Part of me is sad that Wes Craven and David Hess didn't live long enough to see "Last House on the Left" turn fifty years old. They certainly did get to see their gritty, grimy, low budget exploitation movie turn into a box office success and spawn a number of even sleazier imitators. Though it initially derailed Craven's career, he obviously went on to become one of the most iconic filmmakers in the whole genre. (And Hess did okay for himself too.) In time, "Last House on the Left" even became respected, which was surely impossible to imagine in 1972. Yet, fifty years after the fact, it's a set-in-stone cult classic, recognized as one of those movies that singled a tide change in the genre. Which is quite unexpected when you compare the film's reputation — and glossy remake — to its extremely low budget, even frequently clumsy actual quality. Let's get back on the road that leads to nowhere and reconsider "Last House," my first viewing of this motion picture in many years.
On the eve of her seventeenth birthday, Mari Collingwood journeys with her friend, Phyllis, to her rock concert. At home, Mari's loving parents, Estelle and John, prepare for their daughter's return. It's destined not to be. While looking to buy pot, Mari and Phyllis are abducted by sadistic criminal Krug and his gang of psychos. They take the girls into the forest, sexually assault and humiliate them, before murdering both. By some sad coincidence of fate, the murderous quartet stop at the Collingwood home to spend the night. When the parents realize that these are the people who have destroyed their daughter, they enact brutal, bloody revenge.
That "Last House" contains potent ideas like this is honestly surprising. This is an astonishingly crude movie in many ways. Craven and Sean Cunningham came from the world of pornography and “Last House” was originally conceived as a hardcore movie. On an aesthetic level, porn is what the film resembles. The camera work is rough. The editing is rougher. Even the most cleaned-up Blu-Ray prints look grainy. The hippy-dippy soundtrack jives weirdly with what's happening on screen. The acting is stilted from almost the entire cast, with Marc Sheffler as Junior giving by-far the most awkward performance. The most prominent evidence that Craven and his crew barely knew what they were doing is the comic relief. Often, the movie will cut away – even from the horrible torture of the girls – to a pair of buffoonish cops. (One played by a young Martin Kove.) They bumble through a number of clownish scenarios, involving chickens or jeering hippies. These scenes absolutely feel like something that would fill the minutes between fuckings in “The Pig Keeper's Daughter” or “Prison Girls.”
Wes Craven was an English professor before becoming a filmmaker, which is evident all throughout his career. Even though Craven started movies in the gutter – which is certainly where this one feels like it emerged – he still packed “Last House' will high-minded idea. It is, after all, a loose remake of Bergman's “The Virgin Spring.” Their daughter's killer showing up at the Collingwood's home is the sort of dramatic irony a writer appreciates. Craven, always fascinated by the family unit, cooks these themes into the film as well. Certain parallels and differences are drawn between Krug's brood and the Collingwoods. While the criminals are too depraved to ever be anti-heroes, their acts of violence against richer family could be read as an act of class revolution. That layered approach is also clear in the film's hopeless ending, expressing a theme about the uselessness of revenge. Craven's ambitions doubtlessly exceeded his resources. Yet “Last House's” jabs at artistry are sometimes effective, such as the haunting sequence of Mari descending into a lake before Krug shoots her.
Rutger Hauer's career as an action hero has always struck me as kind of funny. It's not that he couldn't do it. He had the striking good looks and more than enough charisma to pull it off. Yet, even when he was in leading men roles, the quirky heart of a character actor clearly beat within. This was a guy meant to star in Dutch art movies, not a big screen reboot of "Wanted: Dead or Alive." Yet Hauer, his agent, or some misguided studio exec really gave it a shot. Some good movies emerged out of this portion of Hauer's career, though few connected with audiences. One such example is "Split Second," an oddball sci-fi/action/horror hybrid that has managed to gain a small following in the years since.
In the far-flung future year of 2008, global warming has caused many portions of Great Britain to become flooded, while smog chokes the sky. Dysfunctional detective Harley Stone prowls the watery streets in search of the lunatic who killed his partner. After nearly catching the murderer, who has a habit of ripping people's hearts out, Stone is assigned a partner, a specialist in abnormal psychology named Dick Durkin. As Stone and Durkin investigate the case more, they realize the killer isn't human but a demonic monster.
In other ways, “Split Second” is an excessively quirky take on your usual eighties/nineties action flick. The water-logged sci-fi setting, the global warming element being quite ahead-of-the-curve for 1992, barely factors into the story at all. Hauer, meanwhile, does everything he can to make Stone as much of a weirdo as possible. When the character is introduced calling a guard dog “a dickhead,” which he does repeatedly, is a good sign that this hero is an oddball. He subsists solely on coffee, cigarettes, and chocolate. The character regularly has panic attacks, as a result of the lingering trauma from his partner's death. At one point, Stone wakes up from a nap with a pigeon sitting on his head. Even the seemingly straight-laced partner is offbeat too. Hauer speaks largely in sarcastic one-liners while bringing a lot of wide-eyed intensity to the part. Durkin, as played by a deadpan Neil Duncan, makes repeated references to marathon sex sessions with his girlfriend. There's just so many touches of weirdo personality in the movie like that.
It's unsurprising to read that “Split Second” had a messy production. The script was being rewritten all throughout filming. Director Tony Maylam, previously of “The Burning,” stepped away late in production. This might explain why certain details here are left unexplained and the ending is rather abrupt. Despite these mishaps, the movie is too fucking weird not to be consistently entertaining. There's an explosion, a shoot-out, a monster attack, a bizarre character detail, or an unexpected bit of world-building every minute. “Split Second” was a box office failure in 1992, which was blamed on the movie opening during the L.A. riots. Yet it's hard to imagine a film equal parts derivative and off-the-walls like this ever being a hit. Thankfully for cult movie aficionados like me, it became a common fixture in video stores. Give it a look, if you're a fan of bullshit like this. [7/10]
“Creeped Out,” BBC's kid-friendly strange stories anthology, would tackle the premise of time travel with “A Boy Called Red.” Vincent has a tense relationship with his dad, who doesn't seem to like him very much. They travel back to his dad's childhood home, still owned by his Aunt Jean. There's an old well outside the house, which Vincent's dad is frightened off. When he was Vincent's age, his best friend was a boy named Red who fell into the well to his apparent death. While exploring the house, Vincent comes across a strange glowing orb. This transports him back to his father's childhood, where the two bond over a love of video games. Vincent doesn't tell the young version of his dad his name... So he starts calling “Red.”
The opening narration of “A Boy Called Red” presents the same idea that “Back to the Future” was powered by: Would you be friends with your parents, if you knew them at the same age? It's a fruitful premise, though I wish “A Boy Called Red” delved into it a little more. As an adult, Vincent's dad is grumpy and morose. As a boy, he has a stutter and fixates on beating the high score in “Asteroids.” Eventually, the script links all of the father's later problems in life to the trauma of seeing his childhood best friend die. This is certainly an understandable reaction, though one that is perhaps oversimplified. Vincent's actions in the past result in a super-happy, overly neat conclusion that I didn't much care for. I guess, since this is a kid's show, that's an A-to-B path for psychological trauma is about what kids could understand. But I wish the script cooked a little more ambiguity into things.
Here's another obscure short I stumbled onto thanks to Letterboxd, from filmmaker Norman Hull and starring a young David Morrissey. “Out of Town” follows a young man as he goes for a walk in the English countryside. Alongside a muddy, gravel road, he gets his foot stuck in a hole. Frustratingly, nobody stops to assist him. In fact, the people (and animals) who do notice him seem to actively scorn him, either attacking him or hurling insults his way. This goes on for hours, the man becoming hungry and cold out in the elements. When someone finally does appear to help him out, they are quickly run over by a passing car. Somehow, this situation is only going to get worse before it's over.
“Out of Town” has a potent thread of existential horror in it. The idea of getting your foot stuck in a hole is such a simple premise, anyone can imagine that. It's also not scary taken on its own. However, the idea that no one would stop to help you is what makes this idea subtly terrifying. That your fellow man could be so callous, to act as if you don't exist, and for no discernible reason, is the kind of idea that gets under your skin. Imagine that: You're just trying to go on a walk and suffer what should be a minor inconvenience. Instead, it becomes life threatening. There's also a degree of absurd comedy to “Out of Town,” as the premise is so simple, yet so potent, that it could easily have arisen from a dream. This is emphasized by the to-the-point direction and cinematography, focused on Morrissey's face and the desolate environment.
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