Halloween 2024: October 11th

Crimes of Passion (1984)

Controversy followed Ken Russell's entire career. His maximalist visions frequently pushed the envelope in terms of content. From Oliver Reed and Alan Bates' nude wrestling match in "Women in Love" to a convent of mad nuns having an orgy with a statue of Christ in "The Devils," his work frequently came under fire from censors. Eventually, his excessive imagination and outrageous antics seemed to reach a point of self-parody. Critics and audience both became less receptive to Russell's work going into the eighties. A big turning point seems to have been 1984's "Crimes of Passion." The erotic thriller was heavily cut by distributor New World Pictures to avoid an X rating, leading to a compromised vision that was critically dismissed and financially unsuccessful. However, time has been kind to "Crimes of Passion." Russell's unrated director's cut is widely available, becoming a video hit back in the day. With the salacious subgenre receiving renewed interest in recent years, "Crimes of Passion" is frequently touted as a unique entry. It almost goes without saying, it's gotten a special features packed boutique Blu-ray release, cementing the film's status as a cult classic.

Joanna Crane is a fashion designer by day but, at night, she dons a platinum blonde wig and assumes the persona of street walking prostitute China Blue. As China, she fulfils deviant sexual fantasies for a number of men, never allowing herself to become emotionally close to any of them. Family man and sometimes detective Bobby Grady, whose marriage is slowly decomposing, is hired to trail Joanna. He discovers her perverse night life and quickly becomes one of her clients. However, the two immediately feel a spark that puts Joanna's ability to distance herself from her work at risk. Also putting her at risk: "Reverend" Shayne, a drug addicted and deranged street preacher with an unhealthy fixation on "curing" China Blue that involves the razor sharp vibrating dildo he carries with him everywhere. It's not long before both men are taking over both of Joanna/China's lives.

As a work of stylish eroticism, "Crimes of Passion" is hard to beat. Much of the film is composed of the various outrageous encounters "China" has with her clientele. One perv gets her in a stirrup chair while having her dress up as a beauty pageant winner. Another is obsessed with rape fantasies. At one point, she's picked up by a yuppy couple who discuss business while fondling her in the back of their limo. Russell depicts all of these encounters with the kind of go-for-broke excess that was his trademark. "Crimes of Passion" exists largely in a neon-lit netherworld of sleazy hotel rooms, shadowy sex, and bizarre fetishes. It is, simultaneously, a gorgeous and grimy film. The somewhat episodic nature of China's work allows Russell to create wildly different set pieces. The film is at its most swirlingly wild when China has an abusive cop handcuffed, stabbed with her stiletto heels, and forces his nightstick into a very intimate place. The frantic editing and wild camera movement of this moment recalls "The Devils'" most unhinged sequences. As self-aware as the film is in its own campy sleaziness, and as aggressive as its style can be, "Crimes of Passion" is also a strangely artistic and tender film at times. Russell frequently cuts between the steamy scenes and prints of famous artwork, making it clear that these moments exist as artistic displays in their own right. China and Bobby's first encounter plays out mostly as shadows cast on the wall, a scene of genuine eroticism. Meanwhile, the hooker being hired to give a dying man one last thrill is a surprisingly emotional scene.

China White's dream-like underworld of neon-drenched sex and nightmarish paraphilias contrast against a brightly lit depiction of suburban mundanity. We never see much of Joanna's day job, though her apartment is lavish. It's also largely white in its walls and decoration, providing a visual contrast against the darkly lit seediness of the night scenes. As for Bobby's life, it's crushingly dull. Annie Potts plays his wife as a frigid, emotionally closed-off woman. Every interaction they have in their white picket fenced home is tense. Bobby's unsavory desires are always threatening to burst into this respectable life, such as the dirty jokes that are told during a family cook-out that climaxes with the husband literally dressing up as an ejaculating prick. A notable scene has Bobby and the missus watching a music video that depicts marriage as a series of cages that ends with the happy couple reduced to skeletons. This life, the roles of husband and wife, father and mother, that they've consigned themselves to aren't making them happy. Not that Joanna is much better off, performing similarly ridiculous roles for her various clients. This is one of the primary theses of the film, that too many people are playing a part to please someone else and not allowing themselves to live their own own wants.

The very first scene in "Crimes of Passion" is Bobby's rowdy buddies telling sexist jokes while at some sort of group therapy, where the married man eventually lies about his life being happy and normal. While Joanna insists that she's always in control during her sessions with her johns, it often feels like she's more at their mercy than she'd like to admit. The cop into pegging spits in her face afterwards, needing to reassert his macho dominance after paying a hooker to degrade him. After they make love, Bobby and "China" have a petty argument not unlike those he has with his wife all the time. Anthony Perkin's street preacher is the ultimate example of someone torn apart by the different roles they've assigned themselves to play. He can't get through a religious sermon, often delivered atop an actual soap box, without beginning to vulgarly rant about the state of the world. He seems to think he can communicate directly with God but is always pulled back down towards his lustful desires. Inevitably, this has resulted in a highly disturbed individual. "Crimes of Passion" most resides in the horror genre when it takes us inside "Reverend" Shayne's head, where his erotic fantasies often overlap with violent delusions. A sequence where a blow-up doll writhes orgasmically while spurting blood surely must be seen to be believed. The film never quite depicts the Reverend going fully over into the realm of a sex worker slaughtering serial killer, though it's implied all throughout. Instead, his desire to serve God and jerk off at peepshows while snorting poppers represents the most extreme divide in the film.

The fact that Ken Russell got an ostensibly respectable actor like Perkins to play such a sleazy, disgusting character is a feat unto itself. Russell goes so far as to have Perkins revive Norman Bates' voyeurism, when the Reverend rents the room next door to China's and watches her hook-ups through a peephole. Perkins – who spends the entire movie in a wide-eyed state of drugged-up sweatiness that is simply spellbinding – excels at the ribald dialogue he's given. That's another unexpected aspect of "Crimes of Passion." It's a hyper-verbal script full of clever conversations, circular sentences, dirty puns, and colorful insults. Perhaps that's what attracted a semi-respectable cast to material this salacious. Kathleen Turner stars as Joanna/China, her smoky voice being put to good use while also projecting a surprising sense of vulnerability. Recognizable performers like Annie Potts and Bruce Davidson fill out the supporting roles, also getting some shockingly well constructed dirty dialogue of their own. The obvious star power of Turner, Perkins, and the supporting cast amusingly stand alongside John Laughlin as Bobby, an actor who embodies being an average joe without any sense of irony about him.

As the film goes full giallo in the last act, I was once again amazed that Ken Russell was allowed to make so many movies for so many years. He drops a musical number into the middle of an attempted torture/interrogation scene and never backs away from that sharpened murder dildo. Some will look at "Crime of Passion's" over-the-top sexual fantasies as an overly self-aware act of campy button-pushing. And perhaps it is. However, the film is also deeper than that, with a sharp screenplay that a lot more than mere exploitation on its mind. A totally convinced cast operating on a similarly bug-nuts level is certainly a big factor in the movie being as entertaining as it is. Ultimately though, it's the tone of sweaty depravity and wild imagination that Russell creates that makes "Crimes of Passion" a hypnotic sex vortex of a motion picture. Hilarious, gorgeous, perverse, and weirdly thoughtful, the film is the kind of destined cult classic that you can hardly believe exists. Or, at least, that is exists with Jessica Rabbit and Norman Bates in the lead roles. In other words, this is exactly the kind of shit I live for. God bless Ken Russell, wherever he is now. [9/10]

Save the Green Planet! (2003)

Jigureul jikyeora!

Earlier this year, it was announced that indie weirdo turned Oscar favorite Yorgos Lanthimos was making a film called "Bugonia," about a conspiracy theorist who kidnaps a corporate exec under the belief that they are an alien. As I read that plot synopsis, I thought to myself "Hey, waitaminute, that's the premise of "Save the Green Planet!"" And indeed it is, Lanthimos' new project being an acknowledged remake of this mostly forgotten South Korean cult oddity from 2003. Not forgotten by obsessive-compulsive nerds like me, of course, who read a review of the film in Fangoria many moons ago and added it to my ever-growing mental list of stuff to watch some day. Since Lanthimos' films usually become hot topics of discussion about the kinds of crowds I travel in, I imagine "Bugonia" will generate lots of conversation whenever it comes out. Meaning I should probably go ahead and watch the original first. This is the not especially interesting reasoning behind me choosing Jang Joon-hwan's hard-to-classify film as my South Korean pick for 2024's Horror Around the World project. 

Kang Man-shik is a high powered CEO of a pharmaceutical company. While in a parking garage, he is abducted by a strange young man named Lee Byeong-gu. Kang awakens tied to a chair in a dank room. Lee and his girlfriend proceed to physically torture Kang in bizarre ways, under the belief that the exec is an alien from the Andromeda star system. Lee believes that aliens are about to destroy the Earth and that Kang is their prince in disguise. Only Lee knows this, convinced he's the sole person who can save the world. The longer the man is subject to Lee's bizarre rantings and treatments, the clearer it becomes that the conspiracy theorist has a personal connection to the man's company. Meanwhile, detectives attempt to locate the missing CEO, uncovering more of Lee's strange story. 

It's a stereotype of Asian cinema that consistent tones are not all that important. I've already seen an example of that this season in "Mahakaal." "Save the Green Planet!" does a much better job of blending different genre elements into a compelling whole though. The film is, ostensibly, a comedy. Lee's bizarre beliefs and eccentric behaviors are played for quirky laughs. This is most apparent in fantasy sequences that show him kicking a bully around with acrobatic martial arts. Or, my favorite scene in the scene, an extended lesson on the cosmology of his bizarre beliefs that feature serio-comic artwork of aliens abducting dinosaurs and an extended "2001: A Space Odyssey" parody. We are clearly meant to laugh at the guy's bizarre behavior and rants some of the time. "Save the Green Planet!" is fairly gruesome too though. Kang is subjected to having his leg chopped up with an axe, his chest burned with a steam iron, wounds rub with menthol spray, and is threatened with anal rape too. Dead bodies start to pile up as the story progresses. The movie walks a very fine tonal tight rope, never quite crossing over into the realm of gory slapstick but  too brutal to be light-hearted while also remaining extremely wacky in some regards. Somehow, it works though, the elevated mood sold by the often frenetic visuals and editing while everything else about the film's aesthetics suggest a certain degree of grit. The absurdity of Lee's beliefs are played for laughs, despite the severity of some of his actions. 

In fact, Joon-hwan does a good job of balancing the many different modes of the film. The scenes devoted to the detectives on the case have a nice hard-boiled approach to them with the right air of quirkiness to keep them from being dull. When an eccentric detective is digging around Lee's house, a genuine sense of suspense is engineered. A clear understanding of creating tension is on display, as Lee has to redirect the detective's attention away from the obvious evidence of his crime. The comedy is often whimsical, such as the girlfriend's heavily foreshadowed day job as a tight rope walker in a sideshow or the increasingly wacky details of Lee's conspiracy, thoughtfully introduced over the course of the film. As an off-beat sci-fi/horror film, "Save the Green Planet!" is also successfully quirky. The sci-fi aesthetic is patterned after the weird artwork of cult literature, which gives an amusingly off-beat feeling to the various flight of fantasy scenes. Keeping in the tradition of Korean genre cinema, the violence is brutal but stylized. Ranging from a stomped on hand to a body covered in bees, you feel the pain. Which is all the stranger when the implement of violence is, say, a giant robot arm or a steel dildo that ejaculates steam. (I did not anticipate both movies today featuring, weaponized sex toys.) Somehow, all these different elements work together equally well, instead of clashing wildly. 

Perhaps it all ties together so well because the film always takes Lee's story, no matter how unlikely it gets, seriously. Throughout the film, we learn more about the tragic circumstances that brought him to this point. His life has been one full of pain and loss. The elaborate conspiracy theories he's created emerge as a coping mechanism against a chaotic life. This quickly moves from being darkly funny – in how he gets revenge on the bully that's followed him since high school – to deeply sad. When he's using quack medicine to try and save a sick and dying loved one, I couldn't help but think of the people dying of cancer who have been convinced that pomegranate juice will save them. Shin Ha-kyun plays Lee as almost child-like, locked in a permanent adolescence as a result of never recovering from childhood trauma. This points towards an increasingly melancholy ending, that ends a film this strange and violent on a strangely poetic mark. 

Not every element of the film works for me. Lee's girlfriend, Su-ni, being a bigger eccentric than him struck me as an odd decision that the film never quite justifies. You definitely see the twist ending coming, which would've worked a bit better if the film had established more of a sense of ambiguity over what we're seeing. Finally, there's some distractingly bad shakiness in the cinematography sometimes, detracting from a film that otherwise looks good. "Save the Green Planet!" is definitely an example of a movie that pushes its own quirkiness as far as it can go, perhaps to diminishing returns at time. However, a sure handling of its opposing tones and a surprisingly firm grip on the tragedy of the main character makes a film that's probably too comedic to be a horror movie but too horrific to be a comedy work quite well. I'm very interested to see what Yorgos Lanthimos will do with this material. [7/10]

The Hunger: Sanctuary 

A few years back, I watched an episode of "The Hunger" and it sucked. You probably don't remember this, as I've never heard another soul discuss Showtime's attempt to build an on-going anthology out of the vampire cult classic. Surely, a horror program hosted by David Bowie can't be all bad? Let's give "Sanctuary" a shot. Bowie stars as Julian Priest, a once controversial performance artist who has fallen from relevance. He now lives as a recluse in a repurposed prison. One day, a mysterious man named Eddie Foden, on the run from the cops and currently sporting a bullet wound in his shoulder, shows up at Priest's compound. After thinking it over, Priest invites the man in. The two share a connection, linked by a story of sex and death, that will spell doom for them both. 

Within minutes of pressing play on "Sanctuary," I remembered why I dislike "The Hunger" TV show so much. The opening credits are an assault of jagged editing, abrasive noise, pseudo-philosophical profoundery, and artsy-fartsy attempts at edginess. The entire episode carries on in that fashion. Priest's art pieces include a naked woman being crucified, sawing a cow in half before a crowd, and slicing off a piece of his own skin on-camera. Are we to expect that any of that would actually raise an eyebrow in a post-"Piss Christ"/Damien Hirst art world? All of it is filmed in the same obnoxiously in-your-face style of the opening credits. The flashbacks are visually and aurally distorted. All the colors are sickly and washed out. All the locations are harsh and industrial, with unconventional camera angles. Basically, if all the shitty attempts to emulate the "Closer" music video were a late night Skinnemax show, that's what "The Hunger" is. Tony Scott himself directed this episode but it looks a lot more like "Man on Fire" than the original movie. 

As for the story content of "Sanctuary," it isn't much better. The idea of a washed-up artist meeting a younger man who reminds him of himself – connected by the same sleazy agent – isn't bad. The script simply can't let this premise breathe. Instead, it bogs itself down in rambling conversations about art and death that never exactly make sense. In an attempt to catch the viewer off-guard, the story constantly twists in on itself, keeping secrets instead of directly stating who it's characters are and what they want. The episode builds towards a metaphorical twist of some sort that doesn't make much sense at all. We still somehow anticipate it coming. Largely because this episode is so high on its own farts, that it's clearly going to try some rug-pulling final reveal that is attempting to make a wider point about something or other. 

It's garbage that has one thing going for it. Whether David Bowie was a great actor or merely savvy enough to lend his particular image to projects that suited him is debatable. I don't know if he gives a good performance here. I do know that hearing him call someone a cunt is totally worth watching this for. There's also some interesting meta-subtext here. The scene where a twitchy-as-usual Giovanni Ribisi berates Priest as someone who used to be cutting edge but is now irrelevant can't help but feel like Bowie commenting on his own place in pop history circa 1999. The late nineties and early 2000s are full of gems but I don't think it was a time in Bowie's career when he was considered the trend-setting, inflammatory artist he used to be. About the only relevant thing "Sanctuary" says is admitting all vital artists will succumb to this fate someday. At least those that don't self-destruct at a young age. If this is an interesting coincidence or if Bowie was genuinely hoping a show like this might get him out of a rut, I don't know. Considering this around the same time Mr. David Jones was soundtracking video games and starring in shit like "Mr. Rice's Secret," "Gunslinger's Revenge" and, well, this show, it's hard to believe the latter. Maybe I should try an episode from the Terence Stamp hosted first season next? Couldn't be much worse than this... [4/10]

The Addams Family: Cousin Itt and the Vocational Counselor 

This elegantly entitled episode has Morticia still worried about Cousin Itt finding a steady career. After throwing around a number of suggestions – including secret agent, a joke I seem to recall the nineties "Addams Family" cartoon ran with – Gomez and Mortica decide Itt would make a fine marriage counselor. The loving couple pose as his first clients and it goes badly. This prompts the family to call in a vocational expert by the name of Mortimer Phelps. At first baffled by the family's antics, Phelps soon becomes enthusiastic about helping Itt. 

You wouldn't think a walking pile of hair that speaks in gibberish would present many story opportunities but it seems Cousin Itt was popular with the "Addams Family" viewers back in 1965. You can tell not only because the show kept bringing the diminutive fur ball back. They also built a specific, new set for him, for a brief gag. That would be a Felix Sila sized room that Lurch has to crouch around inside of it. It's a good joke, better than the reoccurring one about Itt dreaming of becoming a stewardess. Let's not examine the cousin's gender identity nor the sexist expectations of certain jobs in 1960s America, okay? 

This is really an episode split in two. The first half springboards off the idea of Itt being a marriage counselor and Gomez and Mortica being his guinea pigs. We are so used to seeing these two be nothing but passionately in love with each other that having them roleplaying a bickering couple is actually a solid joke. You can see John Astin and Carolyn Jone's chemistry didn't work for romance alone in the moments of them arguing, which the episode nicely stretches out for a bit. That makes their quick reconciliation more meaningful too, Gomez's constant canoodling of his wife's arm seeming more passionate than usual. 

The rest of the episode plays the titular set-up, of Itt bouncing off Richard Deacon as Phelps. He makes for a good straight man, his reaction to Lurch – whimpering out "Help" before fleeing – being a good example of his skills. Conversations about Rorschach inkblots, word association, and block games cycle in nicely absurd directions. Instead of just going with the expected humor of a normie being weirded out by the Addams, Phelps quickly warms up to Itt. It results in one of the few endings of the show where Gomez seems genuinely annoyed with someone. Overall, this is one of those episodes that truly packs as many jokes into its runtime as possible. [7/10]

Halloween 2023: October 10th

Gothic (1986)

Back in January, beloved character actor and genre film icon Julian Sands disappeared while hiking in the San Gabriel Mountains. Evidence of avalanches had been found in the area and, after Sands remained missing for several weeks, he was assumed deceased. Finally, in June, his body was uncovered and his remains were put to rest, perhaps bringing some sort of closure to his family. Among horror fans, Sands will probably be best remembered for the “Warlock” movies. Yet Sands appeared in all sorts of quirky motion pictures, bringing his particular charms to a wide variety of stories. Among his oddest ventures was his starring role as Percy Shelly in Ken Russell's surreal interpretation of the night that birthed “Frankenstein” and “The Vampyre,” 1986's “Gothic.” 

During the summer of 1816, Mary Godwin and her lover Percy Shelley travel with Mary's stepsister, Claire, to visit celebrated poet and notorious libertine Lord Byron in Switzerland. Claire is one of Byron's many lovers, which includes his live-in physician, Dr. John Polidori. The five youths indulge in wine, drugs, and each other. As a storm blows in that night, they read from a volume of German ghost stories. This prompts Byron to propose a contest, for everyone to write their own ghost stories. In order to assist in this, the party performs a séance. This seemingly summons a spirit, that haunts everyone in the chateau, forcing their greatest fears and darkest nightmares to manifest.

Quite coincidentally, I've been reading and re-reading Victorian Gothic horror literature all month, including the 1818 text of “Frankenstein.” What has struck me the most about all of these stories is the roles the subconscious play in them. “Dracula,” “Carmilla,” “Jekyll & Hyde,” “The Dream-Woman,” “George Dobson's Expedition to Hell” and many others all feature night terror imagery or repressed thoughts effecting the waking world. I have no doubt that Russell and screenwriter Stephen Volk were aware of this when conceptualizing “Gothic.” This is a movie where sleep, dreams, and drug induced visions all come to life. The line between these states and death or mania are blurred. Mary, Byron, and Polidori attempt to invoke their creative drives and bring their demons to flesh in the process. This is a strong metaphor for the writing process, itself an experience not too indifferent from dreaming or hallucinating. 

As for the sexual repression... We tend to think of the Victorian era, and its most famous authors, as chaste poets. The truth is Percy, Mary, and Lord Byron most of all where passionate young people, heavily using drugs. Many historians believe that they were probably all fucking each other. Ken Russell, being a filmmaker fond of elaborate sexual imagery, doesn't hold back. “Gothic” is heavy on the nudity and sexual liaisons. Byron's sexual appetite is limitless, Polidori's homosexuality is barely repressed, and it's implied Percy lusts after Mary's stepsister. Russell, of course, is happy to load the film down with sexual imagery. A haunted suit of armor, animated by crawling leeches, sports a metal erection. Percy attempts to molests a sexualized automata. A goat is milked suggestively. Byron going down on Claire in a vampiric manner is contrasted with Polidori mutilating his hand during an apparent masturbatory session. “Gothic” is a kinky, weird movie that forces us to think of these literary icons are sexually vivacious young people.

Whether you'll be able to tolerate Russell's maximalist approach to history is a matter of taste. “Gothic” is heavy on phantasmagoric sights, such as the crouching imp upon the sleeping madam gracing the poster. (Itself an image rift with subconscious and sexual implications.) Russell fills the movie with freaky imagery, like nipples being replaced with eyes or roaches crawling from a corpse's mouth. The séance sequence, where Claire gives voice to the subconscious fears and desires plaguing the group, is just the first sign we are headed into Freaksville. Russell's camera captures the impressive sets from artistic angles. As Mary has visions of the future, the film only gets more dream-like. Adding to “Gothic's” swirling strangeness is an anachronistic synth score from Thomas Dolby, which only enhances the uncanny tone. 

Befitting a film of such oversized emotions and far-out visuals, “Gothic's” cast similarly goes for broke. Gabriel Bryne plays Byron as a satyr-like predator, with a devilish grin and a sadistic desire to impose his will on others. Julian Sands depicts Percy largely in the grips of a laudanum spell. He shrieks, shivers, yells, and enunciates, sometimes while naked and from roof tops. Miriam Cyr, as Claire, brings an animalistic spirit to the troubled young woman. Timothy Spall perfectly plays up Polidori's pathetic, conflicted nature. Everyone sweats a ton and even Natasha Richardson as Mary, by far the most subdued performance, screams for the rafters on more than one occasion. 

How much insight “Gothic” gives into what is likely the most significant night in horror history is debatable. It's not a historical record, obviously, while most of the reflection it has on these authors is probable heresy. The idea that Mary Shelley's stillborn child or Polidori's homoerotic longings for his boss inspired “Frankenstein” and “The Vampyre” are hotly debated. Yet “Gothic's” supposition that writers express their secret fears and desires through their writing is unavoidable. One of three films released in the late eighties about these same events, “Gothic” is by far the creepiest and most unhinged. And this is probably one of Ken Russell's more restrained biographies of famous Europeans. [7/10]

Yongary, Monster from the Deep (1967)

Taekoesu Yonggary

Obviously, Japan was absolutely covered with giant monsters in the sixties. Godzilla and all his allies and enemies, Gamera and his motley rogues gallery, the Gargantuas, Daimajin, and even relative unknowns like Gappa and Guilala would each have their shots at flattening the Land of the Rising Sun. But what about glorious Nippon's neighbors to west? Surely the Japanese were not the only Asian filmmakers to try their hands at rubber-suited monster mayhem.  Indeed, South Korea would produce two giant monster flicks during the Kaiju Boom. Probably the most notable of these is “Yongary, Monster from the Deep,” a blatant attempt by Keukdong Entertainment to emulate the “Godzilla” series. No complete print of the original cut is known to exist but the English language dub – produced by A.I.P. for U.S. television in 1969 – is widely available. This should give us something of an idea of what director Kim Ki-Duk's original vision was.

Yoo Kwang-nam, an astronaut, is deployed to spy on a nuclear test in the Middle East. The bomb triggers an earthquake across the Asian continent. In South Korea, a crack in the earth opens up. From under the ground an enormous, oil-drinking, fire-breathing dinosaur emerges. Quickly dubbed Yongary, the monster starts to rampage through Korea in search of crude to consume. Among those effected by the creature's march across the country is Il-Woo, a scientist working on combating the monster, and Icho, a little boy who forms a bond with Yongary. As the Korean army is overwhelmed by the giant monster, new techniques must be found to combat the monster.

While I went into this one hopeful that it would provide a uniquely Korean perspective on the giant monster premise, “Yongary” is blatantly derivative of countless other kaiju flicks. Yongary is not an especially novel or innovative design. He looks like a generic big, green dinosaur with the large horn on his snout being the only distinctive aspect. The expected urban destruction scenes are fairly well done. The focus is definitely on Yongary stomping through Seoul and smashing buildings, with less fight scenes against the local military. The highlight of the movie occurs when an enraged Yongary overturns a bridge, like it's a coffee table. Overall though, the city-smashing carnage feels listlessly executed. There's no sense of dread, like in the early “Godzilla” movies, or the non-stop monster wrasslin' that made the later “Godzilla” sequels so popular. It's just a fairly lifeless reenactments of stuff we've seen in other movies. 

While “Godzilla” is obviously the main inspiration here, “Yongary” is emulating the “Gamera” franchise as well. You see this most blatantly in Icho's fascination and fondness for the giant monster. Even though the dinosaur does nothing but create havoc, Icho insists that the monster's not so bad. At the same time, he later assists the government in destroying the enormous beast, making you wonder what his exact loyalties are. Probably the film's most notorious moment occurs when Icho points an itch-causing ray at Yongary, causing him to break out into a Twist-like dance while a surf rock number plays on the soundtrack. Much like Gamera, Yongary sucks fire into his mouth. He also has some random super powers, like shooting a laser beam from his glowing horn. 

Considering the original “Godzilla” was haunted by the destruction Japan suffered during World War II, it's tempting to read “Yongary” as a similar reaction to the Korean War. And this may very well be true. I can only imagine that the scenes of Seoul being evacuated or crowds fleeing in terror from their homes reminded audiences of the war, which was far from a distant memory in 1967. Yet “Yongary” is mostly a light-hearted but dry affair. There are multiple sequences of scientists, military leaders, and government officials sitting in laboratories, discussing what to do. The monster is defeated with a chemical weapon that's cooked up through science-fiction methods. Only a handful of moments – rich businessman eating in a fancy restaurant while the poor flee the monster – seem to have any weight or social commentary. 

“Yongary” is almost definitely more interesting for its historical value. It was a Japanese co-production, Toei assisting on the special effects, despite Japanese films being banned at this time in Korea. The film received a big-budget remake in 1999, which does not seem to be especially well received. Like I said, the fact that the U.S. dub is the only complete version of the film that survives is a bizarre piece of trivia. “Yongary” is actually predated by an earlier Korean giant monster movie, “Wangmagwi,” which was thought lost for decades before a copy was recently rediscovered. So maybe the original language version of “Yongary” is out there somewhere. Whether that version of the film is more interesting than the slow, goofy, rather uninspired American cut is a question we'll just have to ponder on for the time being. [5/10]

Tales from the Darkside: The Geezenstacks

"Tales from the Darkside” puts its own spin on the common horror anthology trope of creepy dolls. The Hummel family includes husband Sam, wife Edith, uncle Richard, and little daughter Audrey. Richard is a real estate agent and brings Audrey a doll house found abandoned in a recently sold home. Inside are a family of uncanny little dolls that Audrey names the Geezenstacks. Sam soon notices that the little adventures Audrey thinks up for her dolls predicts events happening with the family. That includes misfortunes like Sam falling sick or getting into an argument with Edith. He becomes obsessed with the eerie power the Geezenstacks seemingly hold over the household. 

While dolls in horror shows frequently spring to life, “The Geezenstacks” gets a lot more spookiness out of the dolls just sitting around and being eerie. I really can't undersell that everything that works about this episode is primarily because the titular playthings are creepy. Their faces are a little more lifelike than most dolls but they have big Margaret Keene eyes and grey alien proportions. They straddle the line between something a little girl would actually play with and something that would freak her parent's out. That Audrey is just acting like a normal kid, unaware of the unsettling parallels her playtimes have with her family, makes this idea all the more effective.

Without effectively uncanny dolls, I doubt “The Geezenstacks” would work. The acting is hammy overall, especially from Craig Wasson as the dad. The arguments he gets into with his wife do not seem organic. Because he's always anxious or bickering with his wife, the audience isn't given much opportunity to relate to them. The episode is also largely scored to a melodramatic violin score. I expected the plot to be moving towards disaster for the family. That something awful would befall the Geezenstacks and then their flesh-and-blood counterparts. Instead, the “Tales from the Darkside” writers cooked up a much goofier, more bizarre ending. It's memorable, if nothing else. A stronger cast and more artful direction probably could've gotten more mileage out of the appropriately eerie prop at the episode's center. [6/10]

The Munsters: Prehistoric Munster / A Visit from Johann

“Prehistoric Munster” is one of the few “The Munsters” episode that remembers Marilyn is a college student. She does a bust of Herman for her art class, which her professor takes for an impression of a prehistoric man. When Marilyn informs him that the model is still very much alive, the anthropology teacher wants to study Herman... Who has mistaken the examination for winning a Father of the Year award Eddie submitted him to. “A Visit from Johann” has Herman receiving a phone call from Dr. Frankenstein's great-grandson. Johann – a prototype for Herman made by the original doctor – has been found in Germany. Herman agrees to take the uncultured, primitive Johann into his home. When Lily plans a trip with her husband, she accidentally takes simpleton Johann along instead. 

The central joke of “Prehistoric Munster,” that a bunch of exaggerated professors think Herman is an evolutionary throwback when he thinks he won an award, is balanced well enough. The Frankensteinian dad seems awfully flirtatious, as he tries to tickle the doctor and asks if any of the examinations are “naughty.” Marilyn's art professor is played by George Petrie, putting on a really overdone German accent which only results in one decent joke. (About his own brilliance.) Overall, this episode is much funnier when focusing on weirdo, unrelated gags. Like Eddie interrupting Herman as he's shaving, whittling a pillar from the front porch, or Grandpa playing checkers with a random ghost.

Even though “The Munsters” already did the premise of Herman having a twin brother in season one's “Knock Wood, Here Comes Charlie,” the idea is revisited with Johann. At least the central joke here is different. Johann acts more like the traditional Frankenstein Monster, with a fear of fire and a limited vocabulary. Lily responding to her husband's look-a-like, but assuming he has a sore throat and cuddling up with him, is a good bit. Her reaction to finding out the truth is easily the highlight of the episode. For some reason, Dr. Frankenstein IV has a telepathic link with Johann, as big of a plot device as I've yet seen on this show. Also, this episode features a scene of Lily repeatedly asking Herman to “come out of the closest.” Interpret that as you choose. [Prehistoric Munster: 6/10 / A Visit from Johann: 7/10]

Halloween 2022: October 4th

Altered States (1980)

Paddy Chayefsky was one of the most acclaimed playwrights and screenwriters of his time. In 1975, a lunch with Bob Fosse prompted him to write a horror film. That idea, a riff on mad scientist stories, first emerged as a novel called “Altered States.” In the late seventies, Arthur Penn was hired to direct the film version and even began casting the project, but left following arguments with Chayefsky. Enter: Ken Russell, another visionary artist whose deeply uncommercial projects had, somehow, become popular in theaters for a brief period of time. Perhaps unsurprisingly, two voices this distinctive butted heads immediately. The bickering eventually led to Chayefsky staying off the set and taking his name off the screenplay. The movie to emerge from this acrimonious production displays this conflict in an interesting way.

Dr. Eddie Jessup began studying schizophrenia. His experiments brought him to use sensory deprivation tanks to facilitate altered states of consciousness. He's soon having intense hallucinations in the tank. After marrying another university whiz kid, Emily, he continues his experiments further. He travels to Mexico and gains access to an immensely mind-altering potion made from local mushrooms and roots. Combining the drug with the tank, Jessup is soon experiencing powerful trances and visions, seemingly reaching back into a primal form of consciousness. So powerful, in fact, that they begin to effect his physical body. Jessup begins to slide up and down the evolutionary ladder. Not long afterwards, he discovers he can't control the changes either.

My only exposure to Chayefsky, besides this film, is watching “Network” in college. From only these two samples, it's obvious the writer has an immediately identifiable style. His characters deliver bellicose, long-winded monologues at one another about high-minded, philosophical ideas. After Jessup and Emily have sex for the first, they discuss that greatest of pillow talk topics: The existence of God and formative childhood traumas. “Altered States” is full of intricate conversations and monologues like that. Characters have long talks that are peppered with detailed scientific and psychological terms. It's highly stylized and projects a very specific authorial voice. Chayefsky's writing isn't for everyone and, honestly, it bugs me sometimes. Feels show-off-y, especially when the characters are rattling off complex conversations while eating or drinking. 

Chayefsky's particular style collides head-on with Ken Russell's equally distinctive but totally different style. Russell, of course, is known for an aggressive, kinetic visual approach that shoves wild images, usually of a sexual or religious (or both) nature, directly into the audience's faces. The drug trips and visions of “Altered States” certainly gives Russell a chance to create bizarre visuals. Jessup sees a Christ figure on the cross, with a spider-like goat's head. He has visions of Hell and priests. While tripping in Mexico, he envisions himself and Emily eating ice cream in front of a mushroom cloud, while a boa constrictor squeezes his head. Shortly afterwards, Jessup and his wife are petrified and then nullified by a sandstorm. “Altered States'” finale is a swirl of flashing lights, whirlpools of mist, and cosmic nebulas. I love the theatrical way Russell plays with these cultural, Freudian symbols to convey any number of meanings. 

Even when outside “Altered States'” head-trip sequence, Russell still has a fantastic visual eye. A reoccurring motif throughout the film is Jessup standing at the end of a tunnel-like hall, back lit. This even appears during “Altered States'” most typical sci-fi/horror sequence. When Jessup devolves into an ape-like proto-human and rampages through the city, Russell returns to this motif as he climbs into a zoo. There's definitely some tension between “Altered States'” high-minded ideas and its more typical genre movie elements. Jessup hallucinating he has monkey-like feet is creepy. The movie slides more into body horror as it goes on, until his conscience shifts are proceeded by bulging bladders under the skin. Russell's perspective is never anything less than committed. Yet I'm not sure the movie does a good job of converting its esoteric ideas into physical horror. The final scene, where humans are transcending into beings of pure energy but reground themselves by slamming on the wall, feels hopelessly anticlimactic. 

I imagine a Chayefsky script is the kind of projects actors both treasure and fear. Such complex blocks of dialogue are a great display for actorly talent, if your tongue is limber enough to pull it off. If not, you're going to embarrass yourself. Luckily, “Altered States'” cast is up to the task. William Hurt, in his feature film debut, convincingly plays Jessup as a somewhat self-centered asshole who can't let go of his obsessive ideas. Bob Balaban is well utilized as his nerdiest research partner while the ever-acerbic Charles Haid is even better as a constantly outraged partner. Blair Brown as Emily knows her way around Chayefsky's acrobatic dialogue but the romantic subplot is the film's weakest element. Hurt is totally unbelievable when declaring his love and Brown's emotional center is frequently lost among the intricate discussions. 

“Altered States” was not successful at the box office but was well-reviewed. It received two Academy Award nominations: One for Best Sound and one for John Corigliano's evocative score. Dick Smith's make-up effects presumably weren't nominated only because a Best Make-Up category didn't exist yet. Smith turning Hurt into a blue-eyed apeman or a pulsating blob of flesh is pretty impressive stuff. “Altered States” is obviously obtuse in its out-there ideas, not all of which it conveys in an easily understood fashion. Whether the movie handles its lofty ambitions –  nothing less than the existence of God and the limits of mankind's mind – is up for debate. Yet the film is still worth seeing for Russell's wild visuals and the intensity with which it translates some of Chayefsky's cerebral premises. [7/10]

Paranormal Activity: Tokyo Night (2010)

When I talk about the impact “Paranormal Activity” had on the horror landscape, I'm mostly talking about the way it changed the genre here at home. The American indie market was absolutely flooded with found footage movies in the 2010s, each hopeful they'd recreate Oren Peli's success. Yet clearly the film had an international impact as well. Would we have seen found footage movies coming from places as far apart as Norway or Peru if it hadn't? I'm not surprised “Paranormal Activity” was popular in Japan, considering the type of horror popular in that country. (And they had been making home-grown found footage flicks since the eighties.) I was a bit surprised to discover the existence of an officially licensed Japanese sequel to “Paranormal Activity.” “Paranormal Activity: Tokyo Night” would be released the same year as the proper American sequel, showing that this idea had franchise potential right from the beginning.

Koichi has bought a hi-def camera, mostly for his own enjoyment. His sister, Haruko, recently broke her legs in a car accident while in America. Their father travels for work and leaves Haruko with Koichi as she recovers. Shortly after she moves in, the siblings begins to notice strange things happening. Haruko's wheelchair seemingly moves while she sleeps. Koichi puts some salt in her room, to ward off evil, and it's disturbed. He begins to document the supernatural events, the cameras watching as they sleep. As the activity increases, Haruko admits that the car crash that broke her legs involved a San Francisco woman who murdered her husband while supposedly possessed. 

Fittingly, the Japanese film emulates the first “Paranormal Activity” closely. Director Toshikazu Nagae maintains the night vision shots of people sleeping. (He literally doubles it, as Haruko's bedroom is on one half of the screen and Koichi's is on the other.) As in Peli's original, much of the spooky atmosphere is derived from watching the background for anything unusual. Or from a subtle sound design, that is heavy on ominous off-screen noises. This haunting is found of strange pounding noises, to foreshadow any titular activity. A few sequences from the original are remade here. A medium is driven from the house, though here she's a shrieking teen girl who just happens to be sensitive to spirits. An object moves on its own while bursting into flames, though here it's a crucifix and the event happens long after the demon has made itself known.

As beholden as “Tokyo Night” to its American predecessor, Nagae manages to create some clever scares of his own. A fantastic sequence involves Koichi and Haruko getting into an argument around the table, the camera positioned behind a drinking glass. Just as their arguing reaches its peak, the glass bursts apart. More than once, the film manages to mine some squirms from Haruko screaming unexpectedly in the middle of the night. I'd argue that “Tokyo Night” even improves upon the scares it takes blatantly from the original. Haruko being dragged by her hair is freakier than Katie getting pulled ankle first from her bed. The female lead looming over the sleeping man is made spookier because she has two broken legs and is puppeted around like a limp marionette. Nagae effectively doubles-down on “Paranormal Activity 1's” shock ending, by adding a car crash and an additional scare. 

Transporting “Paranormal Activity” from America and Japan does reflect on the cultures in interesting ways. A Shinto priest is brought in to bless the house after the ghostly activities escalate. When Koichi realizes that a distinctly European style demon is haunting them, he clearly has to research it. Yet “Tokyo Night” indicates Japanese sensibilities in subtler ways. The proper two installments of the series were about clueless guys dooming themselves by refusing to respect women. “Tokyo Night,” meanwhile, is about a brother and sister growing closer to each other. Koichi is bookish and socially awkward when compared to the pretty, popular Haruko. He initially resents her presence yet, as they try to unravel this strangeness together, Koichi realizes he really does love Haruko. It's almost sweet at times. In contrast to the American films, it's the guy who instantly believes in spirits while the lady is more skeptical. (Though less so because she doesn't believe and more because she'd rather not think about it.)

I've seen “Tokyo Night” referred to as a spin-off or even a remake of “Paranormal Activity.” The truth is it's very much a sequel. The further American films would contradict it, rendering “Tokyo Night” non-canon, but it's definitely designed to follow the first movie's story. Maybe the incompatibility with the later “Paranormal Activity” movies is why this one was hard to watch for many years. It never had a stateside release until very recently. Even then, it was only available as part of a digital On-Demand bundle with the other seven movies. I'd say “Tokyo Night” is worth seeking out though. The Japanese managed to find their own riff on what Oren Peli did and even improved on it in some ways. [7/10]

Leap in the Dark: The Living Grave

I intend to dig a little deeper into international horror anthology shows this October. And that mostly means British programs. Such as “Leap in the Dark." Running sporadically on BBC 2 from 1973 to 1980, the series started out as short documentaries on the supernatural. By the second season, the episodes were docudramas that freely mixed fact and fiction, the mode the series would continue in for the rest of its existence. Most of the early episodes are lost media but the later ones survive. An installment from the 1980 season, “The Living Game,” was featured in the “Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched” documentary about folk horror last year. That intrigued me enough to give it a look. 

In Dartmoor, Devonshire, there is Kitty Jay's Grave. Residing at a crossroads, the grave is of a suicide victim from the 18th century, believed to be a young woman. Fresh flowers are placed on it regularly by unknown means. "The Living Grave" follows parapsychologist Joe Keeton, who believes he has found a modern descendent of "Kitty Jay" in a woman named Pauline. Using hypnotism, he regresses Pauline back to Kitty's time and has her relate the events of her life. As they draw closer to the date of Kitty's suicide, they discover the tragic story of a young woman with nowhere to run and an unwanted pregnancy. 

Like a lot of British genre television from the seventies and eighties, "The Living Grave" is slow and dry. It has no score, mostly being composed of Keeton and Pauline's voice over footage of historical Dartmoor locations. The mockumentary presentation means there's not much in the way of traditional pacing or structure. The show drops us right into this story with little in the way of set-up or prepping. When combined with the thick accents, this makes "The Living Grave" a little hard to follow in its early scenes. However, the focus on voices does lend an incredible intimacy to this telling, reminding me of an audio-drama or stage play. (Two formats the writer, David Rudkin, previously worked in.) 

Despite its stodginess, "The Living Grave" proves compelling and even chilling. The actual Dartmoor locations, buildings stone and ancient and woods deep and green, are better than any production values could ever hope to be. Lesley Dunlop gives a hell of a performance as Pauline. The sequence where "Kitty" recounts a sexual assault, eventually pushing the documentary crew away from her face, is borderline disturbing. When Pauline is recounting her final minutes, the camera hovers over beams in an aged barn, until a door swings open unexpectedly. The final scene claims the dialogue was taken from actual hypnosis session transcripts, which is almost certainly bullshit but adds to the feeling of verisimilitude here. "Leap in the Dark" were clearly working with limited means but managed to create a suitably unsettling half-hour of television. [8/10]

The Munsters: Family Portrait / Grandpa Leaves Home

“Family Portrait” has Event Magazine statistically selecting the Munsters as America's most average family. A pair of photographers are sent to snap a picture and deliver a 5000 dollar check. Grandpa bristles at the idea of being considered average and flees the house, forcing Herman and Lily to track him down. When the parents of the Munsters household returns, the photographers are in for a surprise. “Grandpa Leaves Home” begins with Herman and Grandpa getting into an argument. The old man decides to leave in as melodramatically a fashion as possible. Herman eventually feels bad about things and goes out to retrieve the elderly count. He's eventually located, performing a magic act in a sleazy club

“Family Portrait” is the last episode of “The Munsters” to feature Beverly Owen as Marilyn. Owens gets at least one funny moment, when she deflects a kiss from the handsy reporter sent to write about the family. Otherwise, it features the typical gags you associate with this show. I don't consider that a bad thing. The alcoholic photographer, played by Harvey Korman smuggling booze inside binoculars, getting glimpses of Herman and Lily unexpectedly got a good laugh out of me. The physical comedy-filled finale, which also features Herman wielding a squirt gun, is especially zany. There's an earlier bit involving Herman poking his head into a restaurant that's even wackier. Al Lewis also gets some stand-out gags, such as when he's hiding in the attic or a dialogue exchanged about turning himself into a bone. The magazine A-plot wraps up in a cute way too.

Pat Priest takes over as Marilyn in “Grandpa Leaves Home,” though she's not given much to do. Instead, Al Lewis' delightful gripes take precedence in most of the first half. (Butch Patrick as Eddie gets a good moment, repeating his grandfather's moaning and groaning to his parents.) Once again, the cartoonish gags are the focus. Such as Herman's walk around the neighborhood frightening a dog and a mechanic in extreme ways. Or an oversized lighter appearing. Of course, Grandpa's magic act goes awry. A nice, subtle joke is all the different names marked out on the illusionist box Grandpa locks himself in. Yvonne De Carlo also does some nice acting, when she gets distraught over Grandpa leaving. However, I definitely feel like this premise could've been exploited for more laughs. The final scene is set at Christmas, which feels horribly out-of-season right now. [Family Portrait: 7/10 / Grandpa Leaves Home: 6/10]

Halloween 2021: October 28th

The Lair of the White Worm (1988)

Bram Stoker is a writer in an interesting position. He is both one of the most influential writers in genre history while also, paradoxically, being a literary one-hit wonder. “Dracula” informs practically every vampire story that came afterwards, not to mention greatly influencing the entire gothic style of horror. It's also really the only thing Stoker ever wrote that most people have read. Most everything else non-”Dracula” related he's done has slipped into total obscurity. Which brings us to “The Lair of the White Worm.” Probably Stoker's most blatant attempt to emulate his one big hit, the novel is regarded by some as one of the worst books ever written. Yet it still ranks among Stoker's better known, non-”Dracula” works. Probably because Ken Russell, cult movie extraordinaire, loosely adapted it to film in 1988. 

In the Derbyshire countryside, there's the legend of the d'Ampton Worm. That's an enormous, white snake that vexed the land centuries ago, which was sliced in half by John d'Ampton. His descendant, James d'Ampton, still lives on an extensive manor on the same land. At a party, he meets Angus Flint, an archaeologist that has uncovered a strange skull on the neighboring land. He's living with two sisters, Eve and Mary, whose parents mysteriously vanished. That's because Lady Sylvia Marsh, d'Ampton's neighbor, is an immortal vampire-like monster that is wrecking havoc on the countryside. She worships Dionin, the ancient snake god that inspired the legend of the White Worm. Sylvia is determined to fully resurrected her god, eyeing Eve as her virgin sacrifice. 

Ken Russell thoroughly puts his own stamp on “The Lair of the White Worm.” He turns Stoker's novel into a story of the conflict between Christianity and paganism. Upon seeing a crucifix early in the film, Sylvia spews snake venom on it. She considers Christianity a modern usurper to her far older, far more powerful religion. And that religion is explicitly sexual and untamed. The snake is a phallic symbol, something the film is all too aware of. Sylvia is a vivacious female predator, openly sexual and happy to seduce and pray on any man she chooses. This stands in contrast to the innocent, chaste Eve and Mary and all the ideas about femininity that Christiandom encourages. Considering the film clearly connects the Worm and Sylvia with the Romans who were in Derbyshire before Christianity, you get the distinct impression that Russell is rooting for the giant, phallic snake monster and its worshiper. 

The link goes back further than that. A scene where the pointedly named Eve encounters the snake-like Lady Sylvia in a tree, while she wears an apple red leather suit, situations the Christian/Pagan rivalry as one that goes back to the beginning of time. This is far from the only on-the-nose visual symbolism Russell includes in the film. The huge white horn Sylvia wields in several scenes is a phallic symbol too, which becomes very literal in the finale. (And further connects Sylvia with the hermaphroditic wyrm.) The movie is dotted with snake-like images, whether its a hose uncoiling or Sylvia slithering out of a basket, as she's summoned by a snake-charmer's music. This is most clear in a wild dream sequence James has, where watching a pair of comely stewardess in thigh-high garters wrestle makes his pen rise. Russell uses the psychedelic effects of the snake venom to include a couple far-out visions. Such as trippy images of Roman centurions raping nuns, before a crucifix squeezed by a snake, or a series of perversely dancing, blue-skinned snake cultists. 

If all of this sounds thoroughly ridiculous, it is. Russell's movie has its (forked) tongue deliberately in cheek. The performances are delightfully campy. Hugh Grant takes his stuffy, upper-crust act to amusingly goofy levels. This heightened atmosphere even allows him to look kind of cool, when swinging an oversized sword around and reprising the legend of his ancestor. Peter Capaldi, as the archaeologist, ramps his Scottish accent up to almost indecipherable levels. Amanda Donahue, as Lady Sylvia, is an absolutely delightful villainess. She oozes sexuality in every frame, never appearing to be anything but confident and in-control of every situation. When seducing and destroying a horny boy scout, or teasing the mesmerized Eve, she's absolutely captivating. She slithers and smirks through all her scenes, absolutely commanding the screen. 

“Lair of the White Worm” was met with mixed reviews upon release. Russell's blending of camp, far-out visuals, and sexy horror has always rubbed lots of people the wrong way. Even Hugh Grant seemed unsure how to approach the movie, noting after it came out that he wasn't sure if it was supposed to be funny or scary. Yet, for those of us who can vibe with these kind of theatrics, “Lair of the White Worm” is a delightful experience. It would naturally become a cult classic. Russell creates a wacky, smart, and thoroughly entertaining concoction here, as hip and lively as the folk-rock song that plays several times over. [7/10]

The Grapes of Death (1978)

It was in 2012 – was that really nine years ago? –  when Netflix added a bunch of Jean Rollin movies to their streaming service. (Which was still a free add-on to their by-mail disc service at the time.)  This was finally the excuse I needed to expose myself to the films of this weird French director I often heard people talking about. I was immediately enchanted by the surreal, campy, sleazy sights I beheld. I reviewed a bunch of them at the time... Though one Rollin classic has escaped my grasp up until now. “The Grapes of Death” has been weirdly hard for me to get a hold up in all this time. Now, thanks to Kino Cult, it is finally streaming around the Halloween holiday. Time to check this one off my list.

In the rural French village of Roublès, a new type of pesticide is sprayed on the grapes at the vineyard. The wine made from these grapes – which is enjoyed at the wine festival the following weekend – turns everyone who drinks it into sore-covered zombies who act violently. Unaware of this, Elisabeth heads to Roublès via train to visit her boyfriend, Michel. On the train, an infected attacks her and kills her friend. Elisabeth flees into the countryside. The closer she gets to Roublès, the more people she meets who are infected. Soon, the entire town is consumed by madness. Elisabeth makes some friends – a blind woman, two hunters – who are willing to help her, as she tries to survive and find Michel. 

Almost every movie Jean Rollin made was a variation on a theme. The majority of his films feature often naked female vampires, friendships between women that seem more than platonic, tragic lovers, and visits to a beach with a distinctive rotten pier. People in clown make-up, walks through cemeteries, and twins are common reoccurring images too. “The Grapes of Death” had Rollin stepping outside of his comfort zone and doing a zombie movie. Yet it's still a distinctly Rollin-esque take on the genre. These zombies have diseased flesh and act on homicidal instinct. They still kill in mobs and spread their infection with violence. Yet they are also prone to asking for the sweet release of death. A tragic monster demanding an end to their suffering is another theme Rollin would revisit again and again throughout his career.

You can certainly spot some of the other Rollin trademarks in “The Grapes of Death.” Elisabeth's bond with the blind girl is a little familiar. And there's definitely some gratuitous nudity. Brigite Lahaie stripping her clothes off to prove she's not infected was a moment I definitely predicted. Yet “The Grapes of Death” still feels like a departure for the director. The plot is as loose as it ever is but the film is mostly grounded in reality, only hinting at the dream-like atmosphere that characterizes most of Rollin's work. There's also only a small amount of the campiness that usually keeps the director's work from being unbearably pretentious. A woman speaking nonchalantly about her face being horribly burned, before blowing herself up, is about it as far as unintentional laughs go. 

With less of the lyricism, eroticism, and goofiness that we crave from Rollin, what does “The Grapes of Death” have to offer? Not much, I'm afraid to say. There's little of the gory thrills we associate with the zombie genre here. A scene where a infected villager nails a girl to a wall, followed by a graphic decapitation, is fairly grisly. I can't help but read into the two farmers that come to Elisabeth's aide being beer drinkers, which is how they've avoided being infected, as some sort of social commentary. Especially since they have at least one long conversation about politics and how big business screws over the common farmer. I'm not sure there's much working class solidarity to be found in this otherwise. Until the ending, which attempts to be emotional, “The Grapes of Death” feels shapeless. And not in a fun way. 

Part of why I wanted to see “The Grapes of Death” for so long is because it's often regarded as one of Rollin's best movies. I guess this would be a good introduction to the director's work, since it's a little more accessible than “Rape of the Vampire" and the like.  At times, when the helpful farmers are shooting zombies and setting off dynamite, this even feels like an attempt to emulate George Romero's Living Dead series. (Or it would anyway, if it wasn't made a year before “Dawn of the Dead” came out.) Yet I think I prefer the sleazy weirdness of Rollin's vampire flicks, the dream logic of “The Naked Vampire” and the pure eroticism of “Fascination,” over this. [5/10]

Tetsuo: The Iron Man (1989)

So when did Japan's reputation for producing egregiously wacky pop culture begin? Does it go back to Godzilla? Or “Speed Racer?” Obviously, plain ol' xenophobia plays a role in America's willingness to dismay an entire country's output as goofball insanity. At the same time, this reputation is not entirely undeserved. Those sixties kaiju movies are energetic and inventive in a way American films of the same breed and time simply were not. Similarly, Japan has produced some seriously bent cult classics over the decades, uniquely Japanese in their aesthetic and utterly bonkers in their content. Such as “Tetsuo: The Iron Man!” Arising out the Japanese cyberpunk/industrial/noise rock underground, “Tetsuo” would break out internationally in the early 1990s, quickly becoming a cult movie phenomenon worldwide.

A man known as the Metal Fetishist inserts rusty metal into his body. After one of his wounds become infested with maggots, he flees into the road. There, he is struck by a car, driven by an average Salaryman. The Salarayman's girlfriend is aroused by the crash, the two having sex near the Metal Fetishist's body. Afterwards, the man discovers a small metallic shard protruding from his face. This is the beginning of his transformation. Soon, the man is more scrap metal than human flesh, absorbing anything metallic he touches. The Metal Fetishist, still alive and similarly transformed, reappears. The two entities, each gifted with bizarre powers, wage war throughout Tokyo. 

“Tetsuo” is a cyberpunk classic but with the emphasis on the “punk.” A wild, untamed energy courses through the entire film. A pounding, propulsive industrial score powers the madness. Director Shinya Tsukamoto, who also plays the Metal Fetishist, provides an utterly unique visual sense. Tsukamoto utilizes his live actors in elaborate stop-motion sequences. On multiple occasions, the characters rocket down the streets in a jerky fashion, sometimes while propelled by actual rockets. This is inter-cut with lightning fast montages of the buildings around them. There are also manic, laughing faces and bursts of static-y television snow. The characters make machinery and metal twist, bend, and morph to the beat of the pounding, frantic soundtrack. The result is a movie with an incredible sense of energy and movement that feels simply like nothing else. (Not even “Eraserhead,” which is its most obvious predecessor.)

“Tetsuo” pairs its punk rock energy with a similarly unconventional approach to its narrative. The film is full of long digressions that have little to do with its story. Such as the Salaryman being chased through the subway station by a metal-infected woman. Sometimes, it seems the film takes place on multiple levels of reality. As the Metal Fetishist exists both in an alley way, where a stray derelict can attack him, as well as battling with the Salaryman across the slums of Tokyo. Yes, even “Testsuo's” plot construction is perverse... Which is fitting, as the movie is full of perverse sex and violence. The Salaryman has an erotic dream where his girlfriend becomes a demonic figure with a phallic, flexible metal tentacle growing from her crotch. Take a guess where the ends up going. But the Salaryman later pays her back, after he grows an enormous drill penis of his own. Bizarre desires, always involving twisted metal, is at the center of everything in “Tetsuo.”

What truly seals “Tetsuo's” punk rock ethos is not its shocking content or its propulsive energy. It's how homemade the movie feels. The special effects are cheap but inventive. The towering monstrosity of scrap metal seem to be made, I suspect, from a lot of aluminum foil. Most of the movie takes place in a handful of locations. The film was shot on grainy, black-and-white 16mm, which only adds to its underground feeling. Though clearly working with little money,  Tsukamoto create a number of truly unforgettable mutations. The Salaryman is covered with metal shards. In one memorable scene, an unlucky cat is absorbed into his growing mass. There's all sorts of intense body horror, as human limbs and skin are pierced and warped by the interceding bursts of scrap and steel. 

A movie as aggressively bizarre as “Tetsuo: The Iron Man” certainly invites multiple explanations. Considering the protagonist is identified as the Salaryman, that faceless peon of Japanese capitalism, makes one suspect “Tetsuo” is some metaphor for modern man's struggle with technology. Looking at it another way, when the Salaryman rejects the woman around him to eventually form a bizarre (and literal) union with the Metal Fetishist, maybe this is a movie about men rejecting the polite standards of society and embracing an alternative life style. Whatever the hell you think it is, “Tetsuo: The Iron Man” is absolutely enthralling cinema. Its insane visuals, sexual and violent and utterly creative, are still not quite like anything else I've ever seen.  Shinya Tsukamoto's utterly perverse embrace of kinky sex, industrial rock, and twisted metal created a heart-pounding cult experience that is impossible to resist. [9/10]

Elevated (1996)

Before kicking off this year's Blog-a-thon, I wrapped up a Director Report Card for Vincenzo Natali. Before making “Cube,” his debut film, Natali needed to convince backers that a movie set in one room could be compelling and cinematic. This was the purpose of “Elevated,” a horror short set almost entirely inside an elevator. Ellen and Ben ride an elevator inside an office building late at night. That's when Hank, a stranger covered in blood rushes inside. He insists the blood is not his own and that monsters have invaded the building. Ellen and Ben, naturally, don't believe him. A tense confrontation between the three, as they debate getting off the elevator and Hank tries to convince them it's not safe, ensues. 

There are pros and cons to “Elevated.” On the plus side, you can see Vincenzo Natali's strength as a filmmaker on display here. “Elevated” looks good for a nineteen minute short. The interior of the elevator never feels cramped or limiting. The camera moves freely inside, crash-zooming on the overhead escape hatch or spinning around the inhabitants. A center degree of tension is created by this scenario, as the viewer is left to wonder if Hank is crazy or if his story of monsters is true. (He says they look like a cross between “Alien” and “Pumpkinhead,” the kind of deliberate genre shout-out Natali would use more subtly in his future work.) The short also has a pretty good twist ending.

Yet “Elevated” doesn't work as well as “Cube” did for a big reason. No matter how much the prisoners in that film might've argued among themselves, you still liked them as characters. This is not true of “Elevated.” The cast members – which includes Natali regular David Hewlett, as Hank – spend most of the run time yelling and screaming at each other. The characters strike the viewers as largely unreasonable, as they begin to argue and threaten one another mere minutes after the tension rises. While Natali's later films used their limited locations smartly, “Elevated” feels like its run out of ideas after a striking scene where blood runs down the elevator's walls. Still, the director did accomplish some impressive tasks here, paving the way for his later, better work. [6/10]