Halloween 2021: October 4th

I Spit On Your Grave (1978)

In the annals of horror history, there are a handful of movies that generated controversy and protest were ever they went. Motion pictures that have been deemed morally damaging to society and subsequently banned. “I Spit On Your Grave” is one such film, that provoked outrage upon re-release in 1980 and was banned as a “video nasty” in the U.K. Much like the similarly controversial “Cannibal Holocaust,” writer/director Meir Zarchi's debut has been derided as reprehensible trash by some and declared a grindhouse classics by others. After hearing Joe Bob Briggs provide a (somewhat half-hearted) defense of it at Monster-Mania this past weekend, I decided now was the time for me to finally sit down and watch this much-debated feature. 

“I Spit On Your Grave” is a quote-unquote classic of the rape-and-revenge genre, somehow the hardest-to-defend type of story in a world where Italian cannibal movies exist. It follows Jennifer Hills, a semi-successful short story writer who retreats from her New York City home to the secluded Connecticut countryside. She catches the attention of Matthew, a local simpleton who delivers groceries. Matthew's redneck friends – Johnny, Stanley, and Andy – decide he should loose his virginity to Jennifer... And she has no say in this decision. The four men spend an afternoon violently attacking and raping her. She survives, however, and proceeds to brutally execute the men who did this to her. 

"I Spit on Your Grave" was originally written and released as "Day of the Woman," the title under which it played rural drive-ins without much success. It was only after sexploitation specialist Jerry Gross got a hold of the movie, giving it the far catchier title and selling it as an exploitation film, that "I Spit on Your Grave" gained its notoriety. It must've been that advertising campaign – which features Demi Moore's ass on that infamous poster – that somehow convinced a lot of moral guardians that this was a pro-rape movie. That's a willful misreading of the material. "I Spit on Your Grave" unambiguously believes that, if you're a rapist, you deserve to die. And horribly. Jennifer's attackers throw all the usual bullshit at her afterwards. That she was asking for it, by wearing a bikini in her own backyard, or leading Matthew on, just because she talked to him. She castrates, hangs, disembowels, and axes each of these guys and I don't think there's any question in the film that each one deserves it. 

Moreover, Zarchi makes sure the assault is as horrible here as it would be in real life. It begins with the men circling Jennifer in their speed boat, which might at first be mistaken for typical dude-bro harassment. As she flees into the woods, it's clear things are going to get much worst. Your stomach sinks as the assault begins. And then it goes on and on, for a third of the film's runtime. Star Camille Keaton's screams, as she's sodomized against a rock, are utterly gut-churning. When she returns home and you think the ordeal is over, the violence resumes again. Zerchi's film has no musical score, leaving no room between you and the horror you're witnessing. It's harrowing, to say the least. You'd have to be a dense motherfucker indeed to mistake the filmmaker's intentions for eroticism. 

What really got under my skin about "I Spit on Your Grave" is how casual Jennifer's attackers are about this. The four men talk  about the woman around a campfire, in the typically gross guy way that is usually harmless. This thought process of "yeah, she's pretty hot" and "dude, you're still a virgin?!" somehow escalates to a brutal gang-rape without any second-guessing on the men's behalf. They tear up her manuscript, beat her brutally, and convince the formally remorseful Mathew to rape her without ever considering if this is bad. Johnny goes back to his wife and kids the next day, as if this is normal for him. And maybe it is, as his calmness after leaving the crime scene suggests he commits hideous acts like this regularly. What makes all of this especially stomach-turning is that it's accurate. Yeah, that's what rapists do. They destroy lives and never once question if what they did was wrong. 

But one really has to ask: Was this Meir Zarchi's story to tell? Supposedly, the film was inspired by something that really happened to him, where he drove a brutally assaulted woman to a (typically unhelpful) police station. Jennifer's revenge is totally justified. The castration scene, the way the guy doesn't even noticed what's happened before the blood starts to bubble up under the water, is horrifying. The way she parrots something the last surviving rapist said to her, right before she kills him, hits like a shotgun. Yet Zarchi is still a man. He tells this story with a male gaze. I don't think he ever intended to arouse the audience with Camille Keaton's extended nudity. Still, you can't help but notice she's totally nude while the camera goes out of its way to hide the guys' cocks and balls. The way Jennifer seduces her assaulters before killing them, even allowing Matthew to orgasm, really fucks with me. Was this some third wave feminism "reclaiming her sexuality" thing or was Zarchi just a well-intentioned but kind of clueless guy, trying to make a film about one of the most difficult topics you can ever make a film about? 

It doesn't help that "I Spit on Your Grave" was a low budget production. Keaton's performance brings it during the most important moments but she can be stiff during the quieter scenes. The performances of the men, especially Richard Pace as Matthew, veer towards the goofy at times. The special effects, like an axe in the back, are not always very convincing. Is Jennifer largely silent in the second half because she's too traumatized to process what has happened to her and what she's doing? Does the movie end, somewhat abruptly and quietly, because Zarchi understands that bloody revenge is no cure for PTSD? Or was the script just underwritten? 

I have no doubt that Zarchi is a good guy. Camille Keaton married him shortly after making this movie and even convinced him to direct a forty-years later sequel. (That's over two hours long, for some reason.) "I Spit on Your Grave" is not the movie many people think it is. It's not the movie many other "Last House on the Left" imitators were. It's not even the movie the shitty remake, which somehow thought this material needed to be slicker and edgier, was. At the same time, it's still a film whose biggest missteps go hand-in-hand with its stark, horrifying power. A recent wave of films like "Revenge," "M.F.A.," and "Violation" have seen women reclaim the rape-and-revenge genre. Maybe movies like "I Spit on Your Grave," no matter how effective they may be at times, should always be directed by women. [7/10]

The She-Creature (1956)

One of the secret architects of Monster Kid culture is Paul Blaisdell. Beginning his career as an illustrator for pulp magazine, Mr. Blaisdell would eventually become friends with Forrest J. Ackerman, who became his agent. Soon afterwards, Blaisdell began designing and building the monster suits for a series of B-movies. While the motion pictures Blaisdell worked on were rarely critically acclaimed, some of the creatures he brought to life – in motion pictures like “It Conquered the World” and “It! The Terror from Beyond Space” – have become iconic in their own way. What is often considered one of Blaisdell's best monster suits can be found in 1956's “The She-Creature.” But what of the movie around that creature? 

A couple living on the beach are brutally murdered, while strange footprints are seen in the sand leaving their home. Also spotted around the crime scene is Dr. Lombardi, a hypnotist who specializes in past life regression. In his carnival sideshow, Lombardi causes his assistant Andrea to regress through all her past lives, all the way back to a pre-human aquatic life form. He can also manifests these spirits in physical form. He summons Andrea's monstrous ocean-dwelling ancestor to dispatch the people who displease him. As Andrea, whom Lombardi is in love with, begins to develop feelings for rival parapsychologist Ted, Lombardi summons the She-Creature to kill again and again.

“The She-Creature” does earns some points for building its story around past life regression, instead of just having its monster be created by the atom bomb or mad science. The script was supposedly inspired by “The Search for Bridey Murphy,” a book on the topic that was a pop phenomenon at the time. Otherwise, however, “The She-Creature” just jumbles together a bunch of pre-existing horror clichés. Lombardi's experiments take place in a boardwalk sideshow, not in a laboratory, to inject some of that creepy carnival energy into the story. The idea of the villain falling in love with his unwilling assistant, who is attracted to the more handsome hero, is the hoariest kind of melodrama. This inevitably leads to the monster turning against its monster, like Frankenstein's creation before it. The movie even throws in some “Man shouldn't meddle in God's domain” moralizing and a big question mark over the end titles. 

In general, “The She-Creature” has a seriously jumbled screenplay. There are too many characters in the film, multiple subplots being introduced in order to set up more victims for the titular monster to bump off. Among these are a promoter, who hopes to profit off of Lombardi's ability to predict murders. (That he's the cause of.) That could've provided some social commentary on the ruthlessness of business people... But it's just another idea in this movie that's never fully formed. That's true of most of the story's events and characters, the majority of whom I couldn't keep track of. It's also weird that the film's hero is another psychic researcher, who believes in the powers of hypnotism but arbitrarily draws the line at Lombardi's claims of past life regression. He's a skeptic but not that skeptical, it seems. 

Even if its plot blended well-worn horror cliches with the day's hottest pseudo-science fad, “The She-Creature” is a monster movie first and foremost.... A pretty disappointing one too. Yes, Blaisdell's creature design is memorable. It's more crustacean than your typical Gillman knock-offs, with giant lobster claws and spiny antenna. As he did with past designs, Blaisdell also freezes the monster's face in an unmoving scowl. And seemingly to guarantee that the “She” part of the title is never doubted, the beast also has big honking creature titties. Yet the monster is only in a few scenes, appearing as a misty spirit before corporealizing to murder people. She even hangs out right behind the hero's shoulders, in one comical moment. Scenes of the creature pushing a car off a cliff have their charms but only make up a few minutes in the entire movie.  

I'm a fan of fifties creature features like this, enjoying some of the other rubber monster movies that A.I.P. distributed and Blaisdell worked on. Yet “The She-Creature” simply is not among the better ones. The titular monster is a classic and has rightfully been immortalized in model kits over the decades. The movie around her is pretty lame, with a script that manages to be both underdeveloped and cliched. The flick needed more quirky touches, like the Swedish couple working as a waiter and maid that are in a few scenes. Otherwise, it's a flick that was destined to become riffing material for Mike and the Bots. As for Paul Blaisdell, he worked on a few more monster movies before retiring from Hollywood altogether to work as a carpenter. [5/10[

Beasts: Baby

Last year, I watched an episode of “Beasts,” the 1976 six-part British anthology series penned by Nigel Kneale, and it was one of the scariest installments of horror television I've ever seen. So, of course, I'm going to return to the series this year. “Baby” follows the heavily pregnant Jo and her veterinary husband, Peter. The couple is moving into a fixer-up cabin in the British countryside. Jo is immediately unsettled but the emotionally abusive Peter ignores her concerns. One night, while digging inside walls left exposed by handymen, the couple uncovers a large clay pot. Inside is the mummified corpse of an unidentifiable animal. Peter is fascinated by the discovery but Jo is deeply disturbed by it. As she learns that the area has a history of witchcraft – including a field where every cow's pregnancy ends prematurely – she grows increasingly frightened. 

Much like “During Barty Party,” last year's episode of “Beast,” “Baby” features extraordinary sound design. In fact, there's almost no music throughout the entire hour. Instead, the natural sounds of the area, like birds cawing in the distance or an irritated cat meowing, creates a sense of isolation. This quiet and unsettling atmosphere peaks during a sequence where Jo is confronted by an unseen something in the woods surrounding the house. Her incredibly inconsiderate husband doesn't understand her concerns. Even the other women around her are clueless. She is alone in her paranoia and fear, this feeling that something is intensely wrong in their new home. Through its subtle use of sound and production design, “Baby” makes the viewer feel that way too.

What's especially impressive about this episode is that it's so chilling while also being incredibly vague. We never know what exactly the mysterious animal corpse that triggers these events is. The area's history of curses and strange incidents is referenced in dialogue but never fully explained. The motivation of the forces pursuing Jo are not defined. “Baby” is seeped in ambiguity and even the final reveal – chilling no matter how stiff the special effects are – leaves you uncertain of what you just saw. The result is an incredibly eerie hour of television that creates an unnerving atmosphere solely through the power of suggestion. The acting is strong and takes us inside this crumbling marriage, providing the humanity to this grim tale. It's another fantastic episode and makes me want to watch the rest of “Beasts” even more. [8/10]

The Merry Skeleton (1898)

Once again, I find myself asking the question of: What is horror? Is it stories, written or recorded or projected, strictly meant to horrify, unnerve, scare, and disturb? Or is horror more of an ambiance, a feeling that is hard to describe but can range from the most benevolent type of all-ages spookiness to the most explicit and intense tales of terror imaginable? In other words: Is horror a forty second clip of a skeleton dancing? These are the kind of things I think about when I watch “The Merry Skeleton.” That would be a 124 year old short depicting a bony marionette awkwardly dancing around, loosing his bones and jumbling them up in his attempt to reassemble himself. 

Generally speaking, films like “The Merry Skeleton” are really only of interest to historians. Auguste and Louis Lumière pointed their early cameras at a lot of random shit, either in an attempt to document everyday life in 1890s France or simply to play with this marvelous new toy. Compared to their typical recordings, of people leaving a factory or a train pulling into a station, a dancing skeleton puppet certainly ranks among the more interesting. Yet there's still no plot here, no subtext, no characters or ideas. There's barely any production design. It's not really a “movie” in any traditional sense. At the same time, the playful image of a dancing skeleton conveys the sense of youthful energy with which early filmmakers explored this new tool. It also, in a puckish way, updated the classical danse macabre imagery to 1890s. It's a piece of cinematic history, with a degree of antiquated charm. This wasn't going to give anyone chills, not even a century ago. But I'm a Halloween freak so I can't turn my nose up at this earliest known presentation of a spooky, scary skeleton doing its thing. Gotta show respect to the forefathers of the dancing skeleton genre. [7/10]