Halloween 2024: October 7th

Good Madam (2021)

Last October, I reviewed "Nanny," a textbook example of what can be derisively called "elevated" horror. By which I mean it was a low-key drama about immigration, class, gender and a number of other social issues that, oh yeah, also had some ghosts or something in it. We can debate the merits of this style of filmmaking all we want but we can't deny that it seems to get funded. Surprisingly, "Nanny" was one half of a "Deep Impact/Armageddon" type situation where movies with similar premises get released in the same year. The other 2022 released ambiance-heavy, horror/drama about a woman loosing her mind via supernatural shenanigans, while having a lot of thoughts about black workers and their white masters, was "Good Madam." (Both were directed by women too.) Perhaps the two films being compared represents some ignorance on the behalf of critics. "Nanny" was an American film, made by the child of Sierra Leonan immigrants, specifically about the experiences of a Senegalese immigrant in New York. "Good Madam" was made by South African filmmakers in South Africa, specifically about the class inequalities in the aftermath of apartheid. Aesthetic similarities aside, surely those are two very different ideas reflecting very different cultures. I guess it's time for me to find out, as "Good Madam" is my stopover in South Africa on my Horror Around the World project. 

Tsidi was essentially raised by her grandmother, who has recently passed. Following a dispute with other relatives, Tsidi and Winnie, her nine year old daughter, become homeless. With few other options, she seeks out her estranged mother, Mavis. The reason the two don't talk much is Mavis has devoted her life to being the live-in maid to Diane, a rich and bedridden white woman. Living in that house is difficult for Tsidi, as Mavis enforces strict rules for her catatonic master's benefit. Tsidi begins to have strange visions and dreams in the home. She discovers unnerving evidence that the white owners of this household have used witchcraft to enslave their workers into the afterlife. When Tsidi's half-brother – who is as devoted to Diane as Mavis is – arrives, the curse closes in further. 

The end of slavery in the United States – insomuch as slavery can be said to have ended – led white institutions to new forms of racial oppression to keep brown people as a subjected underclass that, despite progress in many places, continues to this day. While America's commitment to its racist foundations are unlikely to be uprooted totally, white South African authorities have been especially odious in keeping class lines defined by color. Into the post-apartheid era, the white minority remains the ruling class in most areas. This is exactly what "Good Madam" is about. Tsidi's mother is so devoted to her white employee that she has long neglected her own children. With the ring of a bell, Mavis rushes to Diane's side no matter the time or day. Moreover, she confines her own daughter and granddaughter to the tiny, worker's bedroom, instead of any of the empty rooms in the spacious house. The reveal that the white landowners exert a literal magical control over their black employees is the horror movie metaphor for the institutional structures that keep one group of people the masters and the others the slaves. When Tsidi uncovers the neglected, hidden graveyard on the grounds for deceased workers – all of them identified by their job in the household – it presents the scariest idea the film has. Even in death, Tsidi's family are not free of this slavery. 

Like many modern horror films that put their social subtext so upfront, the inclusion of horror elements in "Good Madam" feel almost unnecessary. Like "Nanny," "Master," and a few other titles I could mention, the film pushes most of its horror elements into two corners: A lingering ambiance of unease and nightmarish vision the heroine has. The former manifest as a well done sound design that emphasizes long silence broken by unexpected noises and sinister long-shots of the mundane – but subtly not-quite-right – interiors of the home. As for the latter attempts at more straight ahead jolts... There's a moment where Tsidi has a panic attack after getting locked into the servant's quarters, that represents probably the scariest moments in the film. The frenzied editing and ramping sound design accurately captures the feeling of anxiety overtaking your brain. Another good moment has Tsidi's hand dropping off totally unexpectedly, an uncanny special effect that is deployed sharply. However, the film never does as good of a job as taking us inside the protagonist's head as it needs to, in order to make the sanity slippage aspect to become truly terrifying. This is probably because "Good Madam" always keeps its characters at arms length. We never actually find out what Mavis feels about her employer or her own daughter. Tsidi is reasonably well fleshed-out but everyone around her feels more like an expression of an idea than a flesh-and-blood person. 

Long stretches of "Good Madam" are infected with this frustrating vagueness. Certain elements of Tsidi's past are revealed in partially fragmented flashbacks, making it difficult at times to figure out the exact flow of events. The magical rituals and devices at work are kept frustrating unexplained. This peaks during a confusing climax. The half-brother enters far too late into the film to make an impression but ends up having big ramifications on its story. I couldn't quite grasp what exactly was happening in the final ritual, which is further disguised by a fragmented shooting style. This leads to a more obscure resolution, that left me scratching my head more than anything else. To discover that director Jenna Bass is white makes the last scene feel like an admittance of her own role in the institutional racism of her country. Which is as valid a point as any but does nothing to beat the feeling that "Good Madam" is more interested in its ideas than telling a compelling narrative full of characters we love and care about. By the time the movie is throwing some explosive body horror into the mix, the sense that the horror movie side of this script and the social drama side never fully connect. 

And that's a bummer. The first hour or so of "Good Madam" is promising. Chumisa Cosa gives a good performance as Tsidi, expressing a lot of inner turmoil with her wide eyes. The scenes when she has casual, relaxed conversations with her mother shows the depth of their bond, despite all the strife between them. Similarly, a moment depicting Mavis' cruel disapproval of her daughter is effectively upsetting. If the focus remained on the fraught relationship between mother and daughter, the result probably would've been a stronger last act. Instead, the focus turns towards the spells and the evil old woman in the upstairs bedroom, a threat that never feels pertinent no matter how much time the script spends building her up. Bass and Cosa are talents to watch. "Good Madam" has complex, intriguing ideas at its disposal. I wish it was a little more invested in telling a story though... [6/10]

Snuff (1976)

Snuff movies do not exist or so authorities say. The belief that an underground industry devoted to the production and distribution of real murder movies sprung up in the sixties. Of course, death has been captured on-camera. Ghastly accidents, political assassinations, and acts of war are often recorded but usually by happenstance. Serial killers and terrorist sects have filmed themselves committing murder. According to the official definition, these do not count as snuff films, as they were not created specifically for commercial sale. In our modern age of mass shooters livestreaming their rampages or child pornographers circulating the most vile stuff imageable via the deep web, this definition feels increasingly narrow. Whether true snuff can be said to exist or not, the legend got highly publicized in 1976. That's when Allan Shackleton acquired the rights to “The Slaughter,” a low-budget flick made in Argentina in 1971. Previously deemed unreleasable, Shackleton had the idea to tag on a final scene supposedly depicting a “real” murder and building the entire advertising campaign around it. This included hiring fake protestors to picket outside theaters. The scheme worked extremely well, attracting national attention, public condemnation, and lots of box office. An exploitation movie that probably would've been quickly forgotten otherwise had now secured a place in horror/cult movie history. 

“The Slaughter” depicted a group of hippy she-bikers terrorizing the Argentina country side. They are led by a sadistic ringleader named Satán, who supplies them with drugs, demands total obedience, and enforces his rules with torture. Meanwhile, actress Terri London has come to Buenos Aires to shoot a movie with her director boyfriend, Max Marsh. London's career is on the skids and Marsh, a producer of sexploitation films, hopes to resurrect it. London is also cheating on Marsh with a rich playboy named Horst Frank, whose father owns a mansion near-by. One of Satán's followers works on the grounds, giving the murderous cult a way into the affluent home. London is also pregnant, which becomes the center of a bizarre sacrifice. Then the final scene arrives and changes the context of everything that came before...

“The Slaughter” was the work of husband/wife filmmaking team Michael and Roberta Findlay. The two had previously found success in the New York film scene making “roughies,” softcore sex flicks that emphasized sadism and depravity. Among enthusiasts of this disreputable genre, Findlay films like “Take Me Naked,” “The Touch of Her Flesh,” and “Janie” seem well regarded for their artsy cinematography, transgressive content, and sordid tones. You can definitely see this element at work in “Snuff.” A long digression in the middle of the film involves Satán initiating a girl into his cult via bondage and rough sex, mostly depicted through a close-up on her contorting face while the freakier girls watch and get off. This proceeds a meandering flashback, in which another of his followers describes a youth filled with sexual violence and death. Many of these scenes are shot in muted color, with odd camera angles, creating a tone that suggests grindhouse sleaziness mixed with arthouse pretensions. 

By the same accord, it's easy to see why distributors passed on “The Slaughter” for so many years. This is an extremely crude film in every meaning of the word. It was shot without sound, forcing the entire production to be dubbed in post. The result is that the dialogue never matches the movement of the mouths. The voiceovers provided range from flat and bored to hilariously booming and melodramatic. As interesting as the cinematography can be, it's also extremely rough in other spots. There's lots of shaky crash-zooms and meandering handheld footage of Carnivale celebration. Moreover, the film barely has a story. The scenes devoted to Terri London's career and love affairs are utterly tedious. Satán and his girls terrorize and kill indiscriminately, such as a scene where they confront and murder a grocery store owner and his daughter for the hell of it. This leaves the film little in the way of forward momentum, “Snuff” truly being one of those B-movies best describe as a series of barely connected scenes. 

As incoherent and incompetent as “Snuff” largely is, there is something oddly hypnotic about it. The Findlays' background in skin flicks is obvious, as the movie is full of casual nudity and sex scenes. Whether the encounters are consensual or more of Satán's sadistic head games, there is a grimy feel to it all. The entire movie is scored to rambling, fuzzy guitar rock, including a soundalike of “Born to Be Wild” that kicks in during any of the motorcycle scenes. The gore effects are never that convincing, with plenty of bright orange stage blood. The script is blatantly inspired by the Manson family – who, coincidently or not, are also wrapped up in the origins of the snuff movie myth – and the Tate-LaBianca murders. That gives everything that follows a depraved tone, of crass exploitation of a true crime by low-skill filmmakers who know to pack their sleazy claptrap with as much flesh and blood as possible. For fans of sleazy grindhouse faire, this is exactly the kind of edgy, unseemly, strangely compelling work we're looking for. “The Slaughter” probably was never going to be a “good” movie but imagining watching it with a rowdy 42nd Street crowd does create a certain irresistibly low-brow feeling. 

Which brings us to that notorious final scene. Directed by Simon Nuchtern – who'd later make a slasher fave of mine, “Silent Madness” – years after the rest of the movie was shot, no attempt is made to match the doomed “actress” with Mirtha Massa, who plays Terry London. The filmmaking technique is inconsistent, cutting haphazardly between the omniscient third-person cinematography typical of movies and cinéma vérité style camerawork. The gore effects are unconvincing, clipped off fingers looking rubbery and obvious animal intestines being pulled from an obvious dummy. Despite all these shortcomings, there is a sickening sort of frenzy to the sequence. The way everyone on the film set immediately jumps in to “murder” a girl, the boom operator and script girl assisting in holding her down while she's cut up, creates an unpleasant feeling. The scenario could never be mistaken for real life but the idea – an innocent lured into a spontaneous murder – is unsettling. The best thing “Snuff” does is end by having the film run out, the crew heard chattering before a stark cut to black. No credits, no warning, simply an abrupt end. If the gore effects were better and the blending of reality and fiction more convincing, “Snuff's” ending would certainly be chilling. As inept as it is, you can still feel a distressing power emanating from this climax. 

The result is, well, certainly something. “The Slaughter” is grimy, Z-grade filmmaking. It has little redeeming value on its own yet can't help but be involving through the grit and determination of the filmmakers and their ability to capture a genuine air of depravity. The “Snuff” framing device, meanwhile, accidentally pushed the boundaries of the medium. Once you start to interrogate how film blurs the “real” and the “fake,” not to mention making the tactile quality of cinema itself part of the experience, very interesting opportunities opens up.  Not that “Snuff” in any way capitalizes on that, being the work of cynical exploitation schlock-meister looking to make a fast buck. Nevertheless, this is a curious genre oddity that can't be entirely dismissed. Michael Findlay would die a year after “Snuff's” release in a freak helicopter accident but Roberta Findlay would continue to make movies afterwards. Some of her eighties horror films and a few of her hardcore pornos have been the subject of critical essays and genre retrospectives. All of this and more implies that perhaps something worthy of discussion is lurking under “Snuff's” distasteful exterior. [7/10]

Monsters: Mannikens of Horror

Earlier this season, I watched an episode of "Thriller" adapted from a story by Robert Bloch. This is not especially notable, as Bloch's work was easily adaptable to the anthology format. About thirteen different shows have used one of his stories for inspiration. This was still going on as late as 1988. That's when the penultimate episode of "Monsters'" first season adapted his story, "Mannikens of Horror." Dr. Collin was a gifted surgeon during the war but now resides in a mental hospital. His nervous conditions are exacerbated by the cruel Dr. Starr. To soothe the hallucinations of his body coming part, Collin sculpts small, highly detailed anatomy mannequins. Another doctor named Jarrett takes pity on him but she can't stop Starr from destroying the mannequins... That's when Collin's claim that his little sculptures come to life and share a psychic connection to him is proven to be true.

If this episode sounds familiar, that's because Bloch's story was previously adapted as a segment in the Amicus omnibus, "Asylum." The "Monsters" version improves on the Amicus take in a few ways. It takes us much further into Collin's world. William Prince's soft spoken performance makes the doctor seem like a very sad man. The cold, concrete hospital – looking more like a prison – makes us feel his isolation more. A sequence where Collin sees his hand detaches from his body is shot from his perspective, showing us how upsetting his hallucinations are. Later, Collin suffers from horrible noise sensitivity, which is depicted by an effectively deafening cacophony. It is clear that his sculptures provide his only relief in this cruel setting. When Dr. Starr takes that away from him, you truly feel for the guy. Prince's anguished wails really sell the pain he feels in that moment. 

The second way this "Mannikens of Horror" improves on the 1972 take is simply by being creepier. The classic horror morality tale structure is maintained. Dr. Starr is a raging bastard, played with perfect slimy cruelty by Brian Brophy. He sexually harasses Dr. Jarrett too. As big of an asshole as this guy is, his comeuppance still made me wince. His final fate – a letter opener shoved into a very sensitive spot – is surprisingly gory by 1988 television standards. This proceeds a twist ending, one you anticipated that is nevertheless smoothly constructed, that is far more grotesque in its violence. The stop motion effects used to bring the little clay models to life are surprisingly good as well. They look on par with the early, good Full Moon movies, to me. Stop motion perfectly captures the uncanny effect needed to make these little homunculi – resembling tiny, nude, grey humans with few defined features – creepy. "Monsters" was usually pretty campy but, when it went full-throttle, it could be an excellent horror series. This is the best episode I've seen yet. [8/10]

The Addams Family: My Son, the Chimp

"The Addams Family" would fall back on one of the principal rules of comedy as we got into the home stretch of the first season: Monkeys are funny. "My Son, the Chimp" begins with Pugsley feeling a little ignored, as everybody else in the family is too busy to watch his card trick. At the same time, an organ grinder's chimpanzee happens to wander off and climb into the Addams home. Pugsley adopts the little guy and next attempts to get Uncle Fester, who's currently practicing spellcasting, interested in his card trick. There's a burst of smoke, Pugsley ends up in a secret room, and the chimp is teleported next to Fester. The family naturally believes that their son has been turned into the primate, unaware he's simply behind a trap door. More monkey business ensues as they attempt to unravel the truth. 

"My Son, the Chimp" is one of the few "Addams Family" episodes that seems to be attempting some sort of moral. At the story's beginning, everyone is too busy to pay attention to Pugsley. Gomez is fishing in the piranha tank, Wednesday is playing chess with Thing, Morticia is painting, Fester is communing with the spirits. The son feels neglected and then, as far as the rest of the family knows, gets turned into a damn dirty ape. This apparent crisis should bring into sharp focus how much the family actually cares about the boy. Of course, this is a wacky sitcom much more concerned with gags than character arcs, so that doesn't quite happen. However, you can see an attempt was made. The theme continues into the last joke, which now has Wednesday getting involved in some weird business. (Having a childish "boyfriend" who happens to be invisible.)

As you probably guessed, this is a wacky episode even by the standards of this show. Thing performing charades is an important plot point, preceding an amusing gag about comic books. (This scene also confirms that Thing's boxes are connected by a series of tunnels.) Fester's attempt at magic leads to more teleporting by the end. Obviously, the chimpanzee is used for easy laughs too, largely via animal reaction shots. The fast-paced dialogue among the cast does end up elevating what probably would be a desperate set-up, with the séance sequence featuring some nicely manic instructions. Also, this episode sees Pugsley referencing Gorgo the Gorilla, a rare example of continuity in this series. Once again, I'll say it's not a bad episode but I think "The Munsters" did the same premise, of a little boy seemingly getting turned into a chimp, slightly better. [6/10]