Tuesday, August 28, 2007

The Werewolf vs. the Vampire Woman (1971): or, My Love Affair with Naschy Begins


On the night of the full moon, a police inspector and coroner are conversing in the morgue over the recently slain body of Waldemar Daninsky, alleged werewolf. With two silver bullets in his heart, courtesy events in very wild and wooly previous movie (The Fury of the Wolfman--review soon), Daninsky is about as dead as a muscled-up Polish nobleman can get. There is some dispute amongst the conversants, however. The inspector, a village man, believes that Daninsky might in fact be a werewolf--after all, it took silver bullets to bring him down, and he does have El Marco del Hombre-Lobo, a pentagonal scar on his beefy chest. The coroner, a man of science, is having none of that poppycock. To prove it's all just superstition, stuff and nonsense, he removes the silver bullets from Daninsky's heart, reasoning that if he is a werewolf, he should come back to life, which is obviously impossible. Right?

No--he's predictably, tragically wrong. A couple of neck-rips and a snarling exit later, Daninsky is on the loose again, ripping the bodice and throat out of a passing buxom beauty as the credits roll. WHY do they always take the silver out? WHY WHY WHY?

MORE MADNESS...

Friday, August 24, 2007

The Demon (1979): or, Halloween 3 on Earth-4


The Demon is one weird flick.

This is a movie that literally surprises you. I don't mean that things jump out at the screen and make you squeak, nor that you're sitting there at the end thinking "How surprising, that was actually pretty good" (though you might be doing that too). I mean that things happen in this movie that seemingly come out of nowhere and completely waylay you. Plot developments out of nowhere. Shocking entrances and exits of characters, completely against the cliches you've been conditioned to expect. And an ending, a last 20 minutes that had me--grizzled horror vet that I am--saying to myself "WOW. Just WOW."

Thank you once again, 50 Chilling Classics and Mill Creek Entertainment! I should really send you guys some more money. It feels like I'm stealing.

MORE MADNESS...

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Crypt of Horror (1964): or, the Devil is My Magic 8-Ball


Part 2 of the Chris Lee/Dollar Tree Double Feature; having already partaken of the fog-shrouded witch-enriched goodness of Horror Hotel, I decided to turn over this pancake of evil and check out the 1964 Italo-English production La Cripta e l'incubo, or more prosaically, Crypt of Horror.

Can you EVER go wrong starting a movie with a buxom woman wearing a nightie or less running through a forest from some unseen horror? If you can, I've never seen it, and Crypt of Horror is no exception. In very darkly-tinted black & white we see a young woman in a flowing white nightgown exit a horse-drawn carriage and run into a foreboding forest, from what we don't know. She leans against black skeletal trees, gasping, only to discover in front of her a different, darker coach, drawn by black horses and itself as black as the tomb...or crypt, even. It's actually a pretty creepy, gothic scene, as she runs again only to discover her way blocked by the dark carriage, this time pausing long enough to see the door open with a chilling creak, revealing an inky abyss inside that beckons her. She falls to the ground with a scream, and we see her lying lifeless, eyes wide, whether killed or dead of fright we can't tell.

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Horror Hotel (1960): or, I know a Lot about Witchcraft, but I'm Foggy on the Details


Here at Mmmmmovies, we love the public domain. Any time we can pick up a handful of creaky old classics we've never heard of for less than a lunch off the Super Value Menu, the Duke and I are a couple of happy aristocrats. Because let's face it--if you pay $15+ for a special edition dvd of some obscuro horror flick and it turns out not to live up to your expectations, you feel not only cheated, but more than a little like a jackass for buying it. On the other hand, if you buy a 10 movie set for $5, or better yet, 50 Chilling Classics for $20 (deal of the century, folks! Get it NOW!) and they're not that great, you're out 40, 50 cents per movie, tops. But if three or four of them turn out to be keepers, well, you feel like some kind of movie shopping god! And believe me--though you do have to sit through a lot of crap in these compilations, there are plenty of great flicks hiding on them too. A truly amazing ratio, really.

So anyway, before I discovered the 50 Chilling Classics, the Duke and I had already raided the Halloween displays at Dollar Tree for their entire line of double feature horror discs. 50¢ a movie--how can you go wrong? Answer: you can't. Sure, I sat through Blood Thirst, but I also discovered the amazing Castle of Blood and got my first exposure to Naschy with Vengeance of the Zombies and Dr. Jekyll vs. the Werewolf. That's value that can't be measured, folks! Anyway, one of these Dollar Tree discs was a Christopher Lee double feature, and we love Chris, yes we do. So the top half of the Lee double feature was the 1960 B&W chiller, Horror Hotel. Was it worth the half-dollar? Read on.

MORE MADNESS...

Monday, August 20, 2007

Scream Bloody Murder (1973), Or You Got A Hook In My Throat, Baby!


Scream Bloody Murder tells us the story of the hapless Matthew, whom we first see out in the fields with his pa, who is trying to get a tractor running. Matthew, being the inquisitive sort, and harboring an obvious bias against authority figures, hops on the idling tractor and proceeds to run over his father, who screams at the slow plodding tractor, at the blinding speed of 2mph. Realizing his crime, young Matthew makes a break for it by jumping off the still-moving tractor only to somehow land and fall, allowing his hand to be crushed by said machinery. Matthew is quickly thrust into the care of some helpful nuns, who promise to raise Matthew in the grace of the Lord.

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Thursday, August 16, 2007

Haunts (1977): or, Swede Child of Mine


Brian over at Horror-Movie-a-Day (if you haven't visited his blog, get clickin'!) wrote something I thought was very perceptive about why some movies, even when you can't in any way define them as "good," still get inside your brain and under your skin with their weirdness. For me he struck perceptive gold when he wrote of the 1973 oddity Scream Bloody Murder (the Duke's review of which to follow soon, I hope!):

"...the true highlight of the film is the strangely angry tone in much of the dialogue. Lines ...are delivered with such intense hatred, one has to wonder what the hell the writer’s problem is."
When you've watched as many obscure movies as I have, you start to pick up on these little strangenesses of tone, the things that pervade a movie and make you wonder, as Brian said, just what the hell the writer or director's problem is. Often the psychological mysteries presented by these observations add another level to the film you're watching, and elevate what some would see as a sub-par genre exploitationer as something else entirely--a psychological portrait of a possibly fringe personality, an expression of the filmmakers' unique philosophical psychoses. Which of course makes it all the more interesting to a b-movie nut like me.

So while 1977's Haunts might not be quite the desperate, despairing cry for understanding that something like SBM or Abel Ferrara's The Driller Killer so plainly are, it's still got that little something going on under the surface that is just a bit, well, off--

Luckily, it also happens to be a pretty good movie.

MORE MADNESS...

Vampyres: or, Is That a Stake in Your Pocket? No, Seriously, Is It?


In recent years--decades even, starting perhaps in the mid 80s--the vampire movie has fallen upon hard times. We've been deluged with so many pale, emaciated, Cure/Bauhaus-inspired effeminite depression clinic-reject club-hopping vampires in frilly costumes, or else with so many Blade-wannabe leather-clad gangstas-cum-fangstas in flicks that were less about vampires than about car chases, 'splosions, and kung-fu-fighting, it's been hard to maintain one's faith in the ability of the vampire to inspire anything more than antipathy, mild amusement, or outright boredom. Certainly it's been a while since I've seen a vampire flick that I thought was artfully made and engaging, and longer still since I can actually say I found one frightening.

However, I needed only stretch my purview back a little farther, to the early-to-mid 70s, to find what I'd been missing for so long--artfully made cinema, with an engaging plot and vampires who are intriguing, alluring, exciting, and dare I say it, even frightening.

The film: José Ramón Larraz's 1974 masterpiece--yes, I said MASTERPIECE--Vampyres.

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Dungeon of Harrow (1962): or, Harrow How You Doin'?


DoH features the tannest villain in the annuals of villainy. This guy looks like George Hamilton crossed with the dude that played J. Peterman on Seinfeld. He tends to dress like Hugh Hefner and speak in either quiet soliloquies or piercing shrieks. I speak, of course, of Count DeSade, the monarchial tyrant who rules a few people on a remote island. By “a few people” I mean a giant black dude who affects a turbaned, Sultan-esque look that serves as a general lackey, a hawt young chick that fails to get into any state of undress, and an older lady who tries her best to act like a piece of wood while on screen.

I’m getting ahead of myself here.

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Wednesday, August 15, 2007

The Blancheville Monster (1963), or Horror, or The Fall of the House of Blancheville, or a Po’ Man’s Poe


It’s nothing unusual to see a b-movie from the past released under different titles. I remembering once renting a movie called The Seven Doors of Death! based on the interesting name, only to discover once I got it home that it was Fulci’s The Beyond, which I’d already seen under that title. Par for the course, really, especially with Italian flicks.

But seldom do you see on that presents you with ALL its titles in the opening credits! Yes, this movie opens with the title card HORROR, and then follows it up seconds later with the alternate title, THE BLANCHEVILLE MONSTER! Why not just The Blancheville Monster? Or The Blancheville Horror? Or even Horror of the Blancheville Monster? I guess because that just didn't sufficiently capture the horror nor the monstrosity of what we are about to witness. Or maybe they just didn't think of it. Still, questions must be asked.

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The Legend of Bigfoot (1976): or, You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Yeti!

Ivan Marx is a man on a mission. After scoffing for years at tales of the great musk ape roaming the American wilderness, he has a St. Paul-ine conversion when he comes face to face with the Sasquatch himself. To (mis)quote another group of famous primates:

Since he saw that ape
Now he’s a believer!
There’s not a trace
of doubt in his mind!

and he wants to let the world know that Bigfoot is real. Using family, friends, and an extensive stock footage library, Ivan sets out to bring back undeniable proof of Bigfoot’s existence.

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The Devil’s Hand: or To Make Your Fortune, You Have to Take a Gamba


Dateline, 1962: a low-rent Cary Grant quits his job due to his chronic insomnia, leading to tension between him and his strangely-accented fiancee Donna. He's troubled by night visions of a woman in a sheer gown dancing in the clouds, as if transposed there by double exposure! He soon learns the dancing woman whose visage haunts his dreams is actually resides in his neighborhood, albeit in Barbie-doll form. Entering the doll shop to inquire about the uncanny likeness, Cary is drawn into an exclusive, white-collar club that meets in the doll shop’s basement, whose stodgy white members have gained material wealth by committing their souls to the worship of the Great Devil-God Gamba!

Oh, and the doll lady is real and puts out a lot more quickly than the fiancee, so soon enough Cary is a devil-worshiping fool. Natch.*

MORE MADNESS...

Friday, August 10, 2007

Memorial Valley Massacre: or, Captain Caveman Goes Nutzoid


I guess by 1988, most of the holiday horror films had already been made. Halloween, Black Christmas, My Bloody Valentine, April Fool's Day, Bloody New Year, Mother's Day...directors were rapidly running out of holidays during which to set their fear flicks. And though it would be a good five years before the trend (and little person celebrity Warwick Davis) would reach its nadir by settling on everyone's favorite Irish/American parade day, for director/writer John C. Hughes, pickings must have looked pretty slim. I can imagine the titles scribbled on wadded pieces of paper in his wastebasket: The Columbus Day Slayings? Violence on Veteran's Day? Washington's Bloody Birthday? Nothing quite clicked. Still, Hughes was determined to deliver a holiday-themed slasher, and it was only a matter of time before all the tumblers clicked into place and unlocked the door to filmic history--before Hughes' sleep-bleary eyes settled on the last Monday of May...

MEMORIAL DAY.

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Thursday, August 9, 2007

Patrick: or, The Dirty Nun and the Comatose Killer


Early on in 1978's psychic psycho-thriller Patrick, protagonist Kathy Jacquard (played by Pia Zadora clone Susan Penhaligon), an ex-nurse and new divorcee is being interviewed for a job as a nurse at doctor Roget's private psychiatric clinic. For some reason the Roget Clinic, despite being a private research center, is staffed largely by nuns, or at least nurses in uniforms that look like nuns' habits. Matron Cassidy, played with Mother Superior intensity by Julia Blake, asks and pointed and pointedly bizarre question:

"Why did you choose the Roget Clinic, Mrs. Jacquard? We tend to attract certain types--lesbians, nymphomaniacs, enema specialists..."

As young Kathy gasps for air, the Matron regales her with tales of one male nurse who would sneak into the comatose ward to smear himself with the patients' excretia. All this delivered in a tone of disgust, accusation, and barely-concealed fasination that makes one wonder if perhaps in her younger days Dame Cassidy was a member of Ilsa the She-Wolf's staff of research scientists. Luckily for Kathy (and for us) Dr. Roget comes in at just that moment, learns that Kathy is a divorcee (a strike against her in the Matron's book) and hires her on the spot. Though Cassidy throws a few more barbs at Kathy before she leaves--"I can fire you for any reason, at any time!"--Ms. Jacquard is well on her way to her preordained meeting with our titular comatose terror.

MORE MADNESS...

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