer the latter half. But there are also those,
myself included, who enjoy the whole show!
It's very much a feature length tribute to Western horror at
its best with the main theme tune reminiscent of Fabio
Frizzi's work on Lucio Fulci's The Beyond, and John Harrison's
synth score on George Romero's Day of The Dead. The
candy-coloured lighting and gorgeously brutal murder set
pieces are very Argento-esque; Suspiria and Tenebre being
the most obvious influences (he even recycles the maggots-
from-the-ceiling scene from Suspiria). Director Ikeda, who
had previously stunned audiences with his entry in the
Angel Guts series, Red Porno, bombards his audience with
set-piece after blood soaked set-piece, all mired in a moody
ambience making this feel like a video nasties greatest hits
package - We get severe eyeball trauma, rape,
impalements, death by crossbow, a shocking strangulation
over the roof of a car, and a very gory demon birth. The
Synapse DVD includes an audio commentary with Ikeda and
special effects guy Shinichi Wakasa. It's one of the strangest
and most absurd chat tracks you'll ever hear;
unintentionally hilarious!
A sequel came along soon after, Evil Dead Trap 2, which is
vastly different from the original film and features a strange
mix of femme fatales, a creepy child ghost, perversities, and
surreal nightmare visions. The story seems to be based on
guilt caused by abortions, but it's all quite
incomprehensible. Also a lonely, overweight projectionist
who holds some dark secrets, and a celebrity seems to be
extremely envious of the projectionist for some reason. It's
visually striking, suitably atmospheric, and has a creepy
atmosphere, but these are the only things it has in common
with the original.
EYES WITHOUT A FACE (1959)
(Orig title: Les yeux sans visage)
Dir: Georges Franju /France

Les yeux sans visage is one of the most shocking and

beautifully poetic horror films ever made. Scalpel-sharp and
soft as velvet, its twisted charms have been hugely
influential over the years. It's a black and white masterpiece
which puts the hokey horrors of contemporary hits to shame
with its morbid atmosphere and graphic bloodshed. Forget
the flash-trash of modern-day hokum, this is the real deal in
hair-raising terror, a true landmark in post-war Eurohorror.
Prepare to be blown away by the grim elegance of Eyes
Without a Face.
Adapted from Jean Redon's novel by Pierre Boileau and
Thomas Narcejac (the pair who wrote Vertigo and Les
Diaboliques), Les yeux sans visage was director Georges
Franju's most ambitious film to date. Having started his
career as a subversive documentarian with the
unforgettable Le sang des betes, which juxtaposed the
beauty of Paris with the graphic animal butchery of the
city's slaughterhouses, Franju felt ready to tackle a feature
film. The French critics had always been down on horror and
Franju claimed he wanted to add a seriousness to the genre,
to help lift it out of its silly rut of ridiculous space monsters
and creaky sets, and to add his own unsettling blend of
compassion and cruelty, terror and tenderness, and cold
blunt visuals. Suffice to say he succeeded. But alas, the
critics weren't ready for such stark realism, and they panned
the film on its initial release (much like Charles Laughton's
earlier film, The Night of The Hunter, which is also
considered a masterpiece nowadays but was given a harsh
critical drubbing in its day).
The plot concerns a guilty surgeon, Genessier (Pierre
Brasseur), who crashed his car, severely disfiguring his
daughter's face, and who runs his own sinister clinic with
the aid of Louise (Alida Valli, who would later show up in
Dario Argento's Suspiria). Genessier attempts to restore his
daughter's beauty with disastrous skin grafts, but he can
only continue in his guilt-racked obsession by procuring skin
donors. Louise powls the streets of Paris and kidnaps pretty
young girls whose faces Genessier surgically removes and
places onto his daughter Christina (Edith Scob) with
increasingly reckless results.
The film caused much controversy in Europe; L'Express
magazine noted that viewers "dropped like flies" during the
graphic face removal scene. The French critics were united
in their disgust and condemnation of the film. Elsewhere,
seven people collapsed during its screening at the
Edinbourgh Film Festival, prompting critic Isabel Quibly to
brand it "The sickest film since I started film criticism". In
America the film was cut, dubbed into English, and given a
new title, The Horror Chamber of Dr. Faustus, as a way to
bring in some revenue and distance it from its reviled status
in Europe.
The long and lingering surgery sequence is still quite
shocking today, but it's also a master class in tension-
building and editing. There are also more subtle moments in
the film which disturb and haunt viewers long
after the end credits roll, such as the opening scene where
Louise drives a corpse out into the wilderness and dumps it
in the river (this is played out to Maurice Jarre's bizarre
waltzy score). Genessier's misguided love also haunts; he
wants the very best for his daughter, but he also wants to
ease his own guilt by throwing himself into his research. His
desire to restore the innocent beauty of Christina sends his
moral compass into haywire; his ice-cold mannerisms and
facade of dignity and professionalism dissolves into a slushy
mess of heartache and torturous guilt whenever he is in his
daughter's company. Christina, in turn, doesn't openly
blame her father for the incident which destroyed her face;
she's just fed up and depressed at being hidden away in her
room the whole time. But it's clear that Genessier blames
himself for his daughter's miserable situation. Also, Alida
Valli's twisted smile as she lures the young women to their
deaths is not easy to forget; it just adds to the overall
unsettling atmosphere of the film. Franju himself described
the film's unease as "Anguish... it's a quieter mood than
horror... more internal, more penetrating. It's horror in
homeopathic doses".
Incredibly, it was only in the late 90s when the film was
finally released uncut in the UK. And horror fans who for
years knew nothing about the film other than the precious
write-up in Phil Hardy's Aurum Encyclopedia of Horror finally
had the opportunity to see the faceless horror icon Edith
Scob, whose blank mask had influenced Jess Franco's The
Awful Dr. Orloff and John Carpenter's Halloween. The film's
influence spread further, with its heart-rending storyline
imitated in Anton Guillio Majano's Atom Age Vampire and
Franco's Faceless, and the sailing white doves and graphic
face removals updated to stunning effect in John Woo's
Face/Off. Quite a legacy indeed, but very few filmmakers
have managed to match Franju's classic, which along with
Psycho and Peeping Tom, laid the foundations for the sleazy
slasher boom which became all the rage a couple of
decades later.
FIRST TRANSMISSION (1982)
*Director Not Credited* /UK

I still don't know what to make of this. Maybe if I was able to

ascertain the facts concerning the making of this film, and
who exactly was involved, and what's real and what isn't,
then it would probably be easier to make sense of the whole
thing. However, considering how little information there is
out there, and how even some of the most basic 'facts'
about the film are constantly being debated three decades
after its release, then perhaps the ins and outs of these
tapes will be shrouded in mystery forever.
All I know for sure is that First Transmission offered me one
of the strangest, most mesmerizing, freakiest, and
disturbing viewing experiences in my life so far. It's not a
'good' film by any stretch of the imagination, but even with
the truly objectional images on display here (and their
supposed authenticity), it cannot be shrugged off as useless
junk like so many other shockumentaries out there. If
Videodrome wasn't made in the same year as this I would
have sworn it had influenced Cronenberg's film. But here, it
isn't just the traditional mondo stuff that's disturbing, but
also the weird attempts at trying to brainwash the audience
by showing mysterious logos that appear on screen for
minutes at a time.
Whatever the intention was of including those images, it
had an almost hypnotic effect, alluring and off-putting in
equal measure. There's an image of the Virgin Mary with a
radiating heart and a dark shadowy halo behind her head
that became freaky after a while; simultaneously sacred and
profane in both spiritual and symbolic terms, it was perhaps
the uneasy balance between the innocence of love and the
blasphemy of pure evil that became uneasy. The radiating
heart became like the Leviathan in Hellraiser 2; it can
expose the blackness of your own heart, and the words
'Psychic TV' suddenly made sense to me! Or maybe I just
get freaked out by religious iconography. Whatever, it made
me feel as uncomfortable as watching a young man
volunteering to have his dick cut off.
First Transmission was a collection of video tapes that were
made available through Psychic TV's mail order system in
the early 80s. Fans of the band had to own all of the albums
in order to qualify to be given the videos as a gift. The tapes
consisted of almost four hours of footage assembled by the
band members themselves, and included an initiation ritual
of a new member into the cult of Thee Temple Ov Psychick
Youth, of which band member Genesis P. Orridge was a
founding member. Thee Temple Ov Psychick Youth (or TOPY)
was founded in the early 80s by members of Psychic TV,
Coil, Current 93, and others. They allegedly practiced magik
"without the worship of gods", and focused on the psychic
energy of "guiltless sexuality".
Cassette no.1 starts with an image of a skull that hovers on
screen accompanied by weird and wonky orchestral music.
Then we meet a spokesman for Thee Temple who gives a
speech concerning strange sexual pressures, the stifling
nature
of society, and how to use your body wisely. We then cut to
the initiation ritual; shot on video, it looks more like an
underground S&M clip more than anything. It depicts a man
whose hands are chained to the ceiling and who has a black
sack on his head. He is covered in blood but it's difficult to
see where his wounds are. Some dude rubs his cock into
another dude's eye. More guys walk around naked and
covered in blood; they are aroused and chanting some kind
of mantra or incantation. By this point the soundtrack has
changed from a piano ballad to something that sounds like a
dozen moaning trumpets.
The inductee is unchained from the ceiling and tied to a bed
and has talc powder rubbed onto his genitals. He is then
subjected to needle torture/pleasure (he doesn't resist or
even flinch, so I assume he likes that kind of thing). Symbols
are scratched onto his torso with a knife and the blood is
smeared across his body. The man with the knife then turns
the blade on himself. And after some genital torture it's time
for some good old fashioned fucking. It's then the turn of a
young woman to experience the cutting blade, and she
doesn't mind letting out a few moans of pain/pleasure. The
ceremony wraps up with an enema and close-ups of
injections (of what I don't know), whipping, dildo play, and
the inductee gets pissed on.
The clip finishes with anal sex and lots of blood. This whole
sequence is dark, disturbing, and difficult to watch in places,
and is undoubtedly 100% real. Then comes the
aforementioned Virgin Mary scene before we cut to a shot of
a guy or girl pulling down their panties to reveal... erm, I
don't know what! Some have said it's a girl with an
unfortunate protruding labia, which may well be so, but it
could just as easily be a guy showing off an ugly cock stump
after castration.
Cassette no.2. According to a caption on screen, this
footage came from 'contacts' in San Diego. We're in a car
driving through the city. Then we arrive at some hotel room.
This footage was shot on 8mm and the cameraman stands
in front of a tall mirror and exposes his cock. Back outside
again at some California skate park with shots of youngsters
whizzing by on their skateboards. Now we reach the most
problematic scenes in the whole film; we see a bunch of
drowsy kids laid out on beds in the hotel room with what
look to be needle wounds in their arms. At first we're
thinking junky children, but between more random cuts of
driving on the freeway, an older man appears wearing a
white surgical overcoat, similar to the kind worn by
surgeons and lab technicians. The man cuts into a teenage
boy's arm with a scalpel and the kid seems ok with this. He
is then connected to an electrical device with a wire that is
inserted into the wound, and the man shocks the kid with a
few vaults of electricity, causing him to wriggle around like
he's having a fit. The kid then uses the device to shock
himself, and he keeps on zapping away with the currents
until he ejaculates.
In a later scene another kid is laid face down on a table and
the strange doc cuts him open at the base of his spine and
inserts the electrodes. After feeding him a few currents of
electricity, the kid goes limp, presumably dead. The doc
packs his stuff away and still the kid doesn't move... (Did I
detect a bit of bad acting from the doc here? There's
something about his mannerisms during this sequence that
looks like he's basically chewing the scenery; theatrically
sharpening his posture into panic mode and exaggerating
the look of surprise on his facial features like a bad
thespian. I don't know about the rest of the scenes on
cassette 2, but I'd bet my house that this 'death' sequence
is fake).
It's now that we reach the most infamous scene in the entire
film: A kid lays on a bed and the reckless and amoral Dr.
Benway character enters the frame and proceeds to sever
his penis with a scalpel. It's all filmed in one long take with
the camera remaining completely static throughout. With
blood spurting everywhere, Benway hurries with a rushed
stitch-up. Afterwards, the kid explores his cock stump and
his testicles are still intact - Stupid boy. He eventually tries
to take a piss but finds it difficult and makes a mess (I
should also point out that there is no live sound on the San
Diego footage. Instead we get a mariachi tune and what
sounds like Mexican radio commercials).
Next up is a quirky revolving logo in shades of grey that
serves as some kind of subliminal invitation. Created using
blocky computer graphics, this hypnotic scene pulsates with
a forboding kind of ambience like a TV commercial
transmitted from another world. It's very much a product of
the 80s, but aesthetically it oozes a warped perfection of its
era, with its stark video glow, VHS tracking lines, and cubic
vortices combining to produce a timeless glitch of eternity. It
genuinely feels like it was created by some 80s retro freaks
from the distant future. Absolutely spellbinding, and
probably unlike anything else seen from the 80s, completely
untouched by the ages of re-mastering and enhancing, it
sits in its own dark void of perfection. No amount of modern
day tinkering could quite capture that kind of fuzzy
analogue magic. It looks simultaneously dated,
contemporary, and futuristic; it has a modest and grandiose
presence, it moves but stays still, changes but stays the
same, fluid but concrete. You look into it and it looks back
into you as it sails on its postmodern loop. It belongs in an
art gallery (see what I mean about the brainwashing
elements?)...
Anyway, next up is a segment entitled 'Brion Gysin's Dream
Machine' in which we enter a room filled with Arabic music.
A man stares into one of those psychedelic cylinders (the
dream machines also appeared in Gysin and William
Burroughs' excellent short film, Towers Open Fire). The
camera stays focused on the spinning wheel and the whole
screen is enlivened with trippy psychedelic colours and
random abstract patterns, and the Arabic music picks up in
intensity. The whole idea of this clip is to try and induce a
hallucinatory experience in the viewer, and I tried to play
along, but in the end with those patterns rushing across the
screen, I found it difficult to focus on without feeling nausea.
Cassette no.3 starts with a clip called 'Thank You Dad' and
features Jim Jones of The Peoples Temple Cult spouting his
nonsense. Picture quality is unwatchably bad in this one but
the images are quite random and unimportant anyway.
Audio is crystal clear though and we can listen to the
rantings and ravings of a guy who somehow brainwashed
hundreds of people and talked them into committing mass
suicide in Guyana in 1978. He had a fake laugh which
sounds like Flipper The Dolphin which I hadn't noticed
before... Then we go to an 'Intermission' that is basically a
short segment in which a woman gets dressed in front of an
open window...
Then the skull logo appears on screen once again and a
narrator informs us about cognitive brain theory; the
individual(s), and our personalities, and the "Traps of time".
We are encouraged to describe ourselves as "We"
as part of being "multi-dimensional individuals". And this
philosophy is basically the raison d'etre of artists like
Genesis P. Orridge who reinvented himself from Neil Andrew
Megson into the artist-as-metaphor-itself. In the postmodern
contemporary world, the metaphorical multimedia artist
Genesis P. Orridge was created in order to experientially
immerse himself into the artistic formulae, regardless of the
results and consequences. Thus, his art must reflect back on
himself both physically and cognitively. Unlike previous
artists whose paintings cause controversy, the person
responsible can sneak away. Not so with Orridge; his art is
part of his whole being, and if it goes wrong, or is unpopular,
or causes outrage, there is nowhere for him to hide. Thus he
is lauded in the underground art and music scenes but
demonized in the tabloid press.
The next clip is a strange series of scenes designed to shock
with its grotesquely surreal and sexual symbolism. Masked
faces, weird pictures, a woman sitting on a toilet and
snipping her pubes. A man blows smoke out of his eyes. The
woman puts a long black centipede onto her vag... We see
some pretty graphic photos of genitals with venereal
disease... The centipede is not impressed and wanders off
onto the floor... So the woman pokes herself with a vibrator
instead. Image of skull shattering on ground. Woman lubes
herself up and inserts a long stick-type thing into her
cooch... A guy with a massive hole in his cock uses a hooked
metal instrument to pick at the hole - He pulls out a bunch
of live maggots from the wound... Effigies are burned... The
end. This is all played out to an ambient/industrial
soundtrack reminiscent of Throbbing Gristle, and sounds like
rhythmic factory machinery. And I understand that most of
the action in this clip was performed by members of the
COUM Transmissions, a group of performance artists with
close links to Throbbing Gristle, Psychic TV, and Orridge
himself was also a member.
Cassette no.4 opens with an excerpt from a BBC
documentary on Psychic TV. Genesis and Peter 'Sleazy'
Christopheson are interviewed before we're shown a short
clip from a music video. Then there's more discussion on the
'multi-personality' aspect of Thee Temple Ov Psychik Youth
(Psychic TV were allegedly considered to be the propaganda
wing of the cult)... 'Psychoporn' is another music video with
strange tribal rhythms and colourful abstract imagery. When
specific images do come into focus we can make out various
sexual positions. A psychedelic blowjob and penetration
shots are also included; this latter piece was most definitely
not part of the BBC coverage.
A paraphrase from Nietzsche appears on screen, "Those
who don't remember the past are condemned to repeat it",
and then we're introduced to some kind of experimental
music video that basically serves as the band's manifesto -
The Burroughs influence is apparent again as the words 'The
Naked Lunch' are displayed, and then the tape reaches a
crescendo of sounds and visions from the previous cassettes
arranged into a 'cut-up' style montage with the moaning
trumpets, the face of Jim Jones, the emblematic skull, the
electric orgasm device, and various other bizarre imagery
crops up again. The tape ends with the re-appearance of the
spokesman with some final words.
I mentioned earlier that First Transmission reminded me of
Videodrome, and if you consider that Orridge and other
band members were involved in radical performance art as
part of the COUM Transmissions troupe, the subject
inevitably brings us back to Cronenberg. For years
Cronenberg has worked on a screenplay entitled Painkillers
which centres on a group of performance artists. The script
still hasn't been filmed as yet but it's interesting to know
that Cronenberg has had a fascination with this shadowy
subculture. He felt compelled to write Painkillers after a
friend told him the story of how a man surgically removed
his own hand in the name or art. Cronenberg's research into
the minutae of this kind of activity would no doubt have led
him onto the COUM whose public
performances have become the stuff of legend. And this
would have led him onto Orridge, Psychic TV, Throbbing
Gristle, Thee Temple Ov Psychik Youth, and perhaps even
First Transmission.
The release of Videodrome in 1982 coincided with First
Transmission, and although it seems unlikely that
Cronenberg's film could have taken inspiration from those
tapes, there are nonetheless some interesting comparisons
to be made. Both films attempt to induce a hallucinatory
experience in the viewer through the manipulation of the
electronic cells on your television screen (and it's important
to note that Videodrome built up its considerable cult
following by its regular broadcasts on late night cable TV);
some will argue that Videodrome is a metaphorical piece of
sci-fi/horror make believe, which of course is true, but if you
consider the implications of that metaphor and the overall
meaning of Cronenberg's film (namely that it's an
exploration and a prophetic look at how 'reality' can be
manipulated in the minds of others, for good or evil), the
implications aren't too dissimilar. Indeed, whilst watching
First Transmission you'll probably feel a bit like Max Renn
who has stumbled upon a strange and violent broadcast
from a pirate satellite, and you'll be asking yourself similar
questions like who's behind this? What's real and what isn't?
And Where did all this footage come from?
First Transmission was created and compiled by people who
were influenced by artists and writers such as Brion Gysin,
William Burroughs, and JG Ballard; and they in turn have had
a big impact on Cronenberg's work. In First Transmission a
kid has electrodes inserted into the base of his spine, and in
Cronenberg's eXistenZ characters are injected with
'Bioports' in the same sensitive/dangerous area. Also,
characters in
eXistenZ are hooked up to 'fleshy game pods' through an
attachment of organic wires, and they manipulate the pods
with their fingers in order to arouse the game into action.
Compare this to the scenes in First Transmission
where the kids are hooked up to electronic devices which
they manipulate with their fingers as a way of increasing
and decreasing the voltage in order to arouse themselves,
and you'd perhaps be forgiven for thinking of it as a direct
influence as Cronenberg's film was released fifteen years
later.
British tabloid paper The People published a scathing
sensationalist 'article' on Genesis P. Orridge in the 90s,
accusing him of corrupting the nation's youth. And among
the range of accusations of Satanic rites, sadism, greed, and
general foulness, there is a brief mention of First
Transmission and it is described as showing "scenes of a
pregnant woman being tied to a dentist’s chair and raped
and a man being urinated on by Orridge". The pregnant
woman being raped is nonsense, and although a man does
get pissed on in the film, I'm pretty sure it wasn't Orridge
who did the pissing. And if this so-called journalist did
actually watch the tapes, I'm certain that those scenes he
described above would have been the least of his concerns.
The infamous 'castration' scene alone would have stolen the
headline.
Now, the 'castration' (technically a de-penising as the kid's
testicles remain intact) looks to be genuine. In fact, the
whole film looks to me to be genuine except for the
aforementioned 'death scene' and bad acting of the doc on
the second tape. And although there aren't many reviews of
this film around (write ups are scarce even on the web),
every one I have read so far has assumed the footage to be
real. There are rumours circulating, however, that the
footage was faked, and that the special FX were created by
artist/madman Monte Cazazza, but I've been unable to
confirm this. And to be honest, I'm not convinced it was
faked (I wish it was!). It would take a dedicated and precise
effort to produce that kind of illusion; the transition from the
real penis to a prosthetic substitution would have to be
absolutely perfect, and there are no cuts or edits (the
version I watched had a slight damage on the tape which
fuzzed up the screen for a second before the scalpel makes
contact, and I know people will say that's all you need
to sneak in an edit, but no, I still don't believe it was faked).
The craft of special effects in those days weren't really up to
much unless you had a Hollywood-sized budget and a good
team of technicians, but for a cheap bit of shock footage
shot on 8mm with no chance of financial reward, the
chances of creating something that has that awful air of
authenticity (even with someone like Cazazza on board) are
pretty slim. Even today with the best FX team on the planet
working with unlimited resources would struggle to replicate
that scene. So if that footage does turn out to be faked then
I'd be absolutely gobsmacked.
If the people involved in First Transmission weren't so tight-
lipped when it comes to discussing the film then maybe
things would be much clearer - Its makers would then either
be in jail or in Hollywood giving Tom Savini and Screaming
Mad George some FX tips. But strangely, the rumours and
hearsay surrounding the film elevate it into that uneasy blur
between fact and fiction, a place where all the Blair Witches
and Texas Chainsaw Massacres in the world can never hope
to situate themselves. Not even the power of the internet
can disspell the myths concerning this fucked up little film,
and the mystery deepens...
One of the most ludicrous rumours surrounding First
Transmission is that Orridge had to flee the UK because the
police were onto him about the tapes. Now, I'm no expert on
international law, but he only emigrated to the USA, and it
wouldn't be difficult for the British authorities to have him
extradited.
FLANDERS (2007)
Dir: Bruno Dumont /France

Dumont's most violent and extreme film to date. A bunch of

guys from a small French village are all played by the same
crazy slut. They're conscripted into the army to fight some
unspecified war in North Africa, and they all find themselves
in the same regiment. There's lots of seething resentments
between the men but nothing spills over - Instead they take
out their frustrations on the locals by way of rape and
murder. Meanwhile, the slut stays behind and has a mental
breakdown. The film starts off slow (as with any Dumont
movie) but once we get to the war scenes it becomes a real
atrocity exhibition of anger, resentment, revenge, and the
will to survive by a group of soldiers who should be looking
out for each other.
Flanders offers a real change of pace from Dumont's earlier
work, such as The Life of Jesus and Twenty-Nine Palms, and
here he is afforded a much bigger budget than usual. The
war scenes in the desert are expertly done, and he captures
that raw panic and nightmare of life in the combat zone of
hostile territory.
In the film's most notorious scene, the boys gang rape a
local woman. In a later scene when the soldiers are
captured, she identifies those who raped her, and the men
are then graphically castrated and are left to stagger around
the compound bleeding to death. The only soldier
conscientious enough not to join in the gang rape manages
to escape his captors with his genitals intact, but he is then
hunted through the land and the swamps, and he literally
has to flee for his life. Highly recommended but not for the
squeamish.
FLOWER OF FLESH AND BLOOD (1985)
(Orig title: Za Ginipiggu - Chiniku No Hana)
Dir: Hideshi Hino /Japan

This is the most notorious entry in the Guinea Pig series,

and the only one truly deserving of its nasty reputation.
Directed by Hideshi Hino, Flower of Flesh and Blood is a
short, 44 minute video about a madman who stalks and
kidnaps a young woman and takes her home before
dismembering her and placing her body parts in a backroom
with the rest of
his 'collection'. The film is remembered primarily for its
remarkable special effects (which looked so realistic on
bootleg VHS that Charlie Sheen thought it was a genuine
snuff tape and reported it to the FBI; of which more later),
and we get to witness the graphic dismembering in full
detail thanks to Nobuaki Koga's FX work.
The tape comes with its own legend: Manga artist Hideshi
Hino allegedly received an 8mm snuff film in the post along
with a letter and photographs. After alerting the Tokyo police
(who took away the evidence), Flower of Flesh and Blood
was conceived as an attempt to re-enact the scenes in the
snuff tape. This was more than a decade before The Blair
Witch Project, and the intriguing backstory was bought
wholesale by the Japanese AV addicts, and the tape became
a hit (the film was actually entirely fictional and based on
Hino's own Manga).
Flower of Flesh and Blood is often accused of being utterly
repellent, tasteless, and misogynistic. Others have read it as
a journey into spiritual nirvana! Personally, I have always
viewed the film as a savage satire on the masculine idea of
sexuality: It is often remarked how women seek 'soulmate'
qualities in potential partners, whereas stereotypical men
are happy with surface requirement (legs, breasts, etc); this
goes towards explaining why men are more likely than
women to enjoy the visual stimulants of porn. The deranged
samurai goes on the prowl; he sees his desired love object
in a young woman walking the streets, and decides she will
be the satisfactory candidate for a 'one-night-stand'. Of
course, our madman will fail to lure this girl with his charm
alone, so what better way to win her body than to smother
her unconscious with a rag of chloroform?
The samurai helmet represents the 'Bushido' attitude, the
warrior mentality (and phallus) of men when it comes to
procuring a love object. For all the niceties of courting a
female, the man has only one true desire - namely flesh.
After tying her down to the bed, the samurai proceeds to
inject her with some kind of sedative to make her drowsy
and docile (an alert, intelligent woman has always been the
arch nemesis of full-blooded males!); he drugs her at the
outset as a way of turning her into a passive object, to rid
the room of the other consciousness. What follows is a
literal joke of the blackest kind. The graphic dismemberment
can be seen as a comment on the male habit of breaking
down the attractive female into mental body parts (in fact,
the whole film could represent this whole thought process
as viewed from inside the male psyche). Laddish comments
such as "nice arse", "sexy legs", "gorgeous tits but ugly
face", etc, are lampooned in graphic detail. Women often
complain that men look at their breasts in conversation like
they're floating in space, barely acknowledging the
presence of another human being, but transfixed, as if the
breasts would be better without the actual woman being
there. And the stereotypical 'man-on-the-pull' will indeed
treat women as blank canvasses on which hang breasts and
buttocks and legs, etc.
 "In the love relationship the
tendency to break the object down
into discrete details in accordance
with a perverse auto erotic system
is slowed by the living unity of the
other person"

- Jean Baudrillard, The System of

Objects.
It's worth noting too that although our anti-hero doesn't get
sexually intimate with the body parts, he does pause briefly
between amputations in order to caress and admire the
pieces lovingly as if the segments of her body have become
his own personal property; her will can no longer operate or
manoeuvre her limbs when they have been sawn off. The
samurai, however, now has complete control of them
without any possibility of her consciousness resisting
(possessiveness taken to the literal extreme).
The blood and gore and drama are simply genre
requirements - The essential thing here is the samurai
representing the phallus (check out that helmet!), and the
phallus as libido, rummaging and ransacking the desired
love-object in the male imagination, taking each bodily
segment and assessing its sexual value. For the grand finale
we are invited to a backroom where we get to view the
'collection': Various macabre artifacts, mutilated corpses,
hands, limbs, eyeballs, maggots and worms kept in old fish
tanks, jars, hanging on the walls and generally scattered
about the place. We are also treated to a poem of sorts
about falling to the depths of hell. Can you guess where we
are yet? The subconscious of course! We followed the libido
back behind the curtain where, to quote the poem, "The
darkness is boundless".
Flower of Flesh and Blood was directed by Hideshi Hino, a
creator of comic books who has been churning out lurid
Manga horror such as Panorama In Hell and Hell Baby for
more than forty years. He was approached by cheapjack
video producer Satoru Ogura and offered the chance to
direct a miniscule horror film based on Hino's own comic,
Flower of Flesh and Blood. Hino, whose childhood dream
was to direct samurai films, immediately set to work,
recruiting actor friends from the underground theatre, and
an ambitious team of special effects technicians led by
Nobuaki Koga. The tape hit Japanese video stores in the
mid-80s and became one of the biggest selling titles of the
month (Don't forget, Japan is a country where Faces of
Death out-grossed Star Wars at the box-office and Cannibal
Holocaust out-stripped E.T.). The Guinea Pig films soon
became the subject of much controversy when a serial child
killer seemed to be re-enacting scenes from Flower of Flesh
and Blood, and the police investigation led to the
questioning of the film's makers. But even when the culprit,
Tsutomo Miyazaki, was apprehended, the tabloid frenzy only
intensified, accusing Hino and his films of being to blame for
the depravity and sickness of Japanese society.
Meanwhile over in America, Deep Red fanzine editor, Chas
Balun, had VHS bootleg copies of Flower and Slaughter
Special (aka Guinea Pig's Greatest Cuts), and as a favour to
a writer friend, Dennis Daniel, he agreed to make a
compilation tape comprising the bloodiest and most graphic
sequences from the films to be shown at Dennis' birthday
party. The video played at the party and was a success, but
copies were made and swapped hands for a while until one
of the tapes came into the possession of Charlie Sheen and
film producer Adam Rifkin. They watched it and were
horrified, thinking it was real. They contacted the MPAA and
the FBI. An investigation was launched and everybody
basically snitched and ratted on their friends until the trail
led back to Chas. But Chas also just happened to have a
copy of The Making of
Guinea Pig, a tape which shows behind-the-scenes footage
and outtakes of a smiling actress doing re-takes, and the
special effects team demonstrating their cable-controlled
illusions, proving once and for all that the 'snuff' video
wasn't real. The whole episode became an embarrassment
for everyone concerned.
In the UK, 26 year old Christopher Berthould was prosecuted
for importing Flower of Flesh and Blood (along with Infant
Brain Surgery and Faces of Dissection) into the country. The
prosecution at Southward Crown Court knew the contents of
the tape was fake, commenting that the film was "so well
simulated that [snuff] is the impression it creates".
Berthould was given a £600 fine and a ludicrous newspaper
headline ("DEATH CRAZE MAN'S SNUFF MOVIE SHAME"). The
film is still outlawed in the UK today but is available uncut
from Unearthed Films in America. I would say import at your
own risk but things have moved on a lot since Berthould's
day in the dock, haven't they?
FOOTSTEPS (2006)
Dir: Gareth Evans /UK

A harsh lesson in never judging a film by its cover, Footsteps

is graced with perhaps the most enticing and iconic DVD
sleeve design in the entire Unearthed Films back catalogue.
It depicts a young man standing with his back to us in a
neon-lit tunnel brandishing an iron bar; it's just a shame the
film itself fails to live up to its beautifully presented promise.
Footsteps follows a young man's descent into violence and
tragedy. Following the death of his parents, Andrew
becomes increasingly detached from the people around him,
including his girlfriend and neighbours. He inadvertently
gets himself entangled in the debauched and perverted
world of snuff movies when a pair of shady psychopaths
take him under their wings. But Andrew isn't a mindless
idiot, he has a lot going on upstairs and he decides to use
his anger and despair as a way of wiping out a couple of
scumbags on his downward spiral.
So the cover looks great and the synopsis sounds
interesting, but the actual film is a major disappointment.
On the upside the film does feature a couple of decent
performances from Nicholas Bool (as Andrew) and Danish
actor Mads Koudal as a charismatic psycho, and the snuff
gimmick had so much potential to make an audience's skin
crawl (the snuff element here takes the 'happy-slap' trend to
new levels of barbarity with the use of video cameras,
homeless bums, and iron bars).
The downside is the slow and ultimately dull style in the
vein of Ken Loach in that characters sit around the table
speaking their minimal dialogue in a very slow and labored
way like they've been downing sleeping pills or something.
It suffers from that very British 'kitchen sink' drama style
that has basically helped ruin the UK's filmic output in the
last couple of decades. It's such a dull, depressing, and
labored film to watch it makes Eastenders seem like an
upbeat
fun-time comedy in comparison. Scenes open with shots of
water dripping from taps, or Andrew wandering around the
dull grey streets of Wales, or having the camera focus on
random things like passing traffic, and the whole thing is
matched by the soundtrack which repeats single, delicate
piano notes like it's trying to emulate some crappy BBC
drama.
Now, this incredibly boring style is probably based on great
notions such as 'slice-of-life-realism' or 'kitchen sink docu-
drama' where the grey tones are supposed to mirror the
sadness and despair in the mind of the main character, and
the cruel death-peddlers fuelling the mounting rage in
Andrew's head, but this kind of thing has been done much
more effectively in Abel Ferrara's Driller Killer and Buddy
Giovinazzo's Combat Shock, both of which were directed by
artists who didn't mind injecting a bit of grubby exploitation
into their pics in order to push the point across. Clearly
Gareth
Evans didn't want to make an exploitation film, but he
seemed happy enough to sign a deal with Unearthed Films,
a DVD distribution company who have unleashed some of
the most shockingly exploitative titles of the last couple of
decades, such as Das Komabrutalle Duell, Aftermath, and
Flower of Flesh and Blood. Talk about not knowing your
niche!
Maybe I'm being a bit harsh on first time director Evans, but
Footsteps really did have the potential to be a great film had
its makers gotten over their Ken Loach infatuations and
relished the opportunity of exploring the dark heart of this
tale to its full potential. There are one or two moments of
panache that suited the film's low-key approach perfectly,
and had Evans steered the project more towards the twisted
territory of Hisayasu Sato (after all, Sato's films often deal
with outsider characters and themes of alienation, violence,
and voyeurism, with characters documenting their
escapades on video), then we could've had a mini-
masterpiece on our hands. A sorely missed opportunity.
FORCED ENTRY (1973)
Dir: Helmuth Richler (Shaun Costello) /USA

The deranged Vietnam veteran has turned up in all kinds of

films over the last few decades, from silly comedy-horror
(The Vagrant), all-out action movies (Rambo First Blood),
and home invasion movies (Naked Massacre), to intelligent
horror fantasy (Deathdream), the ultra-obscure (The
Ravager), and stomach-churners like Combat Shock. But
nowhere will you find a darker, more twisted version of the
psycho 'Nam vet than in Shaun Costello's directorial debut,
Forced Entry.
With a prologue that opens with stock footage of atrocities
in the Vietnam warzone, the film proper begins with gas
station attendant Harry Reems (without the moustache),
who tricks young women into giving him their addresses. He
then follows them home, peeps through their windows, and
then forces them at knife or gunpoint to perform sexual
favours on him while he cuts them down with speeches of
pure hatred before stabbing them to death. It's a lurid
horror/porn hybrid with unsimulated sex scenes that is much
closer in spirit to Lee Cooper's Wet Wilderness and Costello's
own Waterpower rather than Gerard Damiano's Deep
Throat, and Reems looks to be relishing the opportunity of
playing the bad guy; he's clearly enjoying it but few viewers
will be laughing.
Forced Entry does have humour alright, moments where you
laugh out loud, such as the scene where Reems has finished
raping a woman in the arse and then gets angry, teasing
her and screaming "You made my prick all full of shit, didn't
you?! You made my prick all full of shit!!!" But it's the
laughter of sheer cruelty and you need to be in that frame
of mind to go along with it. Also, the seemingly endless
repetition of the dubbed line "Fucking hippies coming into
my station. Scummy hippies!" is amusing, if not a little
bizarre.
Viewers who can't handle the entertainment value of brutal
rape and murder are advised to stay away from this one as
there is more provocative mayhem here to fill a hundred
controversial movies. It has a real bad attitude and stands
out like a sore, um, thumb. Even in those glory days before
the PC spoilsports came along, this film stood out from the
unruly crowd. Amazingly, it was originally marketed as just a
typical porno; just what the audience must've thought as
this nasty piece of work played out on the big screen is
anyone’s guess; for me it's about as sexually arousing as
sticking my bollocks in a bee-hive, but hey, each to their
own and all that...
Completely banned in the UK and something of an
underground video title in the States for years, Forced Entry
made it to DVD courtesy of Alpha Blue in their Costello/Avon
box set. That version looks to have been taken from a
muddy VHS transfer. A much better presentation is the
Afterhours DVD taken from possibly the only print of the film
still in existence. Image quality isn't perfect but it's the best
we'll ever see it considering the scarcity of the source
materials.
An indefensible horror/porn shocker then, but it succeeds in
highlighting the nasty bitterness and anger felt by devalued
soldiers who returned from Vietnam only to be treated like
garbage after being conscripted into the hellscape of state
sanctioned atrocities. You have been warned.
FREEWAY (1996)
Dir: Matthew Bright /USA

"Oh my God, is that you, Bob? I

can't believe such a teeny-
weeny little gun can make such
a big mess out of someone!"
Foul-mouthed delinquent Vanessa (Reece Witherspoon)
returns from school one day to find her mother being busted
for prostitution, and her creepy stepdad on drug offences.
And as they're being carted away, she flees the scene
rather than staying around to be shuffled off into foster
care. Vanessa then says goodbye to her boyfriend and hits
the road in search of the trailer park where her grandmother
lives. However, when her car breaks down on the freeway,
she accepts a lift from Bob Wolverton (Keifer Sutherland),
who seems like a decent fellow, but is actually the 'I-5
Killer', a serial child-killing paedophile. Bob thinks he's onto
some easy prey, but he completely underestimates the
feisty Vanessa...
Freeway is one of those straight to video marvels which was
never shown in cinemas, a film which turned out to be far
more daring and entertaining than many of its big-screen
counterparts. It was written and directed by Matthew Bright,
who began his career as a screen writer on oddities like
Forbidden Zone and the Drew Barrymore remake of Gun
Crazy, and who should really get back into the director's
seat after years of inactivity since the disastrous Tiptoes in
2003.
Not a film for the easily offended, Freeway comes on as a
twisted version of the Grimm's Little Red Riding Hood;
Sutherland even disguises himself as grandma and awaits
the arrival of an unknowing Vanessa ("Them are some
mighty big fuckin' teeth you got there, Bob"). It's trash
movie heaven of the highest order that pays homage to a
whole range of exploitation genres such as the road movie,
the odd couple, rape-revenge fantasies, slasher movies, and
even women-in-prison epics, all mired in weirdness and
warped humour. Imagine a Tarantino script directed by a
young John Waters and you're on the right track.
Witherspoon is fantastic as the street-wise reprobate, out-
smarting and out-gunning her would-be killer; her brilliance
as Vannessa landed her future roles in films like Election and
American Psycho, which in turn helped in her subsequent
rise to Hollywood superstardom. I wonder what her
mainstream fans would make of her in Freeway as the
fucked up daughter of a crack ho. Just curious. Sutherland is
also spot-on as the wolf in child councellor's clothing;
smooth as silk but also cruel and sadistic when he thinks he
can get away with it; a true scumbag.
Lookout for some amusing performances from Amanda
Plummer, Dan Hedaya, Sydney Lassick, and Brooke Shields
in an uncharacteristic turn as Wolverton's idiotic wife who
does us all a favour and blows her head off with a shotgun.
Also lookout for real life serial killer Richard Speck in a
photograph that Vanessa believes to be her father!
Freeway picked up various awards at film festivals and
quickly shot to classic status with people as diverse as
Alexander Payne and Mary Harron referring to Bright's pic as
having an influence on their films. Bright immediately began
work on a sequel, Freeway 2 - Confessions of a Trickbaby,
which explored the Hansel and Gretel fairytale, and was
even more outrageous, upsetting even those who loved the
first film.
The BBFC made a slight cut to remove the sight of one of
Wolverton's magazines which had an unpleasant title ('Cock
Sucking Toddlers'). Elsewhere in the world the film has more
or less stayed intact, except in America where it initially got
slapped with an NC-17 rating due to the film's heavy
language, but it was slightly trimmed for a later R rating.
And this same cut version was originally rejected by the
Australian censors (OFLC) who demanded further cuts to the
explicit dialogue, and also the shot of Vanessa's dead
grandmother.
FREEWAY 2 - CONFESSIONS OF A
TRICKBABY (1998)
Dir: Mathew Bright /USA/Canada

Easily one of the most disturbing films of the 90s, this

sequel to Matthew Bright's cult classic, Freeway, was
universally despised by critics on its release and was also
equally detested by fans of the first film. With not a single
redeeming factor among the characters, and not a single
ray of light or shred of decency anywhere to be found here,
Confessions of a Trickbaby can only be recommended to
those cinema miscreants who really have no limits to their
debased entertainments and pitch-black cynical humour.
Whereas the first film took Little Red Riding Hood and
turned it into a trashy piece of satire, here writer/director
Matthew Bright focuses on Hansel and Gretel and doesn't
hold back in twisting and subverting the subtext with
unprecedented levels of mischief and shock tactics. The plot
follows another teenage delinquent, Crystal (Natasha
Lyonne), who pretends to be a prostitute so that she can
lure unsuspecting johns into deserted alleys where she then
beats and robs them. She ends up in prison with the
dangerous Cyclona (Maria Celedonio), a psychotic lesbian
convicted of murdering her entire family, and together they
hatch an escape plan, and pretty soon they're back on the
loose in society. Crystal, or "White girl", comes to realise just
how insane Cyclona is when everyone they meet winds up
being killed due to the voices in her head that compel her to
murder, and her pathetically lame excuses for the murders
("He tried to rape me!") do nothing to reassure Crystal. So,
leading a path of death and destruction behind them, the
two girls head south for Mexico where Cyclona knows they
can get help from her childhood custodian, Sister Gomez
(Vincent Gallo).
This slimy cesspool of a movie throws in enough mayhem
and taboos to fill ten unsavory films, with subject-matter
ranging from drug abuse, insanity, transvestite nuns, and
bulimia, to incest, necrophilia, and child abuse. It's hard to
think of another film which presents such an array of
grotesque and deeply unpleasant subjects, except maybe
Emanuelle In America or Caligula. And the characters are
equally unappealing with the nutcase Cyclona killing an
elderly couple and then making out with their corpses, or
Crystal who seems to be there just so that the director can
subvert and mock the traditions of the 'leading lady', with
his 'heroine' constantly and amusingly taking the moral
high-ground in dealing with Cyclona, whilst at the same time
indulging in her own wrong-headed behaviour. And Sister
Gomez, the creepy and softly spoken parental figure who
turns out to be an evil child
butcherer who runs an empire in gruesome kiddie porn.
Even the small details are surreal and disturbing, such as
the scene where the girls leave a trail of crack cocaine on
the ground and a pair of black guys dressed in tatty old suits
with feathers in their hats appear from nowhere to pick up
the wraps like pigeons pecking at scraps of bread. But these
Lynchian moments did little to earn the film any
respectability. And yes, John Landis did make a cameo as
the judge.
For all the film's gloom and unpleasantness, there are at
least a few people out there who appreciated this awful
spectacle (and yes, I'm one of 'em), and Matthew Bright
wasn't finished yet with his experiments in cinematic
shocks. His next film took him away from the twisted re-
telling of classic fairytales and into the bleak biographical
details of a real life serial killer whose horrendous crimes
and suave charisma were explored in comedic fashion for
the utterly distasteful Ted Bundy.
THE FUNERAL (1996)
Dir: Abel Ferrara /USA

Abel Ferrara's foray into the gangster movie focuses on the

lead up to the funeral of one of three gangster brothers in
1930s New York. The film explores the backstory to the
murder and the surviving brother's desire for vengeance
whilst the family mourn at their home. The despair and guilt
become too much for brother Chez (Chris Penn), and he has
a breakdown which leads to the film's shocking climax.
With its Depression-era setting and relation to genre classics
like The Godfather and The Petrified Forest, The Funeral is a
film which invites its audience to relate to the drama on
screen on a moral basis as it follows the usual gangster
themes of loyalty, treachery, and religious anguish. And like
all of Ferrara's films, he manages to bring out the very best
in his cast which includes Christopher Walken, Chris Penn,
Vincent Gallo, Victor Argo, Issabella Rosselini, Benicio Del
Toro, and Annabella Sciorra.
Walken is superb as Ray Tempo, the eldest and wisest
brother who is just as much concerned with the ethical
dilemma of murder as he is with his personal need for
vengeance. The scene in which he mourns over his brother's
body is especially heartfelt, and has passed into legend as
script writer Nicholas St. John had lost his son and seemed
to be drawing on his own emotional pain when writing the
scenes.
Gallow's performance is also impressive as Johnny Tempo,
the deceased brother who, in a series of flashbacks, looked
to be the most outgoing and socially conscious of the three
siblings. But more striking still is Chris Penn as Chez, the
fiery, emotionally unstable brother whose ruthless moral
code leads him to raping a young girl in an alley before his
mind crumbles altogether. Chris Penn and Ferrara both won
awards at the Venice Film Festival, making The Funeral
Ferrara's most critically acclaimed film to date. It's just a
shame that he and writer Nicky St. John fell out and ended
their friendship after this film, and they haven't worked
together since.
Shot around the same time as The Addiction, a black and
white tale of philosopher vampires, The Funeral echoes
some of the ethical themes of that film, such as in the rape
scene where Penn offers the girl a way out of the situation
before screaming "You've just sold your soul to the fuckin'
devil!!" and raping her. The 30s setting is captured
perfectly, with the obscure politics, religious questioning,
and the soundtrack which includes Billie Holiday's suicidal
Gloomy Sunday. Not a cheery kind of film then, but even
with this raw, troubling, and extremely powerful work under
his belt, Abel Ferrara remains one of the most criminally
underrated American filmmakers.
FUNNY GAMES (1997)
Dir: Michael Haneke /Austria

wager. "One of toughest nights you'll ever spend in front of

your television". That was how Mark Kermode summed up
Funny
Games, a cold and brutal addition to the home invasion sub-
genre. Building upon his earlier works, such as The
Seventh Continent and Benny's Video, writer/director
Michael Haneke here resumes his preoccupations with his
attempts to shock and torture those who are seeking
violence and murder for entertainment. So, if you're looking
for some big screen mayhem in the form of blood, guts, and
spectacular human suffering then Funny Games may come
as something of a surprise because, despite being one of
the most harrowing films of the 90s, there's very little on-
screen bloodshed to be found here.
The plot of Funny Games is chillingly simple; a pair of
teenage psychopaths enter a lakeside holiday home and set
up a wager with the family therein that they will all be
"kaput" within twelve hours. What follows is a raw exercise
in Sadean evil; the family dog is beaten to death with a golf
club, the father, Georg (Ulrich Muhe), is incapacitated by
having his shin smashed in with the same club, and this is
just for starters. The unfunny games continue when the
mother, Anna (Suzanne Lothar), is forced to strip off her
clothes to stop the torturing of her little boy, Schorschi
(Stefan Clapczynski). She is then given a couple of options;
one, choose whether her husband is to be stabbed or shot;
or two, she can volunteer to die and take his place instead.
The games are based on psychological torment and physical
torture, and reaches a climax with the shooting of the young
boy with a hunting rifle. The killers then momentarily leave
the house, and the scene that follows has annoyed the hell
out of critics for being overlong and boring; for around ten
minutes the camera stays unmoved as Anna and Georg
embrace on the floor in the presence of their dead son in a
state of utter despair and grief. Regardless of what the
critics have said, this is the most powerful scene in the
entire film - The performances of Muhe and Lothar are
frankly astonishing; and their heartfelt and tortured cries
make the scene agonising to watch as their pain feels
genuine with a spine-chilling effect. Make no mistake, this is
one of the most harrowing scenes in the history of film,
played absolutely unsettlingly straight by the two
magnificent performers. Soon after this scene, the killers
return to finish what they started and make good on their
wager.
Another thing that annoyed the critics was the film's
breaking of the 'fourth wall' with one of the villains (played
by Benny's Video's Arno Frisch) turning to the camera and
addressing the viewers on matters concerning the plot, and
other 'knowing' elements such as whether the film's running
time has reached feature length. At one point when the
captives get the upper-hand on the invaders, Frisch picks up
a VCR remote control and literally rewinds the scene so that
the scenario can start over again with the killers back in
control and patching up their mistakes. This obvious
didacticism, however unpopular, does much to express
Haneke's point about the reality of fiction, and vice versa
(and in this sense, Funny Games closely resembles Benny's
Video, and of course, the Belgian arthouse shocker, Man
Bites Dog).
The true greatness of Funny Games is that Michael Haneke
succeeds in disturbing his audience with scenes of abysmal
horror without actually showing us the carnage we so
desire. "I try to find ways of representing violence as that
which it is: as inconsumable", he says, "I give back to
violence that which it is: pain, a violation of others". The
whole point of this film seems to be as an endurance test,
whereby you're actively challenged to see it through, or
switch it off.
GIALLO A VENEZIA (1979)
(aka Gore In Venice) Dir: Mario Landi /Italy
Generally regarded as one of the sleaziest gialli ever made,
Giallo a Venezia opens at the aftermath of a double murder
on the banks of Venice. A man has been stabbed to death
with a pair of scissors, and a woman has been drowned. Not
only does detective DePaul have to find the killer, but one of
the clues may become clear if he can work out why the
woman's body was pulled out of the water after her death.
Much of the story is told in flashback, and it's here we learn
that the murdered couple were husband and wife, Fabio and
Flavia. Fabio was a sex-crazed coke head who got his kicks
from the violence and voyeuristic cruelties he inflicted on
Flavia. And meanwhile a killer is doing the rounds of Venice.
There's very little suspense in this 'murder mystery';
director Mario Landi seems much more interested in
showing dull sex scenes and even duller police procedures.
The violence is nowhere near as shocking as some would
have you believe (the notorious crotch-stabbing of the
prostitute is an exception though); Giordano having her leg
cut off, and the burning of Marizia's lover are quite well
done, but I personally found the simple and unexpected
discovery of a body in a fridge to be more effective - It's
such a startling image. The long overdrawn sex scenes are
nowhere near as explicit as some have said, either, but the
cat 'o nine tails and the cinema scenes are good for a
giggle.
Overall it's not too bad a film, but if you watch it having
heard all the hype then you may be disappointed. If Landi
really was more interested in showing blood and sex rather
than a tightly constructed giallo, then he ultimately fails
there too. He should have given us more. And the film is still
unavailable on DVD.
GONG TAU - AN ORIENTAL BLACK
MAGIC (2007)
Dir: Herman Yau /Hong Kong

Not your typical CAT III shocker but worth a look on a slow
evening. A practitioner of the black arts has a vendetta
against the police and attacks them and their families with
the aid of black magic and voodoo, and the hunt is on to
find the killer and end the curses.
Gong Tau finds director Herman Yau in much less outrageous
form than his earlier outings like Taxi Hunter, The Untold
Story, and Ebola Syndrome, but his latest effort still has the
power to disturb horror fans, and especially those who are
newcomers to the CAT III phenomenon. It's a dark film
indeed, but also much more pedestrian and ordinary in its
manner and style. This sensible approach also cuts back on
the humour to a degree, although the masturbation scene is
one of the funniest things I've ever seen in any Hong Kong
film.
Overall, Gong Tau is just not the same as the great CAT III's
of the 80s and 90s; it looks way too polished and stylized.
We also get CGI gore effects, but to be fair they look alright.
It generally lacks that unruly spark of craziness that makes
the earlier ones so enjoyable. It also seems to be aimed at a
mainstream Western audience and I much prefer Asian
movies on their own terms. But these are just minor
quibbles compared to what I thought of the ending; a
shameless cliffhanger to lure us into a sequel (which has yet
to be made).
To my mind, a film should always have its own kind of
closure even if it's part of a planned franchise. I'm not
saying that all loose ends should be tied, but I think that
some kind of an 'ending' so that the film can stand alone is
important. I remember watching Lord of The Rings -
Fellowship of The Ring and being disappointed that the
ending was such a cop-out and made the whole thing feel
like one big advertisement for the sequel. And Gong Tau left
me with the same disappointment.
Imagine a Hong Kong version of CSI but bloodier, much
more violent, and with some supernatural elements thrown
in,
and you've got Gong Tau (although I'm not sure CSI would
show a dead baby who has been stabbed a hundred times).
LA GRANDE BOUFFE (1973)
(aka Blow-Out)
Dir: Marco Ferreri /France/Italy

Four middle class men choose to escape the restless futility

of city life and retreat to an isolated mansion where they
indulge in an experimental feast. An airline pilot (Marcello
Mastroianni), a judge (Philippe Noiret), a cook (Ugo
Tognazzi), and a TV producer (Michel Piccoli), seem to have
everything going for them, but the boredom of modern life
has taken its toll on their well-being. They greedily devour
mountains of food, sit around watching vintage porn loops,
and bring along call girls to quench their lusts. All this
indulgence is part of their grand scheme; it's a suicide pact
whereby the gentlemen will quite literally die on the excess
of pleasure.
This visually stunning film nevertheless picks at themes that
should offend everyone at some point or another. The grim
tone of the setting and savage humour is dished up with
very little in the way of subtlety, much like the constant
mounds of food that are offered up for the feast. All four of
the men represent an evil of modern life - The corruption of
the judicial system (the judge), the wasteful and greedy
nature of the West when many in the third world are
starving (the cook), the thinly-disguised imperialism of the
modern world 'village' which exists purely to conquer and
exploit weaker nations, made easier by the miracle of
aviation (the pilot), and the mind-numbing emptiness and
cultural wasteland perpetuated by television (the TV
producer).
The film also boasts four of the finest actors in Europe at the
peak of their powers, and they're clearly having a good time
misbehaving while entrusting their director's impeccable
eye to bring all the chaos together into a sumptuous whole.
It's certainly not a traditional kind of film, but fans of
subversive cinema will find much food for thought here.
La Grande Bouffe premiered at the Cannes Film Festival and
caused an immediate firestorm of controversy and divided
audiences down the middle. Mastroianni's girlfriend at the
time, Catherine Deneuve, is said to have been so offended
at the screening that she wouldn't talk to him for a week.
Meanwhile, mass brawls broke out in the cinemas in France
between those who loved and loathed the film, and the
violence continued in Paris throughout its lengthy theatrical
run (ah, the 70s).
Elsewhere around the world, the critics were equally divided
in their reactions, with some declaring it a triumph as a
fierce attack on the appetites of the bourgeoisie, and others
a tasteless sick joke. American critic Terry Curtis Fox
famously summed up his reaction to the film in no uncertain
terms, "This re-affirms my faith that it is possible to be
offended by a film". This kind of blunt opposition between
viewers surprised even director Marco Ferreri, but it didn't
make him temper his work; his next film, Don't Touch The
White Woman!, was released the following year and also
taunts the easily offended with its biting humour and
twisted allegory on American colonialism (not surprisingly, it
wasn't released in America).
The influence of La Grande Bouffe was felt soon after its
release when fellow Italian auteur, Pier Paolo Pasolini, paid
tribute to the exploding bowels and broken toilets in his
equally subversive attack on modern society, Salo, Or The
120 Days of Sodom. But it was perhaps British arthouse
favourite, Peter Greenaway, who has provided the most
obvious homages over the years with his mixture of sex,
death, and food in The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, and Her
Lover, in which he replicates the trick of naming his
characters after the names of his cast members. He also
cast Andrea Ferreol in a similar role in A Zed and Two
Noughts. And like Greenaway's The Cook, Thief, La Grande
Bouffe was also slapped with an NC-17 rating in America in
the late 90s, surprising those who had believed the film to
have grown much more mellow with age.
Nowadays while watching La Grande Bouffe, or indeed any
of Ferreri's films, the action on screen is always tinged with
a touch of sadness that this extraordinary filmmaker has
never received his full dues as an artist. His talent was the
equal of greats like Pasolini and Fellini, and yet his work is
ignored by all but the most adventurous of film fans. When
Ferreri died in May 1997 it was the end of an era. He should
be considered one of the giants of cinema, yet the event of
his death amounted to little more than a brief mention in
the obituary sections of a few newspapers. The reason for
this lack of respect is a mystery to me; maybe it's because
he was an Italian who made most of his films abroad, or the
fact that his films were distributed in shoddy fashion (his
VHS filmography was a joke with most of the titles hard to
find and quickly going out of print, and presented in
dreadful pan-and-scan jobs). Some of his films saw no other
form of distribution beyond the festival circuits. Who knows.
At least with the advent of DVD his back catalogue is slowly
reaching an audience, and perhaps one day soon Ferreri will
get the respect he deserves.
GREEN ELEPHANT (1999)
(Orig title: Zeleniy Slonik)
Dir: Svetlana Baskova /Russia

A very ugly movie. It centres on a couple of soldiers held in

a makeshift military prison who slowly go insane. The first
half of the film consists of the soldiers arguing and fighting.
Events then take a turn for the worse when one of the guys
seems to go mad and shits on a plate and on the floor, eats
it, and rubs it onto his chest. He then wakes the other
soldier and offers him a turd on a plate as a meal, and the
sleepy soldier is not very happy about it to say the least...
Soon after, a General shows up and marches the two idiots
to an abandoned warehouse and orders them to beat each
other up, and ...well, we get a final 20 minutes of utter
madness and depravity.
Not a very good film at all. The director, Baskova, rivals
Andy Milligan for sheer ineptitude and grubby visuals; the
sets are awful, the camera work and lighting is atrocious, as
is the editing. But the performances are pretty good! The
soundtrack includes a very bizarre version of the riff from
Pantera's Slaughtered, and Pantera's own version of Throes
of Rejection (and that's probably where 95% of the budget
went, if they even bothered to secure the rights).
GRIMM LOVE (2006)
(Orig title: Rohtenburg) Dir: Martin Weisz /Germany
Based on the true story of German cannibal Armin Meiwes
who advertised on the web for a willing victim to eat. There
are a few other film versions of the event, including Marian
Dora's Cannibal, but this one explores the turmoil in the
minds of both the eater and soon-to-be-eaten in a less
exploitative but equally frank and non-judgmental way.
I also found it to be quite touching and I really felt for the
lead characters (but I can't say the same of Dora's film). It's
not a very re-watchable movie, and there's a rather useless
character in the form of a young woman who is writing her
thesis on the subject (she just serves as a convenient
viewer surrogate), but is quite an interesting and well-made
film. Not exactly 'all meat and no fat' but worth a look. The
film was banned for three years in Germany for violating the
human rights of Meiwes, from March 2006 to May 2009.
GROTESQUE (2009)
(Orig title: Gurotesuku)
Dir: Koji Shiraishi /Japan

A rare title to be banned in its entirety in the UK nowadays,

Grotesque is easily one of the most sick, twisted, and
realistically executed torture porn movies I've ever seen. I
would probably rank it in the top 20 most disturbing movies
ever list. The 'plot' picks up with a disgruntled loner who
kidnaps a young couple and ties them up in his basement.
And so begins the torture. But here our anti-hero doesn't
just rely on sharp instruments and power tools to inflict his
damage, he also uses cruel tricks and soul-crushing mind
games on his victims. In one scene, the madman finger-
bangs the woman (complete with wet and squishy sound
effects) and is the first time I've seen squirty female
ejaculation in a film. When he's finished, he notices that the
young man is now aroused, so he jerks him off, sending his
load flying across the room and landing on his girlfriend's
stomach. Good shot!
Early in the film the girl asks her boyfriend if he would die
for her, and he flounders, not knowing how to answer. Later
in the film though and the madman asks him if he would die
for her and this time the answer is a spirited "yes". We get
all the usual torture porn elements here with some brutal
nastiness and some pretty graphic chainsaw mayhem, but
then the maniac does something very different from the
usual screen monsters; he seems to take pity on his victims
and pleads for their forgiveness, and even nurses them back
to health. The victims are suspicious at first but gradually
start to believe that they are on the verge of freedom; but
this is all just a part of his sick game and pretty soon the
doomed couple are back in the basement and the cruelties
are more brutal than ever...
To say any more about the plot would be unfair to those who
have yet to see this, but the 'survival challenge' near the
end would make Jigsaw's chest swell with pride! Excellent
performances, top-notch gore and splatter, and the
production values are superb. To see a grubby little torture
film like this looking so nicely lit and glossy is a rare treat;
not since the days of Nacho Cerda's Aftermath have we
seen such cinematic crimes displayed on beautiful 35mm
celluloid like this.
The British censors banned the film in the UK. BBFC director
David Cook claimed "Unlike other recent 'torture' themed
horror works, such as the Saw and Hostel series, Grotesque
features minimal narrative or character development and
presents the audience with little more than an unrelenting
and escalating scenario of humiliation, brutality and sadism.
In spite of a vestigial attempt to 'explain' the killer's
motivations at the very end of the film, the chief pleasure
on offer is not related to understanding the motivations of
any of the central characters. Rather, the chief pleasure on
offer seems to be wallowing in the spectacle of sadism
(including sexual sadism) for its own sake".
HARDGORE (1974)
(aka Horrorwhore, aka Sadoasylum) Dir: Michael Hugo /USA
A young nymphomaniac who suffers from hallucinations is
put into a rehab centre, but little does she know that the
proprietor is the leader of a Satanic cult who indulge in
murderous after hour orgies(!) Well, it's certainly unique!
Running around an hour in length, Hardgore is one of the
more well-known horror/porn hybrids of American
exploitation of the 70s. None of the actors are very
attractive, the soundtrack, though pretty decent in places,
has the annoying habit of recycling the same old tune until
your ears feel like they're gonna pop. The sex scenes are all
rather bland and unimaginative, and the horror sequences
are few and far between. The Satanic 'orgies' are almost
completely static with very little of interest going on (except
for the scene where a woman is guillotined the moment her
partner reaches orgasm; that was pretty cool, definitely the
highlight of the film for me). The hallucinations are silly and
mostly quite laughable (dildos on strings spurting semen?),
the leader of the cult wears a red Satanic mask and robe
and puts on a deep booming voice which is also
unintentionally hilarious ("Nirvana!!!"). The girl does get
some revenge at the end in the form of an axe rampage, but
even this is quite dull and over before it really starts.
HEADER (2006)
Dir: Archibald Flancranstin /USA

A micro-budget shot on video curiosity that delights in

wallowing in its grim and darkly comic subject matter,
Header pits a grumpy ATS agent against a small community
of warring rednecks who are involved in producing bootleg
liquor. The moonshine, however, turns out to be the least of
the troubles going on in the backwoods as a bunch of
corpses are found with mysterious puncture wounds in their
skulls... Turns out an evil clan of hillbillies could be
responsible for the murders due an exciting new sex trend
that is all the rage in hick town (and also gives the film its
title).
Header is the first screen adaptation of underground horror
novelist Edward Lee, whose works in the hardcore horror
sub-genre of twisted fiction has produced such anti-classics
as Infernally Yours and You Are My Everything; the latter
proved to be a major starting point for this film because its
central theme is the 'header', an act of sexual debauchery a
few notches higher on the perversity scale than the old
'watermelon-in-the-microwave' trick, in which the victim is
punctured in the back of the head and the pervert then has
penetrative sex with the wound whilst the brains are still
warm. And though the film isn't particularly graphic in that
respect, there are a couple of scenes that are very strong
and take on a leering and farcical approach, such as the bit
where a particularly deranged redneck assists his frail old
grandpa into getting in on the action ("That's the bestest
thing anybody ever done for me in my whole life!").
With much of the film played for sick laughs, there's an
appealing sense of fun in Header and it has a very laid back
attitude; some of the funniest moments look to be
completely ad-libbed, such as the scene where Elliot V.
Kotek has finished having his depraved fun with a corpse
and then turns his next line of dialogue into a salacious sing-
song ("Got to dump this skanky cracker in the woods
somewhere").
The budget limitations do let the project down overall, but if
you're a fan of Bloodsucking Freaks or The Bride of Frank
then you'll probably find plenty of warped shit here to keep
you amused. The final minutes of the film are ostensibly
sick, and it would be great to have someone like Rob
Zombie hop on board for the sequel. Look out for Edward
Lee and Jack Ketchum, both of whom appear in cameo roles
in the movie.
HELL HOUSE (2001)
Dir: George Ratliff /USA

Hell House is an American documentary that exposes the

bizarre practice of evangelicals luring unsuspecting people
into what they think is an old-time spooky house, but what
they actually get is a spectacular display of melodrama
showing how sin leads to hell. It's an approach to keeping
people on the 'straight and narrow' that has drawn much
criticism, even from within the church community, and Hell
House shows viewers just how much time and thought goes
into the preparation of these horrific sociological campaigns.
The Trinity Assembly of God Church in Texas prepares the
latest Hell House show, which calls for casting auditions,
local
promotion, music and stage design. We also get to meet
various young actors from the church school who are very
excited about the project, and through scores of
documentary footage we watch them re-enact school
shootings, AIDs deaths, drug deals turned sour, and even
botched abortions. Yes, it comes across as totally tacky and
tasteless, but add the church angle and you've got
something genuinely disturbing on your hands.
It amazes me to think that the Church gave permission for
an outside documentary crew to enter the fray and chart
the organisation of a Hell House event without any
restrictions (it reminds me of that Louis Theroux BBC TV
special that centred on 'The Most Evil Family In America', in
which the Westboro Baptist Church, a fundamentalist
Christian sect led by Fred Phelps, are shown picketing at
AIDs funerals, shouting provocative slogans like "God hates
fags", and generally pissing off the local population
wherever possible). As you would expect, the footage is shot
and edited in an impartial way, allowing the admittedly
strange proceedings to flow and to tell its story of how some
people go about trying to make the world a holier place.
This fly-on-the-wall style, or if you will, 'Gods-eye-view' of
things helps tremendously, and you never feel that you're
being preached at or invited to mock the film's subjects,
unlike Louis Theroux's documentaries.
Regardless of one's religious views, Hell House is a very
well-constructed and fascinating documentary that offers
viewers the rare chance to delve into one of the stranger
corners of middle America. The DVD includes the short film,
The Devil Made Me Do It. Also directed by George Ratliff, it
shows the Trinity's re-enacting of the Columbine Massacre,
which outraged the local public and helped secure the
funding needed to make the feature documentary.
HENRY - PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL
KILLER (1986)
Dir: John McNaughton /USA

One of the most harrowing movies ever made, Henry-

Portrait of a Serial Killer begins as a sleazy 'stalk and slash'
caper before settling down into a raw and edgy character
study. Loosely based on the confessions of convicted serial
killer Henry Lee Lucas, we're invited to join Henry (Michael
Rooker), a lowlife drifter whose job as an exterminator
allows him to enter people's homes in search of easy prey.
There's no set method to his killing style; whether it be
guns, knives, a broken bottle, or even his bare hands, he
systematically sets about his brutal and motiveless crimes
by whatever means necessary. Henry moves in with Otis
(Tom
Towles), a degenerate simpleton whom he met in prison,
and when Otis' sister Becky (Tracy Arnold) visits Chicago,
she stays with them while she looks for work. Henry
encourages Otis to join him in his murderous pursuits, and
before long
Otis is cackling like a goon as he takes to death and
destruction like a duck to water. And this culminates in the
notorious home invasion scene in which the pair watch their
own crimes on videotape after recording themselves in the
act.
Things deteriorate even further when Otis goes completely
out of control and tries to rape and strangle his sister Becky.
Henry stabs him to death and dismembers his corpse in the
bath tub. Becky and Henry then leave the area and spend
the night in a motel where they are at last free to kindle
their tentative relationship uninterrupted. But anyone
expecting a glimmer of hope here are left with a final gut-
punch as Henry leaves the motel the next morning, alone.
John McNaughton's stunning debut is a masterpiece of
horror which presents its sick characters and the world in
which they're bred in a chilling but non-judgmental way. It's
a film in which there are no cops or good characters to offer
hope to the audience, just pure grubbiness and poverty and
ugliness, leaving its viewers emotionally drained and
depressed. McNaughton's true masterstroke is the way he
presents to us our own vulnerability to an unreasoning
psychopath like Henry; an idea few will want to dwell upon.
It's a grim view that is at once too awful to be a reality, and
yet too life-like to be ignored.
Featuring solid performances from Rooker and Towles, who
both went on to bigger projects, and also a very impressive
turn from Tracy Arnold (who allegedly went into severe
shock during the filming of a particularly gruesome scene),
whom to my knowledge hasn't appeared in another film
since. Tom Towles as Otis fits into the depraved role with
ease, drawing on his background in comedy theatre to add a
touch of grim humour to his performance. Otis is such a
scuzzy character he even unsettles Henry; his disturbing
and erratic behaviour seems to expose Henry's own mask of
sanity, something which he feels uncomfortable with - it's
clear that Henry doesn't like to face up to the depths of his
own sickness, and he alleviates this by putting Otis in line
like a father guiding a wayward son with an absurd air of
moral authority! ("No Otis, she's your sister")! And it's
telling that the most graphic murder in the film is that of
Otis who is stabbed to death and beheaded. But no matter
how sympathetic Henry may become, he truly is a lost
cause.
Unsurprisingly, Henry-Portrait was released unrated in
America, but in the UK it was heavily censored, first for its
theatrical release and then again for video. The most
problematic scene was the 'home invasion' sequence in
which Henry and Otis force their way into a random family
home and proceed to beat, rape, and murder the occupants
(not necessarily in that order). The main problematic area
becomes apparent when the camera pulls back, revealing
the events to be taking place on a TV screen with the two
psychopaths watching their own previous crimes on
videotape that they had recorded themselves; watching and
enjoying it ("I want to see it again"), thus implicating the
viewers who are watching - and at least seeking –
entertainment through degradation and death.
It's a scene reminiscent of the sadistic massacre at the end
of Pasolini's Salo in which the libertines view the carnage
through binoculars, merging their perspective with the
audience. But whereas Salo was outlawed entirely in the UK
for decades, Henry-Portrait was initially passed with a re-
editing of that crucial scene, and lost most of its disturbing
and voyeuristic power in the process. The BBFC later
relented and granted the film an uncut 18 certificate for
home viewing, by which point it had become widely
regarded as being one of cinemas darkest horror shows. But
even with all the censorship hassles, the film is never
exploitative or gratuitous, and even won some kind words
from mainstream critics. Don't expect an easy ride then, as
McNaughton himself has said, "If it becomes too difficult to
watch then Henry-Portrait has probably served its purpose".
HER VENGEANCE (1988)
(aka I Piss On Your Urn)
Dir: Simon Nam Ngai /Hong Kong

Hong Kong's answer to I Spit On Your Grave, Her Vengeance

is an ultra-violent rape-revenge thriller from the late 80s. In
Macau, a group of drunken rowdy hoodlums are thrown out
of a cabaret show, and later that night after her shift, usher
Chieh-Ying takes a walk home from work, but is dragged
into a graveyard by the five men, beaten and gang-raped.
Left bloody and traumatized, Ying's only clue as to the
identity of the rapists is a cigarette lighter that was left
behind at the scene. She later discovers that the ordeal has
left her infected with AIDs. Leaving behind her blind sister,
Ying heads to Hong Kong to contact her uncle, Hsiung, with
the hope that he will help her to wreak vengeance on the
scumbags...
Uncle Hsiung happens to be wheelchair-bound and he owns
a popular bar in Hong Kong. He refuses to help Ying and
instead advises her to go back home to look after her sister.
But Ying vows to stay put until she gets revenge. Tracking
down her wrong-doers, one by one, and exacting a bloody
and ruthless retribution, Ying succeeds in putting fear in the
gang. The men who raped her are part of the criminal
underworld in Hong Kong, and they suspect that they are
being picked off by rival gangsters. Cue much ruthless
retribution of their own against shady underworld
characters, but the attacks on them continue. And after one
of the men has acid thrown in his face, they discover that
it's actually Ying who is responsible for the attacks.
In retaliation, the gangsters head over to Macau and pay a
visit to Ying's blind sister. And after the deaths of a couple
more people whom Ying is close to, such as her flat-mate
Susan and her young admirer Hao, she is at last joined by
her uncle Hsiung, and together they hold up in the bar and
set dangerous booby-traps and await the arrival of the bad
guys for an extremely violent finale.
Unlike many CAT III titles of the time, Her Vengeance is
completely devoid of the silly slapstick humour that is very
popular in Hong Kong cinema, and is instead played
absolutely unsettlingly straight. The world of Her Vengeance
is portrayed in a bleak and brutal way; it's a vicious dog-eat-
dog existence, or as one of the characters puts it, "It's a
villain's world". The rain-soaked neon-lit cityscape is
Bladerunner-esque with its dazzling surface veneer of
colours and sounds barely concealing the darkness and
ruthlessness around every corner. The soundtrack includes a
deep droning synth that drops out of tune and is quite
unnerving and compliments the sense of decay and the
apocalyptic vibe of the film.
In the West, the rape-revenge genre usually sees women
acting alone in their quests for violent retribution, and even
though in Her Vengeance Ying does spend at least two
thirds of the running time as the sole avenger dishing out
the just deserts, she is joined by Hsiung in the finale. And
although Hsiung is confined to a wheelchair, he turns out to
be pretty handy in bar room brawls despite his
disadvantage, as an earlier scene indicates. But in terms of
the 'sex wars' of cinema (in which the rape-revenge movies
play a large part in its discourse), feminist-minded viewers
will notice that Hsiung's character, despite possessing the
'manly' qualities of being able to defend himself in violent
confrontation, ultimately serves as a man who is
symbolically sexless, or 'castrated' because of his
confinement to the wheelchair. His disabled existence
makes him non-threatening to Ying, and therefore he is
accepted as a suitable ally in the fight against the enemy.
Most of the other male characters in the film are depicted as
pure evil except for Hao, a nice young man who is
completely smitten with Ying, and whose sexual potency
she can never accept due to her AIDs infection that he
doesn't know about. The fact that Ying can't allow herself to
get close to him no matter how much she'd like to, adds one
of the bleakest notes to the film. The rapists couldn't take
away her heart; but perhaps even worse, they made it so
that she can never truly love again.
Be sure to stick with the uncut version available through
Deltamac on VCD, as there is an edited version floating
around on the Joy Sales DVD label which has been stripped
down to a CAT IIb rating (even though the DVD sleeve
carries the CAT III logo), and this version places heavy cuts
on the rape scene.
A HOLE IN MY HEART (2004)
(Orig title: Ett hål i mitt hjärta)
Dir: Lukas Moodysson /Sweden/Denmark

A father makes porn movies in his living room in the

presence of his teenage son, and this causes angst,
neurosis, and psychological warfare between the two.
For all the onscreen wonders of this film, the real heart of
the matter is in the embittered conflict between the
characters; the look of an eye, the issues that remain
unspoken, etc. The deep family troubles could be easily
fixed with a simple solution, but things seem to have gone
way beyond that. The sorrows and resentments have
become a spiteful game (the father complains that his son
doesn't respect him, and his dumb attempts to appease the
situation only makes matters worse). The son destroys
himself physically, socially, and psychologically, to spite his
father who, in turn, worries only that he is not looked up to
like a normal father. But of course he isn't a normal father!
So round and round we go...
The adult characters are just as lost, fucked up, and self-
absorbed as the angst-ridden teen, and they have no idea of
the damage they are leaving behind them in their pursuits
of pleasure. There's lots of symbolism, psychoanalysis, and
neurosis on display here to drive its message home (the son
collects dirt and junk, the 'actress' Tessa dreams of fame
and body surgery in the name of beauty, and the father,
Richard, craves for acceptance but is off-set by his
simultaneous need for escape through drink, drugs, and
sex). Almost every scene is open to interpretation, and if
you like that kind of thing then this is required viewing.
Director Moodysson didn't write a script for the project, he
claimed to have had a single sheet of paper with the word
'exorcism' written on it, and basically invented the scenes as
he went along. He even walked off set during a particularly
intense scene and left the actors there to continue without
him while the camera was still rolling, and apparently the
resulting scene made it into the finished cut of the film. Lars
Von Trier would be proud! The Dogme-style of filmmaking
won't be to everyone's taste, nor the real footage of
cosmetic surgery inserted therein, but this difficult little film
does a lot to show how we all have holes in our hearts.
HORRORS OF MALFORMED MEN
(1969)
Dir: Teruo Ishii /Japan
A film that remains as fierce and offensive now as it did
more than forty years ago when it first hit screens in Japan,
Horrors of Malformed Men gained an instant notoriety in its
native land but sadly saw little exposure anywhere else.
Made during the late 60s when 'Pinky Violence' was
reaching the heights of its popularity, Ishii's seminal shocker
is brimful of grotesque imagery, bizarre plot twists, colour-
coded flashbacks, and a gleefully un-PC attitude. The film's
scandalous reception did nothing to halt the blazing career
of one of Japan's foremost purveyors of exploitation, and is
essential viewing for anyone interested in the stranger side
of celluloid.
Based on the disturbing novel, The Strange Tale of
Panorama Island, by celebrated horror maestro Edogawa
Rampo, the film follows medical student Hirosuke Hitomi
(Teruo Yoshida) on his surreal journey to trace his
doppelganger who died under mysterious circumstances.
His search eventually leads to a strange volcanic island
populated by deformed and disfigured humans who seem to
be under the rule of a mad scientist with webbed fingers. In
a series of flashbacks we learn more about this madman
who may or may not be Hirosuke's father, and also other
bizarre and grotesque bits like evil cross-dressing prison
wardens, flesh-eating crabs, incest, and hunchbacked freaks
raping imprisoned women.
Right from the get-go the film is a disorientating experience,
with the curtain-raiser set in a sexually-integrated insane
asylum. The plot throws up some amazing scenes, one after
another, with little rhyme or warning, such as the half
undressed women being whipped, the graphic scene of a
woman having her breasts sliced open with a knife, and the
colour-tinted episodes which accentuate the mood of the
backstory. Although it's not as graphic or extreme as some
of the more outrageous Japanese offerings that flourished in
the 70s (many of which were also directed by Ishii),
Malformed Men nonetheless boasts some freakish imagery
and a whacked-out psychedelic edge. It's perhaps best
described as a cross between Freaks and Island of
Dr.Maureau, as directed by Seijun Suzuki.
After a very short-lived theatrical release, the film had
caused so much outrage it was promptly banned by the
Japanese authorities. Even the film's title was something of
a cultural taboo but that didn't stop it from being a much
discussed hot topic, conferring upon it an almost mythic
reputation in the ensuing decades for those who didn't get
to see it. And this legendary status was bolstered by the
subsequent work of its director who became known as 'The
King of Cult' in his homeland after a series of unforgettable
entries in the notorious Ero guro sub-genre, such as
Shogun's Joys of Torture, and of course, Female Yakuza Tale:
Inquisition and Torture.
THE HUMAN CENTIPEDE (FIRST
SEQUENCE) (2009)
Dir: Tom Six /Netherlands

The Human Centipede is a horrific black comedy made

purely for sick laughs, but many people took it way too
seriously upon its initial release and failed to see the funny
side.
A misanthropic German Doctor is obsessed with creating a
'human centipede'. His experiments with dogs (Three Dog)
wasn't a success but he jumps right into human
experimentation anyway, by basically stitching three
unlucky people together, mouth-to-anus, and studying the
fiendish (and amusing) results...
Horror fans were disappointed with the lack of all-out gore
(especially those who had read reports of people walking
out of test screenings due to being grossed-out), but the
heavy streak of black humour more than makes up for it
("Feed her! Feed her!"). The film became an instant cult
classic with those who did get the joke. The "YEAH! I DID IT!
HAHAHAHA!!!" is as fine a mad doctor moment as Colin
Clive's "IT'S ALIVE! IT'S ALIVE!" from James Whale's
Frankenstein. The Japanese fella (Akihiro Kitamura) is
hilarious as the unfortunate tourist demanding to be untied,
("The Japanese possess unbelievable strength when backed
into a corner").
Some have criticised the performances of the two girls
(played by Ashley C. Williams and Ashlynne Yennie), but
that's a bit harsh; they weren't necessarily bad. They could
be bad actresses for all we know, but this kind of comedy
horror is no place to judge acting abilities. There's certainly
an exaggerated giddiness in their performances as Lyndsey
and Jenny, but director Tom Six probably wanted them to
ham it up. Besides, their roles were perfect for the kind of
affectionate lampooning that seems to be the film's central
focus point.
There are many in-jokes and self-reference points in The
Human Centipede, and it's incredible how easily much of
this stuff has been overlooked; the scene where the girls
arrive on the doctor's doorstep is a case in point: He asks if
they're alone and will only allow them inside his house when
they confirm to him that they are alone. His face, voice, and
posture are suspicious beyond belief, but they still put their
trust in him and enter his home (this kind of stupid
behaviour is the fault of dumb horror characters, not dumb
actresses). The stitching of character's mouths to arseholes
is an obvious self-reference point - It was a way to shut
them up! Tom Six had simply pre-guessed our annoyance at
those bimbo characters and did us a favour. It's obvious that
he likes to play around with B-movie cliches and
stereotypes, and he does it in a fun and clever way, rather
than a smug 'know-it-all' way like Kevin Williamson and Wes
Craven (Scream). But many still fail to recognise it.
On repeat viewings the humour stands out even more, like
at the beginning when the truck driver pulls over to take a
shit and is shot dead, mid-excretion. Or the part when the
doctor awakens his 'triplets' after the operation and gets
them on all fours (or twelves?); he starts snapping away
with his camera and his subjects are crying in pain and
despair, but the doc's tears are of pride and joy! This cruel
mixture of despair and bliss represents the epitome of black
and twisted humour.
Tom Six announced that The Human Centipe is only the first
in a planned trilogy (hence the First Sequence in the title).
Many have speculated on how the sequels will take shape,
but the most interesting and feasible idea is the siamese
twin angle: During the film, on the doctor's wall can be seen
a piece of artwork depicting conjoined fetuses. Is it possible
that the doc has a twin brother whom he was surgically
seperated from? It would explain why he was so interested
in the subject (and would also be a good excuse to bring
back actor Deiter Laser for the sequel). Perhaps this long
lost twin will come out of the woodwork and continue with
Doctor Heiter's research?
If so, let's just hope that this long lost twin is just as sick and
twisted as his brother.
HUSTLER WHITE (1996)
Dir: Bruce LaBruce and Ricky Castro /Germany/Canada

With a plot that borrows elements from Sunset Boulevard

and Death In Venice, Hustler White centres on LA hustler
Tony Ward, who spends his time dealing with punters and
appearing in porn movies in Santa Monica, California. He
meets Jurgen Anger (LaBruce), and the pair build a growing
rapport surrounded by the diverse sexual shenanigans in
the local area.
When Hustler White was released in the UK, it prompted
that model of liberalism, The Mail On Sunday, to accuse the
film of being "Disgusting, sick, filthy, pornographic, and
scary", and then added, "Despite being disgusting, sick,
filthy, pornographic, and scary, it's not bad". With its
postmodern blend of diverse reference points, from old
skool Hollywood, to porn, and S&M, sprinkled with hilarious
black comedy, it's a film which, despite the outrageous
scenes of perverse sex, is actually at heart a romantic story
and a celebration of diversity.
Tony Ward is perfect as Montgomery, whose good looks and
pleasant nature helps to steer the film away from its moral
ambiguity and makes the film feel somehow less offensive
to viewers than it could have been. He reminded me of Joe
Dallesandro in the Warhol/Morrisey movies, Flesh, Trash, and
Heat. That's not to say that it's an easy ride; no doubt, the
uber-offensive humour, extreme bondage, and perversities
(including sex with amputees) will be too much for some
viewers, especially those who are in any way homophobic.
Or claustrophobic (as the cling-film scene will demonstrate).
Writer/director Bruce LaBruce started on his road to infamy
in 1987 with I Know What It's Like To Be Dead, and followed
it up with No Skin Off My Ass in 1991, and then secured his
legend in 1993 with Super 8 1/2, a cult classic which put him
at the forefront of controversial Queer Cinema. Hustler
White was subjected to cuts by the BBFC who objected to
scenes including sexual kicks from razor blades, and the
aforementioned amputee fetish. But LaBruce still shows no
signs of tempering his tastes. His equally uncompromising
Skin Flick (later retitled to Skin Gang) was rejected by the
London Film Festival for its graphic scenes of skinhead sex
and a particularly gruelling Nazi rape scene. And his later
effort, L.A. Zombie was banned outright in the UK in 2010.
If you're looking for a grubby gay porn film then Hustler
White will be a disappointment. Likewise, if you're easily
offended. It's a film designed to lure in unsuspecting viewers
and shock them with unflinching scenes of perversity and
sadomasochism, but it's also completely unashamed of
itself and ultimately embraces the outer realms of human
desire, whilst presenting art as imitating art as imitating art,
with its numerous and often obscure cultural references.
THE IDIOTS (1998)
(Orig title: Idioterne)
*Director not credited* (Lars Von Trier) /Denmark

These are the ten rules of Dogme films:

1) Shooting must be done on location. (No sets, no props)

2) Sounds must never be produced. (No music)
3) The camera must always be handheld.
4) The film must be in colour. Special lighting is not
acceptable.
5) Optical work and filters are forbidden.
6) The film must not contain any superficial action. (Violence
and sex, etc, must be for real)
7) Temporal and geographical alienation is forbidden. (The
film must take place in the here and now)
8) Genre films are not acceptable.
9) The film format must an academy 35mm.
10) The director must never be credited.

After the international success of Breaking The Waves,

writer/director Lars Von Trier could have headed off abroad
and made a big-budget Hollywood blockbuster. But that has
never been his style (not to mention his intense fear of
flying), and instead he stayed in Denmark and decided on a
low-budget and largely improvised project that resembles a
fly-on-the-wall documentary. It was made in accordance with
the Dogme 95 'Vow of chastity', a set of rules which
severely limit the filmmaker's creativity. The result is a film
that is at once shocking, offensive, darkly hilarious, and
altogether quite extraordinary.
The Idiots follows a group of middle class dropouts who
pretend to be mentally handicapped. Living together in a
commune-like mansion, they improvise drooling, belching,
and urinating on day trips as a way of causing disruption in
public places. They refer to their antics as "spazzing" and do
all they can to test the patience of the upper middle class.
As a potent mixture of anti-bourgeois protest, performance
art, and group therapy, their true purpose is never really
made clear.
This strange bunch are joined by the unhappy Karen (Bodil
Jorgensen) who meets them during a "spaz attack" in a
plush restaurant. Karen's background remains a mystery
until the end of the film when she takes the group back to
her dad's house for one of the most uncomfortable dinner
party scenes you'll ever see. But in the meantime, Karen
begins to try and fathom the group's leader, Stoffer (Jens
Albinus), and serves as a tender surrogate for the more soft-
hearted viewer.
The plot synopsis sounds incredibly silly, but according to
press interviews, that was what Von Trier intended, to
experiment with ideas that are both "philosophically and
artistically radical", and simultaneously "disastrously silly,
malicious, foolish, and meaningless". And though the film
has received a high number of high-profile critical plaudits
over the years, it's difficult not to conclude that Von Trier
was perhaps up to his old trickster games once again.
Claiming to have been depressed during the conception of
Antichrist, and publicly claiming to be a Nazi whilst
promoting Melancholia, it's hard to take anything he says
seriously anymore. In other words, it's entirely up to you to
decide how seriously you take this film.
In his 'Dogme director confessionate test' Von Trier admitted
to breaking some of the Dogme rules by altering a light
source, feeding the actors, hiring a car, and having
someone play harmonica music on set. Most famously, he
also admitted to hiring a porn actor for the notorious orgy
scene. It was this latter element which could have caused
problems with the BBFC, but despite the graphic nature of
an ejaculating hardon, the film joined Catherine Briellat's
Romance and Patrice Chereau's Intimacy as the latest in a
line of sexually explicit films to be passed uncut by the
board for both cinema and home video.
The Idiots premiered at Cannes in 1998 and generally had a
warm reception. But not everyone was impressed; Mark
Kermode was famously thrown out of the theatre for
shouting "Il est merde!" at the screen. No doubt the film will
cause anger and upset for a lot of people, but it also boasts
some incredibly powerful scenes; the sequence at the
dinner table at the end filled me with a mixture of
conflicting emotions I had never felt before anywhere,
whether watching a movie or in everyday life, and for that
reason alone it gets a thumbs up from me.
Overall though, The Idiots leaves us with more questions
than answers; it's unclear whether Karen's character
represents Von Trier himself, and it's equally unclear where
this film stands in relation to the rest of his filmography; the
anti-individualist demands of the Dogme 95 Manifesto seem
to be at odds with his own artistic notions. And if Von Trier's
film stands as a critique on the conformity of collective
thinking and its inevitable encroaching on the individual,
then what are we to make of Dogme 95?
Von Trier later abandoned the Dogme rules, "The more
fashionable it has become, also the more boring", he
claimed.
"When we originally discussed the vow of chastity, we had
no ambitions to change the world, like, for instance, the
French nouvelle vague. But if in 25 years some film students
accidently excavate the manifesto and find the ten rules
interesting, we will obviously be happy, but it was not our
initial purpose".
IN A GLASS CAGE (1986)
(Orig title: Tras el cristal)
Dir: Agustin Villaronga /Spain

One of the most intense, courageous, and disturbing films of

all time, In a Glass Cage ranks alongside Salo and Cannibal
Holocaust as a superbly made shockfest.
Klaus, a Nazi paedophile, suffers pangs of guilt and
attempts to commit suicide by jumping from the roof of a
building. He doesn't die but ends up paralyzed from the
neck down at his family home in Spain where he is confined
to an iron lung in need of round-the-clock care. A creepy
young man, Angelo, enters the family home and lands
himself the job as a full-time carer to Klaus. We soon learn
that Angelo is a very disturbed individual and subjects Klaus
to near-suffocation by unplugging the iron lung as a way of
demonstrating his total power over his new 'employer'.
Things become even more desperate when Angelo reveals
Klaus' wartime diary and reads aloud the entries where
Klaus sadistically abused and tortured young boys in a
concentration camp; all this whilst masturbating onto the
old man's face. Angelo then turns up the heat by
threatening his wife and daughter and bringing young boys
back to the house where he intends on re-enacting the most
harrowing tortures of the diary - The most appalling of which
includes injecting petrol directly into the youngster's heart
for a truly agonising scene, before the depraved ending.
Very few films touch on the subject of child murder, and
fewer still dare to breach the taboo in such detail as this
(such transgressions can be found in Salo and Tenderness of
The Wolves, and also in the literary works of the Marquis de
Sade and Dennis Cooper, but it's a general rarity). Added to
the disturbing subject-matter is the way director Villaronga
presents the action; he uses classic genre tricks like
intensely claustrophobic chase scenes, graphic murders,
and a 'thrilling' soundtrack reminiscent of all manner of
stylish 80s horror. He also steers dangerously close to
viewer implication as he toys with the dynamics of sadistic
and masochistic sexual fantasies; make no mistake, this film
has the potential to unleash some dark desires in some
viewers: Approach with caution.
The murder scenes in Tras el cristal are very difficult to
watch. We're not shown much in the way of blood or
violence or gore; it's in the extremely effective build-up to
the scenes that make them all the more hard to deal with.
The scenes are also cruelly fascinating in the way Villaronga
exposes our complicitness with the shocking tortures on
screen; through his eyes we're not just watching evil events
being played out, we're in fact reminded through our
willingness to go along with genre conventions, that the
dark side isn't just limited to sadistic murderers, but is
present within all of us to a certain degree.
Stylistically, In a Glass Cage is part arthouse exploration and
part horror, like a cross between Dario Argento and Luchino
Visconti. Thematically, the premise is very similar to
Stephen King's Apt Pupil (1981), whether the director was
aware of this or not. Apt Pupil is about a teenage boy who
blackmails an ageing Nazi war criminal into helping him with
a school essay on the nature of evil. King's novel can be
interpreted as an interrogation of Satan himself, but in Tras
el cristal the two central characters are just as evil as each
other. Whatever your opinion is on this film, it is at least a
gruelling but vital alternative to those cheap and nasty
Naziploitation films of the 70s.
Tras el cristal was shown at the London Film Festival and
produced mass walk-outs. It was then shown at a gay film
festival in Tyneside, and even billed as a gay-friendly title.
Unsurprisingly, the film was met with anger and more walk-
outs. It was later discovered on video by adventurous horror
hounds (along with Salo and Andrzej Zulawski's Possession)
and quickly rose to notoriety on the bootleg video circuit
before Cult Epics came along offering the full uncut DVD.
I SAW THE DEVIL (2010)
Dir: Kim Jee Woon /South Korea

This is one of the finest Korean movies I've ever seen, way
better than over-hyped tosh like Oldboy and Three:
Extremes, despite the long running time and ludicrous plot.
It centres on a vicious serial killer, Jon Ki-Du (Oldboy himself,
Choi Min-Sik), who is tracked down with dogged
determination by an equally ruthless cop, Kim (Lee Byung
Hun), whose fiance was butchered by the killer.
Kim uses satellite tracking devices to monitor Jon's
movements and plays a dangerous game of cat and mouse
with him which puts public safety in jeopardy. He always
catches up with the psycho when he's up to no good,
beating the maniac and breaking his bones before letting
him go free once again. His plan is to gradually torture the
killer into madness but there's also the danger that Jon
could get wise to the game and go off the rails completely...
Much has been mentioned about the morals of the cop
character in this film, and yes the good/evil ambiguity
leaves innocent people in peril, but I thought it was a
refreshing break from the Hollywoodized norm of focusing
on cop characters who are morally faultless. Plus, the film
takes Nietzsche's old quote about being careful not to
become monstrous when facing a monster, and takes this
premise to its most extreme conclusion. It's like the
filmmaker's took that quote as a challenge rather than a
warning! The film is also brimful of excellent set pieces,
such as the gruesome killing in the taxi with the camera
frantically circling the action that rivals Dario Argento for
visual audacity. But the most shocking thing about the film
for me was how different it is in terms of style from Kim's
previous work, such as A Tale of Two Sisters; a creepy,
atmospheric ghost story which is the total flipside to the
hyper-kinetic and unflinching style of I Saw The Devil.
Choi Min-Sik's performance as the killer is superb. He's
barely recognisable as the victim in Oldboy, even though it's
his same face and hair with no prosthetics; he embodies the
character so well that he seems to physically alter into that
wretched creature. There are no special effects to
exaggerate his evil visage, and he captures that predatory
deviousness so well; it's a credit to both Min-Sik and director
Kim Jee Woon that the killer didn't become some glamorized
maniac or descend into some silly pastiche that no doubt
will happen if this gets the Hollywood 'makeover' treatment.
The result is one of the most memorable and evil screen
monsters in a long long time.
ISLAND OF DEATH (1975)
Dir: Nico Mastorakis /Greece

Christopher's 'girlfriend' Celia refuses to have sex with him,

so he goes outside and fucks a goat before cutting its
throat. Meanwhile, Celia goes and fucks a guy whom the
couple had met the previous evening, a man whom
Christopher took an instant dislike to. Christopher spots
them having sex in a field and takes a few snapshots with
his camera (?). Then with the aid of Celia he pins the man to
the ground with nails through his hands before pouring a tub
of white paint down his throat. Interestingly, Celia joins in
excitedly like it's a game, whereas Christopher feels that the
murder is justified because he is helping to "punish
perversion".
In an earlier scene Christopher spots an adulterous woman
in bed with another man through a window and declares
that he would "kill her if she was my wife", and yet he
seems to forgive Celia of her unfaithfulness. Indeed, the
audience has to wait until the end of the film to discover
exactly what the relationship is between these two; are they
cousins, siblings, boyfriend and girlfriend, or husband and
wife?
In Christopher one can detect a repressed homosexuality
that is exaggerated to the extreme, and could account for
his crimes. And Celia just tags along with this dominant
figure. Tragically, Bob Belling, the actor who plays
Christopher, committed suicide not long after the film was
made. Director Nico Mastorakis described him as "a deeply
disturbed and puzzled, complex individual. He stuck the
tube of a propane gas tank in his throat and died this way.
He hadn't defined his sexuality".
The scene where Christopher seduces the older woman,
Petricia, is interesting because he can't get aroused so he
pisses on her instead. At first Petricia seems disgusted, but
then she starts rubbing the urine over her body (whether it
is genuine pleasure or fear that makes her act in this way is
not clear). Christopher is not impressed. He takes the
slightest opportunity to end the situation (she snags his dick
with her tooth), and then he drags her outside and
decapitates her with a bulldozer. His brutal crimes are
committed to convince himself of his own warped ideas of
what masculinity means. Celia's promiscuity allows Chris to
become an avenger, to forget about his own problems and
vent his frustrations out on 'perverts' whilst attaining a
sense of normality in his own mind, safely heterosexual in
all consciousness (and as a couple they are well suited in
that sense!). And this equilibrium, this sense of normality is
worth many sacrifices; mass murder and bestiality is fair
game if it means escaping the demands of a repressed
libido.
The scene where Celia is attacked in the bathroom and
Christopher shows up and dispatches the would-be rapists is
interesting because, in this case, he doesn't revel so much
in their murders. He kills them quickly to protect Celia.
These killings are instinctive and lack the artistry and
imagination of the other murders throughout the film. This is
because he was not the instigator in this episode; many
people would have responded in the exact same way as
Chris in a situation like that. The scene where he kills the
two homosexuals with a sword, however, is a different
matter; his desire to sexually penetrate the queer is
countered by an impulse to eradicate or terminate that
drive; so of course, in Christopher's mind, the logical thing
to do is to stab, or 'penetrate' the homo with a sword!
Penetrated and terminated in one fell swoop!
Towards the end when the couple are on the run,
Christopher shows vulnerability by seeking shelter in a
shepherd's barn. In Celia's eyes he is no longer that
domineering male that she longs for. He affections and
loyalties shift to the shepherd when he shows up and rapes
them both. Christopher couldn't defend her or himself from
being raped, so now Celia has found her new man. The
shepherd manhandles Chris with ease and throws him into a
lime pit (after cocking a leg and farting at him). Christopher
calls out to Celia for help, but she doesn't want to know. His
pleading only shows weakness, and she doesn't do
weakness. The shepherd is her new protector, and Chris can
go to hell.
"It needs a strong man to get you out of there", she says as
she leaves with her new man, seemingly turned on by
Christopher's screaming "Help me! I'm burning!! I'm
burning!!!"
Island of Death reached UK cinemas in April 1976 under the
title A Craving For Lust in a heavily censored print. The film
later surfaced at the onset of the video boom of the early
80s in an uncut cassette from the AVI label. It then found
itself on the video nasties list and was prosecuted under
section 2 of the Obscene Publications ACT in 1985. Island of
Death was later re-submitted to the censors under the title
Psychic Killer 2 and was banned outright. Throughout the
80s and 90s bootleg copies were selling on VHS for as much
as £50 each. Vipco released a BBFC-approved version in
2002 which had more than 4 minutes of footage missing,
and it wasn't until a few years later that the British censors
finally relented and passed the uncut version, available from
Allstar Pictures.
THE JOY OF TORTURE 2: OXEN SPLIT
TORTURING (1976)
(aka Shogun's Sadism)
Dir: Yuji Makiguchi /Japan

This sequel to Teruo Ishii's classic, Shogun's Joys of Torture,

focuses on the persecution and corruption throughout the
history of Japan. Christians, adulterers, criminals, samurai,
etc. We're treated to a couple of stories from different
epochs, but don't expect any soapbox moralising here as
this film is just an excuse to indulge in scene after scene of
mindless ultra-violence.
The film opens with bizarre moog music and stills of war
atrocities, and then we're introduced to snake torture, a
heavy mallet to the foot, men and women being burned and
boiled alive. In one scene a woman is hung, and while she's
still hanging there she is cut in half from the waist with a
samurai sword. A 12 year old girl is forced to confess to
crimes she didn't commit, but she refuses to talk, so she is
beaten and branded across the eyes with a hot iron,
blinding her. The film attempts some sub-plots along the
way, but all very quickly descend into more torture scenes.
The latter half brings on some silly slapstick comedy
reminiscent of a CAT III movie. The production values are
very impressive too, with lavish sets, great location
shooting, costumes, and superbly gruesome special effects.
There's not a single redeeming factor among the characters
(except for the good Christian girl who sucks the poison out
of a man's arm after he is bitten by a snake), but we do get
what the title promises - Torture, and lots of it. Also gang
rape, crucifixions, stabbings, burnings, a woman being torn
apart by wild oxen, blasphemy, foot-stomp abortion, ears
and dick cut off... Fun for all the family!
The Japan Shock DVD looks superb. Someone has obviously
taken good care of the negative over the years (if only
American and Italian exploitation films were so well
preserved). The colours are bold and punchy, and there's
not a speck of damage on the print. This is top-of-the-range
Japsploitation, essential viewing.
KIDS (1996)
Dir: Larry Clark /USA

"Like it or not, it's a modern American masterpiece". That

was the Daily Telegraph's response to Larry Clark's Kids, one
of the most controversial films of the 90s. Powerful,
infuriating, and fiercely uncompromising, this bleak tale of a
day in the lives of a bunch of teenage wasters in New York
caused a scandal on its release.
This docu-drama follows a group of shameless delinquents
as they hang out, do drugs, spread diseases, and indulge in
petty crime and mindless violence. The verite effect
discloses many lurid details that are not easily forgotten.
The narrative falls into place with Telly (Leo Fitzpatrick), a
sweet-talking sleaze bag whose hobby is to deflower young
girls ("Virgins, I love 'em! No diseases!"). Meanwhile, Jennie,
one of Telly's previous bed-fellows, discovers that she is HIV
positive. She spends the rest of the film trying to track him
down before the disease can be spread any further.
Whether you're a worried parent or a detached spectator,
Kids is a film that demands the viewer to confront the
depravity on screen. It's a horror show aimed at adults
rather than children, and its potent message is driven home
with exceptional directorial skill. If you choose to turn away
and ignore, then according to the film's unflinchingly candid
view, you're no better than the millions of parents out there
who let their kids run wild with no clue as to what they're
getting up to with their friends. And this stance was backed
up by Variety magazine who declared that "Kids is
disgusting and disturbing but that does not stop it from
being a work of art. The nice thing about Kids is that it isn't
nice at all".
Former photographer Larry Clark teamed up with writer and
skateboarder, Harmony Korine, to bring this cautionary
tale to the screen. Korine was allegedly only 18 years old
when he wrote the script; and it's interesting to know that
there was a script at all, because the performances in the
film are spot-on for the most part, and their casual line
deliveries seem completely ad-libbed. The film itself remains
a devastating snapshot of a generation who have sunk so
low it would surely have caused Bret Easton Ellis a few
sleepless nights.
The only real downside is that the film feels phony in its
social context; New York is just like any other big city with
its neighbourhoods seperated by race, class, and religion
(similar to the racial segregation in the urban areas of Paris,
and the 'post code wars' in London, for example); there's no
way the kids in Kids would be able to mingle in the park
without any trouble erupting between those of differing
neighbourhoods, and its simply bogus to suggest otherwise.
The press whipped up a storm on its release, and the BBFC
cut a minute and a half of footage under the Protection of
Children Act. The film was financed by Disney, and they
sought to conceal their financial interest in Kids by having
their sub-label, Miramax, release the film under an alias
company name, Shining Excalibur Films. Warner Brothers
distanced themselves from the film in a pathetic show of
moral indignation by banning its screenings at its UK cinema
chains (but they were happy to allow it to be shown at their
other chains across the world).
As for director Larry Clark, he has continued in his efforts to
portray modern wayward youth in his subsequent work,
such as Another Day In Paradise, Ken Park (again in
collaboration with Harmony Korine), and Wassup Rockers,
films which vary in their success and explicitness. There's no
doubt he feels very passionate about what he does - I
suppose you'd have to be - and he at least is prepared to
shine a light into the murkier side of American youth, a
place that many of us would rather not know about. But
credit to him for going places where very few filmmakers
are willing to go, and presenting us with the confrontational
truth.
KING OF NEW YORK (1990)
Dir: Abel Ferrara /USA

Christopher Walken stars as Frank White, a New York drug

lord who is back on the streets after a prison term. He
claims to now be a reformed character, and tries to do some
good for society by cleaning the streets of rival pushers and
pimps, and uses ill-gotten gains to save a Bronx hospital
from closure. He is backed up by his (mostly) loyal gang of
black maniacs who are happy to unload their weapons on
anyone who gets in the way of Frank's dream. Meanwhile, a
group of angry cops with a personal vendetta against White
decide to take ruthless vigilante action against him and his
gang when their efforts to see them back behind bars fails
due to legal chicanery and the
deaths of important eye witnesses.
King of New York is Abel Ferrara's first foray into the
gangster genre with a bleak worldview penned by Ferrara's
long-time cohort Nicholas St. John. It's the kind of film where
the entire principal cast are wiped out in the most cold and
calculated ways (including a cop who is shot dead at his
colleague's funeral), and one man's attempts to redeem
himself from the errors of his ways is doomed from the start.
But for all the film's bleak tone and ruthless slaughter, this
is actually one of Ferrara's most optimistic efforts to date.
It's also one of his most accessible, boasting a strong neon-
lit photography by Bojan Bazelli and one of the most
impressive casts of the 90s which, alongside Walken, also
features Larry Fishburne, David Caruso, Wesley Snipes,
Victor Argo, and Steve Buscemi.
Interestingly, King of New York tips its hat to vampiric
legend; it's a film which owes more to gothic horrors like
Nosferatu and Near Dark rather than Goodfellas or Scarface.
It's no coincidence that Frank White constantly
states that he is "Back from the dead", or that his main
enemy is called Bishop; Argo's detective serves as a Van
Helsing determined to slay White, the slippery bloodsucker
who is never seen in any kind of natural light, and who
literally walks on his own grave. Indeed, Ferrara went on to
cast Walken a few years later as Peina the philosophising
vampire in The Addiction.
This vision of New York is dark and complicated. The
jumbled scenery juxtaposes criminality and morality, rich
and poor, order and chaos, politics and apathy, business
and pleasure to such an extent the result is mind-boggling.
It's a concrete jungle of racial and cultural diversities where
even the cops and politicians roam around in clan-like
groups held together by their own sense of loyalty. Ferrara
and St. John know the city inside out; the ethnic areas, the
subways, districts, tourist spots, hotels, bars, and
restaurants. And all of these elements help give King of New
York a fractured but realistic sense of place. A classic.
KISSED (1996)
Dir: Lynne Stopkewich /Canada

This is not a Nekromantik. In fact, director Lynne Stopkewich

goes so far in trying to portray the subject of necrophilia in a
non-sensationalist manner that she ends up making it seem
somehow tasteful. And boring. There's no explicit mortuary
scenes here, or corpse-fucking in the old Jorg Buttgereit
mode. Stopkewich instead aims for an exploration of the
spiritual possibilities in the attraction of death.
Based on Barbara Gowdy's short tale, We So Seldom Look
On Love, Kissed centres on Sandra (Molly Parker), a morbid
young woman whose fascination with death leads to a job in
a mortuary. She meets a handsome young man in Matt
(Peter Outerbridge), and eventually reveals to him her dark
secret. Sandra's disinterest in the living sees her becoming
increasingly attracted to the dead, where she seems to have
ecstatic spiritual experiences with corpses... Meanwhile,
Matt becomes increasingly obsessed with Sandra, and in a
leaf taken from Romeo and Juliet, decides to get pretty
drastic in his attempts to win her heart...
The worst thing a movie can be is boring. And Kissed is
almost sleep-inducing. Rather than cutting the film down
into a short, Stopkewich seemed determined to stretch out
the incredibly dull proceedings for a full 80 minutes. There's
also very little in the way of psychology to help us
understand Sandra's motivations, and what we're left with is
a cute and rather naive portrait of a corpse-fucker; all very
sweet and quirky! Her disgusting perversion is treated in the
same way as a woman with a terminal disease in some
daytime TV movie; just another well-adjusted leading lady
who just so happens to be a bit different - in this case a
penchant for sleeping with dead bodies. I know the film
focuses more on the spiritual dimensions of such vile
subject-matter, but still I didn't believe a second of this
garbage. Some have interpreted the film as Sandra's
fantasy, and that would perhaps explain why all the corpses
just happen to be handsome young men. All in all though,
it's a simplistic and lifeless failure.
Despite nearing retirement, chief censor at the BBFC, James
Ferman, had some reservations about the film, but new
censor, Andreas Whittam Smith, recognised the film as an
exploration, not exploitation, and passed Kissed uncut for
home viewing.
THE LAST HOUSE ON DEAD END
STREET (1973)
(aka The Cuckoo Clocks of Hell; aka The Funhouse)
Dir: Victor Janos (Roger Watkins) /USA

Upon his release from jail, a minor drug dealer, Terry

Hawkins (played by director Watkins under the pseudonym
Steven Morrison) is determined to avenge the porno
peddlers whom he worked with and who have pissed him off
in some way by gathering together a group of low-lives
whose job it is to film a string of tortures, disembowelments,
and murders. A group of victims are quickly assembled and
lured to an old abandoned building where the filmic
misadventures begin.
Straight up porno is not good enough anymore, people want
their movies to be gruelling and nasty, and Mr.Hawkins
decides to give the people what they want... Terry tortures
and kills the 'performers' while his female assistants stand
by in ghoulish masks. The end result is similar to Joel M.
Reed's Bloodsucking Freaks but lacks that film's silly grand
guignol style, and opts instead to play up the awful
seriousness of a snuff film, for better or worse...
Lots of vileness ensues as the slaughter reaches overdrive -
Men and women are tied up, branded, have their faces cut
off, and eyeballs skewered. One woman has her leg cut off
while she is unconscious, only to be brought around again
with the aid of smelling salts so that she can fully
comprehend the horror of her situation. She is then
subsequently disemboweled. And much of the film is
narrated by the psychopaths themselves...
Made on a shoestring budget of $800, this heavy-duty
horror of nihilism and misanthropy is told in an icy and
clinical way with its low lighting and technical limitations
adding to its harrowing atmosphere of dread. It isn't a snuff
film, but that kind of nasty, cynical attitude needed to make
a snuffy is in full force here as Watkin's performance as the
troubled filmmaker is one of the most memorable and evil in
all of 70s horror.
Speaking of evil, The Last House On Dead End Street also
features one of the most freakishly evil soundtracks in the
history of film, made using old classical library music slowed
down, played backwards, and channeled through a guitar
phasing effects peddle. The result is simply mesmerising.
Adding to the hostilities are the artistic flourishes
throughout the film; it's cheap and nasty for sure, but
there's nothing corny about the performances or script or
overall tone of the project, unlike many films of its era. I
can't think of any other film that oozes such pure hatred in
every frame, except maybe Shaun Costello's horror/porn
hybrid, Forced Entry.
The murders become a strange kind of ritual towards the
end with the use of knives, mirrors, masks, and other
objects. Those familiar with the magickal arts and Satanism
will notice that a magick symbol is used as a branding iron
and deer hooves are used for sexual excitation in the
victims, and Hawkins even wears a God mask during the
slaughter sequences.
It may come as no surprise to learn that Watkins was
heavily into amphetamines during the making of the film;
speed leaves its users in a state of social dislocation, and all
feelings of empathy towards our fellow human beings are
shut down in that highly-charged state. And that mindset is
suitably mirrored in the film's grim and heartless hostility.
The Last House On Dead End Street was completed as early
as 1973 under its original title, The Cuckoo Clocks of Hell.
That version had an epic running time of almost three hours
(and right up until his death in 2007 Watkins had always
insisted that that version was the definitive cut). The film
was reluctantly cut down to 115 minutes for a planned
screening at Cannes which never actually happened due to
an actor filing a lawsuit after he was fired from the set. This
kept the film in litigation for years until the case was thrown
out of court.
Watkins was then finally free to secure some distribution
and struck a deal with Warmflash Productions. For a while
things seemed to be working out well until he discovered
that the company had cut his film down to 77 minutes, re-
arranged scenes, created a fake credits sequence, changed
the title to The Funhouse, and even added a 'bad-guys-get-
their-comeuppance' coda at the end. Understandably
peeved and disillusioned, Watkins moved away from feature
production and carved out a career in the porn industry
instead.
Meanwhile, the 77 minute cut was raking in large sums of
money on the drive-in circuit when it was re-titled again as
The Last House On Dead End Street to cash in on Wes
Craven's classic Last House On The Left title. And then the
film simply disappeared, leaving only a handful of rave
reviews in its wake. On home video it was released in the
States on Betamax and VHS by a company called Sun Video
and in Canada by Marquee, but both releases were fleeting
and short-lived. Due to the rarity of the film and the
mysterious nature of its director (billed as 'Victor Janos') and
everyone involved, Dead End Street's reputation began
spiraling out of control; some of the more spurious rumours
going around were that it was a genuine snuff film, and it
wasn't long before the movie had garnered a legendary
reputation. Bootleg copies from an awful looking Venezuelan
videotape were selling on eBay for as much as $100 per
tape, and this led Watkins’ then girlfriend Suzanne to post a
message on an internet horror forum enquiring about fans
of the film. This post caught the attention of Headpress
honcho David Kerekes, and the rest is history. He met up
with Watkins for a lengthy interview (see Headpress 23) and
arranged to get the movie out on DVD.
This holy grail amongst horror movie collectors was then
dragged out into the light when Kerekes managed to source
an incomplete 35mm print belonging to FantAsia's Mitch
Davis. It was missing the extended disembowelment scene
but the folks at Barrel Entertainment located a super-rare
copy on VHS, and they inserted the scene for a Special
Edition DVD release. It isn't the long lost 3 hour director's
cut, but Barrel did a fantastic job of rescuing this caustic
gem from oblivion, and they should be commended for
making an uncut release a priority.
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF A PORNO
GANG (2009)
(Orig title: Zivot i Smrt porno bande)
Dir: Mladen Djordevic /Serbia

Largely overshadowed by the release of the notorious A

Serbian Film around the same time, The Life and Death of a
Porno Gang had to make do with luring unsuspecting
viewers into its web of nastiness by word of mouth alone
whilst
Spasojevic's film sparked global controversy and even
graced the cover of Fangoria magazine. You won't see any
'Newborn Porn' in Djordevic's film, but you'll see just about
everything else besides as we follow a group of dropout
pornographers who hit the road in a Scooby Doo van armed
with video cameras. Whilst watching months of old video
footage, a survivor of the gang explains what's going on...
The film starts in a light-hearted manner as almost
documentary-like, but we soon get a touch of style,
surrealism, and humour (much like Koen Mortier's Ex
Drummer). We also get to see brief shots of unsimulated
sex, a nasty beheading scene with bored soldiers playing
football with some poor guy's severed head, a man cuts a
goat’s throat, and a tranny sucks off a horse. This film also
features one of the weirdest rape scenes ever in which the
gang are gang-raped by country folk; what makes it weird is
that one of the guys being raped starts to laugh
uncontrollably, and this laughter infects the other rapees,
setting off a chain of giggles which leaves the horny yokels
understandably confused (it transpires that the bumpkin
rapists have been infected with HIV through their attack,
and it's that Gotcha! moment which amuses the gang).
Eventually the porno bande decide that snuff sells so they
begin organising the making of one. They start by filming
some loon cut himself up with a razor; he then cuts his own
throat on camera. One of the gang can't handle his death-
croaks and steps in to finish him off by bashing his brains in.
They dispose of the corpse and then indulge in a hippy-style
orgy. Then we get another snuff movie; a woman called
Sofia gives a little strip-tease and then smashes a soldier's
head in with a mallet. And then they party some more.
By this point the gang have truly become Mansonesque as
the drugs get harder and they become increasingly
alienated from society, and resort to kidnapping people for
their 'pioneering' snuff efforts (it has long been rumoured
that the
Manson family made snuff movies, but the footage has
never surfaced). The cult begin to fall apart soon after with
suicide and disease rampant among them, but not before
they attempt to stage "the first snuff theatre in the world".
But it doesn't finish there; we get a tripple-whammy of
bloody surprises before the end credits roll...
LOLITA VIBRATOR TORTURE (1987)
Dir: Hisayasu Sato /Japan

Notoriously difficult to find in any English language version,

Lolita Vibrator Torture follows the escapades of a sick
voyeuristic maniac who likes to 'cuff young girls to his bed,
titillate them with a vibrator, pour acid into their mouths,
and take snapshots with his camera as the girl's throats are
burned out. Pretty nasty stuff. A typical predatory
paedophile, the man (Takeshi Ito) grooms and sweet-talks
his potential victims on the streets, gains their trust, and
then unleashes hell on them.
When he captures one particular girl (Kiyomi Ito), he
discovers that she is already carrying around her own
vibrator that she keeps down her panties! He proceeds to
assault her and smears the bloody joy stick across her
chest. After the ordeal he seems to take pity on her and
keeps her alive so that she can become his accomplice.
Another girl is defiled with spray paint, stripped, covered in
shaving foam, then given the old buzz-stick treatment and
raped. His little helper then takes over the vibrator duties
and really goes to town, ramming the victim with all of her
little might. Then comes the acid and the camera, and
young Ito poses with the bloody corpse as the madman
starts clicking away with a photo shoot from hell. The
pictures are then used to decorate the walls of his lair -
A freight container perched on the top of an apartment
block. This couple build a rapport based on sex and secrecy,
but perhaps inevitably, things are due to end very badly...
and those pesky vibrators just keep on buzzing away.
Even by Sato's sleazy standards this wretched piece of
celluloid crosses some serious boundaries. And you thought
Maladoloscenza and Emperor Tomato Ketchup were at the
cutting edge of under-age exploitation? Well, wait until you
clap eyes on this, because for once, the title of the film
actually lives up to expectations. And then some. The
national age of consent in Japan is just 13 years old, but
from a Westerner's perspective the bombardment of school
uniforms, bloody vibrators, and deranged black and white
stills of children in their death throes amounts to some truly
pathological images.
Unsurprisingly, the film hasn't been officially released in any
form outside of Japan, and out of the hundreds of Pinku eiga
films that were made over the decades, this is perhaps the
most shocking and outrageous (though not the best) of
them all. Even the Japanese themselves were outraged, with
some claiming it to be the most repulsive film of all time.
The film does, however, have its share of supporters, most
notably Pinky legend Yuji Tajiri who praised it as being a
major inspiration behind his own directing career.
Made as part of Kan Mukai's Shishi Productions and released
by Nikkatsu as part of a Roman Porno triple-bill,
Lolita Vibrator Torture features the debut of actor Takeshi Ito
who would go on to become one of the most successful Pink
film actors of his era, winning the first ever Best Actor Award
at the Pink Film Grand Prix for his role in Toshiya Ueno's
snappily titled Keep On Masturbating: Non-Stop Pleasure.
And incidentally, actress Kiyomi Ito (no relation) won Best
Actress at the same event for Sato's unforgettable Dirty
Wife Getting Wet. The original title for Lolita Vibrator Torture
was The Secret Garden (Himitsu no Hanazono) under which
name it was released on DVD in Japan in 2003.
LOS OLVIDADOS (1950)
Dir: Luis Bunuel /Mexico

By the mid-1940s Luis Bunuel had spent 15 years in the

cinematic wilderness. When the civil war broke out in Spain,
he found work as a spy in Spain and France, spent some
time unemployed, then crossed the Atlantic for New York
and Los Angeles where he wrote and translated screenplays.
His career as a once great filmmaker seemed to be long
gone. As a youngster, Bunuel had often joked to his friends
that he wouldn't be seen dead in Mexico, but by the mid-40s
that was the only place where he'd stand a chance of
directing another film.
Reluctantly, he drifted south to Mexico City which had
become a haven for Nazi's, spies, communists, anarchists,
and intellectuals of all stripes who had been hounded out of
their own countries. Mexico's non-involvement in World War
II meant there was plenty of money around, and wealthy
film producers still remembered Bunuel and his surrealist
classics like Un Chein Andalou and L'Age D'Or, and it was
Oscar Dancigers who finally offered him the opportunity to
get back behind the camera. After helming a couple of
cheap programmers (Gran Casino and El Gran Calavera),
Bunuel had dispelled the ring rust and felt ready to tackle
something more substantial. The result was Los Olvidados.
After escaping from a reform school, El Jaibo (Roberto Cobo)
returns home to the shanty towns of Mexico City where his
loutish behavior gains him a reputation. Young street waif,
Pedro (Alfonso Mejia) looks up to him with a nervy respect
until Jaibo sleeps with his mother, Marta (Estela Inda). An
infuriated Pedro then dobs him in to the police for killing a
member of a rival gang, and so Jaibo seeks revenge.
Bunuel combines his love of surrealism with Italian neo-
realism for Los Olvidados, and keeps the former to a subtle
minimum whilst embracing the latter to stunning effect. He
dispensed with the norm by hiring a largely professional
cast (Inda and Cobo, and also Miguel Inclan as the blind
beggar), and found it difficult to resist injecting his
trademark flights of fancy (producer Dancigers had to talk
him out of hiring a 100-piece orchestra that would play in
the background of the scene where Jaibo kills Pedro). It's a
hard-hitting film for its time, a tale of low-life criminality and
all-consuming lust that leads to anger, death, and despair.
The script was based on Bunuel's own observations during
his time spent in Mexico City, and also on real case studies
from reformatories which he used to cement his screenplay
in its realism. The film was shot in the director's typical
haste in just 21 days, well ahead of schedule, despite some
troubles during production, with crew members objecting to
the harsh subject-matter and quitting. The film's hair stylist
objected to a scene in which Marta refuses to feed Pedro
("No Mexican mother would do that!"). Bunuel stuck to his
guns though, and refused to change anything in the script.
Indeed, the film's unflinching depiction of abandoned kids
having to fend for themselves in a cruel world devoid of any
kind of moral guidance was always going to be
controversial. And when Los Olvidados premiered at the
CineMexico, the critics were outraged that their city and its
inhabitants had been depicted in such a harsh and
unflattering way. Bunuel was criticised for perpetuating
misery on the citizens, some of the actors who appeared in
the film were so scared of the hostile reception that they
fled the city, and producer Dancigers, who had invested a
large amount of
money in the film, felt intimidated enough to remove it from
circulation after only two days (it premiered on a Thursday
and was withdrawn on the Saturday). Of course, Bunuel was
no stranger to this type of thing, some of his earlier films
had provoked organised riots in the cinema, and he seemed
to take the whole debacle in his stride; just another day at
the office!
The tide turned, however, in the following year when Los
Olvidados played at Cannes to a rapturous reception. It
seemed the French had missed the enfant terrible (it had
been more than two decades since L'Age D'Or and his
controversial documentary, Las Hurdes), and the Spaniard
was bestowed with the Best Director Award, and had that
much needed career resurgence.
Los Olvidados has since become an accepted classic, with
its gritty template being passed down the decades, with
filmmakers as diverse as Hector Babenco (Pixote), Alan
Clarke (Scum), Ulrich Edel (Christiane F.), Walter Salles
(Central Station), and of course, Larry Clark and Harmony
Korine (Kids), all willing and proud to display their
influences. As for Bunuel, Los Olvidados marked the
beginning of the third part of his career after his promising
start in Paris, and 20 years spent mostly in limbo. This fresh
new start lasted for the rest of his life where he made 26
fascinating films in 27 years, securing his reputation, once
and for all, as one of the most important filmmakers of all
time.
LOVE TO KILL (1993)
(Orig title: Ai zhi sha; aka Nue zhi lian)
Dir: Siu Hung Cheung and Kirk Wong /Hong Kong
Anthony Wong is in typical psycho nutjob mode here as
Sam, a cruel, controlling, and possessive husband who
subjects his wife Keung (Julie Lee) to brutal rape in their
apartment. He likes to suffocate her with a polythene bag
while doing it. She manages to fight him off and runs
outside into the rain where a passing cop, Hung Lee (Danny
Lee, the good cop in John Woo's The killer) protects her and
savagely assaults Sam.
When Sam leaves the hospital, he escapes prosectution
because Keung is too afraid to speak out against him or
press charges. The police give him a rollicking but have no
choice but to let him go free. Back at home, Sam
pathetically tries to make it up to Keung by massaging her
feet and being nice to her, but this just has the effect of
making her feel even more depressed and uncomfortable.
Keung's mother is ill in hospital with cancer and she just
about manages to get permission from him to got and visit
her, but on condition that he escorts her.
Keung's heartache at seeing her mother in intense pain and
being heavily addicted to opium sees her attempting to
suffocate mum with a pillow. Now it's the time for the police
to give her a rollicking, but they also remember her from the
incident with Sam and accuse her of 'liking it rough' due to
her not pressing charges. This pushes Keung over the edge
and she slashes her wrist with a piece of broken mirror.
Cop Hung Lee takes pity on her and Keung eventually
confides in him that she is terrified of her husband and is
afraid for her son's safety. Lee immediately organises a van
and he takes Keung home to collect her son and pack some
belongings - He also takes an interest in her panties - Sam
arrives home just in time to see them leaving in the van.
Keung and son move into the cop's apartment with his
girlfriend Jenny. Meanwhile, Sam stays behind and
fantasizes on revenge. He stalks Lee as a way of finding info
on his wife's whereabouts. Lee finds himself increasingly
drawn to Keung and finds it impossible to stop lusting after
her, especially when she does the housework. And just as
things look to be calming down and Keung is starting to
rebuild her life, Sam turns up to spoil all the peace and
harmony.
He checks her mother out of hospital and holds her hostage
at their apartment. He orders Keung to come home or
she'll never see mum again. And of course, when she gets
there, Sam reaches full-on psycho mode. He teases her with
a cutthroat razor, accuses her of sleeping with the cop,
scrubs her in the bath tub, and chains her to the wall. He
then goes out and frames Lee for police brutality. And while
the cop is in custody, he takes a visit round to his apartment
and brutally beats, rapes, and suffocates the cop's girlfriend
Jenny, and takes off with his son. Hung Lee rushes to the
hospital to find Jenny bloody, bruised, and in a vegetative
state on a life support machine. And the scene is set for a
bloody showdown...
This is a surprisingly subdued take on extreme domestic
violence that in other hands may have become just another
sleazy CAT III shocker (Herman Yau, or especially Billy Tang
would have had a field day depicting the awful crimes in this
film). Don't get me wrong, this film was made purely for the
exploitation market but at least takes the time to
acknowledge just how despicable the human animal can be
without resorting to a dramatic 'fun-time' sleaziness like
Yau's Ebola Syndrome or Billy Tang's Red To Kill, for
example.
There's very little of the usual slapstick scenes (although
there are some comic interludes, such as Lee's lusting after
Keung while she does the cleaning, and his awkward
relationship with his high-maintenance girlfriend, Jenny).
Anthony Wong is at his scummiest and best here as the
psycho husband who subjects his wife to a miserable
existence. His brutal sexual fantasies (actually, they're
probably flashbacks) of the horrendous abuses on his wife
are stemmed from his own childhood traumas; as a child,
Sam's father savagely beat his mother and attempted to
hang the little boy, but the rope breaks. And by the end of
the film we can see how this evil behaviour is passed down
the generations (Sam's own son witnesses much of the
domestic carnage), and although the film refuses to suggest
that the little boy will continue in his father's and
grandfather's evil footsteps, you can't help but think that
much damage has been done.
If this all seems a bit sensitive for a CAT III title then don't
dismay; the film's finale is extremely violent - There's a
brutal decapitation, a gruesome and repetitive face-
smashing with an axe, a character beaten with a lump of
wood that has six inch nails sticking out of it, a near-
decapitation on a broken window pane, and some nasty nail-
gun mayhem, with one character shot through the eye.
Unmissable.
LUCKER THE NECROPHAGOUS (1986)
Dir: Johan Vandewoestijne /Belgium

The subject of necrophilia has cropped up over the decades

in many horror films, albeit in mostly tame and metaphorical
terms, with the works of people like Mario Bava, Roger
Corman, and Jean Rollin all hinting at the twisted
sensualities of death. In the 1970s when the gates of excess
were thrown wide open, and almost every taboo you can
think of were explored by filmmakers willing to obliterate
the boundaries, still there was no one brave enough to
tackle the subject in a blunt and literal fashion (Marijan
Vadja's creepy and morbid Mosquito The Rapist was perhaps
the closest thing to necrophilia we saw in 70s horror). A few
years later and Joe D'Amato's Biou Omega came closer still
to a full-on depiction of corpse fucking, but it wasn't until
the early 80s that this most enduring and disgusting of
taboos was finally broken with Gerald Kargls Angst, in which
a young woman is murdered and subsequently raped.
Later that decade a pair of rancid videotapes started
floating round Europe via mail order; Jorg Buttgereit's
Nekromantik and Johan Vandewoestijne's Lucker The
Necrophagous. And although both of these films have been
known to induce actual physical vomiting in their audiences,
Buttgereit's film is an arty shocker with warm sweeping
music and
soft-focus photography which somewhat softens the blow,
whereas Vandewoestijne's Lucker dispenses with the
glossiness and gets down and dirty with the cadavers, and
culminates in one of the most repulsive sequences in
cinema history.
The film kicks off with Lucker on a mad killing spree after a
failed murder, suicide attempt, and escape from a mental
institution. He stores away his young female corpses and
allows them to mature for a while (like a fine wine?) before
he samples the earthly delights. And this sets up the
unforgettable sequence in which Lucker cuts a woman's
throat and watches her bleed to death before covering her
with a sheet. We then spend the next week or so with the
slobby psychopath as he kicks around in his squalid
apartment biding his time...
Eventually he returns to the bed and uncovers the corpse,
but the body laid out before him no longer resembles that of
a young woman, but a bloated, discoloured stiff riddled with
maggots (you can almost smell it). Undeterred, an aroused
Lucker strokes the corpse between the legs, his fingers
becoming slimy with the putrid residue of rotting flesh, and
then proceeds to lick and suck the ghastly death juice from
his hand. It's a scene that is guaranteed to sicken even the
hardiest of extreme movie devotees, but that isn't all;
Lucker then climbs on top for a bit of penetrative sex... The
term 'Viewer discretion is advised' has never been so apt.
But of course, this murderous necrophile can't continue with
this kind of craziness for very long, and it's only a matter of
time before death itself catches up with him...
Nick Van Suyt as the title character does a serviceable job of
conveying the depravity of a sick maniac, though I very
much doubt he put this on his CV when looking for further
work. He deserves a ton of respect for having the balls to go
ahead and get 'stuck in' to such a scuzzy role. He reminded
me of a down-market version of Pep Tosar (of Aftermath
fame) in his willingness to disregard everything for the sake
of sleaze. And to my knowledge he hasn't appeared in any
film since... Hold on a sec, maybe he did put Lucker on his
CV...
Lucker is not a good film, in fact quite the opposite. There's
some awful acting, bad framing, and needless time-padding
in the film's rather short 74 minute running time. On the
plus side, director Vandewoestijne shows some visual
flourishes with lighting, spatial composition, and mood, but
the very limited budget curtails any serious attempts at
style. He also admirably rejects the idea of traditional
attempts to try and understand the killer; a nice move
considering how alienated this film is from the rest of
cinema, and how alienated Lucker himself is from the rest of
society. 'Why is it so important to know what makes him
tick?' the filmmaker seems to be asking us, 'Lucker just is'.
The film has had a troubled history; the producers destroyed
the original negative, the director gave up filmmaking
altogether, and the film's commercial prospects were
extremely limited. Nevertheless, a tape did the rounds on
the grey market in a 74 minute cut with Dutch subtitles, and
this was the only option available for years until Synapse
released a Director's Cut on DVD in the mid-00s. This
version is copied from a rare VHS due to the non-existence
of the original source materials. And although it looks
terrible campared with other Synapse releases, it is at least
uncut and trimmed only of a few needless bits of padding by
the director himself.
MADE IN BRITAIN (1982)
Dir: Alan Clarke /UK

After the BBC refused to broadcast Scum in the late 70s for
being "too realistic", director Alan Clarke (along with writer
David Lelend) was given another opportunity to explore the
dark side of youth a few years later when
he was invited to film a project for a short-lived TV series,
Tales Out of School.
The result was an episode entitled Made In Britain, a no less
realistic depiction of a rebel without a cause, featuring a
powerhouse performance from Tim Roth as the troubled
Trevor, an angry skinhead with a Swastika tattooed on his
forehead. The film follows this deeply disturbed kid on his
destructive path as he hurls racist abuse, vandalises homes
and businesses, and crashes a van into the local police
station. His social worker tries desperately to calm him
down and plays on the boy's intelligence but to no effect.
Trevor seems determined to spiral even further out of
control, and sinks deeper into his own rotten sense of hatred
before his rampaging behaviour lands him in police custody.
With its stylish mix of neon-lit streets and natural daylight,
director Alan Clarke shows more willing this time around to
experiment here than with his previous Scums, even trying
out Steadicam for the first time to stunning effect. The way
the camera prowls along, keeping up with the fiercely
energetic Trevor has the effect of turning even the most
ordinary scenes into provocative and poetic flourishes (he
would use Steadicam later on in his career for The Firm and
Elephant).
Actor Tim Roth in his first role is absolutely superb as the
young Trevor spiraling out of control. Roth went on to carve
a pretty decent career for himself on the fringes of
Hollywood, working with such luminaries as Peter
Greenaway and Quentin Tarantino, and has always been
willing to offer a leg-up to up and coming filmmakers such
as Buddy Giovinazzo when Roth agreed to play a role in his
film, Life Sentences. But nowhere has he found a more
meatier, grittier role than as Trevor in Made In Britain, one of
the most honest and compelling of all young rebel movies.
One of the most fascinating scenes in the film shows Trevor
in debate with a youth worker who scribbles his warnings on
a blackboard about the dangers and idiocies of a life spent
in the criminal justice system. What's so extraordinary
about the scene is that the film doesn't choose sides, and
both sides of the argument have their own understandable
(if disagreeable) logic, and both are passionate and ring
true. The youth worker literally spells out to Trevor that if he
continues the way he is he'll find himself going "round and
round" the system with no escape, and Trevor retorts,
accusing the youth worker of being just as racist as him but
hides it because he's a coward. Now, with the undercurrent
of racism that existed in Britain during that time (and
perhaps things haven't really changed too much since),
Trevor could indeed have a point there. It's interesting how
the youth worker doesn't explain to him how racism is
stupid and wrong but instead simply sighs "No one cares
about your little protest, Trevor".
Regardless of the racist subject matter (they could have
been arguing about politics or football, or music or women,
etc), this scene represents a classic case of young versus
old. The older man has probably come into contact with
many tearaways like Trevor in his time; his pleadings for a
quiet life of order and stability constantly falling on deaf
ears. And Trevor is the youth whose misguided and chaotic
passion is outraged by the fact that he feels surrounded by
cowards who are too afraid to fight his cause. It's the
idealism of youth and the 'anything-for-a-quiet-life' of age
that are at loggerheads in this scene, and it is one of the
finest of its kind in the history of film.
With a slim running time of 73 minutes, Made In Britain is
one of the finest TV movies ever made; it's gritty, honest,
provocative, but full of style, courage, and compassion in
everything from the camerawork and performances to the
script and overall message: I'm sure most of us have had
our Trevor moments in our pasts where we've been insanely
passionate about things we cared about, whether it be
football, movies, or a girl, etc, and Clarke shows us that
'growing out of it' isn't always a matter of maturity, but
more often a case of having to take responsibility and make
compromises just so that we can live a 'quiet life'.
The film also ends on an interesting note: For all the trouble
that Trevor has caused he was never physically hit; he took
some harsh bollockings from the people around him who
were trying to steer him onto the straight and narrow, but
he was never given a hiding. At the end of the film,
however, when Trevor finds himself in police custody, his
mouth infuriates one of the policemen who promptly wacks
him with his truncheon. Trevor has no answer for that, he
seems a bit stumped for the first time in his life. And it's
there that the film ends. Make of that what you will.
MAITRESSE (1976)
Dir: Barbert Schroeder /France
Young man, Oliver (Gerard Depardieu), arrives in Paris and
breaks into a building to discover that the place is a brothel.
He gets into a relationship with Arian (Bulle Ogier), a
professional dominatrix who owns the house. Pretty soon he
finds himself assisting her in her work and becomes uneasy
with the differences between her relationship with him and
her clients. Inevitably, he decides he should take her away
from it all. But will she go?
Maitresse is an unlikely love story, and a blackly comic look
at the world of sadomasochism. Director Barbert Schroeder,
the man behind Single White Female and Reversal of
Fortune, presents this ice-cold romance as a painful and
destructive affair with a heavy emphasis on the rituals of
S&M, and is not recommended to the squeamish. The film
was shot in a real brothel and portrays real clientele going
through real acts of painful submission under the authority
of S&M queen Bulle Ogier. And this makes for some
unforgettable scenes of unashamed masochistic ecstasy.
Ultimately though, it's a film which forces viewers to face up
to their own relationships, with the material on screen
serving as nothing more than an extreme form of the furtive
mind games and power struggles that exists in the most
normal and everyday of relationships.
In America Maitresse went X rated, but in the UK it was
initially banned in its entirety in October 1976. The film was
re-submitted to the censors five years later and heavily cut,
mostly on scenes depicting real footage, like nipple piercing,
genitals being needled, heavy spanking, and most
notoriously, a penis being nailed onto a chair. The BBFC
have always been outraged by the idea of consensual
mutilation (and it's still against the law in the UK), with films
like Blue Velvet, The Story of O, and Cronenberg's Crash
being the subject of much controversy over the years. But
even in its censored form, Maitresse proved to be too much
for some viewers. In 2003 it was finally passed uncut with
an 18 certificate.
MANIAC (1980)
Dir: William Lustig /USA
Frank Zito (Joe Spinell) is a very sick man. He stalks,
murders, and scalps young women. He is not necessarily
guided by particulars either, any will do; prostitutes, nurses,
couples on the beach or on lover's lane - anyone who
catches his eye is in serious danger. He lives in a crummy
basement flat surrounded by his beloved mannequins, and
often falls into deep depression, struck by guilt for his awful
crimes. But his resentment and mad urges to kill just won't
go away... He strikes up a relationship with beautiful
photographer, Anna (Caroline Munro), and they genuinely
like each other, but Frank can't hide his sickness from her
for very long...
If you're a fan of 'fun-time' slashers like Halloween and
Friday The 13th, then William Lustig's Maniac may come as
something of a shock to the system. It's about as much fun
as being stalked through a deserted subway after dark.
Instead, we're invited to join the company of a miserable,
self-loathing psychopath who prowls the seedy streets of
New York's red light district in search of his next kill, or sulks
around in his squalid flat, mumbling to himself whilst nailing
the scalps of victims onto the heads of his mannequin
collection. It's a grim, nasty, and unsettling film, but also
perhaps one of the finest slasher movies ever made. I just
wish there were more films like this that refuse to glamorise
the killer and is prepared to get down and dirty with the
harrowing bleakness of what happens behind the headlines
in serial murder.
Inspired by the panic and paranoia of big city life, Maniac
boasts the greatest sequence in slasher movie history in
which a young nurse (Kelly Piper) is followed down into an
empty subway station by her killer and is slaughtered in the
toilets. It's a long and painfully protracted scene that will
leave you with clammy hands thanks to some superb pacing
and editing techniques, before the payoff when Zito rams
his 'chete through her spine (this sequence is said to have
influenced Alexandre Aja for the public restroom scene in
Haute Tension).
An earlier scene in which Frank visits a prostitute is difficult
to watch because it's played out so unsettlingly straight. It's
easy to imagine a real life murder taking place in an almost
identical way as the scene in which the hooker (Rita
Montrone) begins servicing her client, only to be thrown
down onto the bed and strangled. And it's here that Frank
takes out his hunting knife and proceeds to cut away at her
scalp, taking his souvenir with him from the crime scene.
Jay Chattaway's downbeat score adds to the bleak and
harrowing nature of the film, as does Tom Savini's
gruesomely realistic special effects (although Savini himself
is said to have felt uncomfortable being associated with the
film after it grew and generated its notorious reputation).
Trivia fans will be interested to know that the character
Frank Zito was named after director William Lustig's friend,
Joseph Zito, who directed a couple of nice slasher movies
himself around that time, Bloodrage (1979) and The Prowler
(1981). But neither of those comes close to the urban
nightmare that is Maniac, a film so ruthless and bleak it sent
many a movie-goer leaving the cinema in fear, especially
those who were planning on taking the train home.
William Lustig was a frequenter of the Deuce and the
grindhouses of 42nd Street; he would skip class and soak up
as much sexploitation and import horror as he could. He
made his directorial debut in 1977 (under the name Billy
Bagg) with The Violation of Claudia, a porn effort. He
eventually teamed up with executive producer Judd
Hamilton and actor Joe Spinell to make their masterpiece,
Maniac. His career ran steadily throughout the 80s, offering
up genre classics like the Maniac Cop series and Relentless
before he retired from directing to concentrate on releasing
his favourite grindhouse movies on DVD with his label, Blue
Underground (much in the same way as fellow New Yorker
Frank
Henenlotter, who gave up filmmaking for his own label,
Something Weird Video, although he did return to the
director's chair for the insane Bad Biology in 2008).
When Maniac was released in the early 80s it was accused
of being symptomatic of everything that was 'sick', 'grim',
and 'irresponsible' about modern horror films. Even many
horror fans at the time felt that the film had gone too far in
its depictions of cold-blooded murder, but in recent years
with films like John McNaughton's Henry-Portrait of a Serial
Killer and Gerald Kargl's Angst gaining reappraisal, even
exploitative shockers like Maniac have had a partial
acceptance with special edition DVDs and red carpet
treatment on Blu-Ray. For many though, Maniac still remains
a sick no-go area.
MAN BITES DOG (1992)
(Original title - C'est arrive pres de chev vous)
Dir: Remy Belvaux, Andre Bonzel, Benoit Poelvoorde
/Belgium

A spoof documentary in which a group of student

filmmakers follow a racist, sexist, homophobic, and all round
opinionated serial killer called Benoit. He cracks jokes,
mocks the public, recites dreadful poetry, and is also a
rapist. For all its sharp satirical humour, the film succeeds in
wiping the smiles from our faces about two thirds of the way
in during a scene of unbelievable debauchery; and it's then
that the film attacks its audience, turning uneasy laughter
into abysmal horror...
Benoit ogles the camera for most of the running time, giving
tips on how to weigh down a corpse, and expressing his
views on every subject imaginable between his acts of cold-
blooded murder. Nobody is safe from this psychopath, men,
women, children, the elderly, everyone is a potential victim.
He doesn't stick to a particular murder method either; hence
shootings, beatings, strangulations, suffocations, and even
the blackly comic act of scaring somebody to death, is all
paraded before our eyes. Benoit is soon calling the shots
and even using his own cash to fund the impoverished
production when funds are running low. And it's only a
matter of time before the filmmakers are roped in to helping
Benoit in his crimes until there's no difference between
student filmmaker and calculating killer.
Shot in hand-held black and white, Man Bites Dog is a
chilling parody on the Reality TV format which would pollute
the world's airwaves for years to come. The filmmakers
wanted to expose how easily the appearance of a film crew
can alter the behaviour of those being filmed, and how the
'reality' of the film's subjects are nothing more than a
performance designed to entertain the viewers. In Man Bites
Dog that entertainment factor is taken to disturbing
extremes, guiding the viewers through its farcical set up and
becoming increasingly unsettling as it reaches its
conclusion.
As if to confuse the line further between fact and fiction, the
cast members appear on screen using their real first names,
including Remy, the psychotic moron who is driven into
participating in the crimes with dreams of fame and fortune,
and director Andre who begins with a strict journalistic
distance from Benoit but is eventually joining in on the
mayhem too. And it's here that Man Bites Dog turns against
its audience for liking and expecting to be thrilled by the
exploits of serial killers. It's this latter element that puts the
film into the company of John McNaughton's Henry-Portrait
of a Serial Killer and Michael Haneke's Benny's Video and
Funny Games; films which take on a similar stance and
present us with amoral thrills before pulling the nasty carpet
from beneath our feet. And like those films, Man Bites Dog
also succeeds in presenting us with a cracked mirror which
reflects on the cynical world view that panders to dumb
arseholes (especially nowadays with the real life
exploitation of reality TV which glorifies, condescends, and
mocks its performers whilst swelling its producers' bank
accounts).
Man Bites Dog cast a large influential shadow over the
subsequent years. Whether directly or indirectly, the power
of this Belgian arthouse favourite has made its presence felt
in everything from the cheap and shoddy farce-fests of the
crudest examples of reality TV, to the big screen skin-
crawling horrors of The Blair Witch Project and The Last
Broadcast (compare the last shot of Man Bites Dog with that
of Blair Witch, for example).
In America, the film emerged unrated (except for
Blockbuster Video who demanded one of their infamous re-
edit jobs to make the film palatable to their customers), and
in the UK it was passed uncut for both cinema and video.
One of the chief censors at the BBFC later admitted that if
they had known how popular the video would become they
would have snipped a couple of scenes. Luckily for us it
didn't happen, and Man Bites Dog escaped untouched from
their
clutches and reached cult classic status before its notoriety
would return to haunt the censors.
MARTYRS (2008)
Dir: Pascal Laugier /France

In an introduction on the American DVD of Martyrs,

writer/director Pascal Laugier makes an apologetic plea to
his viewers concerning the film he has unleashed on the
world. He berates himself for the damage the film may
cause to those who are unprepared for the cruel imagery
and deeply troubling philosophical ramifications therein. He
openly invites his audience to hate his guts.
The film itself opens on a scene of a half-naked girl in utter
distress running through an abandoned industrial estate.
When the police finally pick her up, she is unable to disclose
of any details about her mysterious incarceration. Medical
inspections indicate that she hadn't been raped but her
body is covered in scars and bruising. The police track down
the place where she had been held captive, an old
slaughterhouse. A thorough search of the place fails to yield
any clues as to why she was held there, nor who was
responsible.
Fifteen years later and the young girl, Lucie (Mylene
Jampanoi), has grown into a beautiful but unstable woman,
and has befriended Anna (Morjana Alaoui) in a home for
abandoned youths. The two women break into a family
home and viciously murder the occupants in the belief that
the parents had something to do with Lucie's childhood
ordeal. However, a monstrous assailant who has been
terrorizing Lucie for years appears in the house and inflicts
some nasty damage on the young woman. And this leads
Anna to question further the mystery of Lucie's dark past...
To reveal any more about the plot would be unfair to those
who haven't seen this, but suffice to say it succeeds in in
pulling off three major shift changes in the narrative, with
the above synopsis serving as nothing more than a hint of
the horrors to come. It's the kind of movie that puts you
through the meat grinder of shock horror and despair unlike
anything since the days of Cannibal Holocaust and
Irreversible. It's quite simply the closest thing to an
emotional holocaust ever filmed.
Emerging as part of a new wave of extreme French horror,
with the likes of Haute Tension, Frontier(s), and À L'intérieur,
dazzling and horrifying an entire generation of film fans
around the globe, Martyrs marks the zenith (or nadir,
depending on your stand point) of that fresh new movement
in the way it finds new ways to make an audience crumble
under the enormity of its weighty ideas. Rarely has a horror
film divided its audience so much, with some accusing
director Laugier of gratuitous and unjustified bloodshed, and
others rightly pointing out that the horrendous imagery is
essential to the film's success. To label the film as 'Torture
Porn' is completely off the mark, because although the
extreme violence and tortures are quite graphic, not for a
moment is the film leering or salacious in its depictions; it
has an urgent catharsis that is absolutely necessary before
the final revelations in the film.
Stylistically, Martyrs is as equally faultless as any film of its
era. The rough and ready camerawork and rapid editing
push the narrative into a steady pace, with the 92 minute
running time passing by in a breeze. The film's colour
palette juxtaposes cold blues, stark whites, and fiery reds,
all reflecting the turmoil in the heroine's minds. And this is
helped by a couple of stunning performances from Jampanoi
and Alaoui whose raw emotions and exhausting shooting
schedule reminded me of the torments that Marilyn Burns
went through during the making of Texas Chainsaw
Massacre. Kudos also goes to special effects artist Benoit
Lestang who created the visual shocks which accentuate the
ideological horrors on display, and who sadly committed
suicide before the film achieved its global recognition as one
of the most harrowing movies ever made.
MATADOR (1988)
Dir: Pedro Almodovar /Spain
A lurid cocktail of sex and death, Pedro Almodovar's
Matador opens with morbid bullfighting instructor, Diego
(Nacho Martinez), jerking off to violent video clips from
Mario Bava's Blood and Black Lace and Jess Franco's Bloody
Moon. Apprentice matador, Angel (Antonio Banderas in his
least macho role), is a closet homosexual who faints at the
sight of blood. He attempts to assert his masculinity by
forcing himself on Diego's girlfriend, but this rape attempt
turns farcical. Later, a guilt-stricken Angel hands himself
over to the police and confesses to a series of murders of
which he is innocent. His lawyer, Maria (Assumpta Serna),
sees through his lies when she learns that he is
haemophobic. She, however, just so happens to have a
thing for blood and death, and despite her veneer of
elegance and her important profession, likes to indulge in a
bit of sexualised murder herself, striking like a black widow
spider and inserting a long hairpin into the necks of her
victims the moment they reach orgasm. Maria recognises a
kindred spirit in Diego, the man who is actually responsible
for the murders, and together they consummate their
passion in a suicide pact for the ultimate orgasm...
Matador is a tribute to the stylish giallo/slasher movies of
Mario Bava and Dario Argento, injected with a dose of
Almodovar's usual kinkiness and dark humour for a slice of
chic erotic horror. The humour is apparent in the scenes
where Angel tries to rape Diego's girlfriend and fumbles
around with a swiss army knife, threatening her with a
bottle opener before finding the blade, and later when he
goes to the police station to confess, the girl's crazy
mother tells him "Don't bother, you've done enough
already". The film is also awash with ludicrous coincidences,
such as Maria being Angel's lawyer whilst at the same time
being in cahoots with the real perpetrator (this perhaps
another nod towards Dario Argento whose Tenebrae
includes an absurd sequence where a pretty victim is
chased by a vicious dog, ever so conveniently, right into the
killer's lair).
Generally though, Matador is a much more serious and
sombre effort than Almodovar's earlier work, and has more
going for it than just a stream of sick jokes. Angel's mother,
for example, is a stone-cold religious maniac who has
clearly instilled much poisonous guilt into her son's troubled
psyche, and even goes as far as to try and persuade Maria
that he is anything but innocent, and fails to see that his
'confessions' stemmed from a fractured frame of mind.
More tributes abound, such as the amusing catwalk scene
which is clearly indebted to Bava's Blood and Black Lace,
and also the climax which owes a lot to King Vidor's Duel In
The Sun, in which Maria and Diego kill each other in an
elaborate plan of sex and death, with their pursuers
distracted by a solar eclipse.
MAY (2002)
Dir: Lucky McKee /USA
May is a troubled young woman; raised by an unstable
mother, and afflicted with a lazy eye, her only friend is a
glass-encased doll which makes her social engagements
awkward to say the least. Her attempts to build friendships
and relationships constantly go wrong after a short while
and she finds herself spending a great deal of time alone.
Her isolation gradually twists her mind and she eventually
comes to the conclusion that the reason why her social life
is in ruins is because the people she knew weren't really
friends at all, but each of them did at least have one or two
features that could be considered best friend qualities. She
then goes on a killing spree, literally deconscructing her
past acquaintances with the idea of taking away her
favourite body parts and reconstructing them into her idea
of the perfect best friend.
May is a modern-day Gothic fairytale for grown-ups that
does an excellent job of holding the viewer's attention.
Angela Bettis does a fine job in the lead role and helps the
film to shift gears from sad and touching, to darkly comic, to
downright frightening. And due to the film's dreadful ad
campaign, it has relied almost entirely on word-of-mouth to
find itself a willing audience. But this film, along with Brad
Anderson's Session 9 and Larry Fessenden's Wendigo,
remains one of the finest direct to video oddities of the early
00s.
For all the wonders of this fast-growing cult favourite, the
most interesting scene is the finale, so if you still haven't
seen it then skip the rest of this review as it's gonna get
spoiler-heavy. To my mind, May doesn't really create a
'Frankenstein's monster' out of her old friends, she simply
fantasizies about doing so. Notice how, because of her
immaturity, she bases her best friend requirements purely
on physical parts like hands, neck, tattoos, etc, and no
emotional traits or characteristics are considered.
In the final scene, May lays out her compilation corpse inert
beside her on the bed. She offers kind words of reassurance
and caresses the stiff. She even puts her ear to its chest to
check for a heartbeat. She's slow to fully embrace the
corpse as her best friend because she knows that something
is missing. The body she has stitched together is dead meat
and cannot appreciate her, cannot see her. She breaks down
in tears at this; "You're not looking!" she cries, "See me! See
me!" With one final sacrifice May plucks out her own eyeball
with a pair of scissors and places it into position on the
corpse, and then waits for a reaction...
Now, the significance of this scene relates to the
psychopath's vanity; the point being that she wants her
perfect
best friend to see her with her own eye. She wants to
admire herself as another, but also - and more crucially - as
herself. This is why I believe the slashing and hacking
episodes to be imaginary; the 'murders' were pure fantasy,
a selfish and psychopathic disregard for the living
embodiment of her fellow human beings. As a youngster,
Jeffrey Dahmer clobbered a friend unconscious with a
baseball bat "to stop him from running away", and to keep
him close by in order to control and possess him. A limp,
unconscious body was all he needed, his imagination did the
rest. And this relates to May in the final scene; as she rests
her head next to the body, the corpse raises its hand and
strokes her face. Her own hand. May, her own perfect best
friend. Many viewers were disappointed that the film ended
so suddenly on that note, but for me the ending was
perfect.
MEN BEHIND THE SUN (1988)
Dir: T.F. Mous /Hong Kong/China

Not to be confused with your typical CAT III entry, Men

Behind The Sun reaches a whole new level on the shocking
and disturbing meter and is easily one of the most repulsive
movies you'll ever see. The film was made by Chinese
director T.F. Mous partly because he wanted to draw
attention to a barbaric era of Japanese foreign policy during
the 1930s and throughout World War II, where Chinese and
Manchurian citizens were considered sub-human by their
Japanese invaders, and were subjected to horrendously
cruel experiments involving the dissection of live humans,
the inducing of hypothermia, bubonic plague, and other
nastiness, all as a test to discover the extreme limits of
human endurance. The experiments were led by General
Shiro Ishii at the notorious Unit 731, and even to this day
the Japanese remain in denial as to what exactly went on at
that place. Mous' film, however, attempts to expose the ugly
truth, for better or worse.
The plot centres on a group of teenage Japanese conscripts
who arrive in Manchukuo, a Japanese puppet state in north-
eastern China. They're freezing cold, hungry, and homesick,
but their destination doesn't live up to its promise - They
were assured that food and warmth would be plentiful, but
when they get there they discover the conditions to be just
as harsh as the rest of the empire due to the ongoing war
effort. What the boys get instead is brutal discipline,
indoctrination into the evils of fascism, and first-hand
accounts of one of the most barbaric episodes in history.
The rest of the film plays like a catalogue of atrocities.
One of the boys makes a run for it to escape the miserable
place. A Japanese soldier opens fire on him with a machine
gun and the kid runs into an electrified fence that surrounds
the compound. He drops his ball and it rolls down the hill in
the snow as he is burned to death. The young conscripts are
told very little about the true nature of Unit 731 but
gradually discover that something evil is going on. They
become friendly with a little mute boy who is often seen
over the fence. They throw the dead kid's ball back and
forth to each other. Meanwhile, a train load of Manchurian
citizens arrive at the unit; a woman has her screaming baby
taken away from her and it is buried alive in the snow. The
head of the squadron, Sgt. Kowazaki, begins indoctrinating
the youths on the Chinese and Manchurians; they are to be
considered worthless and sub-human. From now on the kids
are ordered to refer to the foreign prisoners as 'Maruta',
which literally means 'material', and the youths are driven
to such frenzy that they gang up on a lone Chinese man and
beat him to death with clubs. One man has been injected
with bubonic plague three times - Those running the
experiment decide to open him up to discover why he hasn't
died.
The Chinese prisoners at the lab try to ascertain what's
going on and why they've been held captive, and what
would be the best escape plan. Outside in the freezing
conditions, a woman is kept in -35 degrees temperature for
ten hours and has ice-cold water poured onto her hands and
arms. She is then taken back inside to an audience of
officers and the Youth Corps, and then has her arms dipped
in warm water. General Ishii himself slashes her down each
arm and then literally rips off the skin from her limbs like
he's removing elbow-length gloves to expose the skeletal
stalks beneath. A man is then brought into the room and the
audience are informed that his arms have been frozen at
-196 degrees; his limbs look like grey blocks of ice. Ishii then
starts to chop away at the arms with an iron bar and the
frozen flesh and bone shatters into pieces. Some of the new
recruits at the Youth Corps buy in to the twisted ideology
and tow the line in both word and deed (but whether they
act this way out of fear or a genuine support for the cause is
not explored in the film). Others are not so cold and
heartless though, and they are weary and questioning the
whole barbaric idea behind the place.
The technicians succeed in creating plague-infected fleas
with the idea of inserting them into bombs and dropping
them from planes onto Japanese enemies. But there's a
problem; due to the high temperatures that results from
exploding bombs, most of the fleas will die before they get
the chance to infect anyone. General Ishii comes up with the
cunning idea of inserting the fleas into porcelain capsules
instead so that they can be easily contained, but also when
dropped from a height will be much more effective at
spreading death and destruction. When he reveals his idea
on the 'porcelain bacterial bomb' to an assembly he is given
an ecstatic ovation with cries of "Bonzai!"
Another 'experiment': Dozens of Maruta are taken out into a
field and tied to posts that are strategically placed at
specific distances from a bomb that sits in the middle. The
bomb is then detonated. And when the smoke clears a
group of boffins inspect the damage; some are clearly dead
and blown to pieces, others are still alive
and in agony with legs hanging off by a strip of tissue and
eyeballs loose from the sockets. The idea behind this
pointless experiment is to calculate how close to an
exploding bomb a man can be without dying (yep, not very
close, apparently).
The next sequence in the film I thought was real the first
time I saw it but I later learned that it's actually a very
impressive special effect that took days of painstaking and
tricky work to get right. A naked man is placed into a
decrompression chamber and the dial is cranked up to full
power. He collapses to the ground and his intestine literally
unravels from out of his anus and shoots across the floor.
It's such a crude and realistic sequence it has an awful air of
reality about it (footage really was taken of the experiments
and sent back to Japan for study but none of it has surfaced
since).
A Russian woman and her young daughter are encased in
an air-tight glass container and gassed. The young recruits
surround the box and look on as the pair succumb to the
deadly fumes. What the inductees are supposed to be
learning by watching these atrocities is unclear. Perhaps the
idea is to inure them to the suffering of these people so that
in the future they can partake in the experiments directly
without feeling any sorrow for the Maruta.
Sgt. Kowazaki orders the young Ishikawa to go and bring the
little mute boy into the compound. He carries out his orders
assuming the kid will be given a medical check-up. But what
happens instead is that the boy is stripped, laid onto an
operating table, put to sleep with a cloth of chloroform, and
then dissected alive. The way the flesh separates as the
scalpel cuts through it exposing the yellowish fat beneath
the skin is very real. After years of rumours concerning the
authenticity of this scene, it was no real surprise when
director Mous confirmed that the footage did contain real
elements. With the permission of the parents and the local
police, Mous filmed
the autopsy of a young boy, and some of that footage was
inserted into the fictional film. The strange thing
here is that the real footage came from a dead child but in
the finished film the mute child is alive while the dissection
is carried out. Thus we see that the heart is still beating
when the rib cage is opened up, which makes me wonder
how on earth he did it. Presumably he must have been
granted permission to interfere with the autopsy procedure
(it is already known that the coroners agreed to wear the
uniforms that Mous provided so that they would match the
actors in the film, so what was to stop him from pushing a
little further to secure the shots that he wanted?). It seems
obvious that some kind of apparatus was used to artificially
pump the dead child's heart so that it gave the impression
of a living breathing human for the footage he needed for
the film. But whatever the truth is, it's all a bit morally
suspect really, especially in an action-packed exploitation
movie like this. I also suspect that if the parents of that dead
child ever saw the finished film they wouldn't be happy
about having their son's remains paraded in an action/horror
film for the entertainment of others (it would be interesting
to know how Mous convinced the parents to allow him to
shoot that footage). The heart is still beating as it is
removed and placed into a jar of formaldehyde.
Ishikawa discovers what has happened to the mute boy and
organises a revolt among the Youth Corps. They confront
Sgt. Kowazaki in the disinfectant showers and they severely
beat him with planks of wood. But oddly, this scene of
violent insubordination is then forgotten about, and the film
just carries on as though nothing has happened; the boys
are not punished for the attack, and Kowazaki is later seen
going about his business unscathed.
General Shiro Ishii drops a cat into a pit of starving rats as a
way of demonstrating how power in numbers can defeat a
larger opponent. The cat is slowly eaten alive (and this
horrible scene is very real and difficult to watch). The
Chinese prisoners start rioting in the cells and the Japanese
soldiers put an end to this by cutting them
down with machine gun fire. When Ishii finds out about this
incident he is furious about losing so many Maruta
("precious experimental material") in the massacre.
More Maruta are taken out into the field and tied to stakes
for another close-range bomb test (like the results weren't
pretty conclusive the first time round; bombs kill and maim
people at close range - Case closed). This time, however,
one of the prisoners isn't secured properly and he manages
to untie himself and helps to free the others. This infuriates
the Japanese and they hunt the escapees down in their
jeeps and motorcycles whilst firing at them. For a while
things become chaotic with lots of action and stunts; the
Chinese hit back, collecting weapons from injured soldiers
and returning fire. The heroic Chinese are outnumbered and
heavily out-gunned, and their brave stance is ultimately
short-lived as they are all either run down by a vehicle or
shot dead at the scene. Their corpses are then taken down
to the incinerator that is run by an old drunken Japanese
man who hacks up the bodies like firewood into small pieces
to feed the fire whilst he sings traditional songs.
News filters through to the compound that the Soviets have
declared war on Japan and that the Americans have dropped
atomic bombs on Nagasaki and Hiroshima. The war effort
and dreams of empire are over and Japan is on the verge of
surrender. Ishii orders that all remaining Maruta be
exterminated, all buildings in Unit 731 be destroyed, all
documents and evidence burned, the Youth Corps be sent
back home to Japan, and all officers are ordered to commit
suicide.
Ishii's right hand man pleads with him to not be so rash, and
argues that the data collected is too precious to be
destroyed and that the officers deserve the opportunity to
make it home alive. Ishii relents on the latter but insists on
the destruction of all evidence that Unit 731 ever existed.
The compound immediately falls into chaos;
officers who disobey orders are shot dead on the spot, the
Maruta are gassed in their cells, labs are destroyed, offices
detonated with explosives, other buildings catch on fire,
soldiers loot the rooms for money and anything of value,
hundreds of corpses are thrown into a huge hole in the
ground and torched, the lab rats catch on fire and scatter
around in flames in all directions (symbolic?).
The film ends with the soldiers and their families leaving on
trains with an onscreen text revealing how they got back
home and what happened to Shiro Ishii (he was later
arrested by the Americans and agreed to hand over his
collected data in exchange for his freedom. He was also
suspected of being involved in the biological weapons
programme in the Korean War. He died in 1959).
Men Behind The Sun is basically a catalogue of carnage.
We're presented with scene after scene of increasingly
ruthless and disturbing behaviour (including the immoral
decisions of the director himself), and this does come at the
expense of the narrative and plot developments in the film.
It was shot in glorious 35mm celluloid and the music score is
a strange throwback to old skool Hollywood adventure films
of the 50s and 60s with its big brass sections and smoochy
clarinets making for a bizarre and discomfiting mix. Indeed,
the plot of the film and the way it is played out and
presented is as a conventional Hollywood action film of old,
but the disturbing contents, images, and subject-matter are
the only things that lift it out of its time warp and convince
us that the film wasn't made at least 25 years earlier.
People often ask where the film stands in terms of
legitimacy; is it an exploration of those cruel times, or is it
just a piece of crude exploitation? Strangely, I believe it to
be a bit of both. Throughout his career in film, T.F. Mous has
continually explored and exposed the cruelties of the
Japanese during World War II, he obviously feels very
strongly about that time in history and has done much to
draw attention to those times and educate others on the
facts, even uncovering important documents from Russia
and America. But even with the best will in the world, his
filmmaking skills are basic at best; his style reeks of classic
Hollywood of old, and this, combined with his crude and
disturbing imagery, gives his films a clumsy and morally
reprehensible edge (where in any Hollywood film have you
seen a real autopsy carried out on a little boy, or real
footage of a cat being fed to hungry rats?). His directorial
skills were not sufficient enough to tackle such weighty
themes as the ones explored in Men Behind The Sun (or
indeed his later film, Black Sun - The Nanking Massacre,
which serves as a loose prequel that concentrates on the
Japanese invasion of China in the 1930s), and this is
perhaps the main reason why the whole thing comes across
as a piece of exploitational trash.
The film's producer, Fu Chi, grew up in Northern China and
he witnessed first-hand the atrocities committed by the
Japanese during the war. He had very personal reasons for
investing in the film, and he did so knowing he would
probably never get his money back, let alone see a profit, as
the film was never going to be commercial. I think it's safe
to say that if the film fails as a piece of historical
documentation, it's not because the people behind the
camera didn't have the right intentions at heart. In fact, T.F.
Mous perhaps took things a bit too far in that respect in the
way he crossed the moral line himself in order to get his
point across.
The aforementioned scenes of the autopsy, the cruel killing
of the cat, and the needless burning of rats have for many
viewers ruined any chance of this film being treated
seriously as a legitimate work of cinematic art. Indeed,
Mous' eagerness to present us with a picture of sheer evil
and cruelty loses its moral high-ground the moment he
starts to engineer real atrocities to put his point across. It's
a bit rich to commit morally reprehensible acts in the
making of his film to underpin that which he is railing
against, and it's these scenes which most obviously
bring on the accusations of exploitation. Ok, no humans
were killed or tortured in the making of the film, but a dead
child's body was violated, and animals were unnecessarily
killed. It reminds me of how Italian filmmakers like Ruggero
Deodato and Umberto Lenzi filmed the cruel slaughter of
animals in order to address the moral vacuum of the West in
their cannibal epics; it just doesn't wash.
Despite all this moral indignation, Men Behind The Sun
definitely works as a nightmare vision of modern barbarism.
Shiro Ishii was one of the most evil men of the 20th Century,
and at least his awful crimes haven't been watered down for
the sake of 'cinematic manners'. Ishii's character in the film
is every bit as cruel and loathsome as the real person whose
exploits have been speculated on for decades. Unlike the
Nazi 'Angel of Death' Josef Mengele, who seemed to be
propelled by his own sadistic drive, Shiro Ishii gave the
impression that his experiments were conducted with a
dogged devotion to collecting data that would benefit the
Japanese war effort. To be seen to be indulging in the pure
sadistic drive for its own sake may have been considered
shameful and ignoble by Ishii, and so perhaps he concealed
his sick urges under the guise of national duty. Who knows.
One veteran member of the Youth Corps who was stationed
at Unit 731 during the war gave a speech to university
students and explained to them that Mous' film doesn't
even begin to address the barbaric acts that were carried
out at the compound - A chilling thought.
Men Behind The Sun has been banned and censored the
world over, but it was in the Far East where the film caused
the most controversy. At a screening in China in 1997 there
were mass walk outs and a few viewers even fainted.
According to Mous himself, 16 people have died of heart
attacks while watching his film in the cinema. Much of the
factual information in the film came from witness testimony
as some of the fleeing Japanese soldiers were captured and
put on trial in Soviet courts. The film was met with hatred in
Japan and has only ever been screened
in that country once. It wasn't the nastiness or gore which
upset the Japanese, it was the film's taunting as a political
hot potato which angered the conservatives and led to right-
wing groups threatening to burn down all the cinemas in the
country if the film was ever screened again. Mous received
numerous death threats and had to flee Japan.
MEN BEHIND THE SUN 3 - A NARROW
ESCAPE (1994)
(aka Maruta 3 - Destroy All Evidence; orig title - Hei tai yang
731 si wang lie che)
Dir: Godfrey Ho /Hong Kong

Godfrey Ho returns with a second unofficial sequel to T.F.

Mous' Men Behind The Sun, and offers more of the same
with a story very loosely based on fact, a dull and
uninvolving melodrama, and more of the usual mondo
footage as a way of boosting the exploitational shock factor.
It's 1945 and Unit 731 is in turmoil; Japan is losing the war,
and the soldiers are frantically destroying all evidence of the
evil experiments that were carried out there. They intend on
decimating everything before the Soviets arrive. One group
of prisoners are machine gunned in their cell, another are
gassed in theirs. Documents are burned, labs are destroyed
(including the sight of a Jap soldier accidently cutting
himself and being exposed to the lethal chemicals), before
the whole compound is blown up with dynamite. General
Shiro Ishii addresses his men one last time and then hops
onto a plane and leaves them to it. The rest of the soldiers
board a train for their retreat through China, and this is
where most of the drama takes place. These defeated
troops are on a long journey home and this gives them the
time to reflect on their experiences of working within the
most barbaric hellhole of the 20th Century. The idea behind
the story is an interesting one but it's handled so badly, and
in the end we're left with nothing but a few gruesome
flashbacks and a doomed love story between a soldier and
an army nurse. When news reaches the train cabin of
Japan's surrender, one soldier immediately commits Harakiri
with his sword, and another drinks cyanide. The remaining
troops take it in turns to reflect on their harrowing memories
of the events at Unit 731 which have clearly traumatized
them and filled them with guilt. And their long road home is
racked with defeat, deprivation, and disease.
Even by Godfrey Ho's standards this is a ludicrous
exploitation disaster. Who on earth was this film made for?
The Japanese detest the whole idea of having this shameful
slice of their history displayed on the big screen, as was
made pretty clear by their reactions to the first film in the
series. The Chinese and Manchurians no doubt would have
been offended by the idea of watching Japanese soldiers
reminiscing on their journey home from one of the cruelest
and most horrendous atrocities ever committed on Chinese
soil. There has always been a cult in the West for Ho's chop-
socky Ninja movies but I'm sure most of them would be
appalled by the grim spectacle on view here. I can only
assume that everyone involved in the making of this film
was on drugs or something; even the original Men Behind
The Sun wasn't even successful enough to break even
financially, never mind warranting a bloody franchise!
Speaking of drugs, there are some moments in this film that
bring on an odd hallucinatory vibe, especially to those who
are familiar with the work of Alejandro Jodorowsky; we see
scores of extras doing bizarre synchronised things like
jumping from a bridge into a river, or wearing boiler suits
and gas masks and marching in unison, or being buried
alive in a huge hole in the ground, and other such
grotesqueries filmed in scope that look like deleted scenes
from The Holy Mountain.
Flashbacks include the sight of hundreds of enemy captives
being obliterated with machine guns, dozens more being
buried alive, another bomb test where a group of
unfortunates are tied to poles in a field and a plane glides
overhead dropping those infamous 'porcelain bacterial
bombs' onto the ground, infecting the trussed up victims
with bubonic plague, a woman having her arms frozen at
-200 degrees and having the skin ripped off, a man having
his frozen arms broken, and a bloody gun battle with
Chinese troops. Mondo footage includes a graphic autopsy
on a little girl. Most of the stock footage is shown in the first
ten minutes with the usual autopsy scenes (with one body
having its leg sawn off for some reason), and major surgery
sequences. The intro credits are accompanied by sepia
toned archive war footage, a la The Devil's Nightmare.
MISSISSIPPI BURNING (1988)
Dir: Alan Parker /USA

Two young white civil rights activists and their black co-
worker are driving down a road in Mississippi and are pulled
over by the law. After being referred to as "nigger lovers"
the three men are then shot dead by members of the
Sheriff's department, in a barbaric act of mindless hatred
made worse by the fact that the murderers use their
powerful positions within law-enforcement to conceal their
nocturnal activities as high-ranking members of the Ku Klux
Klan.
Alan Ward (Willem Dafoe) and Agent Rupert Anderson (Gene
Hackman) are sent down from Washington to investigate
the disappearance of the three activists, and are
immediately made the targets of small-town prejudice.
Former Sheriff, Anderson, doesn't seem to take the situation
seriously at first; he makes jokes and sings Klan songs on
the drive down, much to the annoyance of his partner Ward,
a more sensible and by-the-book investigator. However, it
isn't long before Anderson realises just how serious and
dangerous the situation is when everyone they try to speak
to ends up badly beaten and their homes burned to the
ground.
Their investigation leads them higher and higher up the
social ladder, with some of the most responsible folks of the
town implicated in the deep-seated racism and intimidation
being carried out on the black citizens; churches are burned,
black men are kidnapped and severely beaten or killed by
masked men, and a church congregation of black
worshippers is attacked by men with bats and clubs. Ward
and Anderson gather enough evidence to charge three
white men with beating a black kid half to death, but the
court case turns into a farce due to the judge being just as
racist as anyone else in the town and who sentences the
three men to five years suspended sentences.
Meanwhile, Anderson has been sweet-talking the Deputy's
wife (Francis McDormand), and she seems sympathetic to
the investigation, even informing him of the whereabouts of
the bodies of the three activists. This crucial piece of info
carries the investigation towards its end, but the two agents
decide to employ some pretty nasty tricks of their own to
see justice at long last.
Those familiar with the real life case of James Chaney,
Mickey Schwener, and Andy Goodman, three civil rights
activists who were murdered in Neshoba County in 1964,
leading to the biggest manhunt in FBI history, will be left
scratching their heads throughout much of this film, as
director Alan Parker takes a free-form artistic licence and
bends the facts to suit his own vision. On the one hand,
Parker can be accused of treating the events as if his own
dramatic drive was more important than history, but on the
other, he does a remarkable job of re-creating the time and
place of Neshoba County of the mid-60s; it's a scary place,
and whether you're black or white or in any way different, or
have a mind of your own, you seriously wouldn't want to
have lived there during those times. That place with its
burning crosses, burning churches, and authority figures
wearing silly white costumes with pointy hoods and dealing
out brutal retributions and death on anyone who isn't just
like them - It's a vision of hell on earth. And for a studio film
that was made in the late 80s, Mississippi Burning does not
spare viewers from the truly disturbing and frankly evil
goings on of that town; the violence is so one-sided and
viciously cruel, and it's agonising to see these ugly scenes
unfold, knowing that whatever else happens on screen for
the next couple of hours, it's certainly not going to be for
the faint of heart or the easily offended.
No studio would have the balls to unleash a film like this in
today’s PC climate. And it's a shame because if you are in
any way racist in your own heart, this film sure has the
power to make you look deeply into yourself and reconsider
your own prejudice. It's a film which does much to show how
insane things can become when small-town attitudes are
allowed to grow unchecked out in the wilderness.
Director Alan Parker, whose previous work includes Midnight
Express and Angel Heart, films which take on a somewhat
leisurely pace, but here with Mississippi Burning we're
treated to a much more tightly constructed film which flies
by at a ferocious tempo. Hackman is superb as Anderson,
the world-weary Agent who deals with his grim profession
with an equally grim sense of humour, and Willem Dafoe as
his strait-laced partner who eventually dispenses with
common procedure in order to bring justice down on the
town. Also look out for a young Michael Rooker as a hick
sheriff, Brad Dourif as a hick deputy, and R. Lee Ermey of
Full Metal Jacket fame as Neshoba's hick mayor who is
subjected to one of the film's most satisfying acts of
revenge.
MOLESTER'S TRAIN: DIRTY
BEHAVIOUR (1995)
(aka Birthday)
Dir: Hisayasu Sato /Japan

A young misfit, Yuu (Yumika Hayashi), has perception

problems that stop him from recognising his surroundings in
three dimensions, and this flat uninvolving view of the world
has caused him to become isolated and detached. He
resorts to documenting his surroundings on video camera,
and while riding on the train he meets a young drifter, Kei
(Kiyomi Ito of Lolita Vibrator Torture), and together they
discuss their lives and pasts in between bouts of sex as a
way of trying to re-connect with the world.
Even during the sexual act with Kei, Yuu finds it difficult to
recognise anything beyond his perceived "poster" image of
her. Kei tries to correct this by kissing him on the lips and
manually inserting his penis inside her. Yuu suddenly
becomes overtaken with lust, and he lays her down and
fucks her, but he still seems quite distanced from her in the
way that his arms are rigidly holding up his own body weight
and his eyes stare blankly ahead, not even looking at her as
he finishes the deed.
Yuu and Kei spend their days hanging out in a tent and by
the docks, and on the trains that pass through Tokyo. Kei
pulls out a bundle of dynamite sticks from her rucksack and
announces that she intends to blow herself up on her 20th
birthday. Meanwhile, perverts lurk on the trains molesting
young women on the busy carriages. Yuu captures one such
incident on video camera in which the woman seems to be
enjoying the sexual intrusion, and he later reveals that the
woman in question is in fact his sister. He then plays Kei a
selection of home videos that he recorded on the trains
documenting his family members; his sister is a masochist
and when she can't find a boyfriend who is sadistic enough
for her tastes she resorts to self-mutilation; his father
suffered from an irrational fear of returning home, and has
since vanished; his older brother also disappeared to join a
strange sex cult; and his alcoholic mother suffers from
blackouts and memory loss (talk about 'meeting the
family'!).
Yuu turns to drastic measures in order to experience some
kind of sensation at any cost and put an end to his
depersonalization by asking Kei if he can join her in a
suicide pact. On the night of her birthday they sit in the tent
and strap themselves with the dynamite and count down
the bad years of their lives before Kei lights the fuse...
Running for just 55 minutes, Molester's Train is an odd,
dream-like film typical of its director. It's also perhaps one of
Sato's most personal efforts in the way it deals with
detachment and alienation in a much more open and honest
way than many of his other works. Ironically, it's the
depersonalized and isolated nature of this film that seems to
get to the heart of the director's raison d'etre; Brainsex, The
Bedroom, and Survey Map of a Paradise Lost are just a few
examples of films which deal with similar themes, but none
of them did so in such an open manner. With Yuu we have a
character who expresses the reasons for his neuroses and
voyeurism in no uncertain terms; by documenting
everything on camera he hopes to make a connection with
the world around him and to try to experience something to
escape the numbness and isolation in his mind. It's a
frustrating endeavor because, in the end, watching
videotapes of his daily experiences takes him even further
away from the real sensation, not closer. And thus, his
attempts to connect with the world become increasingly
extreme and desperate; for Yuu, a suicide pact is the last
chance - only by experiencing death can he hope to feel
something, anything - even his own obliteration strikes him
as a fair deal.
Perhaps Yuu represents a part of Sato himself. Like many
other characters in Sato's films, Yuu doesn't necessarily
experience the things he is documenting, and this is a
crucial point because this is one of the main ways the
director chooses to express alienation; Yuu witnesses many
things on the trains, but even the molestation of his own
sister barely registers anything of a response from him
because he's not there; he's on the train in their presence,
but he is so emotionally distant that the incident doesn't
affect him in the way it should. Even when he
has sex with Kei, the experience does more to isolate him
psychologically than to serve as an emotional connection
(which is what Kei intended to show him). The sex act itself
is all rather selfish on Yuu's part; not once does he look at
her or caress her while he's on top; he just concentrates on
thrusting his hips, faster and faster, until he shoots his load
- Psychologically he's no 'closer' to her than if he was jerking
off over a picture (or a flat "poster" image) of her.
The train molestation scenes were mostly shot on crowded
passenger trains in Sato's usual guerrilla-style, so that the
ordinary Tokyo citizens, who weren't even involved in the
making of the film, are seen in the background while the
crimes are happening; the women are exposed in various
states of undress, and they moan with just as much
pleasure as protest, and the ordinary commuters look on,
sometimes directly into the camera lens while the women
are ravished in their presence. It makes for an odd viewing
experience to say the least, and this kind of thing adds to
the verisimilitude of the film. Even the names of the two
lead characters, Yuu and Kei, are shortened forms of the
actor's real names, Yumika and Kiyomi.
Perhaps Sato's films as a whole are an attempt for him to
deal with his own sense of depersonalization, and not just
that of society as a whole. The verite and guerrilla shooting
style works, not just because of the low-budget and the way
it exposes the reactions of ordinary commuters to the
potential abuse of women in their midst (and that they react
like bemused and desensitized idiots), but because in this
sense he resembles many of the voyeuristic characters he
portrays in his films. He's the one standing on the train
shooting scenes of molestation, not just the character Yuu.
It's just as much Sato who flits around with his camera
trying to document everything in sight with an increased
sense of perverion and urgency (throughout his filmmaking
career Sato has touched upon almost
every perverion known to man, be it S&M, rape, fetishes,
and bestiality, but he doesn't seem to favour any one of
them, and is happy to re-visit a particular perversion in later
films or abandon it entirely). And in his often prolific output
of films over the years, he never seems to be emotionally
involved.
MONDO CANE (1962)
Dir: Gualtiero Jacopetti and Franco Prosperi /Italy

The shockumentary, or 'Mondo' movie has existed since the

dawn of cinema itself, and these films have outraged
viewers worldwide for as long as films have been exhibited.
It's certainly not a recent phenomenon. The word 'mondo'
derives from the Italian for 'world' and became the by-word
for a genre of fact-based shock movies and documentaries
made by Gualtiero Jacopetti and Franco Prosperi that
flourished in the 1960s. But in truth, the mondo movie can
be traced back as far as 1900 to Thomas Edison's glimpses
into the forbidden in a couple of his one-reelers which show
a public hanging and an elephant being electrocuted.
The 1930s saw the first heyday for this kind of fare when
sideshows would screen all kinds of this stuff; alongside
Todd Browning's Freaks, the paying punters could lay eyes
on all manner of sensationalist films, such as William
Campbell's En Gaji (directed under the name William
Alexander) which ended with real footage of natives
sacrificing a member of their tribe to the gorilla god, En Gaji.
Armand and Michela Denis Among The Headhunters was a
film made by a husband and wife collaboration that also
spent time with the natives, and these films made a fortune.
By the early 60s Jacopetti had written the narration for
Mondo Di Notte (World By Night), a documentary exploring
the weird and bizarre from the exotic parts of the world. It
was quite successful, and this encouraged Jacopetti to take
the format further. He teamed up with filmmaker Franco
Prosperi, and together they travelled the world documenting
the strangest rites in the most far flung cultures. The result
was Mondo Cane in 1962.
"All the scenes you will see in this film are true and are
taken only from life. If often they are shocking, it is because
there are many shocking things in this world. Besides, the
duty of the chronicler is not to sweeten the truth but to
report it objectively". This quote is from a caption that
appears on the screen at the beginning of the film. A dog is
led into a pen that contains hundreds more dogs who seem
quite hostile, and is then set free from its chain and allowed
to wander inside the enclosure to check out the other
hounds. And this probably serves as a visual metaphor for
the journey we the viewers are about to take. The next
sequence shows an 'appreciation ceremony' where a man
called Brazzi inherits Rodolpho Valentino's fortune. He visits
New York and is mobbed by adoring women.
Then we head to the jungle of East New Guinea - We witness
a tribal pig feast where the animals have their heads beaten
in with lumps of wood. A pet cemetery in California, then to
an East Asian island where the locals eat dog meat. Back to
Italy where it's Easter season and hundreds of chicklets are
warmed in the ovens and are then dipped in coloured ink. In
Japan, farmers massage the buttocks of bulls and make
them drink 6 litres of beer per day, apparently it makes the
meat taste better. In Africa, native women are fed in a
fattening process. Back in America, we visit a gym for
elderly widows who want to lose weight so that they can re-
marry. To Hong Kong next where the locals basically eat any
animal they can get their hands on, even crocodile.
Rattlesnakes, muskrats, bugs and worms are also eaten.
And this stuff is then sold to New York restaurants where the
rich wine and dine in their plush surroundings.
Snake is the national dish of Singapore, and this seems like
a good excuse to show them being skinned alive in the
market place and sold to the punters in little brown bags.
Next we head to a place called Calabria in Northern Italy
where a ceremony is taking place in which the local men hit
and scrape their legs with sharp 'Battienti', wooden discs
lined with pieces of glass as a way of representing Christ's
flagellation. Sydney coast guard babes parade through the
streets and to the beach and demonstrate the rescuing of
men from the sea. This sequence is very bizarre, especially
when the girls then start to demonstrate their CPR
techniques which are all synchronised with the others into a
strange and thoroughly rehearsed unison.
Next we get to check out the effects of atomic radiation on
the wildlife and environment in the South Pacific. Then we
see an immense underwater cemetery where the ocean bed
is covered with hundreds of human skeletal remains on the
coast of Malay. On land, the natives hunt sharks for their
fins. Not surprisingly, many of these folks are missing limbs,
presumably from their past experiences of messing around
with sharks. Their way of catching these big fish are to put
poisoned sea urchins into the shark's mouths.
Next up we visit a Roman ossuary where old corpses are
dressed in hooded robes and strange men dressed in similar
garb wander around the dank surroundings tending to the
bodies. Then over to Europe for the giddy goings on at a
German beer house that soon turns nasty and violent. At
dawn the stragglers stagger off home, pissing and puking
and sleeping and fighting in the street (much of this footage
is often used in documentaries on The Beatles, especially
from their early Hamburg days). Then back to the Far East
for the bizarre 'luxuries' of a Japanese massage parlor where
business men are pampered in rude and violent ways,
including having jets of ice-cold water blasted in their faces
and the masseurs jumping up and down on their spines.
Staying in Japan for the time being, we're presented with
the embalmers applying makeup onto corpses. The next bit
of footage was allegedly filmed in secret, and this is a brief
scene shot in a home for the terminally ill in Singapore. Cars
are crushed at a huge junkyard and are then displayed in an
art gallery where the car blocks are the main exhibition.
This is quite a tame 'documentary' compared to the modern
standards of the shockumentary, but many scenes in Mondo
Cane must have been quite an experience for audiences in
the early 60s. There's little rhyme or reason between the
footage here to link it all together other than having bizarre
cultures and ceremonies from across the globe paraded
before our eyes. But it isn't over yet. Next up we get a
glimpse into the world of Czech painter Yves Klein, who has
naked models rub themselves in his favoured blue paint and
then make body prints onto a huge canvas. Adventures in
Honolulu next with some American tourists, then Gurkha
soldiers in drag, then bulls being decapitated with swords.
Then it's over to Portugal for the annual 'Forcada' bull runs.
Cue much amusement as people are chased down and
gored by the bull horns (if you ask me they deserve all they
get). The vocal sound effects of victims yelping are also very
funny and were obviously overdubbed in post-production.
Finally we reach the end of the film with a look at the 'Cargo
Cult', a group of aboriginals who would observe from a
distance how Westerners built runways and had food and
supplies delivered to them by plane. The abo's were very
impressed, and deep in the jungle they built their own
runway complete with a control tower fashioned from
bamboo. They assumed that constructing a runway would
encourage the flying bird gods to come down from the sky
and deliver them some food. How cute!
Mondo Cane was a sensation. Shot in full colour in beautiful
scope, and featuring a grand score from Riz Ortolani (the
man responsible for the classic 'soap opera' theme of
Cannibal Holocaust), the film was a pure spectacle and
made a fortune. It's a gleefully leering and voyeuristic tour
around the world that distorted reality any way its makers
saw fit. It caused outrage among the critics who generally
dismissed it as a vile form of sensationalism,
and of course, having read this condemnation in the press,
the punters came thick and fast to see this film that
everyone was complaining about. Italy has always been a
land of imitation as far as cinema goes, and filmmakers from
that part of the world were soon churning out their own
mondo movies, such as Mondo Freudo, Mondo Balordo,
Malamondo, and Women of The World, where every bizarre
activity known to man was exploited on film. But it was
Jacopetti and Prosperi once again who steered the genre to
where it needed to be when they released their official
sequel, Mondo Cane 2.

POSTSCRIPT: THE MONDO MOVIE AND

SHOCKUMENTARIES

Most of the mondo movies that flourished in the 60s had

one thing in common; they all had scenes that were staged
for the effect of the film. The filmmakers wanted
sensationalism, and if they couldn't find it in the 'reality' of
the things they were filming, they would simply create the
shocking material themselves. Truth wasn't always stranger
then fiction when it came to the mondo film. Pretty soon,
the Americans jumped on the bandwagon and produced
their own entries that documented the hippy movement
with the same familiar air of crude sensationalism in the
free-love and drug havens of the late 60s. But all this led to
the saturation of the genre, and it was Jacopetti and
Prosperi, as conscious as ever of the fast-changing world,
who came to the rescue once again and offered Africa Addio
in the late 60s. They instinctively knew that the old format
of the mondo movie had run its course, and they decided to
up the ante as a way of presenting things that were
forbidden on television.
Africa Addio went further than any mondo film before it, and
ultimately dispenses with the fun and light-hearted feel of
their earlier films, and instead shows us a grim and
pessimistic view of hell on Earth. Rumours circulated
that the filmmakers had organised a real execution for the
sake of the film, and the critics were once again outraged
as they had been with the release of Mondo Cane almost
decade earlier.
As the 70s progressed, the mondo film became increasingly
extreme, making their 60s predecessors look almost tame in
comparison. Savage Man Savage Beast was cut to ribbons
by the British censors who objected to the animal violence
in the film. Strangely, scenes of wild animals catching and
feeding on their prey were cut on the advice of the RSPCA,
but scenes depicting the practice of fox hunting were
passed unscathed. Elsewhere around the world, the film
became notorious chiefly for the scenes which supposedly
show a man being eaten by lions in a zoo, and mercenaries
castrating a native. It was later confirmed that both of these
scenes were in fact dramatic reconstructions made purely
for the exploitative factor. The film was made by Alferdo and
Angelo Castianalli, who along with Mario Mora, overtook
Jacopetti and Prosperi and became the new leaders of the
genre. Their work also includes This Violent World, Sweet
and Savage, and Shocking Africa. The latter is to this day
still widely regarded as one of the most unpleasant films
ever made. Other mondo-flavoured titles came along which
reveled in gruesome death and explicit sex, such as
Shocking Asia parts 1 and 2, and This Is America. And the
public's fascination for death and disaster was also catered
for in Days of Fury.
The 1970s also saw a rise in popularity of the sex education
film. Filmmakers were keen to exploit the fact that sex films
that served to educate the viewer could be much more
explicit than would be acceptable otherwise. Shaun
Cunningham's The Art of Marriage and The ABC's of Love
and Sex were both tremendous box-office draws before
hardcore porn became popular. But this type of fare had a
negative effect on genuine sex education films, as they
were all treated as exploitational garbage, particularly in the
UK where the Swedish production, The Language of Love,
was banned.
Faces of Death came along in 1979, and was the single most
successful mondo film since Mondo Cane in the early 60s.
This international hit was a co-production between American
and Japanese financiers, and wallows in footage shot at a
kosher slaughterhouse, the eating of monkey brains,
autopsies, and death by electric chair. Like the earlier
mondo films, many of the scenes here were faked, but it
isn't always easy to know what is real and what isn't. My
guess is that most of the footage is genuine but is not as
graphic as you would assume. For the record, it's safe to say
that the electric chair sequence was probably faked, and the
eating of monkey brains was most certainly staged.
Faces of Death was huge in Japan, it was a bigger hit than
Star Wars. In the UK the film got caught up in the video
nasties debacle and was banned for years (even today the
UK DVD is missing a couple of BBFC cuts to remove the
sight of a dog fight and the killing of a monkey). The film
also spawned numerous sequels, cash-ins, and rip-offs, such
as The Shocks, and Death: The Ultimate Horror.
The success of Faces of Death and the rise of home video in
the 80s led to a renewed interest in the genre, with sequels
to the Mondo Cane series appearing on video along with
sequels to Shocking Asia and This Is America. The Japanese
and American financiers collaborated again for the
production of The Killing of America as a way of trying to
ape the success of Faces of Death. But this film is actually a
different breed from the usual mondo stuff; The Killing of
America is a genuinely uncomfortable look at the state of
the modern world, and serves as the high water mark of the
genre. And unlike the previous mondo entries, all of the
footage is as real as it gets.
Home video allowed the mondo movie to flourish in cheapo
productions where the staged sequences were banished
altogether in series like Faces of Gore, Traces of Death, and
Banned In America. These direct to video abominations
took the exploitative factor to unprecedented levels, and
feature bizarre voiceovers that mock the carnage on display.
But there were others who took the genre elsewhere, such
as the rare and barely seen Army Medicine In Vietnam,
which stands as a serious look at the botched surgery of
marines, including one soldier who has his face blown off,
pieced back together, and then after recovery he is sent
back onto the front line.
In the mid-90s the Brits added their own entry in the field
with Executions, a video release that caused outrage in the
press but was unbelievably passed uncut by the BBFC. I
remember begging my parents to rent the tape for me but
they wouldn't even entertain the idea, and I vividly
remember reading the lurid tabloid headlines and scare
stories about the film (which I took as recommendations!).
According to the papers, Executions showed footage of
people having their heads drilled. I eventually did get to see
it and it's actually a serious intended documentary exposing
the barbarity of the death penalty. As a youngster I could
watch all of this stuff and it didn't bother me, not at all. But
as I've gotten older I'm much more aware of my own
mortality and much more sensitive to the suffering of
others. Many of these films I find difficult to watch
nowadays. I recently re-visited Executions for the sake of
writing this piece, and although it's certainly not an easy
film to watch, there's very little there footage-wise that can't
be shown on broadcast news reports. The ending, however,
shows a guy being machine-gunned in the face at close
range. It takes him a long time to die and the camera never
flinches from the gruesome horror on display as he takes his
dying breaths. I love horror and gore movies as much as
anyone, but the real stuff like this is something different; a
boundary has been crossed here. I had to look away from
that scene this time around.

THE VIDEO DIARY OF RICARDO LOPEZ

The most recent shockumentary I saw was The Video Diary

of Ricardo Lopez. In this DIY mondo oddity we follow the last
few weeks in the life of Bjork obsessive Ricardo Lopez. He
was confident and articulate, but his world is turned upside
down when he discovers that his favourite pop star is dating
a black guy. He then sets about documenting the last
moments of his life on video in his New York apartment, and
we follow every step of the way as his mind disintegrates.
He refers to Bjork as a "nigger lover" and relates his own
race theories in which he explains that white women make
up only 5% of the world's population, and that white women
are too precious and unique to be going with black guys. He
purchases a vat of very strong concentrated acid with the
aim of making an acid bomb that he hopes will be opened
by Bjork herself. He mails it to her (the parcel was
intercepted by the police). And then, like a real life Travis
Bickle, he flips completely, and shaves his head, paints his
face, and blows his brains out on camera.
The Video Diary of Ricardo Lopez is an extremely disturbing
and humbling viewing experience. Lopez, for all his faults,
was a bright kid; he was only 19 but his mannerisms and
intelligence gives the impression that he could be at least
ten years older. The film as a whole stands as a chilling look
at the fragility of the human mind, and that of the obsessive
stalker personality. But also, one can't help but feel some
sympathy for Lopez; he had quite clearly lost his marbles,
and the last shots of the film which sees him sitting with the
gun in his hand are especially powerful. He barely utters a
word throughout this long sequence, but his facial
expressions tell their own story; as he contemplates the end
of his life he seems afraid and perhaps even remorseful. He
hadn't touched his medication for weeks and yet there
seems to be a moment of clarity right at the end; it's
as if he doesn't want to pull the trigger, but at the same
time he realises the enormity of his crime; whether or not
Bjrok opens the package he has sent to her is irrelevant in
the eyes of the law. He knows that there's no turning back
for him, and even if he had doubts about ending his life, he
also seemed to be driven by demons that were ultimately
beyond his control.
The police recovered the tapes when they raided his
apartment and the footage was kept by the FBI for a
number of years. Copies of the tapes were made and given
away to those who requested the footage (and this in itself
says something about our jaded sensibilities when we have
to contact the FBI for our latest DVD fix). This casual
distribution of such sensitive footage has caused much
criticism of the FBI and those hoping to cash-in on the
tragedy. Indeed, even watching films like this nowadays
feels like an intrusion for me. There's something borderline
obscene about watching this stuff; Lopez, like many other
victims in these films, was somebody's son, somebody's
loved one. He had dreams and aspirations. Yes he was a
flawed individual, but most of us are.
Having said that, I still believe that more than any other
type of documentary style of film, the mondo movie, in its
many and varied forms, is a powerful medium for
information. And for that reason alone I refuse to condemn
them completely. No matter how crude or uncomfortable
they may be for us to watch, they are only a reflection of
the world we live in. And if they are offensive, then we must
look back at ourselves and change the way we live. As the
caption says at the begining of the original Mondo Cane,
"The duty of the chronicler is not to sweeten the truth but to
report it objectively".
MOSQUITO THE RAPIST (1976)
(aka Bloodlust, aka Mosquito The Desecrater)
(Orig title - Mosquito der Schander)
Dir: Marijan Vadja /Switzerland

Mosquito The Rapist tells the tale of a deaf mute who is

fixated on death. He has a job in an office where his co-
workers show nothing but open contempt for him. In a
series of flashbacks we discover how this man has been
victimised throughout his life; the death of his mother at a
young age, abuse from his alcoholic father, bullying at
school. His death obsession leads him to take nocturnal trips
to the local mortuary where he defiles the corpses and
drinks their blood through a glass straw.
The film has a grim and morbid atmosphere similar to Joe
D'Amato's Biou Omega and Augustin Villaronga's Tras el
cristal (both of which were made after Vadja's film).
Mosquito returns to the mortuary and removes the eyeballs
from a female corpse. He is also obsessed with dolls; a
necrophiliac's substitution? People in the town are warned to
stay away from the creepy Mosquito, but one young woman
(played by Birgit Zamulo) flirts with him occasionally but he
more or less ignores her. Back at home and Mosquito puts
the eyeballs in a jar of formaldehyde and adds them to his
collection.
Werner Pochath's performance as the title character
reminded me of Carl Bohm's outstanding role in Michael
Powell's Peeping Tom; his smart appearance, quiet nature,
and icicle features all giving the impression, on first glance,
that something is not quite right about this person; his
antiseptic cleanliness concealing the murky waters beneath.
He just cannot keep away from the mortuary. His next visit
ends with him stabbing another corpse. Mosquito's
behaviour becomes increasingly erratic when a policeman
catches him snooping around. He strangles the copper and
escapes. Zamulo, the flirty dancey girl, falls from the roof of
a building and dies. He seems afraid of sex, or more
accurately, uncomfortable with human intimacy (his
collection of body parts and dolls perhaps a way for him to
have companionship on his own warped terms). This
aversion to human intimacy is a big frustration for Mosquito
and he trashes his room.
After Zamulo's funeral, he returns and caresses her corpse.
The warped tragedy of the film is that Mosquito (billed here
as 'The Man') can only allow himself to become intimate
with her once she's dead (and thus non-threatening). It's
only during this scene that we realise how much The Man
liked and cared about her; her beauty, her careless attitude,
and free spirit something he admired and perhaps even
envied - He genuinely mourns that loss. And after that sad
encounter, Mosquito seems to lose control altogether and
sets his sights on living victims with his trusty straw,
reaching a full-on Ed Gein mode.
If you're a fan of dark, morbid cinema then Mosquito The
Rapist will have you transfixed for the entire 90 minute
running time. Funny thing is, there's no rape in this film at
all; Mosquito The Vampire, Mosquito The Necrophile, or
Mosquito The Bloodsucking Corpse Raider would all have
been more accurate titles (the German DVD release
shortened the title to Mosquito). Made around the same
time as George Romero's Martin, this film shares in the
sympathetic depiction of a vampiric ravager, and also offers
a darkly romantic lullaby theme courtesy of Dafydd
Llewelyn, that adds to the cracked innocence and strange
morbidity of the film.
Loosely based on a true story of a deaf and mute worker in
Nuremberg who drank the blood of corpses and who
eventually turned to murdering women to satisfy his blood
thirst in the early 70s, and clearly a big influence on the
filmography of Jorg Buttgereit, the film continues to
captivate unsuspecting viewers to this day. Look out for
some fine performances from Pochath and Zamulo, and the
unflinching graphicness of a particularly troublesome
flashback in which Mosquito's young sister is groped very
unnecessarily by their fucked up father. This lone gem from
Switzerland has left legions of fans and future filmmakers
with new and darker paths to explore.
MS.45 (1981)
(aka Angel of Vengeance)
Dir: Abel Ferrara /USA

One of the finest urban revenge movies of all time, Ms.45

finds director Abel Ferrara dispensing with the macho
vigilante likes of Charles Bronson and instead opting for the
silent flower of Zoe Tamerlis. The results are frankly
mesmerizing.
Young mute Thana (Tamerlis), is dragged into an alley and
raped and robbed by a masked assailant (played by Ferrara
himself under his pseudonym Jimmy Laine). Bloody and
bruised, Thana arrives home only to be attacked again by
an intruder. But this time she fights back and ends up killing
the scumbag by bashing his head in with an iron. Rather
than call the police, Thana drags the corpse into the bath
tub and saws it into little pieces that she then wraps into
paper packages and attempts to dispense into the waste
bins of New York City. But her plans for disposal are risky
and her pretty looks draws much attention from the male
members of society. Unable to cope with the stress any
longer, Thana snaps and goes on a killing spree, culling the
male population of Manhattan. By the film's finale, Thana
dresses as a nun and attends a work party with a loaded
pistol and a bloody
massacre in mind...
MS.45 was Ferrara's follow-up to Driller Killer, and like that
previous film it got caught up in the video nasties panic and
was banned in the UK due to the 1984 Video Recordings Act.
It became an urban classic and one of the most hotly
debated titles of the 80s. Even with its grubby roots mired in
exploitation, the film was taken deadly seriously, not only
because it was played out so straight and convincingly as a
piece of cinema, but because it also played a key part in the
'gender wars' of cinema. In her book Men, Women, and
Chainsaws, feminist academic Carol Clover cites MS.45 as
introducing the notion that "we live in a 'rape culture' in
which all males - husbands, boyfriends, lawyers, politicians -
are directly or indirectly complicit and that men are thus not
individually but corporately liable".
Personally I don't think that the film really has that much of
a deliberate feminist stance other than the fact that the one
doling out the punishments just happens to be female. At
the end of the film she is systematically destroyed for her
attempts at playing God. The final scenes at the party show
that she was clearly insane and was unloading her pistol
indiscriminately on both men and women, perhaps 'blinded'
by her rage to the point where she had lost sight of who the
real perpetrators are.
MS.45 is often compared with Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver
and Michael Winner's Death Wish, but the film is actually
much closer in spirit to Eurohorrors like Repulsion and
Thriller: A Cruel Picture. Joe Delia provides the squawky jazz
score that kicks in at the most dramatic points, and the film
is also awash with surprising touches and interesting visual
ideas. The true star of the show is Zoe Tamerlis (nee Zoe
Lund) who was just seventeen years old at the time of
filming, and whose assured performance made her an
instant icon among lovers of cult movies. She later teamed
up with Ferrara once again more than a decade later when
they collaborated on the script for Bad Lieutenant (in which
she also made an appearance as Harvey Keitel's junky
lover). Tragically, her career was cut short when in 1999 she
died of heart failure, leaving us with a precious few films in
her back catalogue. As the angel of vengeance in MS.45, it's
perhaps her most iconic moment.
Ms.45 was cut by one minute and 42 seconds by the BBFC.
The first rape loses shots of Ferrara undoing his trousers and
then pulling down Thana's panties. The second rape loses
shots of the intruder bashing his gun against the
floor as he ejaculates. Shots were also removed from the
scene where Thana dismembers his body in the bath tub,
including an expression of pleasure on her face while she
does it. The use of nun-chucks were removed from the
scene with the gang of would-be rapists. In America, the film
was subjected to similar cuts, but the uncut version was
leaked into circulation when Warner Brothers' Maverick
Collection accidently released the full version. The tapes
were quickly removed from the shops after a week, but a
number of them were sold and can be identified by the
duplication date code on the sleeve; 082897.
MURDER COLLECTION V.1 (2009)
Dir: Fred Vogel /USA

The idea behind this film is to present a bunch of fake

murder and death clips in a faux-documentary style. Web
cams, home movies, and CCTV are all used to create a
realistic effect, but most of the clips aren't convincing at all,
and the 'ransom' scene at the end is a major
disappointment to say the least...
It's a great idea for a film but is badly executed for the most
part (sorry). First of all, the grisly details of the deaths are
always conveniently kept out of frame (except for a nice
decapitation scene), the father whipping his son with a belt
is more humorous than horrifying. The scene with the
cheating wife is a highlight, and this sequence would make
a great stand-alone short film in its own right. But even this
impressive scene is let down by things like bad acting and
an obviously fake rubber axe, etc. Making a fake docu-style
horror movie is much more difficult than people think; Vogel
and co may have startled viewers with their verite flavoured
August Underground trilogy, but the horror in those films
came from the gross and lewd antics within, not because
anyone thought they were real and bought into the whole
'found footage' legend. When making a film like Murder
Collection, the tiniest details give the game away. Not only
does the violence and gore have to be spot-on, but the
performances must also be perfect otherwise they're not
convincing at all. The smallest mistake ruins the whole.
The Japanese autopsy footage looks the most convincing
until we see close-ups of the fake rubbery 'flesh'. The
'Grummer' sequence boasts some impressive performances
and for a while achieves that awkward air of impending
ugliness to come, but when the knife comes out it all goes
to shit, and we're left with the standard Blair Witch-type
hysterics. It isn't the worst of the Toe Tag films, but after the
likes of August Underground's Mordum and Redsin Tower,
Murder Collection V.1 is a major disappointment. A wasted
opportunity then, I'd be very surprised to see a volume 2.
MUZAN-E (1999)
(Muzan-E: AV gyru satsujin bideo wa sansai shita!) Dir:
Daisuke Yamanouchi /Japan
A lady reporter investigates snuff films, and her journey
leads to the web where we are bombarded with disgusting
images of fetish porn involving menstruation. She interviews
a bunch of perverted porn peddlers and we're shown more
clips of brutal and violent sex tapes (with the obligatory
'digital blurs' which conceal the offending pubic hair as is
customary in Japan; heaven forbid the Japanese seeing a
muff on screen). A young woman is kidnapped, abused, and
humiliated on camera before a caption appears on screen
warning us about some forthcoming nastiness (perhaps
influenced by Gaspar Noe's Seul Contre Tous), and then the
girl is disemboweled with a machete. And in a scene
indebted to Evil Dead Trap, the lady reporter tracks down
the location of the snuff tape by recognising a brief glimpse
of a building in the background on the tape. But when they
arrive at the location, she is captured while her film crew are
butchered on the spot. She then finds herself tied to a chair
in her own snuff movie hell, but there are a couple of odd
surprises at the end...
Shot on video for the booming AV market in Japan, Muzan-E
has never seen an official release outside of its native
country and is almost impossible to find without resorting to
downloading it off the web (which seems rather apt in this
case). Following on from the Guinea Pig tradition, this type
of mock-documentary style horror runs just over an hour
and was an obvious influence on Mariano Peralto's Snuff
102. Muzan-E, for all its disgusting and lurid details deserves
credit for trying to do something different with the 'oh so
serious' type of pseudo-snuff garbage by throwing us a
curveball ending and playing like a postmodern, self-
referential entry in the Guinea Pig series, and at least
remains much more engaging than amateur crap-fests like
Tumbling Doll of Flesh.
NAKED LUNCH (1992)
Dir: David Cronenberg /Canada

"It's impossible to make a movie out

of Naked Lunch. A literal translation
just wouldn't work. It would cost
$400 million to make and would be
banned in every country in the
world"

- David Cronenberg
One of the most difficult and introverted studio films of the
90s, Naked Lunch is essentially a hit and miss affair,
exploring the life and work of underground cult hero William
Burroughs.
Former bug powder junky, William Lee (Peter Weller), works
as an exterminator and lives with his wife Joan (Judy
Davis) who lures him back into the squalid world of
addiction. Whilst under the influence of the powder, Lee
hallucinates that he is a secret agent for a disgusting horde
of giant beetles who order him to kill Joan and flee to
Interzone. With an increasing dependency on the powder,
and his grip on reality loosening further still, Lee meets
some oddball
characters, his typewriter mutates into a metallic talking
insect, and he indulges in more exotic substances.
Naked Lunch is an amusing and often grotesque concoction,
and Cronenberg sidesteps the trouble of bringing an
'unfilmable' text to the screen, and instead concentrates on
events and incidents from Burroughs' personal life,
combined with Cronenberg's own ideas on the sometimes
painful process of creativity itself. The result is a fascinating
mess of a film, virtually incomprehensible on first viewing
but offering at least a few nuggets of interest on repeat
viewings.
On the plus side, Naked Lunch is a demanding film that also
stands on its own as a personal creation in its own right,
boasting some of the most impressive and imaginative
hallucinatory imagery in Cronenberg's career. It's also an
allegory on the battle against personal demons that vividly
expresses the nightmare of drug addiction. The very
antithesis of mainstream entertainment, the film
nonetheless offers fine performances from Weller, Davis, Ian
Holme, and Roy Schneider. The downside is that there's no
room for audience participation in the film; it's very egotistic
and introverted. But perhaps the biggest flaw is that
Cronenberg doesn't explore what Burroughs wrote, and
instead seems more content to ask 'Why did he write?' And
according to the director, he wrote because he shot his wife.
And in this decision Cronenberg fails to shed light on the
text that graced the pages of Burroughs' books, and thus
fails to make clear just what it was that made Burroughs
such a giant of 20th Century literature.
The scene that re-enacts the incident where Burroughs shot
and killed Joan in a game of 'William Tell' stands as nothing
more than a gimmick in Cronenberg's hands. As fascinating
as Burroughs' life was, these biographical elements are less
interesting than the contents of his texts. Burroughs' work
had never been sufficiently explored in the cinema before,
so it was exciting for fans to discover that Cronenberg - who
cites Burroughs as one of his major influences - would
be making a film based on The Naked Lunch. The film,
however, is not an adaptation of the book but rather a
snapshot of biographical elements combined with
Cronenberg's own personal flights of fancy. Burroughs' fans
were less than impressed.
Another misstep was Cronenberg's rather tame handling of
Burroughs' most notorious character, Dr. Benway. Benway is
generally considered to represent Burroughs' own dark side;
he is a cruel, destructive, power-hungry manipulator whom
the author allowed free reign in the safe form of
penmanship whilst acknowledging that those negative
characteristics were present in him too. Cronenberg,
however, restricts Benway to only a couple of disappointing
scenes.
Naked Lunch was originally intended to be shot on location
in Tangier, but those plans were quickly dashed after the
outbreak of the Gulf War. And this halt to proceedings left
the director with no choice but to re-write the script (he is
no stranger to this kind of pressure though; he basically
wrote the screenplay for Scanners on set). The major
problem was how to deal with Interzone, the international
free zone in Tangiers that was a mecca for artists and
bohemians of all kinds in the 50s, and is a place where
Burroughs spent much of his time in those days. Cronenberg
eventually settled on the idea that Interzone would become
"a hallucinatory state of mind" for the film, and this meant
that indoor sets had to be built to replicate the exotic
Moroccan settings for a shooting schedule in Ontario,
Canada. These unforeseen problems in the film's production
led to the project becoming even more introverted. I think
it's safe to assume that if Naked Lunch was shot in Morocco
as originally planned, we would be watching a very different
film today.
Initial audiences were dumfounded when the film first hit
the screens, and many still are today. But with the
subsequent releases of Crash and eXistenZ, fans and critics
were more willing to put Naked Luch into context as
being a part of Cronenberg's latest phase, following on from
his 'humanist trilogy' that includes The Dead Zone, The Fly,
and Dead Ringers. Those new to Cronenberg are advised to
start elsewhere (try Shivers) as Naked Lunch is deliberately
off-putting for the most part.
A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET (2010)
Dir: Samuel Bayer /USA

What a disaster. The opening diner scene was decent but

from there on in it all goes tits up. The characters and acting
are terrible, but as a long-time viewer of slasher movies,
that kind of thing can be overlooked, but there is also zero
tension or suspense, and we are ambushed with 'jump-
scare' overload, or more accurately, jump-scares that don't
make us jump. The film is filled with unconvincing elements
obviously engineered by someone who has no real interest
in the genre and doesn't have a clue how to execute even
the simplest, creepy scenes.
Director Samuel Bayer made a Nirvana promo years ago. He
has no experience in feature film, especially horror. Platinum
Dunes picked him up to direct this piece of shit and I'm not
sure why; he just doesn't have the credentials. Maybe they
hired him knowing they could push him around and that he
would follow orders, no questions asked, just happy and
greatful to be working on a 'big' film and allowing his
reputation to take a severe battering. Bayer seems like the
kind of guy who would sell his own grandmother to get a
shot at the Hollywood big time, and as for the execs at
Platinum Dunes, well, those cunts sold their own souls a
long time ago.
Nancy in the original was an interesting character (annoying
but engaging), but here she's just a bland moron; as soon as
she appeared on screen I wanted her to die a stupendous
death. The new Freddy Krueger character is a joke; empty,
bland, monotonous. He's supposed to be an anti-hero, the
archetypal boogeyman, but here he's just a bore. His
droning voice is enough to put you to sleep. Even his new
style of make-up is crap - He looks like someone has
smashed him in the face with a cheese pizza...
When Freddy (in his human incarnation) gets cornered by
the lynch mob, that scene could have been a real show-
stopper, but as it is, it looks rushed like no one could be
bothered to think it through, or even that no one involved in
this money-making caper understood the significance of
that scene (or perhaps they just didn't give a shit). The
burning of
Freddy is one of the most interesting areas of the whole Elm
St. series; it's a diabolical idea that was only hinted at in the
original film, the fact that Freddy Krueger was a paedophile
and child killer, and the good, decent, hard-working parents
of the local area took it upon themselves to hunt him down
and burn him alive. This time around the filmmakers opted
to explore this legend in a flashback, and it should have
been the centrepiece of the entire film, but ultimately in
Bayer's hands the scene turns to nothing; just another
excuse for a quick 'jump-scare' and some flashy CGI
bollocks.
Freddy as a human is depicted as a pathetic character - just
a harmless and mentally-challenged handyman whom
everyone mocked and made fun of. But when he returns as
the dark dream avenger, suddenly he's very smart and
cunning and 'on the ball'. There's no link between his
pathetic human form and his evil post-death slasher form;
it's a terrible contrast, and it just goes to further cement the
suspicion that no one behind the camera gave a shit about
this film. And that's another thing - It's not even made clear
in this remake whether Freddy Krueger really was a
paedophile or not; he is chased and attacked by the furious
parents who are baiting for his blood, and the audience are
left confused not knowing if Freddy is even guilty of the
crimes or not! And the kids themselves can't even
remember! I would imagine it being difficult to forget if you
were sexually abused as a child... To imply that Freddy
Krueger was an innocent victim of mob mentality is a stupid
move and obviously can't hold much weight for long
because he soon starts carving up the kids in their sleep!
I would only recommend this to those cinema sadists who
enjoy embarrassingly bad performances and disasters on
film, of lovers of CGI shit storms only.
NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD (1968)
Dir: George Romero /USA

Often described as the first truly modern horror film

(although a case can be made for the early gore films of
Herscell Gordon Lewis), George Romero's Night of The Living
Dead began a turning point in genre filmmaking and
introduced thousands of movie-goers to verite ambience for
the first time. But horror fans often need reminding that
THIS MOVIE IS NOT PERFECT! It was a cheap, low-budget B-
movie with a non-professional cast and largely
inexperienced crew who just so happened to catch Vietnam
and the civil rights struggle on TV news reports, and set
about creating lurid documentary-like images for a true
nightmare on film.
Barbra and her brother John visit a cemetery to place
flowers on a relative's grave; but they are attacked out of
the blue by a lumbering zombie. Barbra flees to a
farmhouse where she meets a group of survivors, and
together they are forced to put their differences aside if
they are to fend off the hordes of flesh eaters who are trying
to force their way in, before the shockingly casual and
nihilistic ending.
Barbra isn't a tough heroine ready for battle against the
undead, she spends much of the movie in an almost
catatonic state; this being Romero's way of taking away
viewer control - By focusing on a surrogate character who
sinks into a helpless state, Romero succeeds in irritating the
viewers and making them feel uncomfortable by not being
able to control what's happening on screen. And when
Barbra does finally pull herself together and finds the
courage to take a stand against the ghouls, she is rather
ironically eaten by her zombified brother. This was
a real break from the norm in horror films at the time. With
this film the floodgates of modern horror were opened -
Heroes, heroines, and good people of all kinds are just as
likely to be killed as anyone else, everything was not going
to be okay in the end, our fellow humans could be just as
monstrous as the monsters. The film's bad guy, Harry
Cooper, insists on having everyone hide in the basement in
the farmhouse, but the black hero, Ben (Duane Jones),
refuses to be holed up down there - an understandable
decision - But this turns out to be a big mistake later on. The
bad guy is later proved to have made the right choice by
offering to barricade everyone into the basement.
Perhaps Romero's central message was that WE ARE THE
ZOMBIES, you and I, our friends and loved ones. On DVD be
sure to stick with Romero's original version and avoid at all
costs the 30th Anniversary Edition which includes a terrible
synth piano score and some dreadful extra scenes that were
shot 30 years later and do nothing but obstruct the story.
Also contrary to popular belief is the fact that although
Night of The Living Dead is one of the greatest and most
influential horror films ever made, it didn't have an
immediate impact on the zombie movies that followed in its
wake; Tombs of The Blind Dead, Messiah of Evil,
Shockwaves, The Living Dead At The Manchester Morgue,
Sugar Hill and
Her Zombie Hitmen, etc; all of those films differed radically
in zombie lore from Romero's shuffling rotting corpses of
NOTLD. It wasn't until Romero unleashed the 2nd part of the
series, Dawn of The Dead, a decade later did we see other
filmmakers following suit, with Lucio Fulci's Zombie Flesh
Eaters (released in Italy as an unofficial sequel to Dawn),
City of The Living Dead, and Jean Rollin's Grapes of Death
and Zombie Lake willing to promulgate Romero's basic
vision of the zombie as a walking corpse who dines on warm
human flesh. But still, even after Dawn of
The Dead, other filmmakers continued to take the myth
elsewhere - Fulci with The Beyond and Gary Sherman with
Dead and Buried, for example.
Over the years NOTLD has been rejected, celebrated, over-
analysed, discovered, rediscovered, colourised, remade,
extended, re-released, sequelized, ripped off, and spoofed
to such an extent that it's difficult to make sense of its initial
impact. The film is widely accepted now as a bona-fide
genre classic, but for many years it was accused of having a
negative effect on viewers. Produced for less than $150,000
and rejected by Columbia because it was in black and white,
and rejected by AIP because it had no love story and a
downbeat ending, NOTLD was then relegated to playing at
matinees where it scared the crap out of an entire
generation before showing up on the midnight circuit,
becoming one of the most successful indie movies of all
time.
964 PINOCCHIO (1991)
Dir: Shozin Fukui /Japan
Brain-modified sex slave, Pinocchio, can't get an erection
and is thrown out by his horny female owners. Lost and
vulnerable, he meets Himiko, a seemingly friendly face who
offers him food and shelter. Himiko teaches Pinocchio how
to walk and talk, but on their heels are the inventors who
are in charge of the sex slave industry, and they must
capture Pinocchio in order to repair him and spare the
blushes of the company. This very odd couple are forced to
live in the shadows and they spew forth all kinds of bodily
secretions before Himiko reveals her true motives...
Borrowing heavily from the early work of Shinya Tsukamoto,
both visually and thematically, writer/director Shozin Fukui
creates a volatile cyberpunk nightmare that includes high-
powered androids, slimy body horrors, and frantic set-
pieces, all shot in a ferocious hyper-kinetic style. This is
disorientating stuff, visually astonishing, tirelessly inventive,
and includes just about every body fluid there is. Due to the
film's low budget, many scenes were shot in guerrilla-style,
with the normal everyday citizens staring into the camera
lens and probably wondering what the hell they are
witnessing as Pinocchio staggers through the streets
dragging along with him a silver pyramid.
The only downside to this film is that the characters are so
cliched and predictable; we have the inventor who will stop
at nothing to protect his investment, the flirty secretary who
will do anything for her boss, Himiko who is clearly much
more sinister than she lets on, and also the agents who are
chasing Pinocchio; they resemble your typical cyber-boffins
who are willing to sacrifice anything for the sake of their
important
research.
On the plus side we get a director at the height of his
directorial powers who wears his varied influences very
much on his sleeve; we get elements of Tetsuo The Iron Man
and Tetsuo 2 - Body Hammer with the faded comic-book-
style colours, frenetic camera work, and the climactic robot
march through the city. The scene in which Himiko gets
violently ill in the train station and literally vomits
everywhere is clearly modeled on the classic scene from
Andrzej Zulawski's Possession. Fukui returned with Rubber's
Lover in 1996.
9 SONGS (2004)
Dir: Michael Winterbottom UK
This sexually explicit film is set over a twelve month period
charting the story of young couple, Matt and Lisa, whose
love for live music is equalled only by their love of sex. The
BBFC granted the film an uncut 18 certificate, making it the
most sexually explicit mainstream film ever released in the
UK. Actors Margo Stilley and Kieran O'Brian's sex scenes are
all clearly unsimulated, and Margo requested that director
Winterbottom refer only to her character's name in press
interviews about the film. The soundtrack throws up an
assortment of indie/rock tunes from the likes of Primal
Scream, Dandy Warhols, and The Black Rebel Motorcycle
Club, but overall it's not a great film, and the curiosity value
wears thin quite quickly.
In New Zealand 9 Songs was given an R18 rating and
moralist groups lobbied to have the film banned, but has
since been broadcast on pay-per-view TV. But it was in
Australia where the film caused the biggest fuss when it was
initially slapped with an X rating only to be lowered to an R,
causing much concern for moralist groups. In South
Australia the X rating still stands.
NOIR ET BLANC (1986)
Dir: Claire Devers /France

This black and white arthouse oddity appeared in the UK

surprisingly uncut. Films which deal with the subject of
sadomasochism are notoriously frowned upon on these
shores by everyone from critics, to censors, tabloid papers,
and politicians. But Claire Devers' directorial debut seems to
have completely bypassed the kind of moral panics which
greeted Just Jaeckin's The Story of O, David Lynch's Blue
Velvet, and Barbert Schroeder's Maitresse. The reason for
this may be because Noir et blanc looks at first glance to be
a mild and non-explicit depiction of submission. But make
no mistake, this film certainly takes its themes of pain and
pleasure to fatal extremes, and leaves very little to the
audience's imagination.
Very loosely based on a short story by Tennessee Williams
called Desire and The Black Masseur, Noir et blanc centres
on a young office worker who is drawn into a masochistic
relationship with, uh, a black masseur. Their desires become
increasingly extreme and destructive as the pair reach into
the realms of lethal eroticism.
Claire Devers won an award at Cannes in '86, but the film's
risque reputation kept it away from any kind of English
language distribution until the early 90s when a subtitled
print appeared uncut in American arthouse cinemas.
Devers' public profile continued to grow with her next film,
Chimere, earning a Palm D'Or nomination at Cannes, and in
1994 Noir et blanc was passed uncut for home video in the
UK. Unfortunately, this vital release did little to bolster the
film's reputation, and which remains much talked about but
barely seen.
OF FREAKS AND MEN (1998)
Dir: Alexei Balabanov /Russia

Of Freaks and Men tells the tale of immigrant worker, Johan

(Sergei Makovetskii), who deals in slap and tickle
photographs to the denizens of St.Petersburg in the early
20th Century. After a local engineer dies of a heart attack,
Johan worms his way into the life of the wealthy daughter
and coerces her into modeling for him in some spank-happy
movies as the cinematograph has overtaken the
photograph. Meanwhile, Johan's creepy friend, Victor (Victor
Ivanovich), has managed to sleaze his way into the home of
a blind widow and taken some lurid snapshots of the
widow's adopted siamese twins. Pretty soon both
respectable households begin to disintegrate.
Having caused a bit of a scandal in his native Russia with his
gangster film, Brother, which was criticised for its moral
ambiguity towards the criminal underworld, Alexei
Balabanov's follow-up, Of Freaks and Men, takes a stunning
detour to a no less controversial reception. With its
combination of perverse subject-matter (including early
pornography, sex with siamese twins, and general sleazy
behaviour), a healthy literary vibe, and a murky sepia tone,
Balabanov's film is Dostoevskian in its breadth, and serves
as a pastiche of primitive cinema and as a critique on
Russia's capitalist drive since the collapse of the Soviet
state.
Banned in Ireland and generally treated cautiously
elsewhere, Of Freaks and Men is a grim black comedy which
nonetheless borrows aesthetically from Peter Greenaway's
perfected artifice and parallels with David Lynch's The
Elephant Man in the siamese twins story, making for a
strange but genuinely original film.
100 TEARS (2007)
Dir: Marcus Koch /USA

A psychotic killer clown leaves the fairground and embarks

on a killing spree with a huge meat cleaver and searches for
his long lost daughter. Tracking him down are the police and
an odd couple of amateur sleuths who are hoping to get the
scoop of a lifetime for their local tabloid paper.
This is an extremely violent and graphic slasher movie;
heads are cut off and split in two, limbs are hacked off,
torsos are sliced open to reveal the sloppy innards. People
are also shot, stabbed, and strangled thanks to some superb
special effects courtesy of the great team at Odditopsy FX,
helping to earn the film an NC-17 rating in America. The
body count rises higher than most movies of this type in the
first 20 minutes, and by the end credits the number of
mangled corpses this film leaves behind is almost
astronomical. The acting isn't great but the script is sharp,
witty, and quite clever for this kind of thing. It sure beats
other low-budget indie efforts like the first August
Underground and The Gateway Meat.
Directed by the unfortunately named Marcus Koch with
much love and respect for the genre, it's good to see a
fanboy-type horror film that doesn't get bogged down in
overdoing the 'ironic' and self-referential crap that plagues
so many of these types of films. Here the director
concentrates on more important things like making a decent
script and casting a couple of leads who gel together quite
well on screen, despite the fact that there isn't much chance
of a sex scene between the two (she’s a stunningly beautiful
brunette, and he’s a fat, flatulating ogre). The film's most
impressive aspect though is definitely the extreme gore, so
if you are squeamish you may want to avoid.
On the soundtrack there is a distorted chime from a musical
box that sounds identical to Christopher Young's score for
the first couple of Hellraiser films; it may have been taken
from the soundtrack CD. The music also includes crappy
techno during some of the killing scenes, and this type of
music has never worked in films and doesn't work here at
all. Also, the killer clown is a bit miscast and doesn't really
pose a very menacing presence, but these are only minor
criticisms as the film certainly delivers on the slasher
essentials: A bunch of idiots get slaughtered in extremely
nasty and graphic ways!
The 'Tears' of the title refers to the killer's MO which involves
drawing teardrops on the wall using the blood of each of his
victims, and the 100 gives you some idea of the excessively
large body count.
OUT OF THE BLUE (1980)
Dir: Dennis Hopper /Canada

Tagline - "Her dad's in prison... Her

mom's on drugs... The only adult
she admires is Johnny Rotten".
Troubled teen, Cebe (Linda Manz), finds life difficult with a
drug-addled mother and alcoholic, sexually abusive, ex-con
for a father. She finds solace in the night life and seething
nihilism of the local punk scene in Vancouver.
Dennis Hopper, god rest his soul, was always a contrary so
and so; a man whose remarkable talents both in front and
behind the camera were constantly off-set by his wild and
self-destructive behaviour through drink, drugs, and
pretentions, and whose steps up the filmic ladder were often
met with sudden falls from grace. So much so that many
times throughout his career he was considered basically
unemployable by producers and directors, and Hollywood
would often avoid him like the plague. The fact that he was
also capable of a well-timed genius, combined with his
engaging personality, offered him many 'second chances'
that mere mortals like us could never hope to be granted.
And right up until his death in 2010 he was always a firm
fan favourite.
Hopper's career began in the 50s alongside James Dean in
Rebel Without a Cause and Giant. This bright start soon
drifted into improvisational chaos and 100-take madness
that infuriated those around him, and banished him from the
Hollywood hills. He returned in the late 60s with the low-
budget Easy Rider which made a fortune and catapulted him
to stardom, becoming one of the most bankable icons of the
counter-culture era. But all of that success came to an end
when he committed a second career suicide by heading
deep into the jungle to make The Last Movie, with too much
booze and drugs, but very little in the way of a script, or
plan, or cohesion. By the late 70s he was referred to as "that
photographer nutcase from Apocalypse Now", and his once
promising career seemed to be well and truly over.
Surprisingly, another comeback was on the horizon in 1980
during the making of Out Of The Blue. Hopper had originally
signed up to play Cebe's depraved father, but after
writer/director Leonard Yakir jumped ship, Hopper was
entrusted to take over the reins of the project, and much to
everyone's surprise, he took to the helm with a sane and
sober professionalism, managing a re-write of the script
which incorporated his own dark vision, and remaining
even-tempered throughout. He delivered the film on time, in
budget, and with no complaints. The producer's gamble had
paid off, and this independent Canadian feature was a hit
with critics, despite its grim tones and punk aesthetics.
Hopper was rewarded with a Palm D'or nomination at
Cannes, and for a while seemed to be back in contention.
But for all the modest success of Out Of The Blue, he still
hadn't fully purged his demons, and it wasn't until a few
years later when he made yet another comeback as the
psychotic Frank Booth in David Lynch's Blue Velvet did he
finally reach some kind of contentment in his life and
embraced the straight and narrow.
Out Of The Blue was described by Time Out magazine as "A
film about extremes directed by an extremist", and indeed
the film opens with Hopper crashing a truck into a bus load
of school kids, and culminates in his daughter Cebe
embracing the wreckage of human life in the city's punk
clubs. The heart of the film lies in its cathartic energy, a
destructive cry of anguish in the face of boredom, banality,
poverty, and domestic hell; where the obliteration of self-
destruction and a raw passion for noise and chaos is
preferable to the quiet misery of trying to fix a broken
home. Something Hopper could no doubt relate to (he
certainly had no trouble in filling the role of the drunken
wretch of a father!). An important and much overlooked
gem.
PEEPING TOM (1959)
Dir: Michael Powell /UK

Critically reviled on its initial release for its morbid and

disturbing voyeurism, Michael Powell's Peeping Tom is now
held in very high regard as one of the finest British movies
ever made. A psychologist (played by director Powell
himself in a knowing bit of casting) subjects his young son
to nightmarish experiments in his studies on fear. Inevitably,
the child grows up to become a voyeuristic
cameraman/serial killer (Carl Bohm) who stabs his pretty
young victims with his spiked tripod and films the terrified
expressions on their faces at the moment of death. He then
goes home and watches the footage over and over again.
Bohm conceals his derangement with a polite manner and
clean-cut appearance, but it isn't long before his
neighbour's suspicions encroach on his personal space.
This film is much more restrained than its reputation
suggests; none of the overtly gruesome bits are displayed
on camera. Horror fans who are more accustomed to the
latter day excessive bloodletting of the sleazy 'stalk and
slash' formula will probably be disappointed with the steady
pace and lack of graphic dismemberment, which is ironic
considering that Peeping Tom played a big part in kick-
staring the slasher boom of the late 70s/early 80s.
Peeping Tom was also one of the first films to depict a
somewhat sympathetic killer, and this aspect has been
imitated over the years in everything from Martin, Mosquito
The Rapist, and Henry-Portrait of a Serial Killer. The stunning
Eastmancolour photography with its bold and punchy colour
palette has been much imitated too, as has Gordon
Watson's creepy piano score. Director Donall Cammell paid
homage to the film in his 1982 horror classic, White of The
Eye, and also Italian horror auteur Dario Argento touched
upon many similar themes in his excellent late 80s shocker,
Opera.
Michael Powell deserted the earlier grand qualities which
earned his reputation with Emeris Pressburger in the
preceding years when the pair produced such classics as
The Red Shoes and A Matter of Life and Death, and instead
turned his attentions onto something altogether removed
from the pleasantries of his earlier output. In one scene he
goes as far as casting Moira Shearer, the dancer in The Red
Shoes as a whore who gets stabbed to death by Bohm, and
he even casts himself as the deranged psychologist whose
sadistic experiments turns his son into a twisted murderer.
The choice of casting himself in the role was clearly
designed to express the obsessive and ruthless nature of all
great artists, and also as a comment on the scoptophiliac
nature of cinema-goers themselves, with Otto Heller's
'killer's eye' camerawork imitated to death ever since.
Unsurprisingly, the critics were not impressed. They didn't
just dislike the film, they actively hated it and
decried everything about it. Peeping Tom premiered in
March 1960, just three months before Hitchcock's Psycho,
and it was immediately panned. Derek Hill of The Tribune
suggested that "The only really satisfactory way to dispose
of [the film] would be to shovel it up and flush it swiftly
down the nearest sewer". Some other loser called it "The
sickest and filthiest film I remember seeing". The film's
hostile reception brought its theatrical run to an immediate
end when it was pulled from cinemas. And like Todd
Browning before him, whose Freaks had been met with a
similar outraged reception in the 1930s, Michael Powell's
career effectively came to an end as a direct result of all the
negative press. Alfred Hitchcock seemed to take an
important lesson from this, and he rather wisely released
Psycho without a preview press screening - Smart move.
In America the film played in a black and white version that
was cut down to 86 minutes. But even in this shoddy form
Peeping Tom managed to gain a cult following around New
York's Alphabet City district in its limited theatrical run. Film
student Martin Scorsese was suitably impressed and his
dogged devotion to Peeping Tom helped to save it from
oblivion, even providing his own full-colour 35mm print for
future screenings and a DVD release. "I have always felt
that Peeping Tom and 8 1/2 say everything that can be said
about filmmaking", he said, "about the process of dealing
with film, the objectivity and subjectivity of it and the
confusion between the two. 8 1/2 captures the the glamour
and enjoyment of filmmaking, while Peeping Tom shows the
aggression of it, how the camera violates... From studying
them you can discover everything about people who
express themselves through film".
PERDITA DURANGO (1997)
(aka Dance With The Devil)
Dir: Alex de la Iglesia /Spain/Mexico
David Lynch was the first filmmaker to adapt the work of
novelist Barry Gifford to the big screen in 1990 with Wild At
Heart, a psychotic road movie which incurred the wrath of
both the censors and critics. A few years later and Gifford's
work was once again at the centre of cinematic controversy
when bad boy Spanish director, Alex de la Iglesia, adapted
his follow-up novel, 59 Degrees and Raining: The Story of
Perdita Durango, and centres on the gun-toting title
character (who was played by Lynch's partner, Isabella
Rosselini, in Wild At Heart), this time played by Latino
beauty Rosie Perez. Rising star Javier Bardem plays
Durango's demonic lover, Romeo, and we're also treated to
a supporting role by blues legend Screamin' Jay Hawkins...
Iglesia's previous films, which include Accion Mutante and
Day of The Beast, were still on the fringes of cult, but here
was the opportunity for him to hit the big time; he had a
Hollywood-sized budget, a Hollywood star in Perez, and a
hot-property in writer Barry Gifford (who also helped out
with the screenplay). Mainstream acceptability were his for
the taking... But when Perdita Durango hit the screens in the
late 90s, that Tinseltown calling card went up in smoke. The
result is a film which is sure to offend everyone at some
point - Americans, moralists, the squeamish - as Iglesia's
incendiary movie tackles such sensitive subjects as kidnap,
rape, and murder in a fun, comic book mode of pitch black
comedy. Unsurprisingly, Iglesia has never made a Hollywood
movie to this day.
Whilst scaring away strait-laced blokes on the US/Mexican
border, Perdita Durango teams up with charismatic criminal
Romeo, and together they hit the road and indulge in occult
ceremonies, wild sex, and rampant crime. Romeo talks her
into human sacrifice, and they kidnap a teenage American
couple whom they intend to offer up in a bloodletting.
Meanwhile, Romeo is being pursued by a relentless DEA
Agent Dumas (James Gandolfini) due to his connections with
crime lord Santos (Don Stroud) who has him smuggling a
truck load of fetuses across the border to be used in the
black market of the American cosmetics industry. The chaos
all comes to a head in the bright lights of Vegas for the final
bloody showdown.
Perdita Durango is even more outrageous than Iglesia's
previous films, and he seems to be enjoying himself
misbehaving with his movie camrea. The cast are all
resolutely excellent, including Hawkins whose silly antics
and bemused mumbling is genuinely funny. But it's Javier
Bardem who steals the show as the free-spirited wanderer,
Romeo, who makes a stunning transition from his previous
roles as a lady magnet in Jamon Jamon and Live Flesh,
becoming a lady magnet of a more dark and dangerous kind
in Perdita Durango. Indeed, Bardem's rise to the Hollywood
A-list over the subsequent years has been an interesting
journey watching him do it his own way with roles in the
Coen's excellent No Country For Old Men where he plays a
relentless and amoral hitman (the lucky devil also married
Penelope Cruz). Also on the casting front, look out for
Heather Graham's sister, Aimee, as the pretty blonde
hostage, and Repo Man helmer, Alex Cox, as agent Dumas'
partner.
Perdita Durango took almost three years to reach American
audiences due to a seemingly endless string of distribution
and legal tangles, and censorship. The film was cut to
shreds for an R rating, dispensing with some potentially
under-age nudity, and also violence. Added to this was the
cutting of the climactic finale which sees Romeo's destiny
merging with that of Burt Lancaster in Vera Cruz. Iglesia's
crucial and innovative merging of the two films makes for a
heroic and touching scene, but it was removed because of
legal wranglings. The Americans also re-titled the film to
Dance With The Devil. The film didn't fare much better in
the UK where around 36 seconds of risque footage was
dropped thanks to the BBFC. The cuts were mostly on the
scenes where the kidnapped teens are deflowered by
Perdita and Romeo, an experience of rape which the
youngsters later appreciate as an ice-breaker for their own
sexual relationship; a big no no as far as the British censors
were concerned. The German DVD by Planet Media presents
the full uncut version in a gorgeous anamorphic transfer.
PHILOSOPHY OF A KNIFE (2008)
Dir: Andrey Iskanov /Russia/USA

Running just shy of four and a half hours, Philosophy of a

Knife is an 'artistic representation' of factual events that is
said to have occurred at the infamous Unit 731, a Japanese
camp based in Manchuria during the Second World War.
Those looking for a documentary account of the barbaric
practices that went on there will get what they're looking
for, provided they're willing to sit it out and wade through all
the dramatised footage, because despite the loose feel and
lengthy grotesque sequences, the film does stay very close
to a factual depiction. Those looking for a narrative-based
drama, however, are advised to look elsewhere because
Philosophy of a Knife shows director Andrey Iskanov taking
full advantage of the artistic license the subject-matter
affords him, and the end result comes across more as part
documentary, part bizarre music video, and very little in the
way of a conventional narrative-based drama.
Disc 1 starts with the voiceover of a freelance medical nurse
who mourns the end of the war and who makes plans for a
retreat back to Japan. Mostly in black and white with the
exception of video footage of Russian Anatoly Protasov
offering an engaging history lesson on the subject, the next
two and a quarter hours of the first part of the film mixes
archive footage of the war years with experimental videos
depicting the awful goings on at Unit 731. The intro sees a
man being escorted outside into the snow and beheaded
with a sword.
A man with an English accent serves as narrator and he
gives us some historical backstory including the Russo-
Japanese war, the Russian Revolution, Japan's struggle to
combat the spread of Communism, etc, all set to archive
footage. The film boasts excellent use of sound design with
weird drones and repetitive chimes and wonky electronic
and industrial music typical of Iskanov's films. But the sound
effects, as impressive as they are, have the annoying habit
of drowning out some important scenes where its inclusion
tends to ruin the mood of the film, such as the scenes where
Anatoly Protasov discusses openly on camera his
experiences in Manchuria during the war; his invaluable
insight and frankness of his recollections are almost
swamped by Iskanov's insistence on including layers of
unnecessary drones on the soundtrack. These sound effects
suit the other parts of the film much better but in the scenes
with Protasov it seems almost disrespectful for him to drown
these important factual insights with this experimental
music. He even manipulates the audio to sound very clean
and stark with the treble controls turned up very high in the
mix. It all comes across as very childish, it's like he can't
trust his audience to sit and listen to the old guy's tales and
so he starts messing around with the audio as a way of
'livening things up'. It's a bad move that ruins much clarity
in the film. Overall though, it remains Iskanov's most
accomplished and coherent work to date.
Unit 731 was hell on earth for those unfortunate enough to
have found themselves there; the human captives were
subjected to horrendous experiments with the data
collected being used as a way of helping Japan's war effort.
A common practice at the camp was to conduct animal
blood transfusions in humans - especially with horses. Horse
urine would be injected into the human bloodstream and the
effects would be documented in detail. The Japanese
wanted to have the power of wiping out their vast enemies
with something much simpler and effective than the usual
military combat of guns and bombs, and with bacteriological
research they had found their answer. At Unit 731 they
produced anthrax, dysentery, cholera, and bubonic plague
by the kilogram. They had produced enough bacteria to
wipe out the entire population of the planet, and they were
intending on using it too. It's a good thing they were
stopped when they were.
The film eventually settles into a prolonged depiction of the
experiments; in one hyper-stylized sequence a pregnant
woman has her foetus surgically removed while she is fully
conscious. One experiment used humans in long and
sustained exposure to X-ray to study the damage it causes
to human organs. A young Russian man is subjected to this
test.
Experiments to see how much physical pain a human can
withstand before losing consciousness; a woman has her
teeth ripped out, one by one, without anesthetic. After
removing the entire bottom row of her teeth with pliars, she
remains conscious (and screaming a lot), so the boffins then
start on the top row. Men are contaminated with venereal
diseases like syphilis and they are forced to rape captive
women so that the boffins can check each stage of the
infection and its effects. One young man is forced to rape a
girl and infect her, and when he's done he is then taken to
the gas chamber and timed on how long it takes him to die.
It takes seven agonising minutes, and his face literally
disintegrates. One person has his arteries opened up and is
timed how long it takes him to bleed to death. Another is
shot in the throat at point-blank range and also timed.
Unit 731 seemed to be a kind of natural evolution of the
way that science and philosophy had been heading in the
last one hundred years or so; philosophers became atheists,
scientists became amoral, and politicians put theories to
the test on a grand scale. The Hitler-Stalin Pact meant
nothing when German troops invaded the Soviet Union,
Stalin would invent his own crimes so that he could have
those he disliked executed after staging 'show trials',
millions of Jews were being exterminated in Europe in a
'purification' of the Ayrian race, the Americans were testing
atomic bombs in the deserts of New Mexico with the
assistance of angelic figures like Albert Einstein. Trust,
loyalty, pacts, and alliances had gone out the window and
were replaced by fear, treachery, distrust, and wholesale
destruction. The whole world had gone mad under a Godless
sky, and Unit 731 was just the tip of the iceberg. That little
camp based in the puppet state of Manchukuo seemed to
encapsulate everything that was going on in the world at
the time; the amorality, humans in a worthless form literally
reduced to fodder, the innovations and scientific
breakthroughs used as tools of destruction, etc. When
looked at in this light, the atrocities of World War II seem like
a desperate attempt at uniting the world; as ludicrous as it
sounds, it was a way of trying to make order out of all the
chaos and uncertainty.
A young man who looks suspiciously like the same actor
who had already been killed in the gas chamber earlier in
the film is brought back for an experiment in phosphorous -
He is strapped down onto an operating table and has
chunks of the stuff placed onto his face. Phosphorous is an
evil substance that ignites at room temperature (the
Americans used their own version, known as 'Agent Orange'
in the Vietnam War), and before long the poor guy's face
lights up in a fireworks display as it melts his skin, and we
can hear the screams of pure agony. In another 'test'
cockroaches are infected with leprosy and inserted into a
woman's vagina. The bizarre music throughout the film is
industrial and repetitive; imagine Philip Glass on speed and
you're on the right track.
The Russian guy, Protasov, explains how he was caught
picking mushrooms in the woods near Unit 731 and was
only spared his life because he could speak Japanese and
had studied at Harbin University. Part one ends with the
freelance nurse (Yukari Fujimoto) writing a letter home.
With the second disc we're thrown right back into the action
with nothing to explain what's going on. It's an odd move
because part 1 finished with its own end credits, and part 2
has its own title credits, so really these are two seperate
and distinct films but they also play back-to-back with no
set up at the start of part 2. We get the same black and
white footage, the same type of music, and the same snowy
weather and blizzards. We also have the first sign of
rebellion here as one testee jumps up during an experiment
and attacks one of the boffins. This brave stance doesn't
count for much though as he is beaten unconscious. The
boffin is hurt and ties a tourniquet around his upper arm to
stop the flow of blood. In the next scene some guy is
literally butchered alive - He is dismembered while he is
restrained and fully conscious. A pregnant woman is
strapped to a chair and a doctor digs deep into her vagina
with huge surgical instruments and aborts her baby, limb by
limb.
The English narrator returns for another history lesson, and
then we're presented with 'Frostbite experiments'.
Yoshimura Hisato was in charge of these tests and he later
received an Order of The Rising Sun for 'innovations in
modern science' in 1978. A naked young man is walked
outside into the freezing air, is tied to a post, and then has
buckets of ice-cold water poured on him. In the coldest
months in Manchuria the temperature often reached -40
degrees. The man is kept there until he passes way beyond
hypothermia; his body becomes almost frozen solid. He is
then taken back inside and gradually warmed up with the
intention of discovering whether the human body can
recover after being exposed to such extremely cold
temperatures. Not surprisingly, the kid doesn't make it on
this occasion.
A woman is strapped to a seat and has her head skinned.
Disease carrying cockroaches are attached onto her head
and the skin is clumsily re-attached. Photos are taken, and
then she is carried down into a basement and dumped there
with hundreds of other corpses. Another woman is laid face
down on an operating table, and she has the skin of her
back removed. The boffins shock her with high voltage
electrodes, and meat hooks are used to tear out pieces of
her vertebrae. After some 'plague treatments' we're shown
an experiment in 'the bends' whereby victims are used in
decompression experiments; by artificially inducing deep
sea conditions, we watch as the victim's blood literally boils,
eyeballs pop out of their sockets, and the organs explode
from the body.
The film wraps up with another history lesson concerning
the end of the war. Americans capture the island of
Okinawa, and the Japanese are ordered to fight on to the
last man. Mass suicide breaks out across the Japanese
empire. A 15 megaton atomic bomb is dropped on
Hiroshima, and then a 20 megaton device is dropped on
Nagasaki causing widespread destruction. The Soviets
declare war on Japan, and this spells the end of Unit 731 as
the people running the place know that it was only a matter
of time before the Red Army came along to spoil all their
fun. The place is decimated and destroyed, and the
remaining test subjects are killed by cyanide.
The Americans captured Shiro Ishii but he was later allowed
to go back to Japan after striking a deal. It's interesting how
the data that was collected at Unit 731 has seemingly
vanished. But according to the best authorities on the
subject, the data did survive and made it into the hands of
the Americans and Japanese. And if you consider how
America and Japan dominated the post-war years in terms
of medical breakthroughs, perhaps the main reason for their
successes in this field was due to them having access to this
data.
PIECES (1982)
Dir: Juan Piquer Simon /USA/Spain/Puerto Rica

A young boy kills his mother with an axe and cuts her body
into pieces after being caught with a nudy jigsaw puzzle and
porn mags. The police assume the killer to be some
madman who has fled the scene, so the kid gets away with
murder. Forty years later and there is a chainsaw-wielding
maniac on the loose at a college campus, slicing and dicing
the pretty students and collecting their body parts. But
who's responsible?
This is one of those so-bad-it's-good type of early 80s
slasher movies; we're bombarded with bad acting, a boring
police investigation, and all kinds of bizarre and insane
moments that appear out of nowhere ("BAS-STAARRRD!!!").
There's also the usual share of cat-out-of-the-bag jump
scares, but I've never seen any who know Kung Fu, until
now. The film's real saving grace though is the extreme
violence and gore, and we're treated to a nice amount of the
red stuff in the film's numerous graphic slayings.
There are also many blatant tributes to Dario Argento and
giallo movies that are spread liberally throughout; shades of
Deep Red and Tenebrae (the latter was made around the
same time), the reliance on childhood sexual trauma as the
springboard for a psychopath, the stylized POV shots of the
black-gloved killer who seems to be omnipresent, stalking
and slashing his victims (usually beautiful young women),
the red herrings and heavy bloodshed (the stabbing on the
waterbed is textbook Argento). But not even the great Dario
had a chainsaw-swinging maniac his films. Even the music is
Goblin-esque - Tension building bass notes and swirling
synths.
Although shot in Spain, Pieces is also very much an
American slasher movie of its time. Teens, sex, nudity,
slaughter, and a boring police investigation (Christopher
George of City of The Living Dead fame plays the film's
detective, Bracken), it's all here. There's some hilarious
goofs and cringe-inducingly bad acting on display (look out
for Jess Franco regular Jack Taylor who plays a smug
professor), but you can't miss it if you're a fan of slasher
movies.
Director Juan Piquer Simon is no cult favourite like a Jess
Franco or even a Joe D'Amato; the rest of his filmography is
absolutely dire with the godawful likes of The Pod People,
Cthulu Mansion, and Arachnid (ugh!). Only his late 80s
effort, Slugs, can live up to the deranged promise of Pieces.
PIXOTE (1981)
Dir: Hector Babenco /Brazil

Shot on the mean streets of Sao Paolo, Pixote (pronounced

'pee-shot') is a bleak and harrowing depiction of the lives of
a group of Brazilian street kids, many of whom were non-
professional actors from the shanty towns. Over the three
decades since the film was made little has changed in the
country's treatment of its wayward youths, despite Brazil's
economic boom in the last few years. Directed by Argentina-
born Hector Babenco whose previous film, Lucia Fladia,
caused a scandal due to its portrayal of Brazilian death
squads; this later effort was no less controversial.
In Pixote we get a harsh snapshot into the lives of homeless
street kids. A judge is murdered, and armies of young
delinquents are herded into a reformatory. One of the new
inmates is Pixote (Fernando Ramos de Silva), a young boy
who bares witness to the murder suspect being executed
without trial, and a pair of homosexuals murdered for no
other reason than their sexuality. Pixote joins a gang and
together they escape their incarceration and pretty soon
they're back on the streets committing petty crimes. The
lure of the money encourages them to get involved in
pimping and drug dealing, but after they are ripped off, they
seek revenge. The boys become friendly with a prostitute
(Marilia Pera), and she helps them to get organised as a
crime unit and eventually becomes Pixote's lover. A brief
spell of happiness follows before the bleak denounement.
The first choice actor for Pixote missed a rehearsal, so
eleven year old de Silva stepped up and won the lead role,
becoming an icon among lovers of off-beat cinema. His
savvy nature and mature, no-nonsense performance seems
to have stemmed from his own experiences as a homeless
street waif, which demanded an instant growing up and an
assured confidence which helps to cement the film in its
effective documentary realism. The gritty style was also
helped tremendously by Rudolph Sanchez's impressive
camera work. Director Babenco once again took a text by
Jose Lozero (after his previous Lucia Fladia), and adapted its
plot structure with an urgent, hand-held immediacy, giving
the proceedings a grim air of authenticity.
International censors were not too kind to the film; in the UK
the BBFC cut Pixote by 27 seconds under the Protection of
Children Act to delete the scene which shows a child in the
same frame as a sexual act taking place. The cuts were
similar to those imposed on Larry Clark's Kids more than a
decade later, and whose writer, Harmony Korine, was
hugely influenced by Babenco's films. When Pixote
premiered in Brazil, a retired court judge requested that
Babenco be held to account under the law of national
security for condoning the use of drugs, encouraging the
corruption of children, and undermining social institutions.
Most tragic, however, is the true story of what happened to
the young actor Fernando Ramos de Silva; having made
such an impressive impact in Babenco's film, he was later
shot dead by Brazilian police in a bungled armed robbery. A
grim fate indeed, and one which continues to haunt viewers
three decades later, as the gun-toting eleven year old pimp
in his trademark woolly hat igniting the screen and bringing
the grittiness of Babenco's film crashing into reality.
Pixote is not for all tastes, but those looking for something
as tough as nails and with no hope of redemption, will find
much to be enthralled and appalled by here.
POISON (1990)
Dir: Todd Haynes /USA

A controversial, narratively complex triptych of tales that

introduced Todd Haynes' work to a wider audience beyond
the gay community. Taking its inspiration from celebrated
French author/convict Jean Genet, this fiery feature debut
does much to create an increasing sense of discomfort while
wearing its intelligence on its sleeve.
The first story, 'Hero', is a faux-documentary in which
neighbours and family members discuss Richie, a troubled
seven year old boy who is said to have murdered his father
and then quite literally flown away out the window, never to
return. The second story, 'Horror', mimics the style of a 50s
black and white sci-fi movie, and features Dr. Graves (Larry
Maxwell) who succeeds in isolating the human libido into a
handy serum, but accidently doses himself and mutates into
a dangerous and infectious monster. And finally 'Homo', the
most obviously inspired by Genet, tells of the obsessive John
(Scott Renderer), a thief whose life in prison is turned upside
down with the arrival of Bolton (James Lyons), an object of
his desire since their days in reform school.
The three stories are assembled together in a challenging
and innovative way, and the disturbing build-up of the
scenarios seems to affect viewers on a subliminal rather
than a more obvious, narrative based level. And this results
in curious afterthoughts as the film slowly settles in viewers'
minds long after the movie has finished. The stories vary in
their styles and are linked very loosely in their themes of
persecution, alienation, and sexual anxiety, and uncovering
the film's intriguing and enigmatic connections is left very
much up to the viewer to decipher. Rather than allowing the
audience to be spoon-fed by a more obvious and traditional
narrative style, Haynes’ film actively demands its viewers to
engage with the action on screen in a subjective manner. If
the film has a 'message' it's very much up to you to work
out because Poison is by no means an explicit polemic.
Poison opened to much hostility when far right religious
groups expressed their displeasure at the film receiving
funding from tax payer's money. And this had a crushing
effect on the next generation of filmmakers as many funding
bodies, such as the National Endowment For The Arts, had
their government funding withdrawn as a direct result of the
protests, leaving many young filmmakers without a pot to
piss in, financially. The film did, however, find much favour
with those who actually bothered to sit down and watch it
(as opposed to those who just stood outside waving their
accusatory fingers), and it eventually picked up the Grand
Jury Prize at the Sundance Film Festival.
Director Todd Haynes first made a splash with Superstar -
The Karen Carpenter Story, a short biographical piece
played out with Barbie dolls. It won the Best Experimental
Short Award at the USA Film Festival before Karen's brother
Richard had the film prosecuted and banned in a lawsuit.
Poison was his first feature film, and despite the controversy
was successful enough for him to continue in his chosen
medium throughout the 90s and beyond with films like
[Safe], Velvet Goldmine, and Far From Heaven. None of his
subsequent efforts showed the same degree of challenging
innovations as his early work, nor sparked such notoriety,
but they did at least bring some much deserved attention to
Poison, a provocative gem steeped in technical virtuosity.
PORNO HOLOCAUST (1981)
Dir: Joe D'Amato /Italy
This goofy piece of exploitation trash from the uber-prolific
Joe D'Amato mixes monster mayhem, hardcore porn, and
sunny beach locations, but ultimately fails to satisfy on any
level. The horror fans hated it, the raincoat crowd took it as
a sick joke, and anyone else who saw it probably thought
they were on drugs. However, believe it or not, it does have
a tiny cult following among those who can't resist its sleazy,
exotic charms.
A group of male and female 'scientists' travel by boat to an
island to investigate radioactivity. Their research doesn't go
as planned though as these people just seem to spend their
time fucking on the beach. And unbeknownst to them,
they're also being stalked by a radioactively mutated
monster who goes on a killing spree and rapes the women!
Still unavailable to this day in any kind of legitimate English
language version, Porno Holocaust was shot back to back
with Erotic Nights of The Living Dead, using the same cast
(with the notable absence of Laura Gemser), crew, and
location. This has led to more than a few film guides and
filmographies confusing the two. The sex and horror
sequences are measured out fairly equally but monster
fanatics will probably be bored to tears because the
creature doesn't makes its appearance until well over an
hour into the film (it does manage to wipe out all but two of
the cast members though). The sex scenes are long, dull,
and boring as hell; we get a crappy lesbian scene, and then
two black guys on one white woman (and this section will
always be remembered for one of the guys who stays limp
throughout the whole scene!). And when the monster does
show up it's a disappointment because it's basically a black
guy with a bit of dried porridge stuck onto his face. His first
scene is pretty cool though as he drowns a man in
the sea and then coerces the girlfriend into giving him head!
The monster continues on its rampage, smashing a man's
head in with a rock, and another with a lump of wood. Dead
bodies are eventually found scattered across the island, and
when the captain has finished doggy-styling his lady friend
he decides to investigate...
The action is played out to a backdrop of sickly sweet pop
music and disco tunes courtesy of D'Amato's regular
tunesmith, Nico Fidenco (of Black Emanuelle fame). The
Anthropophagus monster himself, George Eastman, is
responsible for the script and he seems happy to appear in
the film but wisely stays away from the hardcore stuff (as he
did in Erotic Nights). Those of you who first encountered the
film on dupy bootleg video will be astonished by the
German DVD from Astro. Picture quality is crisp and
colourful, and the somewhat exotic feel of the film (which
was lost on the murky VHS versions) is fully restored here.
It's also uncut and runs for the full 110 minutes. It's just a
shame the dub tracks are in German and Italian only.
THE POUGHKEEPSIE TAPES (2007)
Dir: John Erick Dowdle /USA

Not a bad docu-style horror/slasher but is let down by some

ridiculous acting and a corny twist ending... Police raid the
home of a suspected serial killer. They don't find him but
they do find more than 300 hours of video footage of the
killer going about his business. The resulting film is put
together mostly from those video tapes. It still hasn't been
officially released in any form but was leaked online. And if
it does eventually make it onto video shelves it will probably
be trimmed down a little first as the leaked version looks to
be a rough cut and outstays its welcome by a good ten
minutes or so. There are some great individual set-pieces
throughout, including stalkings, abductions, murders, and
his bizarre treatment of his captives, and general weird
behaviour. On the downside, some of the performances are
incredibly bad, such as a forensics guy who discusses what
kind of weapons the killer may be using; it's one of the most
ridiculous performances you'll ever see. Also, the police-
woman at the makeshift grave site looks like she has
stepped right out of drama school in a performance of a
lunchtime. My main quibble though is that the film never
attempts to address the psychological motivations that
leads some people to take pleasure in the destruction of
children, and just seems content as a grim exploitation
piece.
QUID PRO QUO (2008)
Dir: Carlos Brooks /USA

A well-behaved melodrama posing as a challenging and

thought-provoking film.
Radio host Stahl has been confined to a wheelchair since he
was a youngster due to a road accident which killed the rest
of his family. He's on a quest to learn about a group of
people who want to become parapliegic; they have been
known to offer surgeons huge amounts of cash to physically
disable them. Inevitably he meets Fiona, an attractive,
mysterious weirdo who may hold some answers.
This kind of typically dull drama wouldn't be out of place on
some daytime TV movie channel for bored housewives.
Stahl even bags himself a pair of magical shoes that help
him to walk again (magic realism? You should be so lucky!).
The film takes an interesting and un-PC idea (healthy people
who want to become cripples for lifestyle or even sexual
purposes, and will do anything to have their wish), and turns
it into the most bland, boring, and sorry excuse for a drama.
It's as if the film's makers were so terrified of offending
anyone and causing controversy that they pussyfoot and
skimp around the idea like regular members of the PC
brigade.
The strange subculture element was done much better in
Cronenberg's Crash, and also in Brian Evenson's superb
novel,
Last Days, which centres on a detective who is sent to
infiltrate a bizarre religious cult whose members hack off
their own body parts in order to feel closer to God. But in
Quid Pro Quo we're expected to follow the most dull and
boring lead character in a long long time. The script is
clumsy and it constantly takes the moral high-ground at
every opportunity; it never really attempts to understand
the psychological motivations of those who want to become
parapliegic (which is funny considering the whole film is
about a man trying to find out why). We also get your
typical Hollywood tradition of the main character being the
squeaky-clean perfect moralist (and in a film with this kind
of subject-matter, it's like he's stuck between a rock and a
hard place). There's almost a zero sense of humour either;
absolutely no attempt to try and lighten the mood or
characters. I can't be too harsh on the actors though, they
did what they could with a lousy script.
My main criticism is that the film poses an interesting
question and then spends the next 70 minutes trying to
avoid the answers, leaving us to tag along with stupid
cardboard characters who have absolutely nothing to say.
RABID (1976)
Dir: David Cronenberg /Canada
Following the scandalous triumph of Shivers, writer/director
David Cronenberg extended his cold, detached vision on
sexualised horror in the following year with Rabid. But this
time instead of focusing on the residents of an enclosed
apartment block, we're invited to follow the deadly STD
through the wintery streets of Montreal.
Employees at a medical clinic witness a motorcycle crash,
and one of the accident victims, Rose (Marilyn Chambers),
undergoes radical surgery at said clinic involving new
techniques in tissue regeneration. But when she awakens
from her coma, she is in an agitated state, seemingly
hungry for something. We soon discover she has developed
a strange vaginal cavity in her armpit from which a spike
protrudes to pierce her victim's flesh and feed on their
blood. Rose then wanders the hospital trying to 'seduce'
everyone in sight, and each of her victims develops highly
contagious rabies. It isn't long before the outbreak reaches
epidemic levels, with the dazed and lumbering diseased
foaming at the mouth and attacking the public in violent
frenzy. The National Guard are called in to try and quell the
epidemic and bring back some law and order, but the
situation spirals even further out of control, and the city
becomes a battleground with survivors trying to fend off the
infected and stay alive.
David Cronenberg first wrote Rabid as a tale of modern-day
vampires called Mosquito, but due to his own misgivings
about the project (his producer Ivan Reitman had to talk him
out of scrapping the whole idea), Rabid altered form a
couple of times before he was entirely happy with the script.
The Canadian Film Development Corporation once again
financed the film, even though his last effort, Shivers,
caused much controversy in the press. The result is another
for the pantheon of 70s horror and remains one of the most
nightmarish and action-packed films of his career. He has a
field day showing us a series of grim, disturbing, and darkly
humorous imagery, such as the persistent frothing at the
mouth that spells immediate mayhem, a Santa Claus
getting machine gunned in a busy shopping mall, monsters
preying on their victims in a bizarre form of sexualised
'intercourse', and Rose's visit to a porno cinema which
seems to encapsulate the director's raison d'etre in a single
extraordinary scene.
Reitman suggested the casting of porn legend Marilyn
Chambers as her name alone would secure distribution for
the film worldwide. Incidentally, Chambers (who had starred
in the hardcore classic, Behind The Green Door) was looking
to appear in something more mainstream, and although her
performance in Rabid is pretty good, she returned to porn
immediately after the film wrapped up production.
Cronenberg returned with more body horror mayhem in
1979 with The Brood.
RAMPAGE (2009)
Dir: Uwe Boll Canada/Germany

Rampage follows a very pissed off young man as he plans a

city massacre. He kits himself out in bullet-proof armor that
resembles a paintball protection suit, and hits the streets
armed to the teeth. The difference here from all the usual
shooting sprees in the movies (and in the headlines) is that
this troubled kid ain't planning on a suicide mission; he
intends on getting away from the atrocity a free man. He
also has other little agendas to settle, like burning money,
dealing with the population bomb, and ...well, I don't want
to spoil things, but those paying close attention should work
out his cunning stroke of genius by the hour mark.
As in his previous work, writer/director Uwe Boll doesn't
seem too interested in character development or actors (the
great Dario Argento was always the same), and this results
in some less than stellar performances (just check out the
scene around the family breakfast table at the beginning).
We also get Boll's trademark handheld 'photography'- cold
and probing, some would say nauseating - But Brendan
Fletcher's central performance is accomplished and
believable, even if he seems far too normal and likable a
person to be committing such crimes.
The film's biggest asset though is the rampage itself; a
seemingly endless blitz of cinematic bliss. Mostly shot in
real time, we're right there as Brendan squeezes the trigger
on everyone he comes across. It's quite simply one of the
best killing sprees in cinema history. After conquering the
streets, getting revenge on the owner of a
coffee shop, and - even better - unloading round after round
in a beauty salon, Brendan enters a bingo hall and has a
bite to eat! He sits there eating a sandwich and catching a
breather whilst surrounded by a dosy mob of geriatrics who
are completely oblivious to what's going on. It's a moment
where even the ordinary and mundane brings on an oddly
surreal tone. After this strange episode, however, we're right
back into the action.
The way Boll tells his stories I find very refreshing. He has a
careless juvenile attitude to both writing and directing, and I
mean 'juvenile' in the best possible sense - Enthusiastic,
eager, provocative, and even positive (in this sense
Rampage reminded me of Stephen King's early novella,
Rage). This film comes on like an angry student's
knockabout screenplay, full of rage, idealism, and a call for
social change. And that's no bad thing as far as I'm
concerned.
Rampage is far more visceral and disturbing than Boll's
earlier shooting spree movie, Heart of America (which also
stars Fletcher), and if you do get the 'Boll bug' then be sure
to check out Rampage as it's an essential part of his
wacked-out filmography.
RAPE! 13TH HOUR (1977)
Dir: Yasuharu Hasebe Japan

Hasebe's most controversial film follows a bored shop

assistant who tags along with a fugitive rapist and helps
him in his crimes. And that's basically it. They rough 'em up,
rape and rob them, and then move on to the next victim.
The kid does have pangs of conscience here and there but
one sight of the opposite sex and he can't control himself,
and he's onto them, with or without consent. Some of the
women enjoy the experience and even take control of the
situation for a bit of reverse cowgirl! One woman even
hands over a wad of cash and asks them to come back very
soon! The rapist is also being hunted down by a posse of
homosexual vigilantes, and the film ends with a nasty and
violent poetic justice.
Rape! 13th Hour is a trashy piece of misogynistic mayhem
that is at least completely honest in its exploitational
triumphs and doesn't try to justify itself unlike many
similarly themed Western movies of the time. The downside
is that, because of this approach, the film dispenses with
any kind of insight into the psychological effects of violence
and rape on the victims, and instead serves as a lewd,
crude, and shameless comic book caper, for better or worse.
Emerging as part of Nikkatsu's Roman Porno series, Rape!
13th Hour was the final film in Hasebe's 'Violent Pink' trilogy
which kicked off with Rape! and continued with Assault! Jack
The Ripper. It's a film which almost single handedly helped
ruin the Nikkatsu Corporation with many critics complaining
that the film "went too far" in its outrageous fun. Personally,
I think the previously released Assault! Jack The Ripper is
just as twisted as this but the Japanese critics saw nothing
wrong in that film's depiction of a deranged couple who are
aroused by bloody murder.
When approached by Nikkatsu and asked if he would make
violent pink movies, Hasebe famously replied "Are you sure
you want me? You must be aware - My craft is very bloody".
But Nikkatsu were adamant that he make a trilogy of films
that would push the boundaries of rape and misogyny. Well,
Hasebe certainly delivered there, and the execs were very
happy with the results until the scandal became too much.
Nikkatsu found themselves taming down their future
releases for a while until the success of Koyu Ohara's Zoom
Up: Rape Site in 1979.
As for Rape! 13th Hour, it remains one of the key texts in
the violent pinky genre, throwing in all the ingredients that
make these films so compelling for cinema miscreants
everywhere - Beautiful photography, beautiful women, lively
soundtracks, oddball characters, and of course rape and
gleeful sleaziness.
RED TO KILL (1994)
(Orig title: Yeuk Saat)
Dir: Billy Tang Hin-Sing /Hong Kong

Unbelievable. This film keeps up the CAT III tradition of

taking lurid tabloid headlines and exaggerating the nasty,
sensationalist bits for some big screen sleaze. CAT III movies
are still criminally overlooked in the west, even among cult
movie circles. But this is a good place to start if you're
thinking of getting into the sleazy side of celluloid; even
many jaded Hong Kong cineastes regard this film as utterly
sick and repellent.
The film is set in a hostel for the mentally handicapped, and
opens with a scene where a mother, unable to cope with her
a retarded son, takes him in her arms and jumps out of a
high-rise window to a splattery death. Meanwhile, while all
this commotion is going on, a sex maniac drags a mentally
handicapped girl into the attic and brutally rapes her - This
sequence is played out with relish as the madman howls out
his orgasm to a ludicrous and blackly comic effect.
Under these intense circumstances, Ming Ming (Lily Chung)
is placed into the care of the hostel after the death of her
father. She's quiet, shy, innocent, and doesn't really
understand what's happening. Social worker, Miss Cheung
(Money Lo), stays around to keep an eye on her and makes
sure that she settles into her new home okay. The
soundtrack has a slushy sentimental synth ballad that plays
at regular intervals, and is very typical of Hong Kong cinema
of the time. The local residents in the area are constantly
complaining and protesting outside the doors; they suspect
that a local 'sex lupine' who has been attacking the women
is a resident at the hostel and are trying to have the place
closed down ("Don't sympathise with the handicapped,
they're not worth it"). Later that night a young girl who can't
be older than 12 years old is sexually harassed by 'Uncle
Chubby', a resident of the hostel. She knees him in the balls
and raises the alarm, to which the whole neighbourhood
come running out of their homes with sticks and clubs, and
poor Uncle Chubby is severely beaten (this scene also
includes the hilarious subtitle "You pervert, I'll crash your
penis and take to cook shop"). It soon becomes obvious
though that the culprit isn't Uncle Chubby but the hostel's
manager, Mr.Chan (Ben Ng).
While Ming Ming practices a dance routine her skirt floats up
and Mr. Chan catches a glimpse of her red panties. He can
barely control the waves of lust that hit him in the groin -
Here we cut to a traumatic childhood memory where Chan
witnesses his mother sleeping with another guy, and then
his father coming home and catching them in the act, to
which the guy slashes him with a knife in the struggle. Dad's
blood splashes across the window and this becomes a
nightmare image that haunts Chan for the rest of his life. His
mum then starts systematically hacking up daddy's corpse
with a meat cleaver whilst growling malicious insults. She
then trips and lands onto the sharp end of the cleaver which
almost completely severs her head - So Mr. Chan
understandably has a few problems 'upstairs', and
whenever he sees the colour red, it triggers a violent sexual
frenzy in him that he cannot control.
Poor Ming Ming is then brutally raped in an extended
sequence that is almost unbearable to watch but also
blackly hilarious, with Chan playing up to the camera,
gleefully chewing the scenery for maximum shock effect.
After he has finished he blames Ming Ming for her ordeal,
and in her confused and broken mind she seems to accept
it. He then rapes her again whilst whispering things like "We
make a great couple. We should have a baby. If it's a girl I'll
still be happy". By this point Ming Ming has sunken into a
near catatonic state. The next scene shows her in the
shower, weeping, and trying to cleanse herself of the ordeal,
scrubbing her vagina and even using a blade to shave away
her matted pubic hair, and cutting herself in the process.
Even during such a harrowing scene, the camera lingers on
her naked body for maximum exploitation value. Tut tut.
Social worker Miss Cheung discovers Ming Ming in a bad
state and eventually gets the truth out of her, "Painful...
Painful..." she cries, "Mr. Chan touched me". What follows is
one of the most insane court scenes in movie history when
Chan is faced with the charges ("The witness is mentally
retarded, this is a special case"). Ming Ming is faced with a
barrage of ruthless cross-examination from Chan's barrister
("You enjoyed it didn't you... Did you have an orgasm?").
The case is thrown out when Ming Ming has a breakdown in
court and is unable to reasonably state her case (she has an
IQ of a ten year old for chrissakes!). So, back at the hostel
Mr. Chan continues to torment the traumatised girl in his
position of power. Miss Cheung catches him in Ming Ming's
room, and this is when he turns his attentions onto her.
Cheung then sets out a plan of revenge whereby she will
use Chan's own neurosis against him... But Mr. Chan is onto
her game and he shaves his head for one of the most
joyously fucked up showdowns you'll ever see.
Wow, what were they thinking? Red To Kill is easily one of
the most tasteless and sleaziest films in this book. It was
directed by Billy Tang, the man behind Brother of Darkness
(which also features Money Lo), Doctor Lamb, and Run and
Kill. All of those films are extreme in their own right, but Red
To Kill is undoubtedly head and shoulders above them in
terms of sheer shock factor and in its gleefully un-PC
attitude. In its own way this film is second only to Men
Behind The Sun for being the most fucked up movie ever to
come out of Hong Kong; yes, even moreso than The Untold
Story and The Underground Banker. As you can gather from
the above synopsis it certainly isn't a great work
of art as such; it's cruel, it's cynical, it's ludicrous and
tasteless, but it's also strangely engaging. It was shot
straight up like any number of Hong Kong films of the time
and kind of emulates the typical Hollywood 'erotic thriller'
template of the late 80s, with its noirish angles, loathsome
characters, and an uncaring social framework. But unlike
those Hollywood epics, Red To Kill tackles some very
sensitive subject-matter and injects it with the kind of
leering, exploitative fun that is designed to entertain and
even titillate its audience! The result is unlike anything
you've ever seen.
Lily Chung is passable as Ming Ming but she is never really
convincing as a mentally handicapped woman. The other
residents of the hostel (all played by 'normal' actors) are
more believable as mentally challenged characters, but it's
Ben Ng who steals the show as the 'sex lupine', the
seemingly sane and sensible manager of the hostel who
transforms into a crazed sex monster at the sight of red. His
frenzied performance out-does Anthony Wong in The Untold
Story and Simon Yam in Doctor Lamb; the sequence at the
end where he has shaved his head and subjects Ming Ming
and Miss Cheung to much violence and sexual abuse is
genuinely creepy and his leering grin is not easy to forget.
Director Tang continued his one-man assault on the
boundaries of taste and decency with such inferior offerings
as Brother of Darkness and Sexy and Dangerous before
going 'straight' with a number of socially conscious dramas,
beginning with Chinese Midnight Express, featuring Ben Ng
and Hard Boiled's Tony Leung Chiu-wai.
RETRIBUTION SIGHT UNSEEN (1993)
(aka 3 Days of a Blind Girl) Dir: Wing-Chiu Chan /Hong Kong
Retribution Sight Unseen is a glossy CAT III thriller that
serves as a more twisted version of Fatal Attraction with a
bit of Crazy Love For You thrown in. Anthony Wong is great
as the intruder who enters the home of the gorgeous
Veronica Yip who has undergone eye surgery which leaves
her unable to see for three days. Wong poses as a friendly
handyman at first but can't conceal his insanity for very
long. He gradually becomes more and more sinister and
perverted and psychotic as the film progresses, subjecting
Yip to all kinds of foulness and control-freak behaviour until
the tables are finally turned... There's lots of silly slapstick
humour courtesy of Wong (look out for the shower scene,
and his way of dealing with a pretend intruder), lots of eye
candy courtesy of Yip, and lots of your typical CAT III
mayhem. This doesn't reach very high on the shocking and
disturbing meter compared to other CAT III titles, but is well
deserving of the rating, especially at the end when the
violence kicks in proper.
ROBOTRIX (1991)
(Orig title: Nu ji xie ren)
Dir: Jamie Luk Kim-Ming /Hong Kong
This silly piece of sci-fi mayhem from Hong Kong was sexy
and brutal enough for it to be awarded with the CAT III
rating. Life-like androids from across the world are
demonstrated at an expo. The German robot and American
Robot have a fight in a battle of supremacy. Both robots
malfunction but the American goes ape shit and starts
murdering the spectators. Then Eve R27, the Hong Kong
robot somersaults into action and beats the crap out of the
Yankee droid and saves the day. The Sultan of some middle
eastern country is in attendance and the police show up to
inform him that his son has been kidnapped by a
disgruntled Japanese robot maker, Ryuichi Yamamoto. This
Yamamoto character is a bit of a crazed genius and has
managed to fuse his own thoughts into a new android that is
fully sufficient and is causing a lot of trouble in the city. The
remaining scientists give Eve an upgrade by transferring the
thoughts of a recently killed police woman into the machine,
and then it is sent out to track down and destroy
Yamamoto's driod, and save the Prince.
Heavily influenced by Hollywood action movies like The
Terminator, Robocop, and Universal Soldier, Robotrix ups the
ante on the sex and violence front, and we're treated to
some superb stunts and set pieces. The scene where
Yamamoto's rogue android brutally rapes a hooker until she
bleeds internally and then ruthlessly throws her corpse out
of the window is extremely nasty, and made even moreso
by its inclusion in such a routine actioner as this. And a later
scene depicts the brutal and casual killing of a policeman
that is not easy to forget. Popular actress Amy Yip (of Erotic
Ghost Story) plays Eve the sexy cyborg, Japanese AV
sensation Chikako Aoyama (of Edo Rapeman) plays Eve's
trusty sidekick, and both provide plenty of T&A, and CAT III
regular, Billy Chow (of Escape From Brothel and Horrible
High Heels) plays the evil robot. All in all it's a fun piece of
hokum, an unrelenting and gleefully gratuitous slice of
sleaze that mixes sex, violence, and slapstick into a nice
little time-killer. But beware, there is a cut version doing the
rounds that drops the rape scene.
ROMPER STOMPER (1992)
Dir: Geoffrey Wright /Australia

Geoffrey Wright's Romper Stomper opened at Leceister

Square in the early 90s and was surrounded by controversy
when the Anti-Nazi League gathered and protested outside.
In an eerie air of deja vu, a similar reception greeted
A Clockwork Orange 20 years earlier, and like Kubrick's film,
the morally outraged protestors had not even seen the film
that they were so adamant would encourage imitative
behaviour. Those who actually sat down and watched the
movie saw nothing that could in any way label it as a pro-
Nazi picture, and the wide-spread controversy in the end
created a firestorm of publicity, thanks to the tabloid frenzy
and the misguided lemmings, and Romper Stomper became
something of a hit.
The film follows a gang of neo-Nazi skinheads led by Hando
(Russell Crowe) who beat and bully the local Vietnamese.
They also get into a tangle with the father of a rich white girl
(Jacqueline McKenzie), and she runs away to be with Hando,
and becomes witness to an array of nasty goings on, and is
lectured on the 'ideologies' of Hitler's Mein Kampf. After a
night of sex, violence, and debauchery, the thugs discover
that their local pub has been sold to a Vietnamese man.
They then converge on the place and brutally assault the
new landlord's two sons ("Let's break some fingers!"). A
third son manages to escape unseen, and he phones his
friends for back up. And before long, cars and van loads of
Vietnamese show up brandishing baseball bats and iron
bars. A mass brawl breaks out at the back of the pub, and
Hando's heavily out-numbered skinheads flee the area,
leaving their casualties behind to face their ugly fates. The
gang are chased through the backstreets of Melbourne to
their dilapidated hideout, a barbed wire fortress where they
intend to make a last stand. But the sheer number of
enemies forces them to escape through a roof hatch instead
as the Vietnamese clobber their way inside and set fire to
the building. The skinheads commandeer a nearby
warehouse and set up their new base, but the damage is
done, and the gang turn on each other as Hando's bully-boy
antics spiral out of control, leading to treachery and murder.
Russell Crowe's first lead role is a tour de force in seething
hatred as the shaven-headed Hando, and he is also
backed up with some solid support from McKenzie as
Hando's spoilt brat lover, Gabe, and Daniel Pollock as
Hando's second-in-command, Davey, whose secret love for
Gabe and his own German heritage adds another angle to
the drama, as these things only seem to effect Davey's
conscience once the madness has reached irrevocable
levels. The thrash punk soundtrack was created by
members of Screwdriver, and the oily tunes like 'Fuhrer
Fuhrer' and 'Fourth Reich
Fighting Men' adds to the gritty excitement of the chaotic
fight scenes. None of the musicians would accept licensing
fees or royalties for their work on the film. The excitement
though is ultimately quashed by a sense of dismay for
people like the characters in Romper Stomper; all the
violence and hatred stemming from the sad fantasies of
grown men who cannot even take charge of their own
destinies let alone a neo-Nazi movement.
Romper Stomper found itself mired in controversy once
again in 2000 when the psychotic British prisoner Robert
Stewart battered to death his Asian cellmate while he slept,
only days after watching the film. Stewart idolised Hando
and also Alex from A Clockwork Orange, and the numerous
letters he wrote contained much hatred and racism. But I
think this awful tragedy says more about the failings of the
Feltham Young Offenders Institute than it does about the
film's supposed racist and amoral stance. The fact that the
actions of a psychotic young prisoner, who was already
known for being racist before he committed the crime (he
had a Swastika tattooed on his forehead) can be used as a
further ploy to call for a banning of the film beggars belief.
The nutcases of society (and in the prisons and young
offenders institutes) can be led to extreme violence by
watching Cartoon Network if they're that way out, so the
argument that Romper Stomper can cause imitative
behaviour among normal members of society is either moral
cowardice, legal chicanery, or plain old stupidity, as far as
I'm concerned. Besides, the skinheads
in Romper Stomper are depicted as a group of dumb and
selfish bullies who all turn on each other at the first signs of
anyone taking a stand against them; hardly character traits
that anyone in their right minds would aspire to. Like it or
loathe it, Romper Stomper is here to stay. Director Geoffrey
Wright has much to say on the subject of racism, and on its
travels across the globe, Romper Stomper, despite all the
controversy, got people talking about racism and its effects
on individuals and on society as a whole. And that can only
be a good thing.
SACRED FLESH (2000)
Dir: Nigel Wingrove /UK

Despite the abundance of flesh on display, Nigel Wingrove's

surreal throwback to British softcore and Italian
nunsploitation flicks is a crushing bore, and has more in
common with Bill Zebub's experimental disasters like
Frankenstein The Rapist rather than the sultry textures and
decadence of filmmakers like Tinto Brass and Ken Russell.
Coming on like a 72 minute music video, Sacred Flesh
revives that old tale of a Mother Superior who is believed to
be possessed by Satan because she lusts after the sisters in
the nunnery and masturbates a lot. Cue lots of near-static
shots of actress Sally Tremaine rolling around on the floor,
playing with herself whilst dressed in the heights of sister
chic!
Regardless of Tremaine's beauty, the film outstays its
welcome by a good half hour or more. Undoubtedly, this
kind of material has a growing fanbase with Wingrove's
labels Redemption and Salvation offering a range of similar,
shot on video fare, along with full-colour illustrated books all
catering to this kind of sexual fantasy. It's the kind of film
which may have been a real doozy (or at least watchable) if
it had been directed by someone with an eye for gothic
decadence, human frailty, and sensual shenanigans like a
Jean Rollin (whose previous works have been released
through the Redemption label). But as it stands, with its
reliance on a glossy modern promo style, fake tits, and
outfits that look like they came from Anne Summers, it's not
really up to much.
On the plus side, the film does deliver the blasphemy in
spades, and we get to witness some intense visions as
Sister Elizabeth's carnal desires spin out of control. And this
kind of fun didn't go down well with the folks at the BBFC
who promptly cut the film for its initial release, only to
reinstate the footage a few years later.
SALO, OR THE 120 DAYS OF SODOM
(1975)
Dir: Pier Paolo Pasolini /Italy

Towards the end of World War Two in Fascist-controlled

Northern Italy, a pack of sadistic libertines coerce a group of
young teenagers into a nearby castle where a bunch of
equally ruthless women 'entertain' them with tales of sexual
debauchery. Any kind of sexual activity is forbidden without
the libertine's permission, and the often naked captives are
used in a series of cruel and degrading social experiments,
such as an ugly marriage ceremony, a disgusting dinner
banquet, and other unpleasant past times.
Salo is one of the most shocking, disturbing, repellent, and
subversive movies ever made, and marked the end for
director Pier Paolo Pasolini whose mutilated body was
discovered on the outskirts of Rome just days before its
premiere. The film's initial release was overshadowed by
lurid tabloid headlines and sensationalist photographs of the
director's corpse. A rent boy confessed to the murder but
circumstantial evidence suggested the involvement of
others, possibly right wing extremists threatened by his
Marxist leanings and open sexuality. And whilst the
confusing and mysterious nature of his death would
continue to be debated for decades by fans and conspiracy
theorists alike, the film itself was almost universally reviled
by critics and the Italian government first time around.
Based on an equally controversial book by the Marquis de
Sade with its relentless detailing of the most extreme and
disgusting sexual fantasies reaching an almost nullifying
effect, Salo is a stomach-churning experience but stands as
an essential classic of world cinema. It's certainly not family
viewing, but the camerawork, music (by Ennio Morricone!),
and stunning performances more than make the trip
worthwhile. Often compared both favourably and
unfavorably to films like Liliana Cavani's The Night Porter
and Lina Wertmuller's Seven Beauties, Salo has an ice-cold
approach to sexuality; there are no conventional characters,
there's no psychological angle, no realism as such. Instead,
Pasolini seems determined to unveil all the niceties
conferred upon sexuality in romance, erotic softcore, and
plain old pornography, and presents everything - including
nudity, sadomasochism, and sexual sadism - in a way that is
both sensually reductive and stunningly subversive. He also
rather crucially shifts the historical setting of Sade's original
to the 20th Century in order to exemplify further the targets
of his transgressive masterpiece. The insatiable greed of the
powerful is brutally satirised in the 'Circle of Shit' segment
in which manufacturers force consumers to dine on
industrial food; namely crap.
Pasolini claimed that Salo was his first film about the
modern world, and indeed it is an unflinching look at the
new Fascism of neo-capitalism and takes Karl Marx's
warnings about the commodification of man to an almost
literal extreme as characters in Salo are reduced to nothing
more than slabs of meat to be exploited by members of the
'establishment'. The film's finale adds further to the
subversive nature of the project when the libertines use
binoculars to view their victim's excruciating rape and
torture. This violent massacre merges the view from the
binoculars with that of the camera lens, thus merging our
gaze with that of the sadists, and uniting our voyeuristic
complicitness with degradation and death.
Now of course this did not go down too well with
international censors, and Salo has been banned and cut to
ribbons the world over. Only in the mid-00s did the BBFC
finally lift its thrity year ban and pass Salo uncut for home
viewing. But elsewhere the film has been treated even less
favourably, especially on home video; a gay bookstore in
America was famously raided by police when the uncut
version was discovered to have been on sale there. Funny
old world isn't it.
SAVAGE GRACE (2007)
Dir: Tom Kalin Spain/USA/France
Based on the true story (Natalie Robin and Steven M.L.
Aronson's book of the same name), Savage Grace charts the
history of the Baeckeland family, from the birth of the son,
Tony, in the 40s to the death of the mother Barbara in the
70s. They were a very wealthy family (the grandfather
invented a commonly used plastic, Bakelite), but they were
also easily bored and had too much time on their hands,
which culminated in them creating their own dramas for
everyone to see - adultery used as a spiteful weapon of
revenge on a whim, an increasing alienation between father
and son, the father stealing his son's girlfriend, incestuous
threesome frolics, the emotional instability of all concerned,
etc. But first time director Tom Kalin concentrates most of
his efforts on showing how all of this behaviour has affected
the son, Tony. He also takes a few risks as a filmmaker, and
this makes it worth seeing for that reason alone.
It's beautifully shot and offers up some fine performances
(the brilliant Julianne Moore is as game as ever in her
portrayal of mother Barbara). It's also a mixture of darkness
and light in terms of both aesthetics and subject-matter,
and producer Christine Vachon presents us with yet another
interesting drama which involves unorthodox social themes
and demented sexuality. Not the most extreme movie you'll
ever see, but is much better than the many bad reviews
would have you believe.
SCREAM BLOODY MURDER (1972)
Dir: Marc B. Ray /USA

A young boy, Matthew, runs a bulldozer over his father,

killing him. He then falls from the seat and has his hand
crushed beyond repair in the vehicle treads. Ten years later,
and Matthew returns home from a mental institution with a
hook in place of his mashed up hand. But his Oedipal rage
starts anew when he discovers that his mother is now
remarried. Matthew murders his mamma's new hubby with
an axe, and when mother intervenes, he throws her to the
ground and she bashes her head on a rock and dies
(presumably). Matthew flees home and hits the road
accepting a lift from a young couple. He hallucinates that
the girl is his mother - hallucinations which continue to
torment him throughout the film - and of course, he ends up
killing them too. The movie continues to follow Matthew on
his murderous journey; an artist/prostitute, a sailor,
housemaid, a pet dog, an elderly woman, a house caller -
Everybody gets it. The plot steers into other areas in the
second half of the film, exploring kidnap, mental abuse, and
sexual intimidation.
This is a pleasingly nasty and violent little film considering it
was made in 1972 and I'm surprised it doesn't have a much
larger cult following. There's lots of gruesome death scenes
filmed with trippy wide-angle lenses and hosts a tense,
downbeat ending making it top-of-the-range exploitation.
Matthew isn't a glamorised and unstoppable killing-machine
like Freddy, Michael, or Jason; he's a pathetic, single-minded
mamma's boy who deflects all of his own problems onto
others (like many real life killers), and it's these lurid
qualities that make the film all the more interesting to
watch, as far as I'm concerned.
The UK video version loses a small cut during the axe
murder scene, and is also trimmed of the aftermath of the
pet dog butchered with a meat cleaver. The American video
version (which is also available in an awful looking transfer
on cheap horror DVD box sets) is fully uncut. This film is in
desperate need of a proper DVD release, so until then,
happy hunting.
SCUM (1979)
Dir: Alan Clarke /UK

The violence and fear of borstal life is explored in Alan

Clarke's extraordinary Scum which began life as a TV drama
only to be shelved by the BBC for being "too realistic".
Clarke and co remained undeterred in their attempts to
expose the abuse and corruption in British institutions, and
instead remade that caustic drama a couple of years later
for the big screen. The result was unlike anything else seen
in British theatres.
Young thug Carlin (a very young Ray Winstone) is sentenced
to imprisonment at a young offenders institute. He is
immediately assaulted by officers and beaten up by the
'Daddy' of A-wing, Pongo. Initially Carlin steers clear of
trouble and takes his abuse on the chin, but once he gets to
know the ropes and understands whom he can trust and
whom he can't, he sets about a violent rise to the top,
wiping out Pongo and his cronies one by one (including the
use of snooker balls in a sock as a weapon, which has been
imitated in other films over the years). Once Carlin
proclaims himself Daddy of A-wing, he takes over Pongo's
cut of the drug deals and other contraband, and protects
the few friends he has made on the way. However, his new
authority doesn't reach high enough to deal with the officers
whose abuse and neglect crosses the line when a young
inmate commits suicide after being raped. A full-scale riot
ensues...
With largely the same cast who appeared in the BBC Scum,
this later version is no less unnerving in its depiction of a
brutal authoritarian system that seems utterly unconcerned
with reforming the young inmates. It was also shot in
Clarke's usual stark and grounded style that would typify his
later works such as The Firm and Rita, Sue, And Bob, Too.
Ray Winstone's performance as Carlin is assured and totally
believable as the first of many big-screen roles to come, and
he's also aided by the superb Mick Ford who plays Archer, a
much more ingenious rebel who devises many non-violent
ways of making life as inconvenient as possible for the
screws, such as pretending to be vegetarian in order to
disrupt the prison menu, and then showing an interest in
converting to Islam in the presence of the chief warden who
happens to be an intolerant idiot and devout Christian. The
film is also very unflinching in its violence and disturbing
details, with the desperate suicide of a young man being
difficult to watch due to its gritty realism. The film's most
notorious scene though is the rape in the greenhouse which
was trimmed by the BBFC for its initial release and early
home video editions. It has since been passed uncut by the
board.
During preparations for the TV version, Alan Clarke and
writer Roy Minton spent six weeks researching on borstal life
and spent time visiting the institutions and interviewed
many ex-inmates in order to construct as real a drama as
possible, and many of the stories and tidbits of information
gathered were worked into the script, not only forming the
narrative but also serving as a damning indictment in the
troubled 70s. It's no surprise that the BBC refused to
broadcast the result until the 90s, by which time this latter
version had secured its reputation as being one of the finest
and harshest British films of the 70s. Thank goodness that
important research didn't go
to waste.
SEED (2007)
Dir: Uwe Boll /Canada/Germany

Typical of Uwe Boll, he makes another film that is

simultaneously shocking, disturbing, and crudely inept in
equal measure. There's a manhunt for a serial killer known
as Seed. His modus operandi is to lock people in a room
(including in one scene, a young toddler) and film them as
they starve to death. He keeps the camera rolling for
months while the bodies decompose. He then sends the
videos to the police as a way to shock and taunt them.
When he is finally captured the electric chair fails to kill him,
so the authorities decide to secretly bury him while his heart
is still beating. A very bad move as Seed manages to break
out of the grave and continue on his killing spree...
Many of these types of slasher movies tend to glamorise the
killer too much, but Boll admirably keeps things restrained
in this film, and goes for a much bleaker approach. Don't get
me wrong, there are a couple of murders that could have
come from a Friday The 13th movie, such as the scene
where Seed kills a victim from under the bed. Boll also
borrows elements from post-Saw killer movies, but
generally, the 'coolness' of the killer is played down. And I
don't know about you, but I like that in a film; had Seed
been depicted as some unstoppable killing-machine, a la
Michael Myers or Jason Voorhees, much of the impact of the
film would have been lost. And instead we're treated to an
evil psychopath who represents the worst of human nature.
Also, be warned - The opening segment contains real
footage supplied by PETA of animals being killed in the most
appalling ways - You might
want to keep the skip button at hand.
On the downside, the film is cut together quite badly and
the 70s setting is not very convincing at all (they probably
chose the 70s simply as a way of keeping the electric chair
in the plot). For the police scenes it looks like Boll has gone
for a noirish style but it doesn't work on digital video, just
makes everything look flat and dull. On the positive side,
the scene involving the woman, the chair, and the hatchet is
superbly brutal; this extended scene was shot in one take
and rivals Herschell Gordon Lewis in the leeringly gratuitous
sweepstakes. Also, be prepared for the ending as it's one of
the cruelest and most cold-blooded in the history of film, I
shit you not, and makes it a must-see for that reason alone.
With Boll's promise to donate 2.5% of Seed's profits to PETA,
you can buy the DVD knowing you have committed a good
deed for the day.
A SERBIAN FILM (2009)
(Orig title: Srpski Film)
Dir: Srdjan Spasojevic /Serbia

Shock Corridor was a cinema show broadcast on Serbian

television. Its presenter, Aleksandar Radivojevic,
encouraged homegrown filmmakers to be more gory, more
perverse, more violent, and have more Takashi Miike
moments in their films. The result was a slew of provocative
pictures from that part of the world, including The Life and
Death of a Porno Gang, Zone of The Dead, and most
notorious of all, A Serbian Film. And judging by these efforts,
it's clear that Serbian filmmakers were indeed taking notes
from Shock Corridor.
The plot of A Serbian Film centres on Milos (Srdjan
Todorovic), a retired porn star who agrees to make one last
film with the mysterious artist Vukmir (Sergei Trifunovic) as
a way to make money to support his family, but he has no
idea of the true nature of the film's production, and when he
does discover what's going on, he has no chance of
escape...
This is a near masterpiece of extreme cinema, full of tragic
ironies, solid production values, well-developed characters
(insert your own joke here), and is very well directed. It's a
film that is very much deserving of its notorious reputation
as it goes places where very very few films are willing to go.
It permeates a dark and grim atmosphere throughout; the
atrocities don't come at you straight away, and the
audience does have the opportunity to relax on occasion,
but nonetheless, A Serbian Film weaves a ghastly spell that
is designed to unsettle its viewers from the outset.
Around forty minutes into the film is when things get weird,
and around ten minutes later it gets totally sick, and I mean
truly TRULY sick. There are at least three scenes here that
are very shocking, graphic, and utterly disturbing, and have
caused no end of trouble with fans, critics, and censors
around the world. Many reviews of A Serbian Film have
given away all the grim and gruesome details of the plot but
I'm not going to do that here because the element of
surprise is of vital importance to the overall effect of the
film (although there are some predictable cliche moments,
here and there). But suffice to say, if you're a fan of the
darker side of horror then Srpski Film is a must-see.
The genesis of the film stemmed from pure bloody-
mindedness; Radivojevic had become angry and
disillusioned with the whole Serbian film scene who he felt
were ignoring real filmmakers and instead saw bureaucratic
funding going to "Boring, pathetic, politically correct films
done by people who don't know the first thing about
cinema". He used his platform as the presenter of Shock
Corridor to propose his ideas for a new direction for Serbian
films, in which he called for filmmakers to be more daring
and provocative. In the end he decided to practice what he
preached and teamed up with like-minded director Srdjan
Spasojevic, and together they set up their symbolically-
titled production company, Contra film, and began
launching their bloody crusade.
SEX: THE ANNABEL CHONG STORY
(1999)
Dir: Gough Lewis /USA

Young, smart, attractive, and a hardcore porn star to boot,

Annabel Chong became infamous in the mid-90s for her
appearance in The World's Biggest Gang Bang, an event
which saw her have sex with 251 men in ten hours, breaking
the world record (a feat that has since been shattered by
Jasmin St.Claire with 300, and Kimberly Houston with 620).
In this fascinating documentary she visits her parents who
have no idea about her chosen profession, and explains to
them exactly what she does for a living, and why.
Released around the same time when a number of fictional
films appeared using explicit, unsimulated sex scenes as a
tool of feminine empowerment (Romance and Baise Moi, for
example), Sex: The Annabel Chong Story was the first to
attempt a non-fictional account of the same. Ironically, even
with the word 'sex' gracing the title as an obvious come-on
to its target audience, The Annabel Chong Story is not a
sexy film. In fact, it's a sad, depressing study, but is also
oddly compelling for those reasons.
Filmmaker Gough Lewis follows Chong from her gender
classes at USC where she voices her opinions and lets it be
known that her antics are empowering and an attack on the
traditional ideas of patriachy, to the porn world where she
works. And Lewis doesn't flinch in presenting the reality of
the industry. However, it soon becomes apparent that Chong
is deeply troubled and less in control than she lets on. She
admits to being gang-raped while in London, and expresses
her anxieties concerning her parents (who live in Singapore)
finding out about her true occupation. And it's here we learn
that her real name is Grace Quek, and that she seems more
compelled by self-hatred than emancipation. She was only
22 when she appeared in The World’s Biggest Gang Bang
(which was also filmed by porn director John Bowen and
released on video). She was led to believe that all 251 men
had taken AIDs tests, which turned out to be untrue, and
she never received her full pay for the stunt, insisting that
money was never really the point in the first place, and that
she was willing to die for her cause anyway.
Chong/Quek is almost like two different people (perhaps a
symptom of Bipolar?); Chong is self-assured and articulate,
whereas Quek is a self-loathing mess. Whether she's
frolicking around uninhibited, spouting post-feminist
rhetoric, or allowing herself to be filmed while she cuts her
arm with a blade, her exhibitionism exposes nothing but
contradictions, making her more of a psychoanalyst's wet
dream than an aggressive liberator.
The film was released to mixed opinions, with some
championing its feminist stance while others appreciated it
more as an expose on the degradation of the adult film
industry. If you consider that director Lewis was sleeping
with Quek during the making of the film, the whole
production collapses into hypocrisy. He shot the film with a
critical eye on the porn lords and their exploitative rackets,
yet 'Mr. Squeaky Clean' Lewis was banging his subject
behind the scenes!
SHIVERS (1975)
(aka The Parasite Murders; aka They Came From Within)
Dir: David Cronenberg /Canada

"I love sex, but I love sex as a

venereal disease. I am syphilis. I am
enthusiastic about it but in a very
different way from you".
So said David Cronenberg on his rationale on his first
commercial feature, Shivers, which caused an almighty stink
in his native Canada but has since become regarded as one
of the highlights of 70s horror. It's original, inventive,
controversial, ironic, dangerous, and caused an instant
notoriety. The film unfolds entirely
in and around a luxury apartment block as the residents
therein are infected by slug-like parasites that invade the
human body, turning the hosts into sex-crazed maniacs.
These creatures invade through any bodily orifice available -
usually the mouth, but in a scene featuring scream queen
Barbara Steele, the parasites are happy to make entrance
through more private areas too. Of course, mass panic
ensues as the uninfected try to escape and hide away from
the hordes of horny homicidal sex addicts who run riot
through the corridors and apartments, and Cronenberg has
a blast playing against society's sexual taboos.
Shivers is as much Cronenberg's ironic comment on society
as it is a horror film, laced with gross black humour and
clever invention. It also displays his usual themes which
would crop up again in his later work (and in that sense the
film is similar to George Romero's Night of The Living Dead).
His previous underground films like Stereo and Crimes of
The Future were also brimming with his warped body-horror
ideas, but Shivers took those obsessions and unleashed
them on a mainstream audience. The film's isolated setting
brings on a claustrophobic edge, and the 'monster'
represents our own sexuality which was definitely a break
from the norm at the time (and this also relates to Night of
The Living Dead in which the monsters in that movie was
our fellow man; even our neighbours, or loved ones, or
ourselves). Cronenberg toys around with the antagonistic
characteristics of the movie monster to an unsettling effect,
and he's clearly having a good time subverting our
biological needs. Even in today's climate of remake mania in
Hollywood, no one has yet attempted an updating of
Shivers; if a remake was done correctly, it would no doubt
cause just as much controversy now as the original did back
in the 70s.
Cronenberg struggled for years to find financing for the
project and had almost given up on the idea and was
preparing to go to Hollywood to work with Roger Corman
when the Canadian Film Development Corporation (as they
were then known) stepped forward and offered the relevant
funding. However, even before the film had been released,
Cronenberg found himself and his film in hot water as
Shivers became a scandal in the Canadian press and would
remain his most controversial film until Crash caused a
similar stir in the British tabloids a couple of decades later.
The trouble started when film critic Robert Fulford was
invited to a preview screening of the film as a gesture of
goodwill by the producers at Cinepix. They had hoped for
some mainstream acceptance for their exploitation title by
having a renowned critic provide a review prior to its official
release. The move horribly backfired when Fulford (under
the pseudonym Marshall Delaney) wrote a damning piece
entitled 'You should Know How Bad This Film Is. After All, You
Paid For It', where he accused Shivers of being the most
despicable and repulsive film ever made. He also pointed
out that tax payer's money had financed the film and that it
was a completely unacceptable way to spend public money.
This moral panic spread like wildfire, and other so-called film
critics attacked Shivers for similar reasons in the Toronto
Globe and Mail, and the Montreal Gazette (who, to be fair,
did allow Cronenberg to publicly defend his film in print).
The scandal reached parliment, Cronenberg became a
celebrity, and Shivers became the most successful home-
grown movie in Canadian history. When people learned that
Shivers was the only film funded by the CFDC that actually
turned a profit for the taxpayer, the furore quickly died
down, making Cronenberg the most bankable director in the
country. And this allowed him to explore his obsessions
further in projects like Rabid and The Brood, each with a
more generous budget than before.
There were exceptions to the bad press though, Cinema
Canada published a glowing review praising Shivers as a
masterpiece of horror, and Cronenberg himself managed to
turn the tide of criticism in his favour when asked to
account for his work, "The true subject of horror films", he
said "is death and anticipation of death, and this leads to
the question of man as body as opposed to man as spirit".
Shivers has since been accepted as an innovative genre
classic, with its daring and unflinching probe into social-
sexual taboos of the time - promiscuity, lesbianism,
homosexuality, and even paedophilia and incest - The film
can also be seen as a journey through the historical
evolution of the horror movie as a legitimate artform in its
own right. On home video it has more or less managed to
stay intact in most territories. The best option is the Region
0 DVD from Image; it's uncut and presents the best looking
transfer of the film so far.
SHOCK (1977)
(aka Beyond The Door 2)
Dir: Mario Bava /Italy

Dora (the beautiful Daria Nicolodi), her new husband Bruno

(John Steiner), and Dora's young son, Marco (David Colin Jr.)
move into a new house where she recovers from having a
nervous breakdown. Things don't go to plan though as the
young boy is easily bored and quite a prankster in the
household. Turns out Dora's ex-husband was a heroin addict
who committed suicide seven years previously, and new
hubby Bruno is keen to keep the cellar door locked...
Meanwhile, Marco's pranks become increasingly disturbing
and perverted; he invades his mother's bedroom drawers,
cuts up her panties, and utters casual sentences such as
"Mama, I have to kill you..." Has her son been possessed by
the evil spirit of her ex-husband, or is Dora simply having
another breakdown?
A Bay of Blood may have been more graphically gruesome,
Rabid Dogs more claustrophobic, and Black Sunday more
influential, but Shock is easily Mario Bava's creepiest and
most disturbing film. A masterpiece of psychological horror
that boasts a career-best performance from Nicolodi, a
superb and haunting theme tune by I Libra, and a tightly
woven script by Dardano Sacchetti. Just like Joe D'Amato's
Buio Omega, Shock was also released on dreadful pan-and-
scan VHS copies that looked awful and muggy, and this led
to many fans and critics dismissing the film. The DVD
release by Anchor Bay, however, is a revelation (but
currently out of print); the colours and image are fully
restored, adding to the unsettling mood of the film.
Bava was aided in this his last film by his son, Lamberto
(who went on to direct Macabre and Body Puzzle), and the
pair offer up some of the most effective scares of their
careers; there's the sequence near the end where little
Marco runs towards his mother on the landing, and I
guarantee that scene will scare the crap out of you. That
scene alone has had a clear influence on Japanese scare-
monger, Hideo Nakata, whose Ringu, and especially Dark
Water, are loaded with similar chills. There's also the very
creepy scene where the little boy softly strokes his mum
while she sleeps, and then the camera cuts to his
perspective, or perhaps the perspective of her deceased
husband, Carlo, whose large rotting hands caress her neck...
The scene with the wardrobe is reminiscent of Roman
Polanski's Repulsion, and the ambiguities relating to Dora's
mental health relate to that classic American horror,
Let's Scare Jessica To Death. Dora's hallucinations are all
expertly done and produce quite a chill. Whether her son is
possessed, or if she is insane, or if Bruno is helping or
harming her, are never really made clear, and the
ambiguities are admirably kept at a knife edge until the very
end of the film.
The hint of possession led to the film being re-titled Beyond
The Door 2 for its Stateside release, implying that it was a
sequel to Ovidio G Assonitis' Beyond The Door, a cheesy
Exorcist clone, and of course this did Bava's underrated
classic no favours at all.
SHOWGIRLS (1995)
Dir: Paul Verhoeven /USA

Bad boy of flash-trash cinema and intellectual Dutchman

Paul Verhoeven once again teamed up with the equally
trashy but not so intellectual writer Joe Eszterhas after their
box-office success with Basic Instinct, and together they
wallow in the Hollywood gutter, offering big-screen sleaze,
lurid exploitation, and just about every tacky and tasteless
cliche possible. The result was almost universally despised
by the critics but became an instant cult phenomenon as
gobsmacked cineastes struggled to make sense of the
multi-million Dollar monstrosity which unspooled before
their eyes.
Showgirls centres on Nomi Malone (Elizabeth Berkley), a
lowly stripper who finds that becoming a showgirl often
goes hand in hand with the seedier side of life. She makes it
as a 'private dancer' at the Cheetah Club before making it to
the big time in a casino show called Goddess. En route to
this ambitious wish-fulfilment we follow Nomi's lewd antics
backstage where she flits between night club owner Zack
(an almost comotose Kyle McLachlan) and out-of-work
songwriter James (an atrocious performance from Glenn
Plummer).
It's a bloody awful film but it's also understandable how it
became such a cult favourite; like an ensuing car crash you
just can't look away. Director Verhoeven is no stranger to
adding a bit of gratuitous and sleazy entertainment value to
his Hollywood epics, be it the excessively violent gunning-
down of Murphy in Robocop, or the three-titted whore in
Total Recall ("I sometimes wish I had three hands!"), or
Sharon Stone flashing the gash in Basic Instinct, but in
Showgirls he takes that cheeky fan-boy attitude and pushes
it to unprecedented levels. The film's adult orientation,
tacky sex scenes, and revealing dialogue earned it an NC-17
rating in America, with many provincial cinemas refusing to
screen it (and this led to one of Variety magazine's all-time
great headlines, "Stix Nix Naughty Pix"). Verhoeven had
anticipated some flak and he even generously refused to
accept his $6 million pay packet until the film turned a profit
(which it didn't, it flopped quite badly). Eszterhas wasn't so
kind, and he was attacked mercilessly in the press for his
screwball screenplay which includes such priceless lines as
"I'm not a whore, I'm a dancer". Madonna and Drew
Barrymore were originally wanted for the roles of Gina
Gershon and Elizabeth Berkley, but fortunately for them,
they declined. In a panic at the critical mauling the film was
being subjected to, United Artists re-promoted the film for
midnight screenings in LA as a way to try and generate the
same campy following of The Rocky Horror Picture Show and
the like, with gangs of drag queens parading cue cards and
free lap dances for the audience.
Out of 14 of the UK's leading critics, only one enjoyed the
film (well, only one dared to admit he liked it), in America it
was 2 out of 34. It has been described as "Shallow",
"Prurient", "Voyeuristic", and "Exploitative", but in the right
mood those kinds of accusations can become attributes.
Indeed, there's something undeniably appealing to many
viewers in its misguided ethics: The voyeuristic sleaze which
the film purports to expose and condemn is simultaneously
exploited for cheap thrills and giggles in the audience.
Overall, the only thing to be exposed really was Verhoeven's
hypocrisy (he just couldn't resist, could he?).
SICK GIRL (2007)
Dir: Eben McGarr /USA

Perfect for a triple-bill with Katiebird and Header, Sick Girl is

a film that will test the patience of those who dislike micro-
budget horror and those who are uncomfortable with kid-on-
kid violence and murder, but does offer a few nuggets of
interest to those who are willing to overlook its cheap
origins and lapses in taste.
Izzy (Leslie Andrews) boards a school bus, beats up and
then pisses on a nun. She then calmly murders a couple of
louts in a nearby field. Turns out that Izzy is an orphan (we
never find out what happened to her parents, maybe she
killed them too?), and is homicidally protective of her
younger 'brother' who is a constant target for school bullies.
Izzy's ways of dealing with said bullies is to unleash a
barrage of cruelty and sadism in her calm and collected
way, and this often leads to some spectacularly brutal set-
pieces. But all this countryside mayhem leads to some
harsh consequences later on...
Much more technically proficient and atmospheric than the
usual SOV crap that has polluted video stores in recent
years, Sick Girl nevertheless has been labeled as 'torture
porn' in some circles by those quick to judge its relentless
abuse of characters as simply gratuitous and for the sole
purpose of entertainment. Alas, they're wrong; it's definitely
not torture porn, there is so much more going on here for it
to be pigeon-holed into that category (the 'torture porn'
label was a term coined by someone who despised that
particular sub-genre anyway, so it's ironic how horror fans
still use it often, even as a term of recommendation!). That's
not to say that Sick Girl is an easy ride; no doubt some
viewers in the age of post-Columbine were shocked and
outraged by the attitude and imagery on screen, but you're
just as likely to find fans of the film who appreciate the dark
humour, gritty shooting style, and nods and winks to the
horror genre as a whole. Look out for 80s horror icon
Stephen Geoffreys (of Fright Night, 976-Evil, and Evil Ed
fame) who plays Izzy's anxious teacher, and who provides a
very interesting interview on the Synapse DVD. Also check
out the film's homage to Andrew Birkin's The Cement
Garden, and some very tawdry twists on Oliver Twist that
will never seem innocent again.
SILIP: DAUGHTERS OF EVE (1986)
Dir: Elwood Perez /Philippines

Unlike many modern shock movies that display a cynical

edge to the cinematic extremes they delight in showing us,
Silip is a whacked out movie hailing from a time when the
shocking material on screen was depicted quite innocently.
This little known gem is the perfect movie to show those
who think they've seen it all; a bizarre blending of cheesy
melodrama, steamy sex, and gratuitous violence. It's like a
tawdry old soap opera gone very very wrong.
In an isolated salt-making community under a baking hot
sun, a group of children desperately plead with the local
stud Simon (Mark Joseph) to spare a buffalo from being
slaughtered. Simon ignores their cries and proceeds to beat
the buffalo's head in with a club before skinning it and
preparing lunch. The kids are so distraught at losing their
pet in such a brutal way that one young girl is induced into
having her first period. Simon spends his off-time sleeping
with the local women in the village, and when happy-go-
lucky Selda (Sarsi Emmanuelle) returns from a trip from
Malta with her American boyfriend, she also tries to get him
in the sack.
Meanwhile, Selda's devout sister, Tonya (former Miss
Philippenes Maria Isabel Lopez), runs a bible class for the
kids and punishes her own feelings of sexual desire by
rubbing handfuls of salt onto her cooch. And it isn't very
long before the eccentric little village is torn apart by
uncontrollable lusts, brutal bloody violence, gang rape, and
misguided mob justice.
If Alejandro Jodorowsky and Fernando Arrabal were to
remake The Wicker Man with a bit of Who Can Kill a Child?
thrown in for good measure, chances are it would look
something like this. A couple of scenes stray very close to
hardcore but this is not a straight-up sex movie, it's far too
bizarre and disjointed for that. Sarsi Emmanuelle steals the
show as the Westernised and outspoken Selda, whose
promiscuous dalliances cause the delicate mores of the
village to collapse. Lopez is also fantastic in her role as the
devout Tonya, with her hysterical preaching and patronising
ways coming across like Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman on
drugs. Her warning to the young girl who has just started
menstruating typifies the crackpot mentality of the whole
film:

Tonya - "We all reach the age where we're easily tempted.
The Devil is constantly around us. He is always waiting for a
mistake so that he can... so that he can tempt us into... into
committing a mortal sin. And the ones that he tries most to
tempt are girls having their first period, like you."

Girl - "But how do you know who the Devil is?"

Tonya - "He appears in the form of a young man. Those with

large organs are devils, that is the true source of the Devil's
evil powers here on Earth."

Girl - "Huh? Does that include my father too?"

Made at a time of relaxed censorship in the Phillippenes

under the rule of Imelda Marcos, Silip, along with better-
known titles like Scorpio Nights and Snake Sisters (also
starring the beautiful Lopez) were being churned out by
filmmakers who were given the green light to explore the
seedier side of life in their movies. Bizarrely, the profits
gained from those sleazy epics were channeled into funding
various cultural schemes throughout the country.
The film barely saw any distribution outside of its native
land except for a scarce VHS release that was dubbed into
English, but very few people saw it before it sunk into
oblivion. Mondo Macabro released it on DVD in the late 00s
in a nicely framed transfer that restores the rich colours, the
original language with English subs, and also Lutgardo
Labad's original score for the film, all of which were lost in
that horribly brown, VHS pan-and-scan job. The DVD also
includes the hilarious dub track; just check out the scene
where Selda's American boyfriend has a fight with Simon
and then storms back to his shack and demands a blowjob
from Tonya - Absolutely priceless dubbing.
THE SINFUL DWARF (1973)
(aka Abducted Bride)
Dir: Vidal Raski /Denmark

The sleaziest dirty dwarf movie ever made. This film follows
the depraved title character (former kids TV favourite,
Torben Bille), who lives in a crummy, dilapidated boarding
house with his equally messed up mother. His favourite
past-time is to lure young women into the house (including
a teenage girl who is taken against her will after following a
wind-up toy puppy to her doom). Once the women are
inside, he strips them, locks them in the attic, gets them
hooked on smack, and then pimps them out to a group of
shady clients. Meanwhile, a young couple have booked a
room at the place, and when wifey disappears, it's up to the
husband to find out what the hell is going on in the house of
horrors...
With a title that is both crude and accurate, The Sinful Dwarf
has been an underground video hit for years, enticing and
amusing jaded horror and sleaze buffs for the best part of
three decades. And the film itself doesn't disappoint in the
way it lives up to its salacious name and sick reputation.
Bille is spot-on as the titular dwarf who procures the
unwilling smack whores with a leering cheeky-chappy smile
on his lips. The other cast members aren't so good, but
most of 'em are only there to writhe around naked, suffering
withdrawals and rape. The set 'design' works perfectly; the
dirt, decay, and overall grimness of the boarding house
reflects the whole premise and mindset of the film (why
anyone would pay to spend the night in that shit hole is
beyond me). These aesthetics of filth were later replicated
in Joel M. Reed's Bloodsucking Freaks, especially the scenes
featuring the caged women who look like they've just
stepped out of Raski's film, with the same grubby lighting
and dirty decor.
After a luke-warm reception in its native land, The Sinful
Dwarf was picked up by exploitation legend Harry Novak for
a stateside release under his company, Box Office
International (under the new title Abducted Bride).Whether
the film's original makers saw a payday from the American
drive-in theatres is unknown, but Novak was notorious for
ripping people off, so I wouldn't bank on it.
Something Weird Video released the film on DVD-R because
apparently it proved to be too outrageous to be released as
part of their official stock. Severin released two versions of
the film; the original cut, and also a hardcore version that
runs for an extra four minutes and includes some very
unattractive body-double shunting (this version was also
released in Denmark as a 2 disc set). In the UK the film
simply went under the radar, freaking out many a viewer
when it was broadcast on cable TV in the mid-00s.
SNUFF 102 (2007)
Dir: Mariana Peralto /Argentina
Snuff 102 is about a hot young student reporter (Andrea
Alphonso) who is investigating the existence of snuff movies
and winds up landing herself a starring role in one. There
are also other sub-plots along the way showing how the
other women found themselves in snuff hell, including a
pregnant drug addict who is lured to a horrendous death by
a man whom she trusts.
This film is, without a doubt, one of the most disturbing I
have ever seen. It's right up there with Men Behind
The Sun and Nekromantik 2 in terms of its sheer onslaught
of nightmare imagery and sick ideas. First we get an intro
card that reads: "WARNING. Torture scenes documented in
this film are real. Caution is recommended to sensitive
viewers". And although the film isn't real per se, there is
some very nasty stuff here including some genuine pics and
clips. The intro was simply a way to make the audience feel
uncomfortable and on edge (Blair Witch, Snuff, and The
Texas Chainsaw Massacre all deployed similar tricks in an
effort to make us believe the events depicted were real).
The film opens with a scene of a lab monkey being fed on
something (don't know what), grainy 8mm black and white
footage of a rotting corpse in a bath tub being cut into
pieces by a man with a saw, some real animal killing and
cruelty (a squealing pig is dragged outside by farmers and
has its throat cut), some still images of murder and accident
victims that look definitely real. The film is so well put
together in terms of creating that gritty realism of bits of
scrap footage cobbled together, it's hard to tell what's real
and what isn't. I even asked myself the question that most
extreme movie devotees will ask themselves at least once
in their lives: What the hell am I doing watching this? Forget
August Underground's Mordum, this is the real deal sick shit.
Borrowing a riff from Japanese AV shocker Muzan-e, we
eventually fall into a narrative with the young lady reporter
who is investigating some brutal killings of prostitutes in the
local area. Her quest leads inevitably to the web where we
get to see more footage that looks just way too real (might
even be real); a man having his throat cut wide open with
blood gushing out, fingers hacked off, an S&M clip of a
woman having her nipples nailed to a table... The woman
then interviews some local expert on snuff. This expert
sounds like he has read his Jean Baudrilard and kind of
serves as a commentator for the atrocity exhibition on
screen (much like Baudrillard
himself, when he was alive, calmly picking away at the fault-
lines of our modern culture).
To see a guy punching a woman in the face about fifteen
times would be off-putting in any other film, but here it's
actually a relief, because it's so lame and unconvincing you
know it isn't real. The very next scene, however, features
someone having their fingers cut off one by one, and it puts
you back on edge again because it looks like it could be
real. The special effects are generally outstanding in this
film and they blend in so perfectly with the mondo shock
footage that it becomes very difficult to ascertain real from
fake footage. Only when we're firmly established in the
viewing experience do we find our feet and know what's
what.
There is also another plot-line concerning the pregnant drug
addict who is lured to her death, and I won't even mention
what happens to her (apparently, viewers at the Mar Del
Plata International Film Festival were so outraged at this
sequence, thinking it was real, a man in the audience took
action and beat the crap out of director Peralta while the
film was still playing). I should mention though that it's the
editing and camera angles that give the game away and
confirm to us that it isn't real (this is not a documentary
style film, although it does feel that way early on). Still, this
is a devastating film. If you want to have your face shoved
into the abyss then this is for you.
SOCIETY (1989)
Dir: Brian Yuzna /USA
Many film directors start out in the horror genre as a way of
making an immediate impact, and once their credentials are
in place they often move on to bigger things, or at least
projects that are different (Sam Raimi, Stuart Gordon, Abel
Ferrara, et al). Brian Yuzna, however, has always been a true
lover of horror films and has always stubbornly stayed
within the mushy template of the genre. Even his lesser
projects like The Dentist and The Dentist 2 show an
unpretentious admiration for the simple mechanics of old
skool horror, combined with his love for deranged - but also
often sympathetic - monsters, and bold, primary-coloured
day-glo aesthetics. He is chiefly remembered today for his
racy sequels to Re-Animator which heaped on the twitching
body parts and sick laughs, but even in his darker films like
Necronomicon and Return of The Living Dead Part 3, his
desire to break new ground is always perfectly balanced
with a strange satire and morbid sense of fun.
Yuzna's most extraordinary film was his directorial debut,
Society, one of the many highlights of 80s horror but which
remains a much overlooked gem. The plot of Society centres
on former Baywatch boy Billy Warlock, whose alienation and
increasing paranoia makes him afraid and weary of his own
family. His friend Blanchard (Tim Bartell) is just as suspicious
as Billy, and sets about snooping around the family mansion
and gathering audio recordings which seem to suggest that
some kind of incestuous orgies are going on. But when
Billy's friend dies in a nasty car wreck, the film's hero must
continue on his journey to find out exactly what is going on,
during which he will discover the literal meaning of the word
'butthead' and will get to the guts of the matter as people
are literally pulled inside out...
Society is a film which plays on the nightmare of teenage
angst, and those feelings of paranoia, persecution, and
alienation; not just in society at large, but within the family
unit. The film should have propelled Yuzna to the horror A-
list but it didn't happen, perhaps because Society is also an
unashamed attack on bourgeouis appetites and the
cliquiness of the Hollywood elite. The special effects were
created by Screaming Mad George (of A Nightmare On Elm
Street fame) whose show-stopping finale has left many
viewers gagging in delight and disgust as he graphically
obliterates the line between pornography and horror.
Surreal, metaphorical, and visually astonishing, this
sequence was only made possible with the aid of gallons of
KY jelly and tons of special effects goo, and one truly
warped imagination. Enjoy!
SOMBRE (1998)
Dir: Phillip Grandieaux /France If you're looking for some big
screen sleaze in the manner of William Lustig's Maniac, built
on thrills, spills, and spectacular human suffering, then I'd
advise you to look elsewhere because in Sombre, director
Grandieaux simply refuses to play that game. Instead we're
offered almost two hours of character study of a man (Marc
Barbe who looks a bit like Mark E. Smith) whose mad urges
to kill are shattered by his own tortured sense of guilt and
fractured state of mind. Similar to Henry-Portrait of a Serial
Killer in mood and in the way most of the murders are off-
screen, this is a bleak and harrowing film where the
desolate surroundings seem to reflect the killers mind. His
emotional baggage and traumatic mysterious past have led
Jean to the killing and disposing of prostitutes. It's dull and
pretentious in places and is more likely to make an audience
feel depressed rather than excited (so fans of Friday The
13th should look elsewhere for their kicks). The killer himself
is a shell of a man, a useless waste of space, and it's a
credit to the filmmakers that he didn't become some overly
sympathetic 'tragic figure'. That's not to say that Sombre is
an easy going; some viewers no doubt will find it too much
to take.
The killer becomes friendly with a girl called Claire, despite
the fact that he has attempted to kill her sister, and she
tags along with him on his murder spree. A mutual
dependency seems to bond the pair based on Jean's 'seeing
the light' in Claire's innocence, and Claire seeing Jean as a
person in need, a man whom she can attempt to save.
Sombre has caused much scandal with critics over the years
because in Claire's character there seems to be a part of her
that yearns to be a victim herself. But director Grandieux
refuses to confirm or deny this idea. He also chooses to
avoid a traditional backstory to explain the roots of Jean's
sickness; indeed he seems to refuse the whole idea of
psychology altogether in his film, and it's left very much up
to the viewers to work out what's going on in the heads of
these tragic characters. Faces are often blank and
expressionless, the dialogue is kept to a minimum, and all
physicalities are limited to the basic human functions of
consumption, sex, and violence. In this respect, Grandieux
as an artist is treading similar territory as people like
Wyndham Lewis and Bret Easton Ellis, both of whom view
the world and its people in terms of exteriors and surfaces,
language and body language, and the disinclination to delve
directly into the workings of the mind. And Grandieux's lack
of emotion in his portrayal of moral decay perhaps stems
from an outraged morality (as it does with Bret Easton Ellis),
a feeling of despair in a world full of numbness where the
only way to truly experience anything is by way of murder
and death itself.
SPLATTER: NAKED BLOOD (1996)
(Orig title: Nekeddo buraddo: Megyaku)
Dir: Hisayasu Sato /Japan

A young crazy genius develops an endorphin called 'My Son'

and injects it into the young women at his mother's medical
lab who are involved in contraceptive research. The serum
has the effect of turning pain into pleasure and sadness into
happiness, but young Eigi totally miscalculates how
dangerous the potion can be when the med lab girls begin
to show some alarming behaviour; one of the girls takes
body piercing to fatal extremes, and another quite literally
eats herself to death. Eiji's mother eventually discovers the
truth and watches as her boy injects the rest of the serum
into himself. Mother and son then get it on for a bit of
incestuous 'bump n grind' whilst hooked up to a bizarre kind
of dream stimulating machine, a place where extreme
violence is the ultimate pleasure...
Naked Blood doesn't really heat up until after the half hour
mark, but when it does get going it doesn't let up. It's very
similar in style to the films Sato made in the 80s like Wife
Collector, Brain Sex, and Genuine Rape (which this film just
happens to be a remake of), and shares with those films the
themes of alienation, voyeurism, isolation, and perversity.
But here Sato also adds a welcome dose of Cronenbergian
outlandishness and body horror to the mix. The scenes
where the girl deep fries her own hand, plucks out her own
eyeball, and then proceeds to eat both are perhaps some of
the most deranged imagery in the director's ouevre. His
films remind me of the work of Jean Rollin in the way he has
a knack of turning micro-budget filmmaking into dark lyrical
dreamscapes on film. His movies are best watched at night
in a hazy frame of mind where the quiet build-up leads to
maximum effect.
Naked Blood is one of the better examples of the Ero-guro
sub-genre (or 'erotic-grotesque'), a Japanese filmic trend
which infuses sexual themes with potent body horror. On its
travels around the world, Sato's film has been clearing the
aisles with its extreme material being too much to handle
for some. Most notoriously, the Canadian premiere at the
Pacific Cinematheque in Vancouver where less than a third
of the audience made it through to the end credits. The
gruesome special effects were created by the great Yuichi
Matsui who went on to work on the Ringu series, and also
Audition, Imprint, Ichi The Killer, and Kill Bill Vols. 1 and 2.
Filmmaker Noboru Iguchi paid tribute to Naked Blood with
the deep fried scene in Machine Girl. High praise!
STOIC (2009)
Dir: Uwe Boll /Canada/Germany
I'm starting to like Uwe Boll more and more. As a director he
leaves a lot to be desired in terms of technicalities and
aesthetics, but he instinctively knows which stories are
worth telling. Stoic charts the aftermath of a prisoner's
suicide. His cellmates take turns at explaining the events
that led to the tragedy - But what is true and what is
bullshit? At first, the surviving cellmates seem genuinely
upset and sorry for their 'friend', but when we learn of the
harsh victimization this young man went through before his
death, it leaves us wondering whether they really give a shit
at all, and suspect that they're actually just passing the
buck to save their own skins, morphing the truth,
Rashomon-style.
Most of the film takes place entirely in the prison cell with
the four characters, and it's a lonely place. It's their whole
world for 23 hours a day. The boredom that breeds the
violence and humiliation they inflict on the weakest of the
group. Devil makes work for idle thumbs and all that. The
man is forced to eat a full tube of toothpaste and drink
coffee mixed with salt and pepper. But it gets worse; when
he vomits, he is forced to eat it all up again, and then he is
pissed on, badly beaten and raped. Another inmate (Ed
Furlong) then rapes him in the arse with a mop handle while
he's laid out semi-conscious. Around the hour mark the
situation becomes even more intense when the prisoners
decide that the young man should hang himself before he
gets the chance to report to the authorities...
John Hillcoat's Ghosts...Of The Civil Dead (1988) explored
similar themes but was never as intense and claustrophobic
as this. Both films share the same message too, that the
prison and judicial systems are fucked and do more harm
than good. Towards the end of the film the inmates turn
their attentions to the next lowest in the pecking order, and
it's quite clear that he's next for some similar treatment.
STOP THE BITCH CAMPAIGN (2001)
Dir: Kosuke Suzuki /Japan
A couple of disgruntled losers decide to use the services of a
bunch of schoolgirl street whores and run away without
paying, causing a major street war between the whores and
the pussy swindlers! Based on the Manga by madness and
rape-loving Hideo Yamamoto (the man who created Ichi The
Killer), Stop The Bitch Campaign is outrageous fun from
start to finish. The Boss (played by Kenichi Endo) is superb
as the out-of-control rapist; the scene where he deflowers
and tortures a first time whore is dark, misogynistic, and
funny as hell! The soundtrack throws up 60s style retro
garage rock, classical choruses, and country pop shit, all
adding to the mayhem on screen. The crazy opening credits
feature all kinds of sex, torture, and S&M in a rapid montage
style, and the chaos never lets up. A fast-paced sleaze fest
of guilty pleasures. Enjoy!
STOP THE BITCH CAMPAIGN 2 - HELL
VERSION (2004)
Dir: Kosuke Suzuki /Japan
The mayhem continues with a ragtag band of perverts who
are blindfolded and driven to an exclusive brothel where
they get to indulge in their wildest fantasies. Cue much
hilarity as we get to witness Baby perv, 'Michael' perv, Rape
perv, and Vegetable perv do their thing. But the fun doesn't
last for long as dead bodies are found, and it seems there is
a killer on the loose killing the whores... The brothel is run
by the beautiful Sori Aoi, a survivor from Part one. She
seems a bit paranoid and constantly on edge about what is
going on under her roof, and she is plagued by nightmarish
memories of the scary make-up man from the previous film
(actor Kenichi Endo who stole the show in part one also
plays the vege-perv in this sequel). But when the shit hits
the fan, it's up to Aoi to save
the day... Less of a 'Whodunnit' and more of a tacky and
tasteless sleaze fest, Stop The Bitch Campaign 2 runs just
less than an hour and passes by in a flash, leaving you
wanting more. There's no blood or gore, unfortunately, but
is a highly entertaining shitfest nonetheless.
THE STORY OF O (1975)
Dir: Just Jaeckin /France

This softcore classic was banned in the UK for 25 years and

was only deemed fit for consumption in the year 2000 when
it was the subject of some illegal screenings in this country.
The BBFC were then forced into making a decision, and like
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, which had been outlawed for
a similar length of time and had also been screened without
a certificate, both films were then passed uncut by the
board.
The Story of O followed in the footsteps of director Just
Jaeckin's previous film, Emmanuelle, which was a big hit and
helped secure some mainstream acceptability for softcore
sex, and spawned countless sequels, cash-ins, and foreign
rip-offs. But whereas Emmanuelle was a delicate adaptation
of Arsans cult novel, Jaeckin decided to up the ante the next
time around by focusing on Pauline Reage's scandalous tale
of a woman's journey into sexual awareness through the
dangerous pleasures of sadomasochism. By taking another
explicit novel, Jaeckin hoped to ape the success of his
previous film, but instead it was banned outright by the
British censors who accused it of being "Utterly filthy".
It's not a great film, but it does stick quite closely to Reage's
text (except for the ending which sees O commit suicide in
the novel). The film's strength lies in its beautiful soft-focus
visuals and the fact that former fashion photographer
Jaeckin adds a sweeping and epic quality to the story and is
quite an ambitious and audacious attempt to break away
from the run-of-the-mill softcore erotica which was being
churned out en masse during the 70s. The film was quite
popular with audiences (despite one critic who famously
complained that it bared so much flesh he was considering
vegetarianism), and has become a landmark in softcore,
finding echoes in later works like Stanley Kubrick's Eyes
Wide Shut and (more explicitly) in Catherine Briellat's
Romance. Indeed, it was successful enough to warrant a
sequel in 1984, Story of O 2, which the less spoken about
the better. Reage even followed up O with Return To Roissy,
which was very loosely adapted for the screen by Japanese
provocateur Shuji Terayama in the early 80s for the
unforgettable Fruits of Passion, which goes to show that
there was still much life in the legend yet.
Mysteriously, the BBFC still hasn't made it clear why The
Story of O was banned in the UK for so long. It's no more
explicit than Jaeckin's other work like Emmanuelle and Lady
Chatterly's Lover, both of which suffered some slight trims
by the censors. One can only assume it was the
sadomasochistic angle which offended the board. The
British have had a long and difficult relationship with the
idea of consensual mutilation, with real life scandals like the
Spanner Case in the 90s and the filmic misadventures of
Barbert Schroeder's Maitresse and David Cronenberg's
Crash all provoking the wrath of the authorities on these
shores. This in contrast with the French whose main
objection to the film was in its depiction of women, with
France's First Minister for Women's Affairs criticising Jaeckin
and his film for presenting a harsh and stifling depiction of
feminine sexuality; which is ironic considering how liberal
the film is compared with Reage's book.
SUBURB MURDER (1992)
Dir: Jeng Kin-Ping /Hong Kong

British rule in Hong Kong had always forbid filmmakers from

attacking their imperial majesty and from depicting their
rulers in a bad light. Suburb Murder, however, looks to have
escaped the scandal sheet perhaps because it's a tale based
on a true story, but the finished film can barely disguise its
resentment, and does little to sugarcoat its anti-colonialist
stance, and pushes as far as the rule of law will allow.
A young woman and her grandfather stumble upon a
mutilated body while jogging in the hills and they report
their discovery to the local police. The body is that of a
young white woman who looks to have had her face
smashed in and her nipple bitten off. An investigation is
launched. A tip-off leads the police to the hideout of a
wanted gang, and a gun battle ensues with the gang
members desperate to escape. One young rogue is captured
and beaten by the police. In custody he is beaten some
more and interrogated, and he agrees to tell the police the
full story of his crimes in exchange for a cigarette. Cue a
lengthy flashback as the kid explains his side of the story, a
la Daughter of Darkness and The Untold Story.
Kang's only childhood friend was Chi, a chubby kid who was
taken by his father to live in America. Kang plays truant one
afternoon and goes home to witness his father catching
mum fucking another guy. The guy jumps out of the
bedroom window and escapes in his underwear. Mother is
slapped and thrown out of the house, and young Kang is
also thrown out on his ear and told never to return again.
And from then on the kid must fend for himself on the
streets.
As a young adult, Kang works as a dishwasher at a
restaurant but his boss is an arsehole and is constantly
looking for an excuse to dock his wages. Kang and his co-
workers have formed a gang and they go out looking for
trouble; they find a young couple and beat the boyfriend
and gang-rape the girl. They then head back to work and
beat the crap out of their boss. A passing policeman sees
the incident and gives chase but the boys make their
getaway on foot. Kang bumps into his old friend Chi who is
back in Hong Kong after the death of his father. Kang takes
him back to his living quarters but the other boys are in the
middle of a sex sesh with a couple of young women, and Chi
is shocked by the unabashed coupling on display. The
arsehole boss sends out some heavies to attack the gang
with clubs and iron bars, and a mass brawl ensues in the
middle of the street.
The gang go to have some fun at a whorehouse and one of
the older hookers turns out to be Kang's mother who he
hasn't seen for years (this only becomes clear after two of
his friends have slept with her). Kang feels upset and
betrayed, and his resentments start to simmer under the
surface. He and his old friend Chi make a pittance by
washing cars, one of which belongs to his father who looks
him over like a piece of garbage and throws a couple of
Dollars in his face. Kang's father looks to have done well for
himself over the years since he severed all ties with him and
his mother; he drives a nice car and wears an expensive
suit. Kang's humiliation continues when he helps a white
woman with her bag from the boot of a taxi but she refuses
to give him a tip. He shouts abuse at her and then he is
arrested by a white man for begging offences. In custody he
bumps into his father yet again who looks to be employed
by the city, but he refuses to bail out his son.
Kang later gets himself a girlfriend, Kitty, and on her
birthday the gang have a little party for her and get drunk
(everyone seems to drink San Miguel in Hong Kong). Whilst
walking her home, they stop by at King's Park for a drunken
sing song; Chi decides he wants some wine and heads off to
the shop, Kang and Kitty stay behind and have a smooch,
but the merry mood is spoiled when a pair white thugs show
up and beat Kang before raping Kitty. Chi returns to the hills
to see what's going on and he attacks the thugs with a stick,
but he is beaten with a rock and left paralyzed. Kitty runs
into the middle of the road and is run over by a passing van
and killed.
From now on Kang is like a time-bomb ready to explode, and
when he and his gang get drunk and go roaming the hills
at King's Park, they spot a young Western couple sitting on
the grass. The boyfriend is badly beaten, and then his hands
are tied and Kang finally explodes; he takes a tree branch
and repeatedly beats the guy's head in with it. He then
approaches the others who are gang-raping the woman, and
he pushes them aside and then beats her head in with the
stick and even bites her nipple off in a psychotic rage. The
others have to drag him away. The girl's lifeless body is then
thrown into the tall grass and they flee the area.
After a violent robbery at a gambling den with the use of
guns and machetes, the boy's days are numbered. Their
pictures are broadcast on the news and they fall out and
turn on each other. One of the gang members, Hairy, is
captured by CID and he later informs officers of the gang's
hideout. And the story comes full circle when the police
show up for a blazing gun battle.
This downbeat tale from Hong Kong is atypical of the usual
CAT III madness in that it is played unsettlingly straight;
there's none of the usual dark humour or hammy psycho
performances or bold candy coloured lighting effects to be
found here. What we get instead is an absorbing and
believable study of encroaching madness brought on by a
string of humiliations and bad luck, and has more in
common with Fu Lee and Chu Yin-Ping's Angel Heart than
Herman Yau's The Untold Story. It still offers the obligatory
CAT III sex scenes and a steady build-up to a grim and
violent finale, but at the same time it feels completely out of
step with the works of Yau and Billy Tang, and Bosco Lam, et
al. The rape scenes are as graphic and exploitative as most
Hong Kong titles, and the killing of the young woman at the
end is extremely nasty and disturbing; Kang's resentment
has reached such a fever pitch of discontent that even to
see an innocent couple spending some time together in the
park is enough to make his blood boil and sends him
completely over the edge. And director Jeng Kin-Ping should
be commended for depicting the
seething resentments that simmer under the surface of
society in a completely honest and brutal fashion. It's
certainly not a film for everybody, and those new to the CAT
III phenomenon will be turned off, but for those of you who
are more familiar with these films may find it a refreshing
change from the norm.
SUSPIRIA (1977)
Dir: Dario Argento /Italy

Suspiria is a dose of vintage Italian terror from the king of

modern horror, Dario Argento. Shot in the late 70s in the
aftermath of his international breakthrough hit, Deep Red,
and anticipating his later shockers such as Inferno, Tenebre,
Opera, and The Stendhal Syndrome, Suspiria is a sensory
overload of black magic, madness, and death. It's a film
which dispenses with his earlier giallo preoccupations and
instead plunges the viewer into a dazzling technicolour
nightmare where the irrational and supernatural evils are
given free reign. Little wonder then that Argento has since
become widely regarded as the quintessential Italian horror
auteur.
The plot of Suspiria is deceptively simple; an American
student, Suzy Banyan (Jessica Harper), arrives in Germany
to enrol at the Tansakademie, an internationally renowned
ballet school, where she eventually discovers that the place
is run by an evil cabalist organisation headed by the 'Black
Queen' Helena Markos. But it's the way Argento tells the
story that makes the film so daring and innovative. The fluid
and intoxicating camerawork, the extreme expressionistic
style, and bold primary coloured lighting scheme lead the
viewer mesmerized through a labyrinth of stylish sets and
beautifully balletic murder set pieces. It's a film in which the
character's physical realities are less important than their
psychological states which are echoed in the meticulous set
designs.
After the success of Deep Red, Dario Argento had become
an avid reader of H.P. Lovecraft whose tales of cosmic terror
were often linked with the author's own expansive
mythology. A recurring theme for Lovecraft was an array of
extremely powerful beings whose practice of the dark arts
had led them to the outer realms from where they would
inflict insanity, mutation, and chaos in the human and
material world. Argento had never planned on bringing
Lovecraft's work to the big screen, but after listening to
stories from his wife (actress Daria Nicolodi) about her
grandmother's troublesome experiences at a school with
occult connections, Dario put two and two together and the
stage was set for his most ambitious film to date...
Suspiria was radically different from the horror hits of the
time in that it lacks the rationalist social minutae that was
the backbone of other supernatural sagas like Stephen
King's early novels, Carrie and Salem's Lot, and William
Friedkin's The Exorcist (also that film's original novel by
William Peter Blatty). Those tales prided themselves on
creating everyday characters set in realistic backgrounds,
ensuring that the sceptical reader/viewer would go along
with the outlandish elements once firmly planted in the
normal, everyday settings. Well, Argento certainly banished
that idea (as did Stanley Kubrick a couple of years later with
his adaptation of King's third novel, The Shining), and we're
plunged almost immediately into the cinematic storm in
Suspiria, where magic and menace is quite literally
everywhere.
Music is also a key element in the film's audio-visual
delirium, with Argento encouraging the prog rock group
Goblin (credited as ‘The Goblins’ here) to freak out, resulting
in one of the most memorable soundtracks in horror history.
It's a tinkling nursery rhyme that builds with a mocking
voice imitating the tune, and then reaches a crescendo of
metallic drums, scary synths, and agonised screams. It's a
perfect melding of sound and vision, and perhaps one of the
film's greatest achievements overall, with the camera
hungry for images that can match the heightened threat of
the sounds. A sensory overload that strives to attain that
"rational derangement of all the senses" that French poets
like Rimbaud and Baudelaire were so fond of.
The all-female coven are in complete control, and all the
male characters in the film are missing something (which
amounts to a symbolic castration according to some of the
characters); a young male dancer with no money is at the
receiving end of cruel gossip and bad jokes, handyman
Pavlos has no teeth due to a bout of gingivitus that Miss
Tanner (Alida Valli) seems suspiciously amused about,
pianist Daniel (Night Train Murders' Flavia Bucci) has no
vision because he's blind ("Can't you see that?!"), and Little
Albert, the young boy, seems to have no voice. The film as a
whole lacks that male rationality that so typified the giallo in
previous years (altough it did come under threat from Daria
Nicolodi's character in Deep Red). In Suspiria, it's the
feminine irrational that rules, and is considered for the most
part to be destructive of the individual and of social
structures as a whole. Men have absolutely no power in the
film and at the same time it is unflinching in its depiction of
feminine evil.
Whilst many are quick to pick upon gender issues relating to
Argento's films, very few are willing to acknowledge the
magical beliefs which adorned his work around this time.
Gender studies and psychoanalysis are the critic's main
tools of deduction when deciphering a film. However, they
often come unstuck in their attempts to analyse the unruly
mysticism in films like Suspiria and its follow-up, Inferno
(also Kubrick's The Shining which left many scratching their
heads when Jack Torrence's character is freed from a
storage room by a ghost, thus dispensing with the idea that
all ghostly apparitions and 'bumps in the night' can be
blamed on everyday 'rational' occurrences
like hallucination and mental illness, etc). Maitland
McDonagh's book on Argento, Broken Mirrors/Broken Minds
is a case in point; here she completely ignores the
conversation between Suzy and Mandel (played by The
Exorcist's Rudolph Schundler) in which he talks about the
power of the occult: "They're malefic, negative, and
destructive. Their knowledge of the art of the occult gives
them tremendous powers. They can change the course of
events, and people's lives, but only to do harm". This kind of
dialogue is blasphemy for those devout materialists who
rely on rational explanations in order to make sense of
anything.
Overall then, Suspiria is a tremendous achievement, a feast
for the eyes and ears, so full of mystery and wonder: Why is
Miss Tanner smiling all the time? Does she know something
we don't? Was that really red wine that Suzy poured down
the sink, or was it something more sinister? And what's the
deal with that beam of light that is shone into Suzy's face
and causes immediate migraine and eventual collapse? Who
knows. It's a film in which every door and curtain leads to
more darkness and more mystery, and we're treated to
some of the most extravagant murders in film history as
Argento continues his obsession into the beautiful and
sacrificial destruction of human bodies and minds.
A rare hit in the US for Argento, Suspiria was released by
20th Century Fox in an R-rated version that was trimmed of
some of the violence. It became a collector's item in the 80s
with the Venezuelan VHS and Japanese laserdisc both uncut.
Magnum Entertainment later released the complete version
in a widescreen transfer (it has since been released by
Anchor Bay in a definitive 3 disc set). In the UK it wasn't
passed uncut by the BBFC until the 90s.
SVIDD NEGER (2003)
(Burnt Nigger)
Dir: Eric Smith Meyer /Norway
Sporting a deliberately provocative title but containing
nothing in the film that could label it as racist, Svidd Neger
is nonetheless an outrageously black and bizarre comedy. It
tells the story of a small group of neighbours who live in
small huts and caravans out in the middle of nowhere. A
hard drinking father (who looks a bit like Slavoj Zizek) wants
the very best for his daughter, and to him that means she
should marry a strong man and give him a grandson (he
drowned his ex-wife and baby). The neighbours are just as
fucked up and eccentric - the fat son who masturbates a lot
and thinks he's the right man to impregnate the daughter,
an incestuous mother who sits around reading magazines all
day, and an adopted black kid who smokes a lot of dope,
sleeps with a picture of Dolly Parton, and communicates
with his natural father in Africa by putting messages in
bottles and throwing them out to sea (!). Also living nearby
is a Saami who is another admirer of the beautiful blonde
daughter; problem is, he's just as crazy as the rest, and the
situation all comes to a head of hillbilly debauchery with lots
of explosions, violence, and gore, northern Norweigan style.
No plot outline can do this film justice though, and don't
worry, no black people are burned either (maybe one or two
whities). Many have compared the film to the work of David
Lynch, but it actually bares a closer resemblance to the
whimsical surrealism of Jim Jarmusch crossed with the
slapstick sensibilities and creative camerawork of Sam
Raimi.
The film caused much controversy even before it was
released; the title alone brought accusations of
irresponsibility and racism, and led to the film being
reported to the European Court of Human Rights. And
although Svidd Neger is very un-PC in places and boasts lots
of twisted dark humour, it's actually a parody of how small-
minded country folks expect a black person to be. The cast
and crew who made the film are a multicultural group
themselves. If you liked Taxidermia then you'll probably
enjoy this too.
SWEET SWEETBACK'S BADASSSSS
SONG (1971)
Dir: Melvin Van Peebles /USA

In the early 70s, a new strain of exploitation movies found

their way into the grinders. And unlike the short-lived
genres of yesteryear, like beach party flicks and biker epics
which played mostly at drive-in theatres, this new breed of
films played almost exclusively within urban areas.
Blaxploitation had arrived with its kick-ass brothers and
sisters, pimps, pushers, and super studs. Audiences flocked
to the grindhouses excited to see black heroes finally make
it to the big screen. The white middle class critics were
scared shitless by these films, and they were also frowned
upon by many in the black community who accused them of
playing up to racial stereotypes and conveying the wrong
type of messages. Nevertheless, for the next few years
Blaxploitation dominated the inner-city screens with its
funky threads, soul music, and 'kill whitey' revenge
scenarios.
There had been a few forerunners to the genre, such as The
Black Klansman and The Bus Is Coming, Honky, but things
really kicked off in 1971 with the release of a couple of films
that, although seemed to attract a similar audience, were
very much polar opposites in terms of their origins and
overall messages. One was MGM's Shaft, a slick detective
yarn starring Richard Roundtree as a black crime fighter and
boasted a supercool soundtrack by Isaac Hayes. The other
was much more raw, angry, and confrontational; Melvin Van
Peebles' Sweet Sweetback's Badasssss Song.
Written, directed, produced, and starring Peebles himself,
and dedicated to "All the Brothers and Sisters who've had
enough of The Man", Sweetback opens with the title
character working in a brothel doing live sex shows. He is
hassled by a couple of cops and witnesses a fellow black
man being abused. He decides to take action and attacks
the cops, bashing their heads in before fleeing on foot. The
rest of the film follows Sweetback on the run through the
backstreets and urban decay of Ghettoville, USA.
When the film made it into theatres audiences were
dumbfounded. They had seen nothing like it before. Peebles
didn't sugar-coat the film at all; it's a grim, gritty, angry, and
unrelenting tirade and a call for social change. And there's
nothing in the style or performances or overall message that
even attempts to lighten the blow. This uncompromising
stance was rewarded with an X rating from the American
censors ("An all white jury" as the ads put it) who were
threatened by the fact that a black anti-hero had brutally
attacked the police and then successfully crossed the border
into Mexico at the end, his crime going unpunished. The
epilogue warns us to "Watch out... a badasssss nigger is
coming back to collect some dues". It was the first in a new
wave of Black Rage films and audiences were lining around
the block to see it.
This ground-breaking film raked in more than $10 million in
its first year (a profit margin which outstripped its big-
budget counterpart, Shaft, which managed $12 million), and
became one of the most financially successful indie movies
of all time, prompting producers to embrace black actors
and turn them into screen heroes with a healthy box office
kerching making it all worthwhile. Thus Blaxploitation was
born, but none of the subsequent productions (often starring
icons such as Jim Brown, Jim Kelly, Pam Grier, and Fred
Williamson) could quite live up to the original double-
whammy of Sweetback and Shaft. The main reason being
that Sweetback was for real, it was a film that came from
the heart of Peebles, not from a lust for profit, unlike the
other films in the genre. He washes the screen in pain in
order to move audiences into action, and announces that
black militancy has reached your neighbourhood and that
the times they are a-changing.
The British censors passed Sweetback uncut and it
remained that way for three decades until 2003 when the
docudrama
Badasssss! was released. Peebles had written to the BBFC
assuring them that a scene in which a young boy loses his
virginity to a prostitute in Sweetback was played by a man
called Hubert Scales who was over eighteen at the time.
However, Badasssss! makes it quite clear that it was
actually Melvin's son, Mario, who played the part, and he
could not have been older than fourteen at the time, thus
putting the film in breach of the Protection of Children Act.
The BBFC had no choice but to review their rating, and on
the advice of a lawyer, they cut the scene to keep the film
within the bounds of UK law.
TAXI HUNTER (1993)
(Orig title: Di shi pan guan)
Dir: Herman Yau /Hong Kong

In this CAT III shocker, Anthony Wong stars as a successful

insurance agent who has endless trouble with the local taxi
drivers. The skip him, rob him, and even kill his wife and
unborn child! Something snaps in him and he goes on a
killing spree, wiping out the scumbag cabbies (I'm not
making this up!). The detective investigating the murders
(Man Tat Ng) is a kick-arse cop with Jackie Chan-worthy
stunts, and he just so happens to be an old drinking buddy
of Wong's. So when he suspects his friend of committing the
crimes, he is torn between sympathy for his buddy and his
duty as a cop...
As with many CAT III titles, Taxi Hunter starts out as a broad
comedy but darkens as it progresses. The action and
violence is strong, bloody, comical, and absurd (there's also
an amusing tribute to Scorsese's Taxi Driver where Wong
does his own take on the "Are you talkin' to me?" speech).
This was also filmed on a bigger budget than usual; here we
have some highly choreographed fight scenes, stunts,
crashes, shoot outs, and a superb car chase.
He makes for a clumsy and awkward urban avenger in his
shirt and tie, but Wong is a CAT III superstar, king of the
genre, and this is perhaps one of his most underrated
performances. Wong himself has said it was his favourite
role to date, "I think it is my best piece of work because that
role involves a humanised character". He was relieved to
play a good guy at last (well, at least a character whom the
audience can cheer for) after years of being typecast as the
bad guy due to the widespread racism in the Hong Kong film
industry (Wong is mixed race, with a Chinese mother and
British father).
As for director Yau, Taxi Hunter sees him at the top of his
game. It's not quite as outrageous as his later efforts like
The Untold Story and Ebola Syndrome, but shows much
promise and hints strongly at the shock horror elements
that would prevail in much of his subsequent work.
TENEBRAE (1982)
(aka Unsane)
Dir: Dario Argento /Italy

Best-selling crime author Peter Neal (Anthony Franciosa)

arrives in Rome to promote his latest novel, Tenebre, but
soon receives a threatening phone call and learns that there
is an obsessed killer on the loose using his book as a
blueprint for a string of murders. Inspector Germani informs
him that a young shoplifter (the gorgeous Ania Pieroni) has
been found with her throat cut and pages of his book stuffed
into her mouth. Meanwhile, the killings continue to mimic
events in the novel and Neal receives pictures of the murder
victims in the post with quotes from his own work. His
agent, Bullmer (exploitation legend John Saxon), and his
assistant Anne (Daria Nicolodi, Argento's wife at the time)
try to persuade him to leave town, but Neal decides to stay
put and help out with the investigation. Even when the killer
is finally dispatched, there still seems to be no end to the
bloodbath.
Seemingly constructed from a mountain of ideological
influences, Tenebre actively demands its viewers to engage
in subjective interpretation. Such a challenging assortment
of interpretative texts is unheard of outside of art movies -
Freudian angst, perception, psychoanalysis, gender studies,
identity, an awareness of the work of Michelangelo
Antonioni, etc - And it's interesting to note that Argento's
creativity only started to dwindle once his films were taken
seriously by intellectuals.
The word 'tenebre' literally means 'darkness', but the film
itself is brightly lit with sunny outdoor locations and light
modern interiors. Dario was referring to the darkness of the
mind, or the subconscious, in the film's title (the bright
aesthetic and colour schemes were also designed so that
the victim's blood would be as visible as possible). And
again, as with his previous work, Argento prefers to
construct stories which self-consciously embrace the
process of deduction and interpretation, and in the process
anticipates the viewer's and critic's own analysis as it goes,
subverting the thriller/giallo conventions and playing around
with our preconceptions of gender and misogynous screen
violence; victims scream and moan aloud as if they're
having orgasms while they are cut, stabbed ('penetrated'),
and strangled in stylish hyperreality, and the film is awash
with surreal symbolism.
One of the greatest psycho movies ever made, Tenebre
reunited Argento with DP Luciano Tovoli who lensed
Suspiria, and Claudio Simonetti of Goblin who composed the
catchy soundtrack. Argento was inspired to write the script
after receiving threatening phone calls from a fan while in
Los Angeles. And, as is the way of any artist of the macabre,
he took that basic premise to its most startling extremes for
a nightmare vision on film. His usual technical invention is
also in full force here with a single crane shot that
anticipates a double murder scene in which the camera
ascends a builing, peers into the windows at the lives of the
future victims, travels over the roof, and then descends
down the other side. It's an audacious move and very
typical of Argento at the time.
In the UK, the film was swept up in the video nasties
controversy and banned in the mid-80s. It was passed by
the
BBFC in 1999 with cuts, and then passed completely uncut
in 2003. In America it was badly truncated and even re-
titled Unsane by the film's stateside distributers for a limited
release. The Anchor Bay DVD is fully uncut.
TETSUO: THE IRON MAN (1988)
Dir: Shinya Tsukamoto /Japan

By pure coincidence 1988 saw the release of two unrelated

Japanese films with characters called Tetsuo who mutate
into oblivion; Katsuhiro Otomo's cult anime Akira, which
became the first 'Manga movie' to achieve international
recognition, reached its chaotic finale with delinquent teen
Tetsuo bloating into a gigantic mess of oozing liquified body-
mass, almost filling an Olympic-sized sports stadium with
his blob-like enormity. It was Otomo's speciality: Body-horror
for the wayward teen, and animation as a legitimate filmic
art. The other was a no less delirious horror weirdy, Tetsuo:
The Iron Man, a brutal and perverse meeting of technology,
sex, and violence.
Shot in a rough and ready style on scraps of black and white
16mm film, Tetsuo The Iron Man makes up for its tiny
budget limitations with a hyper-kinetic style and an
inexhaustible imagination. The confusing 'plot' concerns a
quiet salaryman (Tamoroh Taguchi, who later showed up in
the Guinea Pig entry, Android of Notre Dame) who is freaked
out by visions of transmutation, and who apparently killed a
child in a hit-and-run accident. He tries to deal with the
troubling memories by engaging in strange sex practices
with his girlfriend (Kei Fujiwara, who would go on to direct a
couple of her own cyberpunk entries with Organ and Organ
2). It soon becomes apparent that the kid survived the
accident and has passed on a highly infectious disease
which infects human flesh, transforming man into
rampaging machine. And before long, Taguchi mutates into
a metallic killing machine with a huge drillbit for a penis that
he uses on his girlfriend in a gruesome sex attack before
hitting the streets in a war with the now grown-up hit-and-
run victim... or something like that.
Director Shinya Tsukamoto, who appears in the film as the
self-mutilator who lives in the junkyard and inserts metal
tubing into his open wounds, is clearly in his element here.
It's a labour of twisted love with its hyperactive camera and
rapid editing techniques. He also presents us with wild and
unruly montage sequences made painstakingly with stop-
motion animation techniques for an insane barrage of
twisted nigtmarish imagery.
Tetsuo seems to take its inspiration from a wide variety of
disparate sources; the most obvious reference points are
perhaps as a heady mixture of elements from Eraserhead,
Robocop, and The Evil Dead, with a heavy dose of
Cronenberg and Jan Svankjmajer thrown in for good
measure. But Tsukamoto takes these elements and mashes
them into something completely delirious and original. The
resulting film re-ignited the fledgling cyberpunk movement
and became a midnight favourite in Tokyo before sweeping
the globe and capturing the imagination of cult film fanatics
the world over. So, if you're in the mood for fetishistic visual
overload, the lack of a traditional linear plot, and a pure
cinematic experience, then Tetsuo is for you.
TETSUO 2 - BODY HAMMER (1992)
Dir: Shinya Tsukamoto /Japan

The international success of Tetsuo The Iron Man awarded

Tsumamoto with something resembling a budget this time
around for a sequel-cum-remake. And like Sam Raimi's Evil
Dead 2, Tsukamoto was ready to do it all over again in epic
proportions for Tetsuo 2 - Body Hammer. This time, however,
he also presents to us a backstory which helps explain all
the chaos…
Borowing plot elements from Cronenberg's Scanners, Tetsuo
2's premise sees a visionary lunatic pitching his rival sons
together in a war based on mind power. Tamoroh Taguchi
returns as the 'salaryman' who is attacked by a pair of scary
looking fellows who belong to a subterranean sect of
shaven-headed followers who are prone to mutations. The
two men shoot Taguchi in the chest with an infectious rivet
gun and kidnap his little boy. In a fit of desperation, he
chases the bad guys up onto the roof of a tower block where
the kidnappers taunt him by dangling his child over the
edge. Taguchi's fears and fury reach boiling point and he
begins to mutate, and a strange gun breaks out of his chest.
And in his attempts to finish the bad guys, he accidently
shoots his own child, leaving nothing behind but lots of
blood and a pair of tiny hands being held by one of the
cackling kidnappers. Having to go home and explain all this
to his wife understandably puts their relationship under
severe strain. And when the kidnappers return and take off
with her too, Taguchi's transmutations reach overdrive as he
gradually becomes a human tank who is prepared to put his
own loved ones in jeopardy in order to get even with his
rivals. The underground sect, meanwhile, sees a new leader
(Tsukamoto himself) who forces his way into power, and this
man happens to be Taguchi's long lost brother who is no less
adept at sprouting firearms from his body. And the war
continues...
This time around, director Tsukamoto shot the film in colour
with a murky comic book tint; in some scenes (especially
the ones played out in broad daylight) he employs a shade
filter over the lens giving the shots a strange orangey glow.
For such a small budget film the visuals are no less than
stunning throughout. He also resumes his love
for the busy hand-held photography, rapid cutting, and
bizarre stop-motion sequences which are perhaps more
impressive than those seen in the original Tetsuo film. And
there's a blatant homosexual subtext made apparent in the
scenes featuring the shaven-headed army posing and
pumping iron and penetrating their fellows with metal pipes.
The emotional side of the story is also improved upon in
Tetsuo 2 with the backstory adding depth and dimension to
the main characters. Most impressive though is the
exploration of fury and the desire for revenge that becomes
so great that wiping out your entire family is perfectly fine if
it means getting one over on those who put them in danger
in the first place. It's a trait that pertains the human
condition but is rarely explored to any degree in film
(consider for example how during hostage situations the
police often have to restrain
husbands, fathers, and sons from gaining entry into
situations where their presence would spell disaster for
those captive family members whom they care about the
most. It's a 'curse' of masculinity that many men are in
danger of jeopardising everything in times of crisis due to
feelings of helplessness and a lack of control).
Tetsuo 2 stands as a film unto itself and you don't have to
be familiar with the original in order to get to grips with this
one. However, if you were impressed by Iron Man then
chances are you'll be amazed by this full colour offering.
Tsukamoto returned with a third installment of the Tetsuo
series in 2010 with Tetsuo: The Bullet Man. It was shot on
DV in English with a largely Western cast. Tsukamoto this
time casts himself as the mutating anti-hero, and the film is
good fun, although overall it lacks the unruly spark of
mayhem and epic quality of the first two films.
THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE
(2003)
Dir: Marcus Nispel /USA

Platinum Dunes has alot to answer to. This off-Hollywood

comapany has been at the forefront of the 00s remake
mania, re-thinking, or 're-imagining' horror classics with
varying degrees of success. While some may accept these
remakes as an interesting way of keeping horror in the
multiplexes, others are not so tolerant, accusing Platinum
Dunes and their likes of churning out soulless fodder with
ready-made brand names (Dawn of The Dead, Halloween,
Hellraiser, etc), and ready-made plots as a cynical ploy to
squeeze cash from long-established cinematic legends; a
simple lazy money-maker with a ready-made market to tap
into.
The remakes of The Hills Have Eyes (2006) and The Hitcher
(2004) are arguably more impressive than the originals, but
Platinum Dunes cocked up big time with A Nightmare On
Elm Street (2010) and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003).
The film opens with a group of teens driving through Texas
in a Scooby Doo van. They pick up a disturbed hitch hiker
(so far so familiar); but this hitcher isn't some crazed goon
like in the original, but a victimised young woman who has
presumably escaped some extreme ordeal. We don't really
find out much about her though because no sooner has she
entered the van and she removes a pistol from her cooch
and shoots herself through the mouth. With a dead girl on
their hands, these fun-seeking teens are brought back down
to earth with a bump and decide to contact the police...
However, what they get instead is R. Lee Ermey posing as a
Sheriff, who is actually the patriach of an inbred clan of
twisted cannibals. Well, the day goes from bad to worse for
the youngsters when
they find themselves on the family menu...
This remake dispenses with many crucial elements that
helped make Hooper's original such a terrifying experience,
and instead serves as a nominal entry in the decade's craze
for updating genre classics, and which can join the likes of
The Omen (2006), The Amityville Horror (2005), and A
Nightmare On Elm Street (2010) as an insulting and
pointless time waster.
Among the unforgivable sins in this film is the portrayal of
Leatherface; there is a scene where he pours salt into the
wound of one of his victims, thus implying that he gets a
sadistic kick out of torture. Anyone who saw the original
Chainsaw will know that this scene is completely
uncharacteristic; he was a hulking great retard who was
brought up in a slaughterhouse with very little in the way of
moral guidance, but he wasn't sadistic. In the original he
slaughtered those teens because, in his own mind, he
treated them like they were loose cattle, not because he
was necessarily evil, but because he didn't know any better;
in his life among such dubious company as his 'family', that
was all he had ever known. So to see him inflicting
unnecessary tortures on the youngsters in this film was
clearly off the mark and left me wondering whether the
filmmakers had even seen the original, or whether they
even cared to get to grips with Leatherface's character.
Indeed, in the original Chainsaw, after killing the first couple
of kids, Leatherface sits in the living room nervously looking
out of the window. Even with a flesh mask concealing his
features, his eyes and posture give us the impression that
he is worried, perhaps afraid of his father finding out that
there are 'livestock' roaming around when it's his
responsibility to do the 'chores' and slaughter them. Thus he
was a killer through circumstance, not because he
necessarily enjoyed it.
The original film was also very loosely based on the exploits
of Ed Gein who was certainly no sadist - He was completely
deranged, but he seemed to go about his dirty business with
an air of innocence about him; he just didn't realise that
what he was doing was wrong, much like Leatherface (in the
case of Ed Gein, a policeman investigating a grave robbery
walked into a bar and asked the patrons if they knew
anything about the disappearance of the corpse, to which
Gein piped up "Oh yes, I've got her up at my house!"
Everyone, including the policeman, thought he was joking
around, but he sure wasn't).
The remake also loses the verite ambience of the original,
including the bright blue oblivious sky and scorching hot
Texas vibe which accentuated the unforgiving horrors and
isolation of the character's predicaments, and the finale is
played out in a rain-soaked twilight which could have taken
place in any American state. The soundtrack borrows those
screeching notes from the original at the beginning, but
soon gets bogged down with a typically cliched and
uninvolving score that can be found in any number of New
Line assembly line crap.
The remake also perpetuates that annoying trend of modern
horror that insists on having an aura of viewer
empowerment; whereas old skool horrors like the original
Chainsaw, and also Wes Craven's Last House On The Left
had a cracked fairytale edge in that when youngsters make
even innocent mistakes they were sorely punished. But with
the new Chainsaw, those harsh cautionary lessons are
abandoned in favour of a 'can-do' exercise in overcoming
adversary. Thus, we have young 'victims' ducking and rolling
out of the way of the swinging chainsaw, and insulting their
captors even when they are restrained and at the cannibal's
complete mercy. It's bullshit and I didn't believe any of it.
Overall then, it's a million miles away from the 'final girl'
situation of Marilyn Chambers who had quite clearly gone
insane during her super-human (but also believable) escape
feat at the end of Hooper's original. Here it's lead actress,
Jessica Biel, whose fearless attitude and immense
physicality make her a match for any boogey man, and she
of course escapes the ordeal unscathed of any physical or
mental damage. The end result is crappy watered-down
horror for the masses, to make them feel good about
themselves like any other mainstream genre; it's a direction
which the horror film should not be heading in.
On the plus side, there's a particularly ghoulish treat where
Leatherface takes the facial skin of one unlucky victim and
wears it as a mask. It's a nice touch as he seems to strike a
new persona, and the hapless heroes and heroines are
forced to do battle with a monster who bares the twisted
resemblance of a friendly face, with pube beard and all!
TITICUT FOLLIES (1967)
Dir: Frederick Wiseman /USA

Appearing in the early 90s after a mysterious 25 year ban,

Frederick Wiseman's feature debut, Titicut Follies, is a
documentary set in the Bridgewater State Hospital,
Massachusetts, where the criminally insane go about their
daily bouts of injustice and humiliation alongside the
mentally ill. There's no structure to the film as such, no
story to follow, no voiceover to tell us what's going on; just
grainy black and white images capturing the incompetence
and despair, fly-on-the-wall-style, in a mental institution.
There are some disturbing moments - a clearly distressed
inmate gets naked and goes berserk in his cell, frank
exchanges about mutual masturbation between inmates
and screws, and what appears to be a deceased inmate
propped up in a chair being shaved, presumably to smarten
his appearance for the funeral. But there's nothing
sensationalist or exploitative in the approach of the
filmmakers. Alongside the sporadic hygiene of the
institution, hunger strikes, force-feeding through tubes
inserted down the throat, and general victimization, the
patients and guards put on their annual show, the Titicut
Follies, a musical play which offers a brief respite from the
daily horrors.
The controversy started just prior to the film's premiere at
the 1967 New York Film Festival when the government of
Massachusetts tried to have the film banned on the basis
that it violated the patient's privacy and dignity. In watching
the film, however, one can't help thinking that it was the
detached observations that served as a shocking indictment
of the institution that was causing the real concern, not the
welfare of those depicted. And the film was allowed to be
shown. But in the following year, the Massachusetts'
Superior Court ordered all copies to be removed and
destroyed after a social worker complained of a scene which
shows a naked man being tormented by a guard. Director
Wiseman appealed against the decision and a compromise
was reached whereby only doctors, lawyers, and healthcare
professionals were permitted to view the film. Wiseman
appealed again, this time to the Supreme Court, but he was
basically shunned. This was the first time that a film was
banned from the general public on grounds other than
obscenity, immorality, or national security in America, with
Wiseman frustrated that the court restrictions were "a
greater infringement of civil liberties than the film was an
infringement on the liberties of the inmates".
It wasn't until 1991 that the film was deemed acceptable for
public consumption, by which time the damage had already
been done. Whereas contemporary films like Cathy Come
Home did a lot to change British attitudes towards poverty
and the working classes, Titicut Follies could have had a
similar impact on American attitudes towards incompetent
institutions and the mentally ill, were it not for the powers
that be being terrified of being portrayed in a bad light, and
scurrying around trying to have the film banished so as to
save their own reputations rather than their most vulnerable
citizens. Shame on them. Indeed, had the film reached its
rightful audience in the first place, there's a good chance
that institutions like the Bridgewater State Hospital would
have been either closed down for good or had their services
dramatically improved. But as it were, the place remained
open for decades, stacking up case after case of death and
neglect; the most infuriating being the case of an inmate
who, according to his representative, Steven Schwartz, was
"restrained for 2 and a half months and given six psychiatric
drugs at vastly unsafe levels", and who eventually "choked
to death because he could not swallow his food". That's
censorship for you; rarely makes things better, often makes
things worse.
At least now the film has its rightful place in cinema history,
with luminaries such as Nick Broomfield and Marc Singer
accepting Wiseman's compelling film as a crucial document
of its time, with Singer's 2000 documentary Dark Days
taking inspiration from Wiseman's polemic and cementing
its long overdue legacy for the downtrodden masses. Tough
stuff then, but honest to a fault.
TOKYO FIST (1995)
Dir: Shinya Tsukamoto /Japan

Shinya Tsukamoto first hit global notoriety with Tetsuo The

Iron Man and Tetsuo 2 - Boddy Hammer, films which
combined hi-tech city-scapes and extremely twisted body
mutations, and ignited the cyberpunk movement in Japan.
Tsukamoto's work was lauded in the west where fans and
critics were dazzled by his 'Cronenberg meets Manga'
madness, and was considered the 'Jimi Hendrix of film'.
Hollywood were interested in signing him up to direct
Flying Tetsuo, a project which eventually came to nothing,
and Tsukamoto stayed away from filmmaking for three years
before he returned with his masterpiece, Tokyo Fist.
Moving away from the futuristic fantasies of his earlier work,
Tokyo Fist centres on insurance salesman, Tsuda
(Tsukamoto himself), who bumps into an old school friend,
Kojima (Tsukamoto's brother, Koji), who is now a pro boxer.
Kojima visits Tsuda's apartment while he's out and tries it on
with his fiance, Hizuru (Kahori Fuji), who knocks him back.
When Tsuda finds out, he takes a walk round to Kojima's
place for a fight but is punched through the door by the
boxer. This violence seems to impress Hizuru and she ends
up moving in with the brute, much to the annoyance of
Tsuda who takes up boxing lessons with a plan of revenge.
Meanwhile Hizuru has begun experimenting with body
piercing and tattoos, and seems to alleviate her discontent
by pricking herself with needles and awakening her own
masochistic desires. This deranged love triangle spirals
seriously out of control, with Tsuda and Kojima joining in this
brutal game of sadomasochism by re-arranging each other’s
faces before the film reaches its gruelling finale.
Tsukamoto extends his virtuoso style with a raw, hand-held
edginess; we see fists breaking through the tissue of human
faces with the camera mounted inside the character's
heads. The colour palette is stark and intense, contrasting
cold blues and black and white, with hellish reds and bold
primary colours. Every scene in Tokyo Fist is shot from
unusual angles and not once does it play by the rules of the
conventional technicalities of cinema. The result is as
astonishing as anything seen in the Tetsuo movies.
On the casting front, Tsukamoto does a fine job in the lead
role as Tsuda, a mild-mannered salaryman driven to
extremes by a raging jealousy and desire for revenge. His
brother Koji is equally impressive as the self-assured Kojima,
and Fuji is more impressive still as the self-mutilating Hizuru
whose flesh serves as a canvas of scarification which maps
the psychological disintegration of this doomed trio. Often
surreal and sublime, Tsukamoto also presents us with the
most brutal and emotionally exhausting boxing match in
cinema history; a gruelling marathon of anger and pain that
sees the characters pummel each other with no regard for
their own increasingly unrecognisable faces. And this
culminates in the final shots of the film in which the victor
turns around to salute the audience, but the spectators
react in repulsion and disgust as the champion's face is a
battered and bruised mess with swollen cheeks and a
broken jaw bone dripping with blood. Unmissable.
TOKYO GORE POLICE (2008)
Dir: Yoshihiro Nishimura /Japan
If you're one of those who despises CGI gore and bloodshed
then stay well clear of this one as it gleefully unleashes the
digital red stuff at 24 galons per second.
In the near future, the soaring rise of violent crime has
resulted in the privatization of the capital's police force. The
corporate-owned law enforcement groups are at liberty to
unleash brutal (and often fatal) punishments on the city's
criminal elements. The biggest offenders are a gang of
mutant rebels called Engineers whose chaotic
temperaments and near immortality hold the citizens of
Tokyo in a grip of fear. It's up to Ruka (Audition's Eihi Shiina)
and her deadly law enforcement squad, The Tokyo Gore
Police, to hunt down and kill the marauding pests, but the
'key' to killing these creatures often hides within, and it's
not always an easy task... She's also on the search for the
person who killed her cop father, and eventually encounters
the crazed scientist who is responsible for the creation of
the Engineers.
Unsurprisingly, this shot on video splatter movie was
directed by a special effects artist, Yoshihiro Nishimura, who
had previously unleashed his bag of tricks in Sion Sono's
Suicide Club. It's very rare for an FX guy to take to the helm
and produce a film that is anywhere near satisfying (Tom
Savini's remake of Night of The Living Dead is one such rare
exception), but Nishimura handles the project well,
delivering a solid slice of sordid comic book craziness,
awash with an ocean of arterial spray, gruesome
dismemberments, and cyberpunk posturing. It's a film that
stands head and shoulders above other films directed by FX
artists, such as Ryan Nicholson's Torched, and there are just
as many glorious practical effects as well as the CGI stuff.
What is surprising is that the film was passed uncut by the
BBFC. The UK DVD (2 disc set from 4Digital) is the
one to go for as it is presented in a very nice transfer and is
accompanied by a shed load of bonus features missing on
other releases. Lookout for the Verhoeven-esque mock TV
commercials ("Harakiri is suicide!" "New wrist-cutter design!
To die for, yay!"). Also lookout for the mutant designs of
some of the Engineers who look like reject Cenobites from
the Hellraiser sequels. The film also boasts what is perhaps
the bloodiest blowjob gag in movie history. Ah, the world
would sure be a duller place without the extremes of
Japsploitation. Enjoy!
TORTURA (2008)
Dir: Marcel Waltz and Michael Effenberger /Germany
A bunch of party girls find themselves stranded in town, but
that turns out to be the least of their troubles as as a gang
of sadistic cannibals hunt them down, one by one, to eat
them alive... And that's about as close to a plot this movie
gets. The first 25 minutes are boring as hell with godawful
hip hop crap on the soundtrack, but as soon as cannibals
make an appearance things get pretty tasty. We first make
their acquaintance when they strap some poor dude onto a
table and cut off his fingers, barbeque them, bite off his
nipples, and put straws in his wounds so they can drink his
blood. Oh, they also cut his leg off with an industrial sized
handsaw, and one of the lucky girls is given the bloody limb
as a treat. A slow start then, but once it gets going it's
pretty much unrelenting to the end. The special effects are
very good, the performances decent, and it's nice to see
cannibalism added to the 'torture porn' mix. Tongues are
ripped out, and eaten. Intestines are ripped out, and eaten.
Spleens are ripped out and... you get the idea. The trussed-
up victims are eventually forced to have a nibble and even
kill each other, much to the amusement of the cannibal
clan.
TUMBLING DOLL OF FLESH (1998)
(aka Psycho: The Snuff Reels; Orig title - Niku Daruma) Dir:
Tamakichi Anaru /Japan
Plain old crappy AV amateur time... A young woman agrees
to do some porn sessions. In the first session she has one on
one sex with a guy. The sex is explicit and unsimulated, but
suffers from pixelation blurs of Japanese censorship (even
pubic hair is forbidden to Japanese viewers). The scene goes
well and afterwards they have dinner. In the second session
things get a little rougher; she is tied up, and a couple of
guys use dildos and vibrators on her, and someone else
pours candle wax onto her arse and lower back (pretty
sensitive areas, no?). Again, none of this is simulated. When
it's all over, she makes her excuses to leave, but while she's
putting on her shoes, one of the guys creeps up behind her
and bops her on the head with a baseball bat, knocking her
out. She wakes up tied to a bed, and here we have the third
session (or 'snuff' session); she is tortured and killed on
camera. End of story... None of the 'special effects' are even
remotely convincing, this makes the Guinea Pig movies look
like glossy Hollywood productions. Not good.
TURKISH DELIGHT (1973)
Dir: Paul Verhoeven /Netherlands

The censor's scissors are always at hand when Paul

Verhoeven makes a new film, and his erotic drama Turkish
Delight was snipped of around six minutes of offending
footage by the British censors on its initial release. The
problematic areas were in the many sexual encounters of
Erik (Rutger Hauer), a young sculptor whose bed-hopping
antics allowed him briefly to forget about his insecurities
and broken heart due to the loss of his love, Olga (Monique
van de Ven). Erik reminisces on their fractured relationship
which ended in tragedy; Olga
is involved in a road accident and Erik gently nurses her
back to health in his flat. The couple eventually get married,
but their happiness comes to an end when her father
(Wimm van dern Brink) dies, taking his calm influence to the
grave. Much heartache and arguments ensue, and the
couple split. Olga emigrates to America and re-marries.
They eventually do get back together, but Olga collapses
and is diagnosed with a brain tumour. Erik decides to stay
with her to the end.
This collaboration between Paul Verhoeven and screenwriter
Gerard Soetman was a splendid meeting of minds;
Verhoeven supplied the risque and plentiful sex scenes, and
Soetman provided the bitingly satirical script targeted at the
Dutch establishment. Indeed, Verhoeven would carry the
mantle further in his future work, repeating the cheeky
swipes at the rampant commercialism and the status quo in
the 'news flash' clips and mock-ad propaganda in Hollywood
hits like Robocop and Starship Troopers. Ultimately though,
Turkish Delight is a touching portrayal of a loving
relationship, despite all the casual sex and scatalogical
madness on display.
If censorship wasn't enough of an obstacle for this modest
gem to contend with, Turkish Delight opened in theatres in
the same month as a trio of classics; Serpico, Papillion, and
Westworld. Over time, the film has enticed a fair deal of
interest and has been influential over the years; echoes of
the doomed lovers can be felt in such arthouse triumphs as
Lars Von Trier's Breaking The Waves. Steven Spielberg is
said to have been so impressed with Verhoeven's previous
film, Soldier of Orange, that he even recommended him to
George Lucas as a potential director of Empire Strikes Back.
He quickly retracted that enthusiasm though once he
clapped eyes on Turkish Delight, a film much more in
keeping with the Dutchman's sleazily evocative aesthetics.
One can only imagine how different the Star Wars saga
would have been had Verhoeven taken to the helm...
TWO THOUSAND MANIACS! (1964)
Dir: Herschell Gordon Lewis /USA
While driving out in the country, three couples end up in a
strange town called Pleasant Valley where the whole
community gives them a warm welcome and free lodgings.
When the visitors begin to disappear, however, the
remaining couple suspect that all is not well and begin
plotting their escape. Turns out that the whole town is
populated by Confederate ghosts of those slaughtered
during the American Civil War, and who re-appear every one
hundred years to exact revenge on the Yankee tourists.
Though technically more proficient than the earlier Blood
Feast, Two Thousand Maniacs! holds back on the gore in
comparison with Lewis' earlier outing, but there are still
some wonderful murder set pieces here - The thumb-slicing
and subsequent dismemberment with an axe isn't just
graphic, the camera seems to linger on the scene for much
longer than any other filmmaker would deem necessary.
More sadism ensues with some poor guy being drawn and
quartered between two horses pulling in opposite directions,
another man is forced into a spiked barrel and rolled down a
hill, and a woman is crushed to death by a huge boulder
during a strange game of dare; and all of these atrocities
are committed in front of the local yokels who clap and
cheer the proceedings like enthusiastic parents at a school
sports day gathering. With this film, HG Lewis chooses to
build up to the murder scenes to give them more impact
rather than bombard the audience with blood and guts, and
the film is all the better for it. This time the horror is drawn-
out and more disturbing, resulting in a vast improvement
over Blood Feast.
THE UGLY (1996)
Dir: Scott Reynolds /New Zealand

A seriously creepy and unsettling mix of psychological

horror and supernatural shocks, whose gradual ascent into
the heights of the horror pantheon was almost solely down
to word-of-mouth alone.
Famous psychiatrist Dr. Karen Schumaker (Rebecca Hobbs)
is currently riding on the waves of publicity after securing
the release of a convicted serial killer. She is invited to a
maximum-security institution by another killer, the
notorious Simon Cartwright (Paolo Rotondo), and she
accepts, much to the annoyance of the head of the
institution. Dr. Schumaker arrives and converses with
Cartwright in an attempt to get to the roots of his sickness,
but eventually discovers that he is driven to kill by the
ghosts of his past victims.
With an array of flashbacks, disturbing jump-cuts, crash-
zooms, and strange fantasy sequences, we gradually come
to understand what makes Cartwright tick. The cruel abuse
of his mother, the school bullies, and his social inadequacies
as a young adult, bring on a brief but vivid picture of the
killer's past. After killing his mother, Simon is tormented by
her ghostly form, and he goes on to add more victims, who
in turn become ghostly apparitions and torment him more
and more. Simon is also much more intelligent and
manipulative than Dr. Schumaker gives him credit for, and
she gradually sinks deeper into the madness and is left
questioning her own sanity.
It's difficult to talk about this film's influences because
although there are some obvious reference points, The Ugly
takes them into whole new territory. The sharp suited Dr.
Schumaker questioning an incarcerated serial killer is
reminiscent of Silence of The Lambs, and Simon's abusive
past at the hands of his unstable mother, resulting in
psychopathic traits relates to Hitchcock's Psycho. However,
The Ugly is unlike either of those films and takes the screen
serial killer into a lore of its own.
Writer/director Scott Reynolds appeared on the scene just as
a couple of his fellow countrymen, Peter Jackson and Lee
Tamahori, were being noticed in Hollywood. Both Jackson
and Tamahori produced outrageous and grim pictures in
New Zealand but immediately tempered their work once
they hit Tinseltown; Jackson with his Lord of The Rings, and
Tamahauri with his James Bond caper, Die Another Day. But
judging by Reynolds' startling early short films, and his
follow-up to The Ugly, Heaven, there's still hope yet that this
remarkable talent will continue to tread the dark side. Only
time will tell.
One of the most impressive aspects of The Ugly is the way
Reynolds creates a psychological template; the film's visuals
relate to the cracked state of the killers mind. Schumaker's
bold red suit reflects the increasing rage Simon feels
towards her, and the ice-cold blue of his cell reflects his
isolation and inhumanity. And of course there are the ghosts
themselves. The apparitions that appear throughout the film
are genuinely creepy. Simon's dead mother appears over his
shoulder in his cell with the camera zooming in on her
twisted blue smile with blood dripping from her mouth. In
lesser hands, that scene could have been comical, but
Reynolds renders it perfectly to spine-chilling effect.
Subsequent apparitions are no less effective, with these
ghouls depicted in the same cold blue style which reflects
Simon's mind. Indeed, throughout the film we're left
wondering whether the ghosts are just a part of Simon's
insanity, or whether they are a real and malevolent force
independent of his psyche. And that ambiguity is held to the
very end of the film.
Even with the extended scenes of bloody violence, the BBFC
left The Ugly intact. The Metrodome DVD is therefore taken
from the same transfer that first played at festivals around
the world, gaining the respect of hardcore horror fanatics,
and causing many a sleepless night. It's a masterpiece, and
one of the scariest films of the 90s. I dare you to watch it
alone at night.
THE UNDERGROUND BANKER (1993)
(Orig title: Xiang Gang qi an: Zhi xi xue gui li wang)
Dir: Bosco Lam /Hong Kong

CAT III movies, I love 'em! Anthony Wong plays long

distance truck driver, Tong, who has just moved his family
into a small apartment to ease their financial strain. Early in
the film he is accosted by petty crims who claim to own the
road where he parks, and they demand $200 for him to
leave his truck there. Nicknamed 'marshmallow' because of
his soft and jovial nature, Tong reluctantly hands over the
cash. Later, while eating lunch at an outside cafe, a
woman's body falls from a high-rise window and lands on his
table. His workmate tells him that the woman probably
owed money to the local triad boss, the 'underground
banker'.
Tong's wife Chun (Ching Mai) bumps into an old sweetheart,
Canner, who is now working for the triads. She takes him
back to their apartment to meet Tong and their young son,
Tak. Canner informs the family that they're living next door
to the notorious serial killer Doctor Lam! The nervous family
get to meet Lam (who was originally played by Simon Yam
in Dr. Lamb, but here he's played in a less evil but more
cryptic mode by Sex And Zen's Lawrence Ng), and he
assures them that he is not a danger anymore. He then
expertly kills a chicken with a cleaver for tea, and this does
little to settle the nerves of Tong and Chun. Little boy Tak
doesn't seem to mind though, and he spends a lot of time
round at Lam's flat playing video games.
Tong feels insecure about his inabilities to satisfy his
gorgeous wife and so he uses self-help audio cassettes to
improve his technique and stamina, and this leads to a
hilarious practical joke when his workmate gets hold of the
tape. Meanwhile, Canner ropes Chun into investing on the
stock market with the hope of easing the family's financial
woes. And before long she inevitably finds herself losing the
family savings. Canner tells her not to worry because his
brother is an usurer and will lend her the money she needs.
With Tong not knowing about her gambling away all the
money, she agrees to see Canner's brother for help.
Canner's brother turns out to be Chao (Ho Ka-Kui, the
psycho nutcase from Brother of Darkness), the underground
banker, and he agrees to lend her HK$40,000 to be paid
back in weekly installments. A week later she gives Canner
10,000 promising to pay the other 30,000 very soon. But
Canner tells her that the debt has increased and that she
now owes 48,000. She protests but realises she's been
caught in some shady scam. Canner tries to reassure her
that everything will be okay, and he gets very close and
tries to kiss her. She backs off disgusted, and then Canner
tells her that he has spiked her drink with an aphrodisiac. He
then rapes her while she's in a delirious state. The rape
scene is played for maximum titillation with that 80s chic
day-glo lighting and soft drum-machine 80s rock on the
soundtrack, and displaying Ching Mai's beautiful naked body
in various positions; she tells him to stop but the drug has
the opposite effect on her orgasmic moans and sensual
body language. He then beats her.
Pretty soon Chun begins selling her body to raise money,
and this sees her being tied up and spanked and doggy-
fucked by a bunch of strangers with the William Tell
Ouverture galloping along on the soundtrack, all making
light of her desperate situation. Tong's prankster workmate
even gets in on the action and sleeps with her, and this
makes things awkward in a later scene when Tong brings
him home for tea. His friend later confesses that he has
slept with Chun but swears blind that he didn't know that
she was his wife. Tong beats him up and leaves.
By now the ruthless triads have stepped up their campaign
of intimidation, and begin threatening Chun's family. The
outside of the apartment is vandalised with graffiti and the
security gate at the front entrance has been chained up and
padlocked. The fire brigade have to cut the chains to free
the family. Chun enters Chao's office and begs for more time
to raise money, and pleads for him to leave her family out of
it. She is then drugged and gang-raped, but this time the
incident is recorded on video and Chao informs her that
videotapes will be handed out to all and sundry if she
doesn't start making payments.
Chun's sister, Chi Kwan, is abducted, and Chao slaps and
intends on raping her but she jumps out of the speeding
van.
She sustains injuries but she still manages to make it to
Chun's flat and attacks her for getting her involved in the
debt. Tong has to break them apart, and it's only now that
he learns the full extent of the trouble that his wife is in.
Chun tells him about losing their savings, and Chao, and the
prostitution, and the intimidation. Tong feels he has no
choice but to sell his truck. He gets 90,000 for it, and a
colleague gives him a further 20,000 to help out.
He visits Chao's office with the 110,000 and offers to settle
the debt in full there and then, but Chao instead has him
crawling around on the floor in an act of humiliation to
amuse his cronies. The triads then play the rape video and
Tong is informed that if he wants to stop it from being seen
by anyone else he should pay an extra 100,000. This
devastating revelation sees Tong leaving in a huff and
refusing to pay a penny. He is then robbed of his money
outside by Canner's men on a busy city street and not a
single person steps in to stop the attack.
That night while Chun and her young son are sleeping,
Chao's men chain up their security gate and pour petrol
through the mailbox. They then set fire to the place. Tong
returns home to find their flat ablaze, with Chun and Tak
screaming for their lives. He rattles at the security gate but
it's no good, there's nothing he can do. The
fire spreads, and Chun pushes her boy under the bed in a
futile attempt at safety. She gets caught in an explosion and
Tong can only watch in agony as his wife writhes around in
flames and drops to the floor in a burning heap. It's a truly
nightmarish scene rarely presented so graphically on film.
Dr. Lam shows up with a pair of bolt cutters and opens the
gate. Chun is dead but little Tak is rushed to hospital.
Outside, Canner appears and he teases Tong about the
death of his wife, to which a normally peaceful Buddhist
monk steps up and beats the crap out of Canner to much
applause from the gathering neighbours of the block. In a
heartbreaking scene, Tong visits the hospital to see his little
boy - Tak is badly burned; his head is a bald mess of melted
flesh and his face unrecognisable. Lam presents Tak with a
gift, a Nintendo Gameboy, but the kid can't play it because
his hands now resemble charred stumps of melted flesh. Chi
Kwan is furious and swears revenge on the gang. Lam tries
to console
Tong and offers to help him get some payback on the Triads.
Tong the soft 'marshmallow' has doubts and is unsure of
himself, but then a tearful Tak encourages his dad to "beat
those bastards", and Tong's eyes burn with sorrow and
vengeance...
What follows is a grim and glorious revenge attack on Chao
and his cronies. It's an extremely violent finale which sees
Tong pulling out a meat cleaver and shouting "I'll chop you
and make BBQ pork buns" (an obvious reference to the
bunman in The Untold Story), and Doctor Lam finds his
bloodlust renewed bigtime. We get slicing and dicing, meat
cleaver fights, dicks blown off, piano wire used as a garrote,
and a nasty castration. Director Bosco Lam (who made A
Chinese Torture Chamber Story the following year) teams up
with Hong Kong's 'King of sleaze', producer Wong Jing, and
together they have created an almost perfectly crafted
piece of audience manipulation; by the hour mark you'll be
screaming for the bad guy's guts as insult, rape, and death
is added to the character's injuries. Anthony Wong is in
fine form in a rare role as the good guy, and Ho Ka-Kui as
Chao is also brilliant in his typecast role; he's such a mean
and ruthless cunt, always ensuring that Chun's debt can
never be settled. And Lawrence Ng as Doctor Lam adds an
interesting ambiguity in the middle-ground between good
and evil.
The film ends with a disturbing coda that shows Tong to
have been radically changed by the ordeal, and not for the
better; as the end credits roll he is seen setting himself up
as the new underground banker, lending money to someone
and laying down his rules for repayment. A classic.
THE UNTOLD STORY (1993)
(aka Bunman; Orig title: Bat sin fan dim ji yan yuk cha siu
bau)
Dir: Herman Yau /Hong Kong

The first CAT III title to become an international hit, and the
one that propelled actor Anthony Wong to cult movie
superstardom, The Untold Story was directed by former
cinematographer, Herman Yau, who used his years of
experience in the film industry to fashion one of the most
visually dazzling and explicitly graphic crime films in the
history of Hong Kong cinema.
Based on a true story that happened in 1978 in which a
restaurant cook, Wong Chi-hang, was accused of murdering
his boss and his entire family with a meat cleaver, and then
serving their body parts to unknowing customers in the
restaurant, the film opens with Chi-hang (Anthony Wong)
beating a man to death in an apartment and then burning
the corpse. Eight years later, body parts are washed up onto
the shores of Macau. The police, led by Danny Lee
(of Doctor Lamb and Love To Kill, and who also served as
producer on this film) is the police captain who always has a
sexy hooker on his arm. There is lots of silly humour from
the investigating officers, mostly at the expense of the only
female cop who is ridiculed for having small breasts and
looking like a tomboy.
Wong has drastically altered his appearance since the
murder almost a decade previously, and is now running his
own restaurant in Macau. He specializes in selling BBQ pork
buns which go down well with the locals and with the
investigating officers. But, of course, the buns are not filled
with pork but with human remains. After a couple of brutal
murders of people who have pissed him off in some way,
Wong is eventually arrested. In custody, the police have
very little evidence to pin on him so they resort to a long
and sustained period of interrogation as a way of getting
him to confess to the crimes. He is brutally beaten by both
the cops and his fellow prisoners in the holding cell. He
attempts a grisly suicide but is saved at the last moment.
He is also kept awake for days on end and injected with
water which causes painful boils to appear on his skin.
Unable to handle the pressure for much longer, Wong
breaks down under the mistreatment and agrees to reveal
all of the gruesome details of his numerous killings...
If the film hasn't already pushed the boundaries in terms of
graphic violence and bloodshed, Wong's flashbacks to the
murders of his boss and his family certainly do the trick.
There is also a very nasty rape scene and a desperate
suicide attempt in a prison cell involving a rusty old slop
bucket. The rape scene in particular has been the subject of
much controversy over the years; Wong has openly
admitted that he dislikes the film for this reason, and
director Yau has made his own excuses for depicting the
scene in a very crude and voyeuristic way, insisting that he
wanted to capture the scene purely from the killer's
deranged perspective. But basically, the rape scene is there
for the sole purpose of exploitation; sure, Yau may not have
intended to arouse the viewer’s sexually with this scene, but
there's no doubt that he lingers on the victim in her peril
and even revels in displaying her naked body, complete with
bush shots (which are a rarity even in CAT III titles) before
killing her and mutilating her corpse.
The scene featuring the killing of the family is also a long
and drawn-out one, and makes for some very difficult
viewing. In excruciating detail we watch as they are tied up
and graphically butchered, one by one; first the son has his
throat cut, then the mother is killed, the father, and then the
rest of the petrified children who are cowering near the
dining table. One of the little girls is beheaded with the
meat cleaver in graphic detail. All seven family members
are massacred in this extended and harrowing sequence.
Interestingly, Wong doesn't set about the killings in an out-
of-control psychotic rage, but in a determined and
methodical way which makes the scene all the more
disturbing in his calm and pre-determined nastiness.
Unforgettable.
VIDEODROME (1982)
Dir: David Cronenberg /USA

"I've got something I want to play for you". One of the most
puzzling and extreme movies ever released by a major
Hollywood studio, Videodrome sees director David
Cronenberg continuing on his body horror themes and social
satire that he had developed throughout the 70s, but this
time he also adds a welcome dose of surreal, hallucinatory
weirdness to the mix.
The plot of Videodrome centres on obscure cable channel
entrepreneur, Max Renn (James Woods), who inadvertently
stumbles upon a strange broadcast whilst checking a pirate
satellite. The show, known as Videodrome, depicts women
being tortured on camera by masked men, and Renn
becomes obsessed with finding out the truth behind the
mysterious channel - Is it real or fake? Who's behind it? And
where does the signal come from? To find the answer to
those questions leads him to a roster of dangerous
characters, including kinky lover Nicki Brand (Debbie Harry),
media commentator Brian O'Blivion (Jack Creley), his
daughter Bianca (Sonja Smits), and eyewear tycoon Barry
Convex (Lewis Carlson).
His fascination with the videodrome signal isn't necessarily
based on any moral crusade to put an end to the abuses on
screen, it's selfishness and greed that pushes him on with
the lure of making a profit, until he discovers that watching
Videodrome causes him to suffer bizarre and often violent
hallucinations and bodily mutations. Turns out, Videodrome
is a corporate enterprise, a secret TV broadcast that causes
its viewers to develop brain tumors that can be used to
control perception itself, all hidden behind images of
extreme pornography. The idea is to create a society that is
completely dependent on the signal, a nation of TV addicts
who are enslaved to whatever agendas the corporate
powers see fit. Thus, Max Renn eventually becomes an
assassin and is used as a pawn by warring factions to do
their dirty work, before the violent and baffling finale.
Released in the UK in 1983, Videodrome coincided with the
emergence of home video and the fast transformations of
television itself at the time. Channel 4 appeared in 1982,
and we had breakfast TV for the first time ever. The home
video explosion was well under way with VCR's being sold in
this country at twice the rate of America, but this private
home viewing also had a negative effect on those who
wanted to control what we saw on those machines. The
video nasties fiasco was just around the corner, with uncut
and unregulated videotapes widely available in the nation's
stores, such as Cannibal Holocaust, The Driller Killer, and I
Spit On Your Grave, with fears that those tapes, with their
grim content and salacious sleeves, would have a negative
effect on the nation's youth. Suddenly, your television
wasn't safe anymore, and the powers that be decided that
those videos needed to be legislated
against. That square box that sits in the corner of your living
room was causing anxiety and was increasingly being
treated as some sinister thing. So it was suitably ironic how
Cronenberg's film - which ultimately rejects the idea of
censorship - was subjected to censorship itself at the time,
with fearful distributers cutting out whole chunks of the film
to avoid the video nasties scandal.
The themes explored in Videodrome have become more
relevant with the ensuing decades since the film was made,
especially with the rise of the internet and the way it is
slowly taking over our lives and creating a very public
consciousness. The media conglomerates manipulating and
controlling the populace with their not-so-subtle propaganda
(sometimes amounting to an altering of consciousness itself
in the process).
Back in the early 80s Videodrome was often dismissed as an
eccentric take on the new video age, but if you consider his
later film, eXistenZ, which was released in the late 90s (and
also touched upon some similar themes as Videodrome),
critics were accusing Cronenberg of losing his vision and
running out of steam, it's hard not to conclude that it's the
technology and mindset of our modern age that is slowly
catching up with Cronenberg's vision, making his ideas
seem less outlandish nowadays, or as Jean Baudrillard
suggested - we are entering an age of "the implosion of
science fiction", whereby the expanse of the human
imagination will one day be eclipsed by the technological
realities of our darkest dreams. Pretty scary nonetheless.
Indeed, Cronenberg's film is prophetic in many ways; notice
how the character Brian O'Blivion seems to represent the
modern-day web-savvy technocrat; he is a 'media expert'
who only exists as a huge library of video cassettes through
which he communicates with the world. With the internet,
we are all media experts nowadays, we're all promoting
ourselves online in one way or another, whether it be
socially through Facebook, or globally on Youtube, our lives
are
more documented and exposed than ever. Even O'Blivion's
name relates to the latter-day trend of online 'usernames',
the pun-ladened alias' of anonymous web forum members.
Another example would be the growing sophistication of TV
commercials over the decades since the film was made; the
colours, the jingles, the psychological manipulation of the
whole thing. Brand names with their logos symbolising 'the
things you want in life', 'the things you NEED in life', the
media and advertisers have learned how to seduce that part
of our brains that compel us to go out and buy the latest
'thing', or to vote for this or that political party. The 'brand
name' seduces the viewer, it plays up to their sense of
being, their sense of wanting to belong, to fit in with a
society that deems the brand name to be 'cool' and
'normal', and as such, it also plays up to our anxieties of
existing in the world without those things, without the
'coolness', without that social acceptability. Actually, your TV
has indeed become sinister, it has been made dangerous
and unhealthy by the very people who outlawed the 'video
nasties', and who regulate what we can and cannot watch
'for our own good'. And Videodrome picks up on both the
seductive and repulsive aspects of this modern-day
capitalist control. Even the so-called 'balanced' and
unbiased reporting of the BBC News is ultimately a crock of
shit; just like any other corporation they have their own
agendas to push forward; the only difference is they rely
exclusively on public money to do so. Notice the health
warnings that are everywhere; everything is suspected of
causing cancer nowadays - the very products and gadgets
and 'telly addict' lifestyles of late capitalism radiated from
our TV screens - the fast food, the mobile phones, the
comforts and inertia. It's suitably ironic how Max Renn
develops a brain tumor after being exposed to the evil
corporate signal of Videodrome.
This exploration of the seduction and repulsion of the TV
lifestyle is symbolised perfectly in the scene where Max
is lured to his throbbing television screen by Nicki Brand.
Sex has always been a big selling point in advertising, a way
of gaining an audience's attention. The sex appeal aspect of
television plays on the viewer's desire to bypass the
threshold of possibility; the screen lurches out at you with
its seductive images, it invites you along ("C'mon Max,
come to me"). To be absorbed by the TV screen and
transported into the world of perfection and sex and
splendor has become one of the true motivators of mankind.
But of course, Nicki isn't really there luring Max along, it's
just an image, a hallucination. Regardless of Renn's altered
state of mind brought on by his brain tumor, the image on
his screen isn't real; the image is actually made up of
thousands of electronic dots, or 'cells' through the
manipulation of quantum mechanics and digital processing
which, in their entirety, results in an approximation of an
image, BUT NOT THEE IMAGE (and we the viewers who are
watching Videodrome are under the very same illusion
because we're also just watching events that are being
played out on a screen).
And yet, Max's brain finds no obstacle here to stop him from
being sexually aroused. A strange but everyday perversion
then becomes apparent; basically that Max is being turned
on and sexually stimulated by a machine that sits in the
corner of his living room. And if you think that's an odd
notion, just consider exactly what it is you are doing the
next time you place a porn movie into your DVD player -
After a while, out pops your hardon, and you can fast
forward or rewind to the sexiest footage with which you can
synchronise your ejaculation; there's no actual 'love-object'
in your presence, no actual 'love-object' on your TV screen
either, just an approximation of such built up by the
electronic cells that dot your screen. This kind of
postmodern wank amounts to nothing more than a strange
kind of illusion or hallucination; namely, psychic sex with the
electronic box that sits in the corner of your living room -
your TV set.
Interestingly, you can forget that you're in fact watching a
digital image, and the TV screen then presents to you the
desired 'love-object' or porn star, and assume that somehow
the picture is genuine; or more accurately, you will not
assume anything - to you the picture is real. And it's
fascinating how we allow ourselves to be so easily duped
like that by machines. Nay, we even actively pursue this
deception because the sexual fantasy (in relation to the
porn film) is more effective if we try to submerge ourselves
into the screen as much as reality and our minds will allow.
And it's interesting how this notion brings up a whole locust-
storm of fallacy in our brains when it comes to our desires
and lusts. And it teaches us another lesson about 'reality'
itself in accordance with post-modern thought: that
'rationality', 'logicality', and everything we consider sacred
and FACT as a species is all shaped and compromised by our
desires - And more crucially in relation to Videodrome; the
desires of others.
But I digress.
With Videodrome, Cronenberg is clearly taking his subject-
matter much more seriously than in his previous work. He
even dishes out some just deserts on his negative
characters, EC Comics-style.Of all the supposed 'bad' guys
in Cronenberg's films up to Videodrome, none of them were
truly evil. Dr. Emil Hobbes of Shivers was definitely a
madman, but he genuinely believed his experiments with
parasites would help mankind; Dr. Hal Raglan of The Brood
was shrewd and arrogant, but he was also driven to make
up for his mistakes. And Scanners' Darryl Revok was
motivated by a justified vengeance. Barry Convex, on the
other hand, the implaccable corporate manipulator of the
Videodrome signal seems to be Cronenberg's first truly
negative character with not a shred of human decency. The
director relishes the opportunity to give him an awful and
gory death. But was Convex real or just another
hallucination emanating from Max's damaged mind?
This confusion and ambiguity concerning the levels of reality
explored in Videodrome can also be found in the work of one
of Cronenberg's major influences; writer William Burroughs.
In his books and other experiments using film, tape
recorders, and 'cut-up' texts, Burroughs (along with friend
and cohort Brion Gysin) demonstrated the idea of reality
being a construct (or 'Reality Film') which can be
manipulated in the minds of others for good or bad. This
theoretical terrorism encouraged readers to conduct their
own experiments with drugs and tape recorders as a way of
slashing and discombobulating reality itself ("Cut the words
and see how they fall"). Thus Videodrome is more
Burroughsian than his own future adaptation of Naked Lunch
a decade later.
Rick Baker provides the outstanding special effects work
with throbbing TV screens, a stomach opening into a gaping
vaginal cavity, and the extended death sequence of Barry
Convex which almost out-does the exploding head scene in
Scanners. DP Mark Irwin lends his usual cold and sardonic
eye to the proceedings, and Cronenberg's regular composer,
Howard Shore, contributes the dark and eerie synth organ
score. The film was cut by the MPAA for its theatrical
release but has been left fully intact on all DVD editions.
Another masterpiece from Cronenberg then. Essential
viewing.
VISIONS OF SUFFERING (2006)
Dir: Andrey Iskanov /Russia

In this insanely experimental horror film from Russia, a man

is attacked and tormented by dark suited ghouls who
emanate from his dreams. But that's only half the story as
much of the film also centres on an S&M type of nightclub
with scantily clad women cavorting and taking drugs...
Boasting wildly inventive camera work, bizarre fetishistic
fantasies, and outlandish animation effects, director Andrey
Iskanov is perhaps Russia's answer to Shinya Tsukamoto.
There's a great nightmare sequence (actually, the whole
film comes across as a drug-induced nightmare on screen)
where a man is handcuffed to the branch of a tree, and a
masked figure is approaching him, cutting through the tall
grass, gradually gaining ground, and the man is unable to
escape or defend himself. It's an effective nightmare scene
shot in muddy yellow and shows so much promise; it'll make
your toes curl. The film is littered with similarly impressive
vignettes like watching a series of avant-garde shorts
running back to back. The only downside to this style is that
much of the film is very repetitive, especially the nightclub
scenes, and there is so much strobe lighting which becomes
irritating after a while. But if you're in the mood for a
delirious night in front of your TV then you could do a lot
worse than this, as Iskanov seems to thrive on rejecting
traditional narrative storytelling and opts to embrace a
much more earthly, improvisational approach.
WELCOME TO THE DOLLHOUSE (1995)
Dir: Todd Solondz /USA
An excellent, if excruciating, depiction of the horrors of high
school life, Welcome To The Dollhouse won the Grand Jury
Prize at The Sundance Film Festival thanks to its bleak but
brilliant humour, and helped rejuvenate the filmmaking
career of writer/director Todd Solondz after his disastrous
debut. The plot centres on 11 year old Dawn Wiener
(Heather Matarazzo), an awkward and unpopular school girl
who is a constant target for bullies. Due to her lack of social
skills, she often finds herself in some desperately
embarrassing situations, and her home life isn't much
better; her brother and sister are both smarter and more
talented then she is, and she struggles to win the affections
of her parents. She develops a crush on her brother's band
mate Steve, and this ends in another emotional setback
when she attempts to get close to him. Worryingly, she later
allows herself to be coerced into sex by a rough tearaway
kid who has his own emotional insecurities to deal with.
This is a refreshing and insightful black comedy, but it's also
painful to watch; throughout the film, Dawn remains an
engaging figure, even with her nerdish look and awful taste
in dresses, you really feel for her and hope that her situation
will improve. Whether your own childhood can relate to
Dawn of not, I'm sure most of us will be reminded of some
uncomfortable memories from our own childhood as the film
unfolds. And this effectiveness is helped immensely by the
performances of the young cast; none of them put a foot
wrong. Director Solondz keeps the proceedings fiercely
unsentimental throughout and presents a flash of genius
with dialogue and individual set pieces that would later crop
up en masse in his later masterworks such as Happiness
and Storytelling.
Welcome To The Dollhouse is often wrongly thought of as
Solondz's feature debut; he'd actually made an earlier film,
Fear, Anxiety, And Depression, but the experience had been
so painful and disappointing for him that he walked away
from directing for a few years and took up a career as an
English teacher before a friend encouraged him to get back
into the helmer's seat. With the relevant funding in place,
and a script he was happy with, Solondz felt ready to make
amends for the nightmare experience of his first feature,
and began touting the screenplay around New Jersey. He felt
dismay for the parents of potential child actors who
described his script as "delightful", and felt more relieved
and trusting of parents who referred to it as "sick" and
"depressing"; the latter he took as compliments because,
after all, that was how he felt about the world he was
portraying. One of the true master-strokes was the casting
of 11 year old Heather Matarazzo, whose astonishing
performance shows a talent far beyond her youthful years,
and who won an Independent Spirit Award for Best Debut
Performance.
People often accuse Solondz of wallowing in the darker side
of life in his films, whether it be dysfunctional families, child
abuse, or loneliness. Most of his characters seem to harbour
dark secrets, and his films are often darkly funny. But he
actually uses humour to express the horrors of life because
it's the only way he can adequately cope with the torments
of the modern world and all its unlovely people.
WENDIGO (2001)
Dir: Larry Fessenden /USA

Something must be seriously wrong when big-budget dreck

like Ghost Ship and Jason X are given international theatrical
releases, but lower level productions which offer a genuine
creepiness and originality, like Wendigo and Session 9, are
shuffled off onto the direct-to-video market.
Larry Fessenden's Wendigo is a film which deals primarily
with childhood fantasy. The isolation, the sinister locals, and
brooding darkness that surrounds the country cabin has an
unhealthy effect on the youngster's mind. Miles is the only
child of Jake and Kim, New York city dwellers who head
upstate to the Catskills for a weekend vacation. Jake's busy
lifestyle means that he's not always there for his son, and
this looks to have caused Miles to become introverted (he
also doesn't seem to have developed much respect for his
father). Whilst driving through the woods they hit a deer.
The family are then immediately surrounded by angry
hunters who find their prized deer with a broken antler. The
aggressive behaviour of the locals, and their abusive
shouting and gun-waving terrifies the youngster into fantasy
overdrive. Miles doesn't understand that the hunter's
behaviour is simply brutish and uncultivated; he interprets
their aggression as an immediate danger to the lives of his
family, and doesn't
believe his father would be capable of protecting him and
his mother if the confrontation were to escalate.
Much of the film is seen from the perspective of Miles,
where both fantasy and reality combine in alarming ways
(see also Claude Miller's La classe de neige for a more
obvious example of disturbing childhood fantasies). When
the family arrives at their secluded country cabin, the
parents are angry and somewhat perplexed at that little
episode, but they are not afraid, they do not feel threatened
or in danger in any way; it's from the paranoid perspective
of their son that the bumps in the night have a sinister
edge. The subsequent fantasies are an attempt to arrange,
decipher, and take control of the situation - all this stemmed
from the mind of a young and feeble child who wants to
reassure himself that there exists some kind of mythical
force that can protect us from the terrifying nihilism of cold-
blooded murder. His father, Jake, is not really hospitalised;
it's the pure fantasy of Miles testing and exploring his
anxieties. There's no vengeful monster either, that too is
just a wishful blend of his hopes and fears combining to
produce a fantasmatic protector - Strong, invincible, and
awe-inspiring - The ideal father-figure perhaps?
WET WILDERNESS (1975)
Dir: Lee Cooper /USA

This sick little porn film pays homage to the sadism and
murder scenes in Wes Craven's Last House On The Left, but
those expecting a climatic rampage of revenge will be
disappointed as this film wraps up on an unredeeming note.
A pair of hippy throwbacks take a wander through the
woods and are accosted by a dangerous sex maniac. Armed
with a machete and wearing a bright yellow and black ski
mask, the madman forces the peace-loving stragglers to
perform sexual acts on him and each other whilst waving his
blade around like he's conducting some kind of depraved
orchestra. One of the girls escapes but the other is not so
lucky and she meets the sharp end of the maniac's weapon.
The escapee returns to the scene with the aid of more
cardboard characters who serve as nothing more but slabs
of meat to be treated in a similar way. It's no spoiler if I tell
you that all does not end pleasantly for the hippies. More
nastiness, murder, and forced-incest ensues...
Made for spare change in the woods in a single afternoon,
Wet Wilderness is a 'roughie' that lacks the zesty zeal of
Widow Blue and the darkly comic tirades of Harry Reems in
Forced Entry, but makes up for it in its casual and gleeful
degeneracy. Daymon Gerard does an adequate job of
playing the maniac, even though his face is hidden
throughout the entire running time. The yellow and black ski
mask seems almost illuminated among the dull and hazy
foliage, and brings on a slight phobia in some viewers; but
make no mistake, this backwoods killer is far more
dangerous than any wasp or hornet, and he has one hell of
a nasty sting in his 'tail'. The film's biggest let down is the
'gore' which amounts to some light plywood in the shape of
a 'chete or axe glued to the victim's head or torso with a
dollop of ketchup. But I suppose the FX are no worse than in
Last House On The Left.
Another disappointment is that Wet Wilderness doesn't
come close to matching the gruelling sadism of Craven's
classic; the killer is a nasty piece of work all right, but he
doesn't share quite the same array of sick ideas as Krug and
Weasel and co. Maybe it's because in Cooper's film we're
dealing with a lone psychopath and he doesn't have any evil
buddies to help bounce ideas around?
Wet Wilderness appeared on a double-bill with Gil Kenston's
Come Deadly (they were also paired up together on the
Afterhours DVD), and played to some moderate success
before shipping up on VHS by VCA. Now, the original
soundtrack was loaded with uncleared music taken from the
classic themes of Jaws and Psycho, and in order to get the
film back into the public eye without facing legal action, the
folks at Afterhours had to re-dub the entire audio track. And
although this tampering isn't really much of an artistic
violation, those who remember the original version of the
film should bare that in mind (that version is still lurking
around if you know where to look). But in terms of visual
quality, the Afterhours DVD - though bedecked with speckles
and print damage here and there - looks pretty good
considering the film's origins.
WHAT IS IT? (2005)
Dir: Crispin Hellion Glover /USA

If you think Crispin Glover is a bit weird and a bit wrong in

the head then that opinion will probably be exacerbated
tenfold when you see what kind of films he produces when
he's behind the camera. What Is It? is the first part of a
planned 'IT' trilogy which continued with It Is Fine.
EVERYTHING IS FINE! and will conclude with the as yet
unfilmed It Is Mine.
The plot and even the premise of this fucked up little film is
difficult to describe let alone make sense of (what the hell is
it? You tell me!), but basically it's a very strange and
disturbing mix of Fassbinder and Jodorowsky. The cast are
made up almost entirely of folks with Down's Syndrome, and
Glover himself appears as some central messiah.
Some have interpreted the film as a representation of
Glover's mindset and the many different sides to his psyche
and personas. His public persona, that of the Hollywood
actor, is the side he seems the most uncomfortable with,
and this is said to be represented by the black-faced
minstrel who injects snails. The Nazi elements of the film
(including an extremely racist song) are also said to express
his hatred of his Hollywood star. The snails represent his
regrets and broken dreams.
Some have said that each of the Down's Syndrome cast
members represent specific parts of his psyche that he is
unhappy with, but I'm not sure if I agree with that; these
characters are often violent and lustful towards each other,
but it all seems quite innocent. In interviews, Glover seems
delighted to be making art with the mentally handicapped,
and I very much doubt that their presence in the film is
purely to mark out the negative parts of his own mindset;
although if you think about it, the casting of a bunch of
'retards' is perhaps precisely what his more sinister side
would do (after all, Glover's psyche was behind the making
of the film, he was in charge of casting and also has said
that he would only direct the film if he could cast those with
Down's Syndrome). And in this regard, maybe the film is an
attempt to consciously express how he unconsciously
sabotages his own work? Glover sits on top of a stone pillar
as the bewildered super-ego.
The film could also be seen as a way of pushing 'political
correctness' to its most logical extremes where it goes so far
that it comes out the other side as a deeply disturbing and
troubling film that is sure to offend many who see it; and
many will attack the film for expressing the very things that
political correctness believes are good for society. Hence we
have 'retards' doing 'normal' and everyday things like killing
snails and being jerked off by big-breasted women in
monkey masks. Lots of snails are abused, Shirley Temple is
demonized as a Nazi, and Steven C. Stewart who had
Cerebral palsy (and also appeared in It Is Fine, and who died
shortly after) falls head-first from the stone pillar in a scene
that will make you cringe in shock but is also darkly
amusing.
What Is It? was originally conceived as a short film in 1996,
but gradually grew into a monstrous feature production that
took ten years to complete. Glover was always insistent
right from the beginning that the majority of the cast
members would be actors with Down's Syndrome. David
Lynch hopped on board as executive producer, and before
long the rumour mill began to spiral out of control with
many stories going around that the film was about
handicapped children killing snails. The on-set production
went very well and according to plan with numerous shoots
over a two and a half year period, but it was the technical
problems with the film stock that delayed its premiere. And
due to the ill health of actor Stewart, Glover also agreed to
appear in the Hollywood production, Charlie's Angels, as a
way of making the money he needed to complete the shoot
of the second part of the trilogy, It Is Fine!
Audience reaction was generally split down the middle with
some celebrating the taboo-breaking experiment as an
insightful antidote to the Hollywood norm, and others
criticising it as a piece of pretentious shock-mongering.
Glover has yet to authorise the DVD distribution of either of
his films, and instead travels the world screening them in
roadshows where he also promotes his books and does Q&A
sessions.
WIFE COLLECTOR (1985)
(aka Rotten City; Orig title - Hitozuma Korekuta) Dir:
Hisayasu Sato /Japan

Japanese society's passive attitude towards rape never

ceases to amaze me, particularly when portrayed so openly
in film: here in the West, where the crime is considered
marginally less abhorrent than murder, the traumatised
victim is, more often than not, depicted wreaking savage
revenge with a variety of sharp implements (at least in the
films I tend to watch); in Japan... well, let's say that the
woman's reaction is often less bloody, but certainly no less
shocking.
Wife Collector is a tale of a deviant taxi driver who kidnaps
and molests young women and records his crimes on video.
In one sequence a girl is raped by two louts out in the rain.
Afterwards she takes a cab home and then masturbates in
the shower. And if that isn't un-PC enough, the cabbie drives
around playing his own rape tapes on a little monitor, and
records himself molesting some chick in the back seat in full
view of the passing traffic while wearing a gas mask! Two
sisters find themselves competing over the 'affections' of
the scumbag taxi driver, and the girls eventually find
comfort in each other’s arms...
Wow. This is one of Sato's better films of the Pinku eiga era
that wraps up with the director's trademark 'guerrilla-style'
street filming in which the everyday public become
unknowing extras in a sleaze epic. With a running time of
just over an hour, Wife Collector passes by in a brief but
brilliant flash, and is sure to amuse those who think they've
seen it all. The film also boasts an avant-garde jazz/rock
soundtrack courtesy of Ginza Sound who sound like a cross
between Can and The Fall, in Japanese.
THE WILD ANGELS (1966)
Dir: Roger Corman /USA

The biker movie was a short-lived genre which came roaring

into the American drive-in theatres in the mid-60s and went
crashing to a halt in the early 70s, leaving behind a brief but
brilliant back catalogue of atrocities and a reckless amoral
culture whose grubby outsider characters would often burn
out in a blaze of nihilistic glory. Forerunners to the genre
were everywhere, from studio releases (The Wild One),
exploitational road movies (Faster Pussycat Kill! Kill!), to
underground mythologising (Scorpio Rising). But with the
publication in 1965 of Hunter S. Thompson's landmark book,
Hell's Angels: The Strange and Terrible Saga of The Outlaw
Motorcycle Gangs, the public's interest in these shady
characters had elevated the gangs into pop heroes, and it
was only a matter of time before some bright spark in the
movie business came along and put their crude and
dangerous exploits onto the big screen. Enter Roger
Corman.
Perhaps the most important figure in the history of indie
film, producer/director Corman and his AIP production house
unleashed The Wild Angels in 1966. With its amoral anti-
heroes, grim and gritty style, and overall unredeeming
stories supposedly based on true events, the critics at the
time labeled the film as dangerous garbage. The punters
didn't agree though, and The Wild Angels was soon breaking
AIP's box-office records and inspired a whole slew of
imitators over the following years, but none of them could
match the gruelling charm of Corman's epic which to this
day remains the greatest biker movie ever made.
From its opening shots, The Wild Angels is a grim and nasty
joyride with the film's only positive statement coming from
its leading man, Peter Fonda ("We want to be free to ride
our machines without being hassled by The Man. And we
want to get loaded"). Fonda is the leader of his gang, The
Heavenly Blues, a ragtag group of social misfits and psychos
who tear through the land and get into fights with gangs of
"Taco benders" and rednecks. A nurse gets KO'd, and there's
much looting and dope smoking as the outlaw riders thrive
on defying the authorities.
The film culminates in the outrageous funeral scene where
Fonda's deceased buddy, Loser (Bruce Dern), is laid to rest
amid bongo drum beats and sloshes of cheap plonk. But the
service soon becomes a full-scale riot as the boys
systematically destroy the church, sit Buddy's corpse up
with a joint in its mouth, rape the poor widow, and beat the
crap out of the priest before dumping his body into an
empty casket.
On the casting front, Fonda stepped up for the role after first
choice actor George Chakiris dropped out after refusing to
ride a chopper, and he looks born for the part with his uber-
cool line deliveries, backed up by his horde of delinquents in
black leathers and sporting swastikas which add to the
transgressive shenanigans on display. Bruce Dern is also
great as Loser, a snarling scumbag who is shot by a cop and
whose last words ("I just want to get high") would echo
throughout the whole counter-culture movement. Lookout
for Nancy Sinatra who seems to be around to confirm that
she can't act for shit. And also Peter Bogdanovich helped
out behind the camera, and who of course would go on to
bigger and better things in the following years.
The film was unique for its time in that the entire movie is
seen from the perspective of the gang members themselves
with no outsider characters present to offer an objectified
and/or moral counterpoint. Ironically, The Wild Angels
played at the Venice Film Festival in 1966 as the only
American film entry that year. And the film's box-office
kerching meant that the floodgates were opened for a slew
of oddball imitators, from the good (Hells Angels On Wheels,
1967), the bad (Angels From Hell, 1968), and the downright
crude (Satan's Sadists, 1969).
The biker film was a passing fad which came and went,
having given a leg-up to rising stars like Fonda and Dern,
and also Jack Nicholson and Dennis Hopper, before revving
off into oblivion. The posters and ad campaigns were
aggressive and sleazy, the entertainment was built on
wanton cruelty and debased behaviour, the anti-heroes
were cool as fuck but also dirtball scumbags, but for the
exploitation crowd it was filmic heaven. Those films prided
themselves on violence, sex, and chaos, and delighted in
driving a wedge between the fans and the mainstream of
society. And that is something to be celebrated indeed.
WILD AT HEART (1990)
Dir: David Lynch /USA

Fans of David Lynch will already be familiar with the

writer/director's many nods and winks in his films towards
Victor Flemming's The Wizard of Oz. That timeless childhood
classic has fascinated Lynch since he was a youngster, and
has continually wormed its terrifying beauty into his work.
Wild At Heart still stands as Lynch's most obvious tribute to
Flemming's classic fantasy, but ironically it also remains
Lynch's most savagely violent film to date.
Loosely based on Barry Gifford's novel, Wild At Heart is a
deranged road movie that propels through the savage
underbelly of modern Americana. Murderous Sailor (Nicholas
Cage, doing a permanent Elvis impersonation) and his lover,
Lula (Laura Dern), are on the run from a gang of psychotic
killers hired by Lula's crazy mother (Dianne Ladd, Dern's
mother in real life). Their journey takes them through a
series of surreal, violent, and darkly comic escapades, but
will their mutual love carry them through?
An exuberant, funny, and disturbing film due to its many
scenes of violence and death, Wild At Heart takes a detour
from Lynch's previous Blue Velvet from the outset; whereas
Blue Velvet centres on a couple of relatively normal
characters who find themselves in a web of encroaching
evil, Wild At Heart begins with the film's hero committing a
brutal murder, and events soon become increasingly
disastrous and apocalyptic from that point on. There's also a
positive and optimistic message in the film that suggests
even the most fantastical of fairytale endings really can
become a reality, just so long as you're prepared to follow
the yellow brick road...
Barry Gifford himself loved the film, describing it as "A
wonderful thing, like a big dark musical comedy". Lynch
called it "A film about finding love in hell" (a few years later
the two men would collaborate on the astonishing Lost
Highway). Many audiences disagreed, and Wild At Heart
produced mass walk-outs from preview screenings. Lynch
panicked and re-edited the film, removing gruesome scenes
of torture and murder that were apparently leaving the
theatres half-empty due to people leaving in a huff. But
even with these tempered scenes, Wild At Heart remains
well-known for its graphic violence; from the head-cracking
opening, to the bungled bank robbery and nasty shotgun
mayhem, that annoyed the hell out of the censors and led
to critics complaining about film violence, yet again.
At the time of its release, the MPAA was reviewing its ratings
system, and Wild At Heart was slightly trimmed. In the UK,
however, the film was left untouched by the British censors,
passing with an uncut 18 certificate.
An unofficial sequel followed in 1997, Perdita Durango,
directed by Spanish maverick Alex de la Iglesia which
caused even more of a stink for the censors and critics. As
for Wild At Heart, lookout for the aforementioned references
to The Wizard of Oz, listen out for Angelo Badalamenti's
dark and achingly beautiful score, and marvel at the
unforgettable roster of oddball characters who populate the
film, such as Crispin Glover as Lula's strange cousin who
keeps cockroaches down his boxers, stays up all night
making sandwiches ("I'm making my lunch!"), and is
supposedly abducted by aliens wearing "little black gloves".
Willem Dafoe is also excellent and almost unrecognisable as
the creepy hitman Bobby Peru. Freddie Jones, Calvin Lock
Hart, David Patrick Kelly, and Mr. Eraserhead himself, Jack
Nance all appear as the gang of killers, and Harry Dean
Stanton as an unfortunate victim caught up in all the
madness.
SUBVERSIVE! SPANISH HORROR
UNDER THE FRANCO REGIME

In the 60s and 70s many prominent Spanish filmmakers

turned their attentions to horror and exploitation. Many of
these directors had previously established reputations in the
arthouse scene and had never before gone anywhere near
the exploitation genres. Usually, a filmmaker would start his
career with a low-budget horror production to make a quick
and easy impact, with the intention of moving onto more
'serious' works in the future, whereas these Spaniards
turned to horror as a way of reaching the populace (both
national and international), in an attempt to draw attention
to life under fascist rule. By the mid-70s most of these
filmmakers returned to the arthouse and/or political films,
and their reputations continued to grow as they had done
previously.
After the nationalistic victory in the civil war, the Spanish
government was keen to expand the movie industry. Those
in power hoped to "Europeanize" their cinema by making it
innovative, modern, and with international appeal. However,
these art films were only frequented by intellectuals and
foreigners, and the filmmakers wanted to socially engage
with ordinary working class filmgoers. La marca del hombre
lobo (Mark of The Werewolf) was a big hit in 1967, and it
was this film that encouraged directors to embrace popular
genres as a way of communicating with both the Spanish
people and international viewers about their plight under
the Franco regime.
The horror film made it possible to address themes to a
mass audience that would be unacceptable in other genres.
A slew of exotic, horror and exploitation movies were then
being produced in Spain by filmmakers who were considered
to be serious artists, for the simple reason that these types
of films were a good place to address strong political points
without arousing the suspicions of the strict censors.
Graphic sexuality, lesbianism, and other activities officially
deemed as "perversions" by General Franco's government,
flourished in horror and fantasy during this period.
Claudio Guerin Hill had secured his arthouse credentials
with films like Los desafios and La casa de las palomas
before he turned to the horror genre with La campana del
infierno (Bell From Hell, 1973), a clear critique of the
Spanish regime. This film explores the opposition between
young and old in its characters. The young representing the
new generation, and the old representing corruption,
compliance, and the founding of the regime. The film starts
with John, a young man who has just been released from a
mental institution where he is ordered to report back in six
days. But he rips up his appointment card as soon as he
leaves the building, suggesting hostility to the authorities
from the outset. In fact, it was his aunt who had him locked
up so that she could spend his inheritance.
John's actions throughout the film are rebellious, and the
mental institution is symbolic of the repression of the new
and radical ideas of the younger generation. Indeed, the
doctor is being bribed to keep John in the nuthouse, and he
agrees to this, not from any medical ethics, but out of sheer
greed and corruption.
Michel Foucault in his book, Madness and Civilization,
suggested that 'reason' was deemed to be whatever the
ruling members of society wanted it to be, and that
'madness' was everything which fell outside of this reason.
The mental institution, then, is the cell into which all of
those who don't recognise the accepted modes of behaviour
are dumped. National pride, family values, and the Catholic
Church represent the 'reason' in society, and everything
else - which includes John - represents the 'madness'. When
John returns to his home town, he sets about attacking
those who represent the established order with fiendish
practical jokes.
A clever move in Bell From Hell was the casting of Alfredo
Mayo in the role of Peter, the building contractor on
whom John seeks revenge. In the 1940s, Mayo played a
number of roles linked to Franco, the most obvious of which
was Raza (Race, 1941) which is allegedly based on the
dictator's experiences. In Bell From Hell, Mayo is clearly
there to evoke a connection in the audiences eyes between
him and Franco. Even the costumes he wears are very
similar to the ones worn by Franco in photographs taken on
hunting trips.
It's also worth mentioning that Mayo and his fellow hunters
in the film attempt to rape a young girl but are stopped
when John shows up and terrorizes them on his motorbike.
The same characters are later seen in the front row at
church like respectable members of the community (and
this scene looks just as much to be a homage to Straw Dogs
as it is an attack on Franco and Catholicism as a whole).
Guerin Hill does a fine job of linking the narrative, the
characters, and the ideology of the regime, and the Spanish
censors didn't suspect a thing. Sadly, he died on the last
day of filming by falling from the bell tower, and we'll never
know if he could have gone on to even better things.
Bearing in Mind Foucault's Madness and Civilization, lets
take a look at Juan Lopez Moctezuma's urgent cry for social
revolt, The Mansion of Madness (aka Dr. Tarr's Torture
Dungeon, 1972). A journalist visits a French sanitarium in
order to write an article for a newspaper. But surprise
surprise, when he gets there he eventually discovers that
the lunatics have taken over the asylum.
Having the movie set in France was simply a trick used by
the filmmakers to discourage the scrutiny of the censors
(also, France was a relevant setting because of that
country's rich socialist history which could be used as an
encouragement for social change on the Spanish audience).
When we reach the asylum, we can see that it's in a state of
degradation, and this makes an obvious connotation to the
state of Spain itself at the time. Of course, the asylum
represents Spain as a whole, the lunatics represent the
Franco regime, and the new leader, Maillard, with his clumsy
speech and idiotic mannerisms, is clearly modeled on the
generalissimo himself. There is much in the dialogue of
Maillard that is ironic, macho, and obliviously self-mocking;
he makes a fool of himself with his own words, is delighted
with his own crap jokes, and waves his arms around
hysterically when ordering his battalions to attack. The
asylum guards represent the stupid, bigoted members of
the Falangist guards - Their sadistic treatment of their
captives, for example, and their allegiance to a social
framework which puts them at a disadvantage, and their
complete ignorance of this fact. The starving prisoners who
are let loose from the dungeons at the end of the film
represent the Spanish working class who immediately set
out to overthrow the lunatics in a great revolutionary war.
There are so many examples I could give of this film's
subversive hints, and to list them all would be unnecessary
as almost every scene contains something at the expense of
the Spanish authorities. During the final struggle a girl holds
up a pistol and utters the words "Viva la revolution" and
then shoots Maillard in the chest. In his death throes,
Maillard muses briefly on life with a ridiculous comment for
comedic effect; "Yes, the tree, the leaves, the roots... Can
this be the end of Maillard?"
Director Moctezuma depicts the asylum as being run by a
bunch of morons and that it would be easy to have them
overthrown. He even blatantly advocates the assassination
of Franco and does all he can to draw the viewers in to
comparing the sanitarium with the situation in Spain itself.
Contrary to the other directors covered in this article,
Moctezuma didn't go on to make arthouse or openly political
films when the regime collapsed. He instead found himself
in Mexico where he continued in his experiments in the
cinefantastique with the insane Alucarda and Mary, Mary,
Bloody Mary, both of which cut back on the artistic qualities
(although he kept the subversive edge with Alucarda, an
unflinching attack on Catholicism), and ironically, his horror
debut, Mansion of Madness, remains his most vital and
powerful film.
Vincente Aranda, however, was a filmmaker who put his
earlier experimental work on the back-burner while he too
tried his hand at subversive horror cinema. The result was
La novia ensangrentada in 1972 (the film later reached
global cult status under the anglisized title, The Blood
Spattered Bride). The encouraged machismo in Franco's
Spain was the target of this scathing assault. The main
character, Simon Andreau, expresses ideas, values, and
beliefs of Francoist patriachy, and the audience is
encouraged to be critical of these opinions.
One scene shows Simon and his wife taking a stroll in the
countryside. When they embrace each other, Simon
suddenly turns vicious and forces his wife to perform fellatio
on him. He attacks her again in an aviary, and the bride
surrounded by the birds represents the captivity of women
at the hands of the male-orientated social conventions.
Aranda was keen to show how sexual chauvinism was linked
with political and national chauvinism. After the Franco
regime, Aranda went back to filmmaking that was more
directly political and has continued to do so since.
Eloy de la Iglesia was a member of the outlawed Communist
Party and also chose to work for a while in popular genres.
Le semana del assesino (aka Cannibal Man, 1971) addresses
social injustice in Franco's Spain by showing horrific acts of
madness and murder being a direct result of the repression
and alienation of the working class. Aranda does an
excellent job of showing how Spanish society was ultimately
cannibalising itself, and his later works became more
directly political after the end of the regime.
Juan Antonio Bardem was also a Communist Party member
and a major force within the Anti-Fascist film movement in
Spain. Most of his early films had a social conscience
(Muerte de un ciclista and Calle Mayor, for example). In
1972
he directed The Corruption of Chris Miller, a psychological
horror film about two women who are visited by a
mysterious young man. The film explores themes of
sexuality and power in a way that didn't incur the wrath of
the regime because the themes were enmeshed in the
fantastical trappings of the horror genre, and this allowed
Bardem to push the envelope much further than he would
have been permitted in a typical everyday drama. And of
course, once the regime had fallen, he had the opportunity
to confront political subjects in a much more open manner
without fear of prosecution in films like The Warning in
1978.
The Franco regime attempted to present a liberal facade to
the outside world, but eagle-eyed Spaniards and
international audiences saw in these films a clear and
subversive edge that was difficult to ignore. All the films
mentioned in this chapter have a dark, grimy atmosphere
light years away from the modern tourist's impression of
Spain as a place of sun, sea, and sand, etc. Obviously, not
all of the Spanish horror films of this era had a political
agenda, but the ones I have talked about here are
enormously subversive; and as a way of gaining further
insight into the phenomena of cult cinema, it's useful to
consider the historical context of these remarkable films.
 IS CENSORSHIP STILL RELEVANT?
For many years, film censorship was the scourge of horror
fanatics who felt that their favourite movies were
persecuted by people who had no care or understanding of
the genre. The more hardcore devotees would search high
and low for the definitive uncut videotapes, often paying in
excess of £100 per tape, even if the end product turned out
to be a murky, washed out, pre-recorded duplicate. It didn't
matter. The uncut version was like a trophy to video
collectors, a one-up on the censors whose decisions to cut
and/or ban these films was always held in disdain.
This video culture expanded tenfold with the rise of DVD
and the internet. Nowadays anyone can locate uncut movies
at the at the click of a button and have them delivered
directly to their homes from anywhere in the world, with no
need for any dodgy contacts (and they're also much
cheaper these days). And this begs the question: Is film
censorship still relevant today?
In the last few years, the British Board of Film Classification
(BBFC) have gradually relaxed their rules on censorship to
such an extent that only movies that contain images that
effectively break the law will be subjected to trims. In fact,
the censors nowadays are more likely to help distributers
get around the law rather than dictate to them what should
and what should not be passed according to their own moral
views on such matters. It's interesting to note, however,
that these huge steps forward have only come along in
proportion to how easy it has become to locate uncensored
material in the last few years. And it's easy to conclude from
here that film censorship (including international
censorship) has indeed become irrelevant, because of the
simple fact that the censors are being made to compromise
their efforts by fast developing technologies that are beyond
their control, such as the internet.
It's similar to what has been happening in the music
industry in recent times, with record companies and retail
outlets having to compromise their business efforts by
illegal download sites that offer their copyright products free
of charge.
Remarkably, it is now the film industry itself who have
become the main obstacle to freedom of expression, and
who seem to be doing the censor's jobs for them, as we
shall see... But first, let's take a look at some censorship
troubles over the years as a way of putting this madness
into some kind of context...

GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AND LUCIO FULCI

Thousands upon thousands of movies have been cut by
international censors over the years, and graphic violence
and gore has always been a subject of concern. The films of
Lucio Fulci are the perfect place to start when discussing
graphic violence and gore, because in his movies, excessive
screen violence is the whole point; just like musicals break
up the plot for song and dance numbers, Fulci's films break
up the plot for long drawn-out scenes of violent set-pieces
(see the spider attack in The Beyond, for example).
Lucio Fulci made his movies in Italy (except for the location
shots mostly filmed in New York), but were sold oversees in
an attempt to have a slice at the huge American market.
Ironically, his films were so violent that mainstream cinema
chains refused to screen them, and so his movies were
relegated to playing the grindhouses, the only place where
unrated films could find an audience. This kind of ousting of
excessive films worked as a very non-subtle form of
censorship in itself; by limiting the theatrical potential of
such films, the industry effectively curtailed any financial
success they may have enjoyed. By refusing these films a
mainstream audience, and limiting the revenue of such fare,
the industry succeeded in killing off the theatrical outlet of
these gruesome epics.
However, it wasn't just on the theatrical front where Fulci's
films were causing problems. By the early 80s home video
was growing ever popular, with small distributers picking up
low-budget horror films and releasing them uncut for home
viewing. The splinter in the eye sequence in Zombie Flesh
Eaters, the little zombie girl getting her head blown off in
The Beyond, and the infamous head-drilling scene in City of
The Living Dead were all widely available uncut for public
consumption until the Director of Public Prosecutions (DPP)
compiled his list of 'potentially obscene' tapes which
eventually ushered in the Video Recordings Act, 1984, in
which 70 titles were prosecuted and removed from video
shops. It was a piece of legislation which affected us Brits
for almost fifteen years.
VIOLENCE, MORALS, AND INCONSISTENCIES
Sometimes censors have a strange attitude when it comes
to screen violence. For example, the Bruce Lee vehicle, Fists
of Fury, which had scenes snipped out involving the use of
nun-chucks as deadly weapons (an offence that has kept Jim
Van Bebber's Deadbeat At Dawn banned in the UK for many
years), but allows all fight scenes involving hand-to-hand
combat to remain intact. Compare this to John Woo's action
classic, Hard Boiled, in which all the scenes involving
excessive gunplay ('excessive' being an understatement to
describe this particular film) are allowed to flourish, while
scenes depicting hand-to-hand combat, like knees to the
chest and karate chops to the throat, were censored for
being too violent.
There are so many examples of inconsistences in censorship
that to list them all would be unnecessary, but I'll give you
one more example: When Hellbound: Hellraiser 2 was
submitted to the BBFC in the late 80s, the board decided to
remove the scene where a distressed psychiatric patient
uses a cutthroat razor to hack and slash at his own flesh,
but they passed the scene in which a cenobite has nails
hammered into his head. And, if that isn't confusing enough,
they also felt the need to remove the sight of a pair of bare
breasts.

VIEWER IMPLICATION
Movies that attempt to implicate the viewers in crimes
taking place on screen are asking for trouble as far as the
censors are concerned. There is a scene in John
McNaughton's Henry-Portrait of a Serial Killer in which two
killers force their way into a random family home and
proceed to beat, rape, and kill the occupants (not
necessarily in that order). The problematic area here
becomes apparent when the camera pulls back, revealing
the events to taking place on a television screen, with the
two said killers watching their own previous crimes on
videotape that they had recorded themselves. Watching and
enjoying it ("I want to see it again"), thus implicating the
viewers who are watching (and at least seeking)
entertainment through the degradation and death. Although
the film has finally been passed uncut by the BBFC for home
viewing, for many years this crucial sequence was re-edited
for the British public and lost most of its voyeuristic and
subversive power as a result.
Also of note is the original poster for Henry-Portrait that was
banned for being too disturbing.

DISTRIBUTER CUTS
On occasion, films are tampered with before they even
reach the censor's office. The films of Dario Argento have
often been the victims of this kind of practice. His 1985 film,
Phenomena, had more than twenty minutes of footage
dropped by US distributers as a way of give the film a more
acceptable running time (they also re-titled it to Creepers
for the American market). The Bird With The Crystal
Plumage, Deep Red, and The Stendhal Syndrome were
treated with equal disrespect, resulting in films that made
little sense to foreign audiences.
When Abel Ferrara's The Driller Killer was re-submitted to
the BBFC in the late 90s after being banned in the UK since
1985, the distributers dropped some of the violent footage
in order to stand a better chance of being passed. It was a
frustrating moment for horror fans because the BBFC
claimed that the full uncut version would not have caused
any concern for the board and would have probably passed
in its entirety had it been presented to them in its full
undiluted form. The same distributers also removed a
further six minutes of non-violent footage simply to fit the
film onto shorter cassettes.

WHEN CENSORSHIP SPOILS THE JOKE

In the mid-90s those spoil-sports at the BBFC insisted on
removing several scenes from Steve Ballot's The Bride of
Frank. UK horror fans were particularly annoyed with their
decision since one of the main cuts required was to take
away the film's central joke; as the tagline says, "All Frank
wants is true love. But you better not mess with Frank,
because if he tells you 'I'll cut off your head and shit down
your neck', he ain't kiddin". The BBFC demanded 74
seconds of cuts, including the sight of a man being
"realistically fellated", a man having sex with the eye-socket
of a woman, and the showstopper: Cuts to remove the sight
of a man defecating down the neck of another. The BBFC
offered the following statement as justification; "Cuts are
made on grounds of potential harm and potential obscenity,
for unjustified sexual detail, and sexual violence". But don't
dismay, the uncut version is available on Region 1 DVD.

VIDEO NASTIES
Having already touched upon the subject of video nasties
earlier in this chapter, let us now examine the fate of those
titles and see where they stand legally in today's climate...
* Absurd (orig title: Rosso Sangue; aka Horrible) - Still
banned in the UK
* Anthropophagous: The Beast - Released with around 3
minutes of pre-cuts under the title The Grim Reaper in 2002
* Axe (aka Lisa, Lisa; aka California Axe Massacre) Re-
released uncut in 2005
* The Beast in Heat (orig title: La Bestia in Calore) Still
banned in the UK
* The Beyond (Orig title: L'Aldilà; aka Seven Doors of Death)
Re-released uncut in 2001
* Blood Feast was passed uncut in 2005
* Blood Rites (orig title: The Ghastly Ones) Still banned
* Bloody Moon was finally passed uncut in 2008
* The Bogey Man was re-released uncut in 2000
* The Burning was re-released uncut in 2001
* Cannibal Apocalypse (orig title: Apocalypse Domani)
passed with 2 seconds cut in 2005
* Cannibal Ferox was released with around 5 minutes of
distributer cuts and 6 seconds of further cuts in 2000
* Cannibal Holocaust passed in 2001 with 5 mins and 44
secs cut to remove most animal cruelty and rape scenes *
The Cannibal Man was passed with minor cuts in 1993
* Cannibal Terror passed uncut in 2003
* Contamination was passed uncut in 2004 with a 15
certificate
* Dead & Buried passed uncut in 2004
* Death Trap (aka Eaten Alive) Re-released uncut in 2000
* Deep River Savages (aka Man from Deep River) passed
with cuts in 2003
* Delirium (aka Psycho Puppet) Released with minor cuts in
1987
* Devil Hunter was passed uncut in 2008
* Don't Go in the House passed with substantial cuts in 1987
* Don't Go in the Woods was released uncut in 2007
* Don't Go Near the Park was released uncut in 2006
* Don't Look in the Basement was passed uncut in 2005
with a 15 certificate * The Driller Killer passed with cuts in
1999 then later re-released uncut in 2002
* The Evil Dead passed uncut in 2001
* Evilspeak - uncut in 1999
* Exposé (aka House On Straw Hill) was re-released with
minor cuts in 2006
* Faces of Death was released with 2 minutes and 19
seconds of cuts in 2003
* Fight For Your Life is still banned in UK
* Flesh for Frankenstein (aka Andy Warhol's Frankenstein)
passed uncut in 2006
* Forest of Fear is still banned
* Frozen Scream - Still banned
* The Funhouse was passed uncut in 1987
* Gestapo's Last Orgy is still banned
* The House by the Cemetery was passed uncut in 2009
* House on the Edge of the Park passed with almost 12
minutes of cuts in 2002
* Human Experiments was re-released with minor cuts in
1994
* I Miss You, Hugs and Kisses passed with over a minute of
cuts in 1986
* I Spit on Your Grave was released with approximately 7
minutes of cuts in 2001
* Inferno was passed uncut in 2010
* Island of Death was released uncut in 2010
* Killer Nun escaped uncut in 2006
* The Last House on the Left finally passed uncut on the
17th March, 2008
* Late Night Trains was released uncut in 2008
* The Living Dead at Manchester Morgue (aka Let Sleeping
Corpses Lie) re-released uncut in 2002
* Love Camp 7 was banned for a second time when it was
submitted to the board in 2002
* Madhouse passed uncut in 2004
* Mardi Gras Massacre is still banned
* Mountain of the Cannibal God was released with around 2
minutes of cuts in 2001
* Night of the Bloody Apes was released with around a
minute of pre-cuts in 1999
* Night of the Demon passed with almost 2 minutes of cuts
in 1994
* Nightmare Maker (aka Butcher, Baker, Nightmare Maker) is
still banned * Nightmares in a Damaged Brain passed with
cuts in 2005
* Possession passed uncut in 1999
* Pranks (aka The Dorm That Dripped Blood; aka Death
Dorm) was waved with minor cuts in 2001
* Revenge of the Bogey Man was released with extra
footage in 2003
* The Slayer passed uncut in 2001
* Snuff was passed uncut in 2003, but has yet to be re-
released
* SS Experiment Camp was released uncut in 2005
* Tenebrae was re-released uncut in 2003
* Terror Eyes was released with over a minute of cuts in
1987
* The Toolbox Murders was passed with almost 2 mins of
cuts in 2000
* Twitch of The Death Nerve (aka A Bay of Blood) Passed
uncut in 2010
* Unhinged passed uncut in 2004
* Visiting Hours was passed with around 2 minutes cut in
1986
* The Werewolf and the Yeti is still banned
* The Witch Who Came From the Sea was passed uncut in
2006
* Women Behind Bars is still banned
* Zombie Creeping Flesh (aka Hell of the Living Dead) was
released uncut in 2002
* Zombie Flesh Eaters was finally passed uncut in 2005
Of the 70 titles that appeared on the DPP's list in the mid-
80s, most of them can be found uncut on the internet,
usually on Region 1 or Region 0 DVD. Notice how many of
the titles are still officially outlawed on these shores, but the
reason for this is that many of the films haven't been re-
submitted to the board since the video nasties era, and
most would probably get through the censors office
unscathed nowadays.
AVOIDANCE OF THE 'VIDEO NASTIES' LABEL
Not only did the Video Recordings Act have these films
banned from our homes, but it also had a direct impact on
future releases for years to come. Films like The Evil Dead
and Dead and Buried were only freed from the censor's
clutches once the distributers agreed to make extensive
cuts. Had they refused, those films, along with countless
others, would have found themselves further prosecuted. It
was this kind of ultimatum which affected home video
certification in the UK for almost two decades.

THE DEVILS
One film which didn't make it onto the list of the DDP's list
of tapes was Ken Russell's The Devils, probably because it
has never been given an official home video release in any
way shape or form since the inception of the medium.
Although the film had been censored before its theatrical
release in this country, it was the film's own financial
backers who objected to it the most. When Ken Russell took
the film over to America for a screening for the financiers,
their horrified reaction was to label it as "disgusting shit".
They promptly removed whole chunks of the film before
sending it out in a limited theatrical run.
Russell's masterpiece was based on Aldous Huxley's 'true
life' account of demonic possession in France in the 17th
Century. It was Russell's only political film and called for a
distinct anticlericalism. Oliver Reed delivers a career best
performance as the rebellious priest Father Grandier who is
burned at the stake after urging the citizens to resist the
destruction of their city. The film boasts many blasphemous
scenes and orgies involving the Ursuline nuns who believed
to have had their bodies possessed by Grandier,
encouraged by the visions of Sister Jeanne.
Film critic Mark Kermode was a good friend of Russell's and
he spent a long time searching for the 'lost' footage which
included the infamous 'rape of Christ' scene in which the
nuns tear down an effigy of Jesus and pleasure themselves
with it. After a long search, the footage later surfaced in the
Warner Brothers' vaults. This restored director's cut was
then screened at the National Film Theatre in London in
2004. Kermode also put together the excellent
documentary, Hell On Earth: The Making of The Devils, in
which the cast and crew were interviewed at length on the
film's background and production. Both the film and the
documentary were broadcast on Channel 4 with the BBFC
giving the original version of The Devils an uncut certificate.
So we had the restored version of the film in a gorgeous
35mm print, and some invaluable bonus feature material
which would make for an excellent special edition DVD
release. But all hopes were dashed when the American
backers put their foot down again and banned the film for a
second time. The version screened on Channel 4 looked
astonishing, it was a beautiful and pristine print of the film.
The only version available nowadays is the one that has
been leaked onto download sites which is missing the rape
of Christ scene, and this version looks absolutely dreadful
and should be avoided at all costs. It's a sad fate for one of
the finest British films of the 70s.
NO PUBES PLEASE, WE'RE JAPANESE
The Japanese censor is often quite a fussy individual
because the job is usually handed out to those who are
eased out of the regular police force. And although it isn't
law in Japan, there is an unwritten agreement that the
censors should avoid showing pubic hair wherever possible,
which often results in the use of those optical smudges, or
'pixelations' to blur out any offending pubes on display. It is
also standard practice in Japan for censors to blur out the
sight of penises on screen. But rather amusingly, in 1992 an
animated feature came along entitled Legend of The
Overfiend which found a clever way of avoiding the
restrictions by having 50 foot tall super-beings sprouting
strange phallic-like tentacles that would penetrate pretty
young girls. The tentacles even had glans, but the censors
were unable to do a thing about it. And, as if to rub the
authorities' face in it, the sequel, Legend of The Demon
Womb, seemed delighted with its notoriety and pushed its
luck even further with the penis/tentacle ambiguity.

THE BLACK BLOOD MANOUEVRE

New Zealand filmmaker Scott Reynolds may have learned a
thing or two from those extreme Manga offerings, as in his
superb psychological horror film, The Ugly, he opted to use
ink-black blood in order to be able to splash it around
liberally without worrying how the censors would react (the
same trick was also used earlier in Geoffrey Wright's
skinhead flick, Romper Stomper, where the blood tone
ranged from red to black to dark green). Perhaps inspired by
Hitchcock's use of chocolate syrup for the shower scene in
Psycho, Scott Reynolds knew that red blood would be too
much for many to handle, and that by simply altering the
colour of the 'claret' he could depict his violent scenes with
much more freedom and graphic detail than he would have
gotten away with otherwise. And it worked, because despite
the often graphic nature of the film, it has played more or
less intact in every territory in which it was released.

THE ALL-IMPORTANT R-RATING

Most mainstream movies dealing with problematic subject-
matter nowadays must secure an R-rating at all costs.
Failure to do so will result in having the film slapped with an
NC-17 rating, or not much better, having it released
unrated.
Cinema chains in America are now dominated by the
multiplex, and these chains will only screen films that are
certificated for large audiences, usually family viewing
($$$). R-rated movies are acceptable to the multiplexes
because youngsters under the age of 17 can watch them as
long as they are accompanied by an adult. Movies rated NC-
17, however, are not accepted by the multiplexes, and this
can cause the death knell of any film hoping to make a
profit (the NC-17 certification does not allow anyone under
the age of 17 into the theatre, regardless of whether they
are accompanied by an adult or not). Unlike the UK,
filmmakers in America can legally release their films without
the need of censorship (unrated), but most cinema chains
refuse to screen unrated material. The multiplexes will claim
that the reason for this is a decision based on morality, but
actually, the real reason is because these films have a hard
time pulling in the punters, thus losing out on revenue. It's
'bad for business' and all that. So, movies are often tamed
for an R-rating if they wish to reach the largest possible
audience and to stand a chance of recouping the financial
costs. And this makes studio bosses very picky when it
comes to releasing adult-orientated films...

STUDIO CONTROL
Whenever a particular type of film has a run of success,
studio bosses are quick to leech onto that success and
create a winning formula which will help to bring in the big
bucks. In the late 70s and early 80s moviegoers were
greeted by a new phenomenon; the slasher movie sub-
genre. John Carpenter's Halloween was released in 1978 and
was a huge success, and studio bosses were quick to notice
a gap in the market. Independent producer/director Sean
Cunningham had previously worked in the porn industry (he
also produced Wes Craven's debut feature, The Last House
On The Left), but, inspired by the success of Halloween, he
set out to make a violent slasher movie that would play
across the drive-ins of America. That movie was Friday The
13th. Paramount picked up the film and gave it a full-on
nationwide release with a large ad campaign that only a
major studio could afford. It was a huge success.
If Halloween had borrowed elements from Black Christmas
to update the slash 'em formula, Friday The 13th went
further afield and borrowed its gruesome elements from
Mario Bava's proto-type body count movie, A Bay of Blood.
Encouraged by this kind of wining business formula (i.e. a
movie that costs spare change to make can rake in a
fortune at the box-office), Paramount were keen to ape the
success by releasing sequel after sequel after sequel...
By the early 80s these 'stalk n slash' or slasher movies were
being targeted and picketed by campaigners who objected
to the idea that youngsters were being entertained by these
types of films. And, under pressure from the media, the
American censors (The Motion Picture Association of
America, or MPAA) began tightening their regulations on
screen violence. So now we had a situation where the
studios wanted to continue making these financially
profitable films whilst at the same time adhering to stricter
controls, resulting in sequels that became tamer and more
lacklustre with each passing year; all this to attain a safe R-
rating (see also the Nightmare On Elm Street sequels which
descended into pure comedy and pastiche rather than
nightmares). Studio bosses had found their winning
formular, and they'd be damned if any filmmaker let a little
blood get in the way.
By investing in films like Friday The 13th and their like, it
was the studios that dragged the underground up to the
surface, where people who normally would have had no idea
about the existence of these films now had no way of
avoiding them. Had these original films been left alone on
the drive-in circuits and grindhouses, much of the later strict
controls of the mid-80s, I believe, would never have become
necessary.

CONCLUSION
If censorship has indeed become irrelevant in recent years,
this is mostly in relation to back-dated films which are easy
to find in uncut form nowadays. The new problem is the way
Hollywood itself is taming down its own films for the all-
important R-rating. It's difficult to imagine a major studio
allowing their products to go out with an NC-17 rating
nowadays (recently, Alexandre Aja's remake of The Hills
Have Eyes was threatened with an NC-17 until the bosses
agreed to drop some of the nastier footage).
On DVD, however, uncensored material, even from major
studios, are often released fully uncut with no problems or
complaint. Ridiculously, the remake of The Texas Chainsaw
Massacre boasted a superbly nasty scene in which an
unfortunate victim is hooked to the ceiling and is literally cut
in half down the middle by Leatherface's chainsaw. The odd
thing about the scene is that it didn't actually appear in the
film! That footage was never included in the finished film
even though it was clearly shown in the trailer! The footage
can only be seen on the 'Making of' featurette on the 2nd
disc.
Nothing like a good old exploitation tease, eh?
In the UK, the BBFC are more willing than ever to allow
serious-intended films that happen to contain risque
elements to flourish uncut on these shores. But when it
comes to pure exploitation cinema, the censors still hold a
nit-picky, nanny-state attitude to what we can and can't
watch. Recent examples, such as Koji Shiraishi's Grotesque,
Bruce LaBruce's L.A. Zombie, and Tom Six's Human
Centipede 2 were all banned in their entirety in the UK for
being utterly gratuitous. Well, this is all well and good for
the do-gooders of society, but exactly what difference does
it make if something like Baise Moi or Irreversible are
granted certificates because those films have something
other to say than to merely excite and disturb their viewers?
Grotesque may not be a work of art but it's a bloody good
piece of torture porn. Human Centipede 2 is crude, and
explicit, but is jolly good fun nonetheless. And although
Human Centipede 2 doesn't offer anything in the way of
social commentary, it's a blackly funny horror show all the
same.
What should it matter if none of those films have anything
to say other than to excite and amuse their audiences? Why
should these films have to justify themselves by adding a
social and/or a historical context just to make them
palatable to those who aren't even interested in horror
films? It's a ridiculous idea, and the end result would be a
sham; if Grotesque added a subtext showing how madness
and murder are linked to some dubious political framework,
then would this element make the film acceptable to the
censors? Well, that's the way those in charge of censorship
tend to think nowadays. But even if Grotesque did happen
to have a subtext to justify the gruesome bloodshed on
screen, it would be fake and phony. But that seems to be the
way the censors operate in today's PC climate.
Sometimes the horror, sex, gore, and exploitation is reason
enough to watch a film, and there's nothing wrong with that.
Many of us have an interest in the dark side of life for its
own sake and don't feel the need to justify our interests. I
don't need some nitwit like Wes Craven to add some
'progressive aspect' to a film for me to enjoy it or to find
value in it other than the nastiness on display. We don't
muse on the troubles of the 70s oil crisis when we watch
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, do we? No, because
ultimately it's irrelevant to what's happening on screen.
I genuinely believe that the real damage is being done by
films that are completely unrestrained in churning out the
most soulless and empty-headed garbage that proliferates
the multiplexes nowadays. I'm thinking Transformers, The
Fast and The Furious and its sequels, Adam Sandler
abominations, etc. None of those films offer anything in the
way of social value or 'progressive aspects' that seem to be
oh so important to our moral guardians. They're the
cinematic equivalent of the Big Mac; just pure unadulterated
junk. Where's the restraint? Where's the health warnings
against this kind of crap? If you have an IQ in the double
digits these films will put you into a coma. But the studios
who churn out this stuff don't give a shit, they're just happy
to reap the financial rewards. These types of films are
genuinely harming society by dumbing down the masses
and turning them into mindless, materialistic fucking slobs,
and yet nothing is being done about it. In fact, the situation
is clearly getting worse as the years go by.
To my mind this is the true obscenity of modern cinema.
And yet it's allowed to flourish unchecked because the
major studios have the financial muscle to fight in the
courts, whereas the small indie production companies don't.
These films have also created a monopoly of the
multiplexes, and if you go to the cinema nowadays you can't
avoid this kind of crap. Unbelievably, it takes 10
screenwriters, a whole army of crew members, and dozens
of 'test screenings' to perfect the nullifying wastes of time
that are the modern blockbusters. The studios will argue
that they are simply meeting demand and giving the people
what they want. But if you ask the average filmgoer what he
or she would like to see in the cinema, they'll tell you that
basically they'll watch anything the studios are churning out
('whatever's on at Warner Village'). What the studios won't
accept is any responsibility for the sorry state of modern
society. And this is another thing; according to the censors,
we're stupid and not responsible enough to make up our
own minds when it comes to horror movies; but when it
comes to the shittiest mindless blockbusters, all of a sudden
we're considered completely responsible and entrusted to
have our mindless and idiotic 'demands' met by the
Hollywood studio system. It's a funny old world...
When all's said and done it comes down to control. A shady
and sinister control that is in cahoots with big business and
has very little to do with morality or decency. It's all a ploy
to take charge of every cinema in the land, and to regulate
every non-studio film so that nothing can flourish, so that no
other important and vital avenues of film can be opened
and explored. Everything has to fit within the accepted
norms of studio control, otherwise it must be strangled at
birth. And in that case, fuck the studios, fuck the MPAA, fuck
the BBFC, and give me Human Centipede 2 any day;
something fresh, honest, and invigorating - A true
expression of the fucked up world we live in. Censorship is
not only irrelevant, but it's also deeply troubling and, as a
chief censor would put it, 'problematic'.
THE VANISHING POINT OF CINEMA
What Jean Baudrillard called the "vanishing point along the
lines of music" is also happening in film. But before we
examine its effects on cinema, let's take a closer look at
Baudrillard's theory in music. We are all obsessed with the
quality of music, not necessarily with how the songs are
written or performed, but how they sound through our
speakers. Take for example the young men who like to drive
around in 'pimped up' sports cars; how many of them
dedicate the entire boot of their cars to house powerful sub-
woofer speaker systems where they can "mix, regulate, and
multiply soundtracks in search of an infallible or unerring
music". To these boys, the actual sounds of the music is less
important than HOW IT SOUNDS (the 'transmission') after it
has been fed through their channels and amplifiers, when it
has been given a high-fidelity treatment. And this is what
Baudrillard meant when he suggested that music "would
disappear into its own special effect".
The speaker of any modern piece of hi-fi equipment is
separated into sections; you can find up to three or four
channels each transmitting a certain texture of the sound.
Music is broken down into layers, and these layers are
tweaked to increasing perfection, and they're all reunited in
the environment as the musical transmission leaves the
speaker. It seems today there is no more room for
innovation concerning musical instruments, and that all
future progress will be through increasing the sound
qualities of recordings, and that music will slip away "into
the perfection of its materiality, step beyond its boundary"
as Baudrillard put it.
Consider how old albums are being constantly re-released in
'digitally re-mastered' versions where the original recordings
are broken down and digitally re-built, and are made to glow
anew as the soundtrack is coated in its own perfection. And
this search for an unerring musical pleasure is no longer
used solely to improve old recordings; in modern music, the
recording process itself has become more important than
the song craft and the performance of the songs. Take
Radiohead for example; if you listen to the six studio albums
to date, you'll notice a gradual progression from
performance based, melodic pop/rock (Pablo Honey and The
Bends), to more avant-garde performance based stuff (OK
Computer), to the rejection of all performance and standard
instruments, and the reaching of the very threshold of the
disappearance of music (a couple of tracks on Kid A and
Amnesiac). With these last two albums, Radiohead reached
the dead end of musical minimalism (that's perhaps why on
Hail To The Thief the band seemed more willing to embrace
their past glories; they couldn't get any closer to the core of
musicality without disappearing completely in the process).
With Kid A and Amnesiac Radiohead had gotten to the stage
where they were less interested in chords and melodies
than with WHAT TO DO in the studio with sound itself. How
will it sound through the speakers? Regardless of what
artistic or social/political comments the band were implying,
transmission took centre stage. In Pulk/Pull Revolving Doors,
traditional chords and melodies are left behind, and what we
hear instead is a strange kind of groove built on fuzz and
pops and crackles with looped piano notes and spacey synth
sounds going nowhere. The vocals on this track are
interesting because firstly, it doesn't even sound like
frontman Thom Yorke; his voice has been altered so much
that he actually sounds like an android or an extra-terrestrial
creature. Secondly, there is no singing as such, at least not
in the traditional sense, and instead we're presented with
spoken lines that are unintelligable because of the way his
voice has been filtered through various FX. So one line of
the vocal is flat and dull, and the next line can echo with
heavy reverb for a whole minute. The only way that this
track can be heard is through a good quality hi-fi system
because, unlike their previous performance based
recordings (of guitars, bass, and drums, etc), this particular
recording is grounded fully in the luxurious high-fidelity
sound tests. Thus, to hear this track played through the
small, tinny speaker of a laptop, or mobile phone, or
wireless radio, would be to miss the point entirely of what
Radiohead are offering. If you listen to this track on anything
less than a 200 watt RPM stereo system, then YOU WILL
NOT REALLY HEAR THE TRACK AT ALL.
The overall tone and depth and bass of so much modern
music cannot be accessed by the listener unless he or she
can upgrade to a decent hi-fi stereo system with several
speaker channels. Modern music recording has made it
essential for us to listen on constantly upgraded equipment,
otherwise this music as such disappears.
So how does this vanishing point affect film? Well, I was
recently offered the opportunity of watching a pirate copy of
Spiderman 3 (which I declined, naturally); but sometime
later I realised how interesting it would be to view the latest
special FX-ladened Hollywood blockbuster, not in its
anamorphic big screen glory with super-duper room shaking
sound, but on a crappy little bootleg copy at home. Stripped
of all the veneer that makes a modern blockbuster, I'm quite
sure that Spiderman 3 would resemble nothing more than a
lousy, meaningless, and loud mess. As I mentioned above,
modern music fans cannot fully access music unless they
have a hi-fi stereo system, so modern film fans cannot
access the latest Hollywood blockbuster unless they visit
the local multiplex (and concerning Spiderman 3, it's
probably safe to say that even in a multiplex cinema it will
resemble nothing more than a lousy, meaningless, and loud
mess).
In the context of the vanishing point along the lines of film,
the pirate DVD serves as a counter-irony to big screen
entertainment; the way in which a huge glossy product is
'captured' by the dull senses of a handheld video camera
(usually around 8 megs/50 megapixels), and uploaded onto
a hard drive and onto the internet where viewers around the
world can download it, burn it onto disc, and then 'enjoy' it
at home whilst the film is still doing the rounds in the
cinemas. I'm reminded of Theodor Adorno in Minima Moralia
where he observes that a film which is already three months
old is dismissed or thrown out like so much garbage, and
that "the newest one is preferred at any price, even though
this last one is not the slightest bit different... Every
program must be sat through to the end, every 'bestseller'
must be read, every film must be seen during its first
release in the movie theatre", which echoes his earlier ideas
with Horkheimer in the 'Culture Industry'.
The whole video piracy phenomenon is suitably ironic
because every latest blockbuster movie is a 'must see'
movie, even in the unwatchable form of a bootleg copy. With
the video camera, the movie pirate takes a glossy product,
breaks it down digitally, and then rebuilds it in a new and
cheapened, accessible form. The Hollywood movie industry
spends millions of Dollars on sounds and visuals only for the
pirate to spend peanuts on breaking it down and giving it
away for free. Here we have the opposite of a 'digitally re
mastered' product; this is digital sabotage. The blockbuster
movie is filtered through the pirate's unsuitable home
equipment; a 50 megapixel video camera is incapable of
absorbing the detail on screen, is incapable of recording the
movie in identical form. The sound is muffled, the visuals
lack the bright, clear sheen that radiates in the cinema, the
colours are faded and washed out, etc. The result is often a
drab imitation of a blockbuster movie (in the same way that
blockbuster movies are a drab imitation of cinema itself).
Now let’s take a closer look at the modern filmmaking
process. We have already witnessed the gradual demolition
of authentic movie sets and their replacement with CGI -
This being the most obvious example of cinema
disappearing
into its own special effect. But what about the more intimate
special effects in otherwise authentic movies staged on real
sets? We have reached the stage where even single frames
of celluloid can be digitally manipulated on computer after
the shooting has taken place. In previous years, it was only
the editor who worked on a film after the shooting schedule
was complete. But now we have entered an era where THE
WHOLE MOVIE IS TO BE CREATED AFTER THE SHOOTING
TAKES PLACE. Films are now being made in digital
laboratories rather than movie sets. Movie sets have now
become just a blank canvas on which a director can test his
imagination; or, to put it another way; the movie set is just
another way for the filmmaker to keep notes, and is used in
the same way as script annotations and storyboards.
In this sense, the movie camera itself is fast becoming
redundant, and is perhaps why filmmakers are nowadays
less concerned with what to point the camera at than with
WHAT TO DO with the camera when it is pointed at
something. Hence flashy visuals with optical lenses, fish-eye
lenses, morphing effects, zoom effects, rotations, crane
shots, dolly shots, busy MTV-style effects, steadicam, and so
on and so forth. And perhaps Hollywood actors and
actresses can sense this disappearance of cinema and feel
themselves ripe for disposal too, and find themselves
indulging in facelifts and plastic surgery in an attempt to
harmonize with the fakery of their chosen medium, not just
out of personal vanity, but to make themselves worthy of a
fake cinema, even when the movie camera is nowadays
more interested in itself than with the background
players/mannequins. The filmmaking process has become
more important than film itself, and is well into the process
of slipping away into the perfection of its materiality.
APPENDIX: INTERVIEW WITH AUTHOR
PHIL RUSSELL
This interview was first published at Make-Your-Offer.com
The next author stepping up to the plate and sharing with
us is Phil Russell. Hats off to Phil for a very interesting
interview. I look forward to more of these as time goes on.
Why did you get into writing?
I think the seed was my innate desire to communicate with
people, and perhaps turn them on to things they may be
unaware of.
What inspired you to write Beyond The Darkness?
I was sick and tired of seeing films I love being torn to
shreds by the critics, and I just wanted to ’fight their corner’
so to speak. That was the main inspiration. Not all the
reviews in my book are positive though, far from it. I felt it
was important to balance things up with a few not-so-
positive reviews so that it wouldn’t resemble some ’fanboy’
geek type of book (which it could easily have been!).
The book started as a blog that I had running for a while; I
originally planned to write a complete A-Z guide for horror,
cult, and extreme cinema, but soon realised it was just mad
ambition and would take forever to complete, and so I
settled on around 180 films. The blog has since been taken
down to keep the folks at Amazon happy. Writing the book
was a joy, but of course some films inspired me to write
more than others. There were a couple of difficult and
frustrating moments in putting the book together, but on
the whole it has been a very worthwhile experience…
What were the difficulties in writing your book?
Mostly factual/research stuff. Y’see, some of the films I
covered are very obscure and finding information about
them was sometimes difficult. Often the answers could not
even be found at the usually reliable IMDB. The filmmakers
themselves were difficult to contact and many of them don’t
speak English.
I interviewed the beautiful Asia Argento and it went really
well. The phone call to Rome cost me an arm and a leg but
it was worth it. She was polite, engaging, and seemed to be
genuinely interested in the book. It was my first interview
and I was so proud. But there was a problem; the device I
used to record the conversation was faulty – either that or
my laptop was the problem – and the recording is lost.
Devastated! I can remember the gist of most of her answers
but decided not publish the half-remembered interview as it
would be a disservice, and I wouldn’t want to misquote her.
Another frustrating moment was my attempted interview
with Crispin Glover. Glover is best known as a Hollywood
actor who has appeared in Back To The Future, Charlie’s
Angels, and Willard, etc. But in his spare time he likes to get
behind the camera and direct his own films which are much
more disturbing and challenging, and as far-removed from
Hollywood as one can get.
One of his films features Stephen C. Stewart, an actor who
suffered from cerebral palsy, and in one scene he falls head-
first down some stone steps. Now, early in the interview I
asked Crispin why he kept that footage in the final cut of the
film – it was clearly an accidental fall and I very much doubt
it was in the script – I was genuinely interested to know why
he kept that scene in the film (and still am).
Maybe he was offended by my probing, or maybe he could
sense my moral outrage at the inclusion of such a scene. I
don’t know. But for whatever reason, he hung up on me!
Maybe he didn’t expect to be held to account by a nobody
like
myself, or maybe there was a fault on the line (he was in
the Czech Republic when I called). Who knows. But I didn’t
write the book so that I could kiss anyone’s arse. I wanted
facts, but oh well, it was a learning curve at least.
It wasn’t all doom and gloom and frustration. My interview
with Nick Zedd went very well. There are interviews
available on Youtube with Zedd and in the past he
sometimes gave interviewers a tough time, but he was
completely honest, open, and forthright in his conversation
with me. He was also happy to help out with stills assistance
for the book for which I’ll always be grateful. Zedd also
inspired me to self-publish; the ’Do-It-Yourself’ punk
aesthetic has always fascinated me, and especially
nowadays with the power of the internet, it seems the
obvious thing to do…
Another good thing about my book that I must tell you
about is that it reached NO.1 on Amazon’s Bestseller
rankings for a few days in the ’Reference/Encyclopedia’
section, on both sides of the Atlantic. And I shall boast about
that fact until the end of my days! The book has also sold
surprisingly well in Germany which is still a mystery to me…
Another good looking book cover – how did you
create it? If you paid someone to help – was it
expensive?
Thank you. It is a pretty cool cover. The credit goes to my
good friend Jenny Sinclair who created it for me. She used
software that is free and easy to use online.
(Note: The cover has since been updated in June 2012)
What are your favourite books?
I like anything that is dark, challenging, disturbing. Anything
from William Burroughs to Zola. I love horror fiction, novels,
and short stories. Reference books on film, art, music, true
crime, etc. Bizarro fiction. And more horror. My favourite
authors are people like Jack Ketchum, Jean Baudrillard,
Stephen Thrower, and Brian Evenson.
How many books do you have available for sale?
Just the one at the moment; BEYOND THE DARKNESS: Cult,
Horror, And Extreme Cinema.
Do you have any plans to write more books?
At some point in the future yes. I have many ideas for
novels, novellas, and shorts. Mostly horror fiction, but I will
also try some black comedy at some point. I’m also a
musician and at the moment it’s my rock band that takes up
most of my time and energy… There may also be a Beyond
The Darkness Volume 2 in the future with more reviews,
articles, and interviews – that is if anyone will talk to me!

Why did you decide to join MYO?

I think it’s a great opportunity to be part of something new,
not just as a self-published writer, but also as a booklover
too. I always enjoy a good haggle when I’m out shopping,
and MYO gives us the opportunity to approach authors with
offers that are a bit lower than the RRP. MYO could be the
start of something great; a community of booklovers who
are free to create a platform and rally to a cause – of being
proud independent writers. I feel so lucky to have been
invited here and to be part of this. Let’s just hope that this
venture will blossom into a huge success.
But for that to happen we’ve got to spread the word and
invite others along. I’m very excited about MYO, chiefly
because we can all help and support each other in doing
what we love to do. And also because this website is brand
spanking new, and if there is ever a ’goldrush’ at MYO, us
lucky few members who got here first will never miss out on
that kind of action! So thanks for this opportunity, let’s
make it happen!
Where do you do most of your writing? (Do you have
a special place that you go to?)
I don’t really have a special place to write. I suppose the
good thing about writing non-fiction is that the usual
setbacks – such as writer’s block or a lack of inspiration, etc
– don’t usually apply. For example, in the case of my book, if
I felt myself to be in a creative slump, all I had to do was
watch a gruesome horror DVD and bingo! I had page after
page of ready-made inspiration! When I eventually get
round to writing fictional pieces I expect it will be a whole
new ball-game of having to rely almost entirely on my own
imagination. But I look forward to the challenge.
So although there’s no particular place where I do most of
my writing, I do have one rule; I must be alone when I write.
If I get distracted by anyone, I will probably turn into Jack
Torrence from The Shining and will hunt them down with an
axe…
 Table of Contents
copyright
INTRODUCTION
REVIEWS
INTERVIEW WITH NICK ZEDD
THE FALL OF GEORGE ROMERO
THE CAT III PHENOMENON
THE MONDO MOVIE AND SHOCKUMENTARIES
SUBVERSIVE! SPANISH HORROR UNDER THE FRANCO
REGIME