Madman (1982): or, The Bearer of Bad Noose

It's a MAD MAD MAD MAD Movie Week--Day Four, Review #100!

Ah, Madman. Will we ever see your like again?

I can think of a lot of movie-opening set-pieces that get my blood pumping, but for some reason the "scary story 'round the campfire" opening is a sentimental favorite. In director Joe Giannone's 1982 slasher opus Madman, we get just that, and so much more. After an excellent set of opening titles (designed by actor and artist Paul Ehlers, the Madman himself!) over a dated-yet-timeless creepy electronic score ("Electronic music by Stephen HORELICK."--Movie, I love you already!), we're right in the middle of a deep-woods campfire spook-session, and I couldn't be happier.

Actor Tony Fish IS camp counselor, leader, and unconventionally handsome Lothario T.P.--yes, that's right: T.-to-the-fucking-P. Why T.P., you may well ask? Why not something less embarrassing, like "B.J." or "E.D." or even "D.P."? Well, I'll tell you: IT DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER, THAT'S WHY. He's T.P. He has ALWAYS been T.P., he CONTINUES to be T.P., and there WILL NEVER BE ANOTHER T.P. The sooner you wrap your head around it and get that shit laid out straight the better all around.

(I know I'm getting awfully passionate about this right up front, but suffice to say there are reasons.

T.P., baby.

T.

P.)

"That's right. I'm totally boning Gaylen Ross. Believe it!"

So T.P. opens with movie with a 2-minute long a capello rendition of the Ballad of Madman Marz, a justly revered folk classic that has been covered by everyone from Peter, Paul and Mary to Grandpa Jones to P. Diddy. Fish totally OWNS it here, stalking around menacing the campers and other counselors with his minor-key retelling of madness and murder from days gone by. According to the commentary fish had one night to learn the lyrics and did the scene in a single take, a feat which would be graven in the annals of motion picture history were there in fact any justice in the world. As T.P. croons to each conveniently segregated group of campers, we get ghostly flash-forwards to scenes of each character in mortal terror, taken from later in the film. It's the first of several interesting storytelling choices Giannone makes, and while its first-time efficacy can be debated, I must say I love it more and more every time I watch it.

After that show-stopping, movie-stealing two minutes' work by the esteemed Mr. Fish, the camp's elder administrator Max steps up to the plate for the non-musical portion of Expository Campfire Theater. He re-tells the story of Madman Marz, substituting flashbacks for harmonies. "He was an EVIL man--ugly and mean!" Max tells us, and goes on to detail the day Marz went on a kill-crazy rampage and murdered his entire family! (We get some very effective flashback shots of Marz's boots stomping on the wood floor, echoing ominously, before some very gory axe-murders, including a little girl getting her head split like a melon!) Max is no T.P., but still--strong stuff.

Once the townspeople learn what Marz has done, they form a posse and string him up from the nearest hanging tree, with one of the enraged community members going so far as to cut Marz's face with the axe as he's hauled kicking into the air. Satisfied that justice has been done, the mob disperses. But when they come back the next morning, they find the noose broken and Marz's body gone...

And there you have the basis of one of the most Kickass Movie Legends it's been my pleasure to witness. Max tells the campers that if you call Madman Marz's name above a whisper, he'll hear you and come out to take his revenge. Like Bloody Mary or the Candyman--simple, classic, beautiful.

A shadow Marz the clear night sky...

Of course like werewolf-heart-enveloped silver bullets are to surgeons, so is a death-stakes prohibition on name-calling to snotty-nosed punk-kid campers. Before you can say "Quiet, you fool!" an annoying little runt of a kid named Richie starts shouting "Hey Madman Marz! Come and get us! Madman MAAA-ARZ!" It's such a jaw-dropping act of hubris, you almost can't wait for Richie to get his. When we're treated to a few shots of a dilapidated, abandoned house deep in the woods, hear a low synth rumble on the soundtrack, and watch as Richie sees a huge, silent shadow moving through the trees--leading the young kid to separate himself from the group and go off wandering in the woods alone (ALWAYS a sound plan), we are assured it won't be long.

Meanwhile T.P. is displaying his natural leadership abilities by marching the rest of the boys double-time back to the lodge, but not before making a hot date for later with fellow counsellor Betsy (Dawn of the Dead's Gaylen Ross, cryptically credited here as "Alexis Dubin"). Despite T.P.'s irresistible manliness, Betsy reacts badly to his forceful approach. Other-fellow-counsellor and somewhat Zen presence Stacy (the improbably-named Harriet Bass--Bass? Fish?--sporting constantly half-lidded eyes and a Welcome Back Kotter perm) tells the frustrated buck, "If you really love her, the biggest test is lettin' go, not holdin' on." Let go? Come on now--this is T.P. we're talkin about here. Get for real.

Meanwhile Richie Dumbfuck (looking for all the world like a less sexy Greg Brady) has stumbled upon the Majestic Marz Estate. Since no one answers the door, he decides to go inside and make himself at home! After all, there's probably a wide range of seating and bedding choices in there, not to mention hot porridge! Never say Richie never paid attention during story time! Of course, when we see a clawed hand extinguish a candle in the bone-strewn basement, we start to think maybe Richie should have listened to different stories...

Epstein Girls are Strangely Sexy

So far, director Giannone is hitting on all the most important cylinders. The night-for-night shooting around the campfire and in the woods is atmospheric and much appreciated, and the low-angle shots in the flashbacks and in Marz's house coupled with some creepy scoring and neat lighting bring everything together for a pervasive creeping unease. Some neat camera work with obfuscating foreground objects is cool too, and immediately unforgettable characters (such as, oh, I don't know, T.P.) with their thick Brooklyn accents--well, let's just say it works for me.

Meanwhile, back at the lodge, wonderful scenes are brewing. Having imparted her Buddhist wisdom to T.P. without success, Stacy goes to talk to the similarly steamed Betsy, leading to a "female bonding" scene that seems just a little...bit...off. After expressing her distaste for men who want to tell her what to do or how to act, Stacy (heavy on the physical contact and Meaningful Smiles) sighs, "You know, Betsy--I don't have many women friends...and I think you're one of them!" Are you making a pass at Gaylen, Epstein? She does wear a sensible plaid shirt...

Outside T.P. is taking out his frustrations King Arthur-style: there's an old stump near the woodpile in which an ancient axe is buried so deep and tight that no one has ever been able to remove it. In fact, old Max offers $100 to the man who can remove the axe from the stump; whether he will also then become King of All Rural New York is not addressed. T.P. tries his damnedest, but to no avail; even with Max's help he's unable to budge the handle an inch. When Max sees how upset T.P. is, he tries out some Stacy-style Zen: "Play too hard to win," he warns, "and you might not like what you become!" T.P. scoffs at such silliness: "You become a WINNER. THAT'S what you become." Stick to frightening punk kids, Max, T.P. is out of your league.

Though his balls be ever so squozen, T.P. will NOT relent!

Of course Madman Marz has been summoned from whatever corner of the netherworld he inhabits when there aren't punk kids to slaughter, and he makes his presence felt at the lodge when a diminutive drunk cook named Dippy opens the freezer and retrieves a neckfull of cleaver! This scene and the bone-strewn basement of the Marz abode are both rather clear homages to the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and Marz's distorted, animalistic grunts and huge stature also recall Leatherface. But you know what they say--if you're gonna homage, homage from the best!

As Marz scarpers back into the woods--he's light on his feet for a big guy--inside Betsy throws a wet blanket on things by pooh-poohing Max's penchant for wringing urine from the campers with his Madman Marz story. After Max leaves in a good-natured huff--presumably to get loaded at his weekly poker game--T.P. shows what a true man he is by apologizing in front of all the other employees for his asshattery toward Betsy earlier at the campfire. He closes his speech with an eloquent toast: "To friends and friendship, to loves and lovers--may you always have more than you need!" Aw, that's swee--waitaminnit, what?

Betsy doesn't stop to think about the implied polygamy in T.P.'s sentiments, as in the very next scene she is letting the laundry drop and climbing into the hot tub with your hero and mine. I know the words "Greatest Hot Tub Scene in the History of Cinema" get tossed around a lot in situations like this, but I'm here to tell you: this is the GREATEST HOT TUB SCENE IN THE HISTORY OF CINEMA. In an olympic-size jacuzzi that must have taken up the entirety of the sound stage on which it was built, Betsy leads T.P. in an aquatic Dance of Love that's half bird-of-paradise mating ritual and half a re-enactment of being flushed down the toilet. There's something for the ladies as well as the men here--in addition to a quick flash of Gaylen's nipples, we also get to see T.P.'s hindquarters in all their Bronxian glory! It just makes you want to give a rousing Bronx cheer! The schmaltzy easy-listening love theme that plays over it--which we get to hear in its ENTIRETY, thank God!--is just the perfect complement.

Could it get awesomer? I'm gonna go with "no"...

After Madman Marz peeks in ominously at the otter-like lovers, we find Richie still wandering the woods, still lost, still snottily unconcerned. Next we find Stacy playing a lonely flute in her dinghy IYKWIMAITYD, after which she is nearly nabbed by the uncharacteristically slow-grabbing Madman. (Stacy's sex-sounds and o-face while she's climbing a slippery ridge only add to her strange, slightly disturbing sexiness.) At the top of the hill she turns around and gives Mother Nature a full-on raspberry, her own version of the barbaric yawp. It's a weird scene, and typical of the movies smooth, successful blend of suspense and cheese. I wanna dip my...chips in it!

More weird happenings and strange but somehow effective directorial flourishes occur. In the lodge the group of secondary counsellors--including Stacy, gaunt tall guy David, mulleted and pencil-stached loverboy Bill and his semi-retarded booty-call Ellie discuss heavy subjects by the fire. Giannone gives us an out-of-nowhere crazy speech, a Monkees-style overhead shot, a People's Court synth sting, and more near-glimpses of the Madman in the periphery before moving on--a strange but satisfying interlude.

"Hey, guys...what the fuck are we doing?"

T.P. discovers that one of his charges has gone missing, and so immediately goes into the woods looking for the lad. The first true shock of the movie occurs next when (spoiler!) T.P. meets up with the Madman only to find himself on the wrong end of a hangin' rope. It's a stunning exit, and one that still gives me a jolt every time I see it. In fact, I have to pause, shed a tear, and recite the poem that the Duke of DVD himself composed in memory of one of the screen's great near-heroes:

Ode to the Beltbuckle

T.P., shining knight, god
To those mortals below,
Shall you grace us again
With that buckle? Hot
Tub King, we bask in your
Divine glory. T.P.
T.P. T.P! May heaven
Send you once more,
We Pray.

*sniff* Unmoored from our foundations, cut loose from the godlike being we'd hoped would see us safely through the darkness and back into the light, we're woefully unprepared for the brutal onslaught Marz unleashes next. The Madman traipses remorselessly back to the lodge, and with barley a grunt frees Axcalibur from its stump! Hail to the King, baby! We also get some suggestive shots here of a rotting wound on Marz's hand, and some glimpses of his cadaverous, nose-less visage, suggesting that Marz is not merely a madman loose in the woods, but a living dead revenant bent on supernatural revenge. Which is AWESOME, I don't care where you're from.

The next act concerns the 2nd-tier counsellors checking out in the awesomest ways possible. Dave goes to look for T.P. and Richie, and gets axed after a suspenseful chase in which Marz's ability to appear and disappear at will also point to supernatural powers. Stacy goes to look for Dave, T.P., and Richie (I hope I'm not the only one thinking of the Tar Baby here), but not before surprising Bill and his retarded lover in the middle of some "in-tents" sex. (Ba-dump.) Giannone builds the supsense quite expertly as Stacy has truck trouble out on the trails and we the viewers see Marz moving around in the periphery, never long enough to be clearly seen. After an EXCELLENT "body discovery" scene in which Stacy stumbles over the headless corpse of Dave, we get what is quite possibly the GREATEST DECAPITATION EVER FILMED--to say more would be cheating--and bid goodbye to our strangely sexy, ambiguously-oriented Buddhist master.

Too awesome for words

Bill goes to look for yadda-yadda-yadda, and is killed (BACKBREAKERRRRRR!!!) protecting Ellie from Madman's wrath. Then we get ANOTHER great, suspenseful chase scene in which the scrappy mentally challenged slut-puppy barely outruns Marz yet has enough wherewithal to empty a fridge and climb in to hide (he'll never notice the ice cream and eggs all over the floor!) before catching an axe to the chest and then getting her face mistakenly blown off by shotgun-packing Betsy! Elsewhere Richie wanders around more, still lost, still unbelievably alive.

The other counsellors gone, it's a showdown between Heavens-to-Betsy and the unstoppable Madman, and the final battle is so great in my opinion I'm just going to stop there and hope you'll discover it for yourself. Suffice to say we get ANOTHER TCM "homage" (just as awesome as the previous ones), a surprise cameo by a character's cheekbone, and a fiery cataclysm of the kind we just don't see enough of these days. Someone you think would survive does not, someone who you think wouldn't survive does, and over the credits we get THE BALLAD OF MADMAN MARZ in all its glory, second only perhaps to the Ballad of the Film in My Bloody Valentine for sheer folksy awesomeness.


I LOVE THIS MOVIE.

Stumped.

As an 80s slasher goes, this is just about everything you want. Though it rips off TCM and Friday the 13th pretty shamelessly (and maybe even Halloween as well--Marz is kind of a "Shape" for much of the film) it has its own certain style and strangeness that set it apart from the run-of-the-mill imitators. The rural setting is used well, and none of the actors are pretty enough to be unbelieveable--again, perhaps, like TCM. Only with a Shelley Duval lookalike in the Marilyn Burns slot.

Something should be said about the acting here, to which the Duke and I have given a great deal of thought. It would be easy to dismiss the acting in Madman as stilted, amateurish, or even bad--and the way T.P., Stacy, and Max intone their lines does seem over-earnest and trying-too-hard to the untrained ear. However, upon repeat viewings you might discover a strange sort of rhythm developing in the way the actors speak, the way they interact with each other. It's not realistic, but almost hyper-real--almost like the dialog of a Grimm's Fairy Tale brought up to the present day and slapped with Noo Yawk accents. Maybe my love for the other stuff in this film is clouding my vision, but I think there's really something not-quite-usual going on here, and I'm glad to have witnessed it.

Jealous?

There's also a bit of mystery involved. In the commentary the mighty Tony Fish claims he and "Alexis Dubin" were an item during the shoot, and that not all of the hot tub scene was "acting" IYKWHMAITYD. Yet neither he nor the director nor the producer ever refer to her by her more famous stage name, Gaylen Ross. And it's CLEARLY her--of that there can be no doubt. Also, Ross is apparently reluctant to talk about Madman, and doesn't put it on her resume. Actually, if internet reports are to be believed, she won't even sign DVDs or memoribilia at conventions related to the movie. Why? What happened? Did Fish break her heart? Did something behind the scenes scar her forever? Was she working for non-union wages while holding a SAG card? The world may never know...unless someone can get her dancing in a hot tub and convince her to spill the beans.

Finally, Marz himself is just such a great character. Brutal, swift, silent, always seen in the periphery but seldom close-up, he's an enigma in a beard, a riddle with an axe. He's a legend come to life--he even has his own song. While there were no Madman sequels, there totally could have been, as the lads over at Kindertrauma proved conclusively.

DAMN. STRAIGHT.

In short, I can think of no better way to close out this Mad Mad Mad Mad movie week than with Madman, which receives the coveted 3+ thumb, MUST SEE rating. A spectacular lesser-known slasher from the golden age of the genre, and one that more people should pick up and appreciate. Gaylen included.

And if you ever see that belt buckle on eBay...call me. IMMEDIATELY. I have my reasons.

BONUS MEDIA! SEE and HEAR Max relate the Legend of Madman Marz!

LISTEN to the movie-closing Ballad of Madman Marz! (Inexplicably set to a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cartoon. WTF, Internet?)

REVEL in the Electronic Opening theme, T.P.'s Astounding a capello campire creepout, and the end credit song...again!

MORE MADNESS...

Summary only...

Mad Love (1935): or, No School Like the Old School

It's a MAD MAD MAD Mad Movie Week--Day Three, Review #99

It's easy to watch something like the classic 1935 chiller Mad Love (aka The Hands of Orlac) and bust out the old cliché, "Boy, they sure don't make them like they used to!" And you'd be right, of course. The 30s and 40s were the golden age of gothic horror, and though acting techniques have become more naturalistic and set design more realistic, though plots have become more horrifying and monster make-up more technically brilliant, still, there's something about these old school horror tales that will always chill and delight the receptive viewer. It's like reading Stephen King, then going back and reading Poe. Both have their strengths, but Poe just has that old school something that King's just not old enough to have acquired yet.

Nope, they sure don't make them like they used to.

However, to give credit where it's due--in point of fact I don't think they EVER made them like Mad Love.

There's so much wonderful stuff in this movie it seems almost a shame to talk about it, for fear that someone who hasn't watched it will be robbed of a thrilling, wonderful discovery. On the other hand, I don't think knowing ahead of time could make it any less wonderful than it is. Mad Love doesn't depend on shocking you for its effect, and doesn't require your ignorance for its majesty. Still, if you want to come in fresh (only like 70 years AFTER the fact...), go watch now. I'll be here when you get back.

After an opening credit sequence that is awesomer than many full-length movies, we open on a hanged corpse swinging in the breeze! Hey, we've only got 68 minutes, folks, we've got to hit the ground running! As it turns out the corpse is NOT real--it is in fact a wax figure hanging outside the Theatre du Horreurs, a thinly-disguised Grand Guignol stand-in that's all the rage in the Montmartre.

"Never mind where we're going--just get in this handbasket!"

Inside, in the dressing room, TdH star attraction Yvonne Orlac is receiving buckets of flowers from a mysterious fan. Reading the ornately lettered and high-sentiment card, Yvonne smiles to her lady in waiting. "A gentleman of the old school, Marie." The elder lady sniffs. "Old or new, they all try the same things." It's quickly revealed that Yvonne's admirer is Dr. Gogol, a brilliant surgeon famous for fixing up wounded soldiers returned from WWI. He's occupied the same box every night since opening, and these are not the first flowers Yvonne has received from him, making it a bit of a good-natured scandal backstage.

Meanwhile, Dr. Gogol himself--the intense, inimitable, shaven-headed Peter Lorre--is arriving for the Theatre du Horreurs' final performance of the season. We get some great dissolves and cool looks at the theatre employees in spooky uniforms (including a Devil Ticketseller and a Headless Hat-Check Girl) before Gogol stops to stand before a wax figure representing "Yvonne Torturée." After getting angry with a drunk who speaks disrespectfully to the dummy, Gogol takes possession of his box and the show is ready to start.

Hearing the curtain call, Yvonne delays while waiting for her husband's radio program to start--hubby Steven Orlac (Colin "It's alive! ALIVE!" Clive) is a concert pianist getting ready to play in a distant town, sending messages to his wife via wireless through coded coughs. Once out on stage, Yvonne gives the crowd what they want--which is apparently Yvonne strapped to a wheel of anguish and branded with hot irons! Of course the gore is implied here (the Grand Guignol was famously goopy with its fx), but shots of the leering, beast-like faces of the audience and Gogol's intense, creeperiffic stare are more than a little unsettling, even now.

"Olaf? Is that you?"

The last performance is a smashing success, and we learn that Yvonne is retiring from the stage to be a full-time housewife to Steven. When Marie asks whether she will miss the crowds, Yvonne replies, "Steven will be my audience!" What, you mean for the torture act? Oooer, missus! Then again, those stuffy English types are notorious for their under-surface boiling perversions...

Gogol comes backstage to thank Yvonne for all the "pleasure" she's given him getting stretched and branded every night. It must be said that in a lifetime of super-fucking-creepy roles, Lorre has never been creepier than he is right here. His huge eyes, bald pate, and the constant low-angle/eccentrically lit shots of him make for some wonderfully eerie portraiture, and Lorre's facial expressions and quiet, accented voice take him from zero to Disturbing in 0.5 seconds--a new record!

Making his move on the flattered but visibly weirded-out actress, Gogol is crushed to discover she will not be returning for the next season. "But I must see you again...I MUST!" Gogol insists, driving Yvonne even further away. He doesn't help his case when, after wrangling an invite to the cast wrap-party, he grabs her and ill-advisedly tries to plant a slobbery kiss right on her lips! Heartbroken at his rejection, Gogol stops on his way out long enough to purchase Yvonne's wax image from the tradesmen ordered to melt it down, ordering it delivered to his house the next day. SAY NO MOOAH.

"As a matter of fact, eet eez not easy, this pimping... not easy at all..."

Meanwhile, on the train back to Paris, Steven Orlac is making friends with gypsy autograph hounds and buying sausages for doggies (it's weird, don't ask) when a couple of gendarmes bring convicted American murderer Rollo aboard. Rollo is a circus knife thrower who killed his father over a woman and has a date with Lady Guillotine as a result. An American newspaper reporter has been assigned to cover the case. Both Rollo and the reporter are used for comic relief, but the actors portraying them are wonderfully brash and entertaining, particularly Rollo himself, who nonchalantly shrugs off his death sentence with the quip, "Well, we all get it in the neck eventually!" That's the American spirit!

While Yvonne and Marie wait at the station in Paris, tragedy strikes offscreen as the train jumps its track, leading to much loss of life. Again, though we don't get to see the wreck itself (nothing like the Great Model Train Crash of '33 a la The Invisible Man), what we see of its aftermath is even more chilling--the undersides of upended train cars, bodies strewn around the tracks, officials searching desperately for survivors. A desperate Yvonne discovers Steven in one of the cars, alive but horribly maimed--his hands are crushed, and must be amputated to save his life. His career is over!

Or is it? Reminded by Marie of her creepy but devoted admirer's speciality, Yvonne swallows her pride and her gorge and goes begging to Gogol for help. Not wanting to fail her and provoked by a Japanese male nurse who says saving the hands is impossible ("Impossible?" Gogol shouts, a mad gleam in his huge eyes, "Napoleon said that word is not French!"), Gogol manages to get the recently-executed Rollo's body delivered to his lab for an impromptu first-of-its-kind double-hand transplant. Naturally, it works like a dream. Gogol is a genius! (Earlier we saw Gogol witnessing Rollo's execution--once again we see not the blade falling, but Gogol watching it with a look of sick fascination, his eyes cutting down as the guillotine does its work. Again, a chilling bit of visual direction.)

Gogol A Go-Go

Obviously Gogol is not in it for the fame and prestige--he warns Yvonne that Steven's rehabilitation will be "a long and expensive process," and proceeds to get the Orlacs in his deep, deep debt. (A fantastic montage/dream sequence here puts the figurative point on it superbly.) Drowning in medical bills, Steven decides to go see his cantankerous stepfather to ask for a loan.

Stepdad is a right bastard, however, gloating over Orlac's troubles and taunting him with the long-gone possibility that he could have been a partner in the old man's curio shop. Infuriated by an off-color comment about Yvonne's professional prospects, Stephen grabs a knife from a counter and tosses it at the old man, speeding it expertly through the store window! Amazed and disturbed at his newfound knife-throwing abilities, Stephen flees the store.

Meanwhile, Gogol is having long, intimate conversations with the Yvonne's wax likeness, which he's taken to calling Galatea after the Greek myth. (Since it was 1935, the appellation "Melissa Realdoll" was not yet available.) When Yvonne herself comes to the clinic to plead with Gogol to help Steven more, Gogol's lusts boil over and he advises Yvonne to leave her "broken" husband for him, the world-famous doctor! She refuses, claiming that even if she didn't have Steven, there's something about Gogol that repulses her. Gogol does not handle it well. "I, a poor peasant, have conquered SCIENCE!" he cries. "Why can't I conquer LOVE?" Poor Pete. If only he'd lived in the age of the internet, he doubtless could have found someone to cater to his "special needs."

Lacking both the outlet of cybersex and an anatomically correct wax doll, Gogol decides instead to have his revenge by driving Steven Orlac MAD! Gogol murders Steven's stepdad with a knife, then stages what has to be one of the greatest "drive you mad" scenes this side of Salon Kitty's bread penis. Playing on Steven's "psychotic" idea that his hands possess Rollo's knife-throwing, murderous desires, Gogol dresses in shades, a neck brace, and metal gauntlets to convince Steven that he is Rollo, raised from the dead with his head reattached by Gogol! Since this image is on the cover of many vhs versions of the film and litters the net in tributes to Lorre it's not much of a spoiler to show it, so get a load of THIS nightmare fuel:

Smile, and the World Smiles With You

It all winds up in a wild finish as Yvonne gets trapped in Gogol's lab, breaks the statue of herself, then has to pose as her own effigy when the deranged Gogol comes back flush with his success. "He thinks he is mad," Lorre intones, gearing up for the Line of His Career: "He does not know...It is I who am MAD!" If you don't get chills listening to that, get off the boat and turn in your horror fan card. You're done here.

When his Galatea comes to life (just like in the myth!) Gogol almost tops that by quoting Vicar-poet fave Robert "Fucking" Browning while he tries to strangle Yvonne with her long hair ("Porphyria's Lover." Go read it, it's excellent.), but is stopped when Orlac uses his newfound knife-throwing skills to bury a blade in Gogol's kidneys from 30 yards!

I dunno about you, but I'm SPENT.

This is what Mad Mad Mad Mad Movies is all about. I mean, let's take a quick tally: we've got mad scientists, creepy wax figures, murderous transplanted body parts, torture as entertainment, train wrecks, guillotine scenes, devil masks and headless hat check girls--and I haven't even mentioned the carnivorous plants in the lab or the drunk housekeeper with the pet cockatoo! Add Romantic poetry and comic relief that's actually funny, and you've got a winner by any standard. All in less than 70 minutes!

"I guess you're right, honey! I AM a Spanking Machine!"

Director Karl Freund does an even better job here than he does helming the rightly-legendary 1932 fear flick The Mummy--the low-angle shots and strange lighting, the German expressionist shot compositions and interesting use of shadows as actors in scenes, the montage/nightmares and a neat recurring mirror-motif--all stuff to make an old-school horror geek shriek with joy. Just absolutely flawless stuff.

Acting wise, you can't overstate Peter Lorre's awesomeness here. You know all those super-caricature impressions people do of Lorre? The Tweety-in-Looney-Tunes stuff, the basis of Boo Berry? THIS is the movie they're imitating, but strangely all those caricatures don't detract one iota from the power of Lorre's performance. You WILL believe a man can go mad!

As to the supporting players, nobody does stuffy upper-crust English twat like Colin Clive; his kissing scene with 3-foot splints on both hands must be seen to be believed. Though "Sir" Frances Drake as Yvonne is no great shakes, she DOES have the big doe eyes working for her, and makes a very convincing wax model of herself, it has to be said. Edward Brophy as Rollo and Ted Healy as Reagan the American Reporter do great work as well, and the lines they're given to spout by the army of MGM Writers are genuinely funny and entertaining. Cool cool stuff.

"Believe me, dearie--when you get to be my age, you'll be wanting a cockatoo of an evening..."

There have been many murderous-transplant movies since Mad Love--and even one or two before it--but I feel safe in saying it has yet to find its equal. Any fan of Lorre, the old black & white chillers, or cinema in general owes it to himself to seek this one out and bask in the rays of awesome it emanates. The Duke and I plus all our servants give this the Off-the-Thumb-Scale rating. Not to watch and enjoy this one...would be...MAD!!!

MORE MADNESS...

Summary only...

Guru, the Mad Monk (1970): or, Sunday School's for Suckers

It's a MAD MAD Mad Mad Movie Week--Day Two, Review #98

At the Lost Souls Church of Mortavia, times is hard. Mother Church has apparently forgotten her little outpost on the seldom-visited island, leaving head clergyman Guru to scrounge for cash however he can in order to keep fighting the good fight and doing the Lord's work. He is able to bring in a little extra money by using the church dungeons to imprison ne'er-do-wells and degenerates shipped over from the mainland, and gets a bonus for attending to the well-being of their souls whilst also personally attending to their corporeal punishments. But those candles ain't cheap, nor is the upkeep of Guru's mistress/amateur apothecary Olga (who has Special Dietary Needs). With his adopted one-eyed hunchback ward Igor in tow, Guru must find a new way to make ends meet.

Luckily inspiration strikes when the lovely young Nadja is dragged kicking and screaming into the dungeon by two black-hooded executioners who seem to moonlight as Mortavia's beat-walking police force. Accused of murdering her newborn child and trying to dispose of the body, she is sentenced to die at Guru's hands. As Fate would have it, Nadja's old lover Carl has taken a day job as jailer in the church dungeon. Nadja professes her innocence, claiming to have been kidnapped by a gypsy king and forced to bear his child, only to escape just before her water broke. The baby was stillborn, she says, and she was just trying to give the tyke a decent burial when she was apprehended. Though an ordinary person might well invite Nadja to "pull the other, the one with bells on," Carl trusts her implicitly and rushes off to talk to Guru about her plight.

Guru listens to Carl's pleas pleasantly, but informs him that the girl has been condemned by the church and cannot be saved. Therefore he should just trust in God. When Carl opines "I can't believe there is a God, when things like this occur!" he is repaid for his blasphemy by a vicious pope-slap! Still, Guru concocts a possible escape--he'll get Olga to mix up the old Capulet Headache Home Remedy that will cause Nadja to appear dead so that Carl may resuscitate her at his leisure. The price? Carl must agree to transport the bodies of executed criminals to the university in a town many leagues distant in order to sell them to medical students and fill the church's coffers with gold! The Cash-for-Corpses scheme doesn't sit too well with Carl, but seeing little choice, he agrees.

Carl becomes Jesus's bitch.

But Olga has a price of her own before she'll part with the powder. Dressed in resplendent 70s thrift-store fabric and a truly ostentatious headdress, the conniving chemist makes Carl promise to leave the bodies of executed criminals lying on the chopping block for half an hour before packing them up for delivery, so that she can extract their blood for some "experiments" she's conducting. Stuck again, Carl acquiesces, proving the truth of the old maxim "Once you say yes to springing your gypsy-befouled baby-killing girlfriend from prison, you can't very well say no to anything else."

Next we get to see the holy money machine in action, as Guru blesses and then executes a procession of the condemned from the church's dungeon. A "peeper" has his eyes put out, a thief has her hands hacked off, and of course Nadja is set up to be terminally truncated for the grand finale. But true to his word Guru slips her the potion in the last rites wine, and she collapses before the axe can fall. Guru and Carl tote Nadja away, while Olga crawls toward the blood-soaked butcher block on all fours, snarling! You know, for SCIENCE.

Carl is of course delighted to have Nadja free and clear, but unfortunately he hasn't figured on Guru's duplicity. Dropping all pretense of compassion and kindness, the old monk lords his power over the lad like a spider taunting a fly who has fallen into his web. "I preach one thing and continue believing another!" Guru declares evilly, and drives Carl away on his body-shopping errand. Meanwhile Nadja must stay in the bell tower for leverage, where she is taken care of by the child-simple hunchback Igor.

"But Olga, I'm not sure I can fill that whole thing in one go!"

At this point Guru goes completely off the rails. In a powerhouse scene that would not be equaled until Willem Defoe recreated it in Spider-Man, Neil Flanagan as Guru argues with himself in a full-length mirror, alternating between the kind man of God and the evil, self-serving sadist with dizzying speed. While Guru murders a few vagrants freelance when they come to the church seeking help (including one near-orgasmic stabbing of a sailor--ooer), Nadja befriends Igor and gains the deformed lad's affection. And if that weren't enough, a buxom babe comes into the sanctuary only to be hypnotized and drained by Olga, who reveals herself as "The Soul of Darkness"--a vampire queen! Whoa, Nelly!

It all comes to a head when Mother Church alerts Guru to her intention to replace him with a new, less-maniacal monk. Guru overreacts to the news just a tiny bit, slaughtering the two mainland clergymen before dumping Olga and proposing to run off with Nadja, who has made his little bishop genuflect IYKWIMAITYD. We get a revealed severed head, an appallingly unconvincing self-stab, and poor Igor nailed to a door like the 95 theses before a henchman rebellion brings an end to the whole sad, sordid tale.

This is my second trip into the wild world of eccentric lunatic filmmaker Andy Milligan, and it certainly hasn't dampened the flames of my interest. Shot four years before Blood and purportedly the only Milligan feature done in 35mm rather than 16 or less with blow-ups, it certainly LOOKS a lot better than both that feature and The Ghastly Ones--which is perhaps the definition of damning with faint praise, but still.

Mom told you so.

The acting again is fairly good if graded on a curve against what one typically sees in productions of this sort. Neil Flanagan as Guru is the best of the mediocre lot, which is good since the success of the flick rests on his shoulders. He plays the smarmy conniving holy man with convincing evil glee, and his one-man duel against his mirror image is actually very well acted. Jack Spencer as Igor contributes a technically dubious but at times strangely affecting performance, particularly in his manic, lovelorn exchanges with Nadja. Judith Israel as Nadja does all right, while Jacqueline Webb stinks up the joint as Olga and Paul Lieber as Carl invests every line with an "aw shucks" naivety, his soothing quiet voice appealing though unsuited to the role. (Lieber apparently went on to have a very busy career in television acting--his imdb credits continue to the present day, a rarity for a Milligan cast member.) Julia Willis makes an impression as Christine, largely on the strength of her pretty face (and prodigious boobages). The direction recalls a stagy 1940s melodrama, and overall the acting standard is on par with an upper-end high school play--which again in this instance is actually rather a compliment.

Speaking of direction, Andy Milligan displays a remarkable (for him) feeling of control over the production here, which in Milligan's case is perhaps not altogether a good thing. While it's easier to follow and less headache-inducing, it also lacks some of the manic, wild energy that Blood displayed, the feeling that the whole thing was a damaged helicopter spinning madly out of control until the inevitable crash. That said, the hate is still in evidence, if somewhat subdued, particularly in late exchanges between Guru and the Bishop who's come to relieve him of his post. The makeup and effects are very low-rent but more fun because of it--severed hands a la mannequin, pierced eyes made of marshmallows, and silly-putty hunchback disfigurements just being a few examples.

He's got the whole world on his head.

So in the end, Guru is both better and worse than the other Milligan films I've seen, but nonetheless interesting. Like Blood, this one clocks in at less than 1 hour, so the time-investment isn't daunting; even if you don't like it, you've only missed one episode of Law and Order: Super Rapist Destroying Division, so no harm, no foul. 2 thumbs for this little slice of Milligan madness.


Note: the version I got from Netflix included a 12-minute Milligan documentary, which was actually just an interview with a crew member who worked with Andy on his last couple of flicks. The fellow's insights on Milligan, whom he describes as like "a frantic bunny" on the set who didn't trust anyone else to do anything and thus did pretty much everything himself, are fascinating and I wanted to hear more. When asked whether Milligan in fact had any filmmaking talent, he demurs with the line, "The only talent Andy ever really had was the ability to get things done." For some reason, this didn't sound like a bad thing to me--to press forward and chase the dream, even when lacking funds, support, or basic aptitude? What's more of a Glorious Failure than that?

Living La Vida Vicar

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I, Madman (1989): or, She Got the Books That Kill!

It's a MAD Mad Mad Mad Movie Week--Day One, Review #97

Trivia Question: What's more awesome than a rampaging stop-motion Jackal/Human Hybrid monster? Answer after the review.

I had seen I, Madman back in the days of 49¢ VHS rental binges at my local college-town Hastings, and I remembered liking it a great deal. Of course the same could be said of roughly a hundred-million half-forgotten horror flicks I wolfed down those days along with generous helpings of cold pizza and Icehouse beer. Some of those I've revisited and found that drunkenness and the nightmare visions induced by grease-poisoning had more to do with my memories of horror than the flicks themselves. So when I decided to give this one a spin after all these years, I kept my expecations cautiously low.

I needn't have. I, Madman is a fun, frantic, and even frightening slice of 80s goodness, served with just the right sprinking of shredded cheese. Good gore, a wild plot, and a striking visual style all add up to make this a new favorite in the pantheon of glossy fear flicks from that decade of my youth.

We open in a brightly lit hotel with candy-colored decor and an outrageous wrought-iron balustrade atop a spiral staircase. The fashions and set design all point to a 1940s Hollywood setting. A blinking neon light outside throws pulsing red flashes through the window of Dr. Kessler's apartment as he leaves for the night. Kessler (played by Randall William Cook in great Max Schreck-makeup) barely acknowledges the talky bellhop, who then turns to his manager to comment in a stagey voice what a weirdo that Dr. Kessler is! When they get a call from Kessler's neighbor complaining of animal sounds in the doctor's room, the manager himself goes up to investigate.

The manager finds Dr. Kessler's room in disarray--rotting food, strange medical implements, fetuses floating in specimen jars, and even some scat on the floor that could be from a dog... It must be said that the art direction here is top notch, with the weird shapes in shadow and the red neon pulsing every now and then like a heartbeat to reveal just a little bit more. Cool, creepy stuff.

The manager finds a strange steamer trunk peppered with airholes, and hears a tiny high-pitched voice say "Daddy?" "My god--it's a child!" the manager says, and opens the lock on the trunk before rushing to the phone to call the cops. When he turns around the trunk is open and the "child" is gone. There's a very effective build-up of suspense as the manager hears something moving in the room and struggles to see what it is, only to have it finally revealed: AN AMAZING STOP-MOTION JACKAL BEAST! The humanoid dog-man goes all Harryhausen on the manager's ass--for you kids at home, that equals AWESOME--and then...

Much of Madness, More of Sin--The Vicar's Autobiography

Virginia slams the book closed, shocked at what she's just read. Yes, it was all a story...or was it? Virginia (played by the absolutely luscious Jenny Wright of Near Dark and Pink Floyd's The Wall fame) is ROCKIN' the 1940s nightgown and hairstyle--she was born in the wrong era, clearly, because she looks absolutely smashing here--and her appartment also has period accoutrements. She hears animal noises just like those described in the book, and goes to her door to investigate, when...SHOCK! HORROR! ROOOOOWR!

Virginia slams the book closed, shocked at what she's just read. Aha--a DOUBLE frame! You don't see those every day! Oh, wait, yes you do. Anyway, the real Virginia (still Jenny Wright, still gorgeous, though now in 80s owl-glasses and a panties/silk shirt ensemble...zang) is reading an obscure pulp novel by little-known writer Malcolm Brand, a copy of which she came across at the used book store in Hollywood where she works. She's a wannabe actress--aren't they all?--dating a cop (Clayton "Hey, I've seen that guy in something..." Rohner), who does not fully approve of her choice in reading material. He doesn't mind coming over to comfort her when she's spooked, though, especially when it involves some sexay novel-synopsis foreplay followed by hittin' it jackal-style on the sofa! Bookish Jenny's tentative love bites here hint at her secret, wilder nature and propel the Vicar into his happy place, despite the regrettable lack of nekkidity.

The next day Jenny arrives for her shift at the bookstore where she and her sassy coworker Mona (Stephanie Hodge) engage in some funny banter before Ginny goes to unload some books from a recent estate sale. She's looking for Malcolm Brand's second novel, entitled I, Madman. (How very meta.) While searching the dusty, book-filled attic of the store (aside--I LOVE this bookstore--I could wander for hours there if it wasn't merely a Hollywood set...), she finds a steamer trunk from the estate sale...a steamer trunk riddled with holes, strangely like the one in the book... She opens it, but there are only more books inside. But who is that strange fellow she glimpses later in a bookstack mirror, who disappears a moment later?

"Ooooooh--I need a bookish woman!"

After going to her acting workshop in order to introduce us to her killer-fodder friends Collette (Michelle Jordan) and Lenny (Steven Memel), Virginia comes home to find a strange package on her doorstep--which contains an antique copy of I, Madman! Thinking it a gift from Mona, she dives right in.

Now we enter the candy-colored "fiction" world again, all bright primaries and long shadows, where a damaged-eyed maniac with a scarf over his face is stalking fictive Jenny. Professing his love while admitting the fact that his ugliness prevents her from loving him back, he tells her he will make himself a new face...and removes the scarf to reveal a noseless, lipless, earless visage straight out of an EC Comics nightmare! (How he's able to talk so clearly without lips is one of those "don't ask" questions.)

Virginia slams the book closed, shocked at what she's just read. But then she hears something in the apartment--a tea kettle boils on the stove, despite the fact that she already HAS a cup of tea...but the Virginia in the book WAS making tea! Little details start to build as the world of the book impinges slowly but surely on the real world--a not-quite-but-almost threadbare conceit still handled with aplomb here by directer Tabor Tikacs.

(I wonder if Tabor Tikacs would care for some Tic-Tacs? Or maybe Tikacs prefers a pick-axe? Some tie-racks sans sales tax? A wry fax for buy-backs? What would Tabor make a grab for?)

The Black Beret chases down John-Boy Walton in an atmospheric scene.

Unable to put the novel down, Jenny reads another scene in which a flame-haired actress is stalked by the literally-faceless madman, another scene that shows Tikacs can handle the suspense. Quick tight shots, moody lighting, neat camera tricks (including the time-honored "elongating hallway") all add up to a very tense chase. Of course Red can't get away from the Madman, who drugs her and saws her lustrous hair off with a straight-razor, scalp intact! The sound effects as the Madman saws away while gouts of blood cover the girl's pretty face are squidge-ily great too, it must be said.

The next day, while Virginia in Real Life is waiting on the bus, she is accosted by the Madman from the book--only now instead of his hat he has luscious red tresses, the stitch-scars clearly visible on his scalp! Before she can scream the phantom disappears, leading her to question her own sanity. But when she learns later that Collette has been murdered and mutilated, she wonders if there might be more at work here than chemical imbalances...

Her fears are more than confirmed later that night when she stars in an impromptu remake of Hitchcock's Rear Window, watching from her apartment as the Madman stalks and kills a piano-playing security guard at the music store next door. (We've heard the guard play a couple of times up to this point, usually in love scenes, so this use of the motif is nice; the Madman takes his ears, natch.)

Never do shots with this man.

At the police station later, Virginia tells the unbelieving cops the Madman is collecting facial features. "Why would he--why would anyone do such a thing?" they ask. "Because he thinks it will please me," she replies. You mean it doesn't? C'mon, he just wants to look good for you! The cops offer her no protection, though: the Madman meets her in the basement to show her his new ears and tell her, "I'll have your heart...one way or another!" Stakes sufficiently raised, it's time for Jenny to go investigatin'.

She quickly tracks the publisher of the book, a charmingly slimy fly-by-night porn publisher called Sidney Zeit, played with show-stealing verve by character-actor Murray Rubin. (The wonderful pulp-art jackets framed in Zeit's office bear such wish-I-could-read-'em titles as East of Edith and Moby's Dick.) Zeit tells her that Malcolm Brand was a maniac who claimed his characters talked back to him and wouldn't do what he wanted, and who ended his days in an asylum...or did he?

Convinced now that it's flesh-and-blood Brand following her and acting out his own literary scenarios, Virginia tries so save her friend Lenny from the madman's clutches, but fails by a nose. (Ba-dump.) She convinces her spectacularly unsupportive boyfriend to set up a stakeout where she thinks the final killing will be, but faulty literary interpretation proves her downfall and leads to a wild climax in the bookstore that boasts among other things: a corpse-eating kitty, an awesome avalanche of books, and a Deux Ex Libris ending that is just about as perfect as you could wish.

Michael Rooker in an early role.

Tabor Tikacs (which backwards is "Scakit Robat," a Japanese robotic aerial mammal toy that's all the rage overseas) puts a lot of nice touches in this film that make the visuals almost as much fun as the wild plot. The "hyper-reality" of the scenes depicting passages from Brand's books is very striking, everything filmed and colored like one of those awesome pulp book jackets from the 50s. The cinematography is great throughout, and the score is nice too--even if a bit too obviously Elfman-derived. (In fact, I got a strong Darkman vibe from the killer's look and some of the compositions here, together with the whole facelessness thing--sort of "Darkman Gets Darker.")

The gore and makeup are really standout aspects--we get a lot of thick dark blood and some cool sound fx when the Madman is working on his victims, but the nicest touch is the way that Brand's self-stitched skin grafts deteriorate over the course of the movie, making his final appearance more grotesque and gross than any previous. (Obviously he just sewed them in without attaching any blood vessels...ick. Nice attention to detail, Robat.) All in all, a squicky icky effort that exemplifies what we love about 80s horror.

The acting is fairly good too. Cook is really creepy as Brand, and only part of that is the makeup--okay, a big part--but his mannerisms and speech work well with the prosthetics to create the character. A few bit characters do well in small roles (Rubin most memorably), even though love-interest Rohner is fairly bland. But it's Jenny Wright's movie to carry or drop, and she plays vulnerable, shy girl with a wild side very well (though admittedly there WERE a couple of scenes where the glazed look on her face made me wonder whether she might have been "altered" that day). And she's easy to look at, especially in those wonderful 40s gowns. (Ziggity-zang.)

"Put it away, Vicar! I'm frightened!"

A success by any 80s horror fan standard, I, Madman also delivers some meta-metafiction, dark fantasy, and book-nerd in-jokes to keep you turning the pages. It's a story I couldn't put down, and you won't either. 3 thumbs. Do yourself a favor and it out. (<--Library pun! Get it?)


Trivia Answer: Incredibly, half a rampaging stop-motion Jackal/Human Hybrid monster! Strange but true.

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