It could be argued that Rino Di Silvestro's 1976 offering Werewolf Woman (aka Legend of the Wolf Woman, aka Naked Werewolf Woman) both is and isn't a "real" werewolf movie. Those coming down on the naysaying side would point out that, except for an opening flashback that could be taken as fantasy, star Annik Borel undergoes no full-moon transformations to a fur-covered snarling beast--her "change" is of a psychological nature, triggered by early childhood trauma and susceptibility to suggestion rather than by the bite of some damnable hound of hell. Ergo, not a werewolf.
On the other hand, lycanthropy as a psychological disorder has been known and documented for centuries--human beings who because of illness (rabies, porphyria), madness, or some other trauma turn into bestial, reasonless berserkers, attacking strangers and loved ones and sometimes even engaging in cannibalism. In fact, some folklorists and anthropologists hypothesize that in conditions such as these lie the origins of the werewolf myth. Taken from this angle, Werewolf Woman could be viewed as a more "true" werewolf movie than more folklore-centric examples of the genre such as The Wolf Man, La Marca del Hombre-Lobo, and The Werewolf of Washington.
But whether you consider Werewolf Woman a true werewolf movie or not, you can't deny its basic bone-deep MADness. Like a mash-up of She-Wolf of London and Abel Ferrara's Ms. 45, Werewolf Woman puts the "lunatic" in "lunar cycles," and the "rape" in "rapacious moon-beast." All this and a death-by-junkyard crane too? Sign me up!
"You can dance if you want to, you can leave your friends behind..."
I always appreciate it when a filmmaker puts his cards on the table from the very beginning, and whatever his technical shortcomings, Di Silvestro does NOT fuck around. We open with a naked woman (Borel) standing in a circle of fire, doing some kind of wild interpretive dance under the full moon. The credits roll while the woman gyrates most lasciviously and claws at her own bare flesh. The director leaves no part of the sex un-'sploited here; in fact one lucky production member even gets his credit directly under the furry mistletoe, IYKWIM. I'm not sure of all the nuances of every dance move, but the basic concept behind the piece seems to be, "Come down, Lord Satan, and make my entire body as hairy and bushy as THIS!" Being an indulgent sort, Old Scratch complies.
It's not long before a torch-bearing mob in period costumes are descending on the scene, establishing that we're in an era in which hypertrichosis is treated by direct application of flame. The wolflady scurries into the forest, where her shaggy coat gives her excellent camouflage. Soon Hartley, a lonely hunter, wanders by (note to prospective werewolf posse members: ALWAYS use the buddy system!) , and the beast attacks! She rips his throat out with her teeth, and then for good measure picks up the axe he dropped and cleaves his skull in twain! Which seems like overkill to me, but what do I know? I'm no werewolf woman.
You're going to need a bigger pair of tweezers.
Drawn by the hunter's girlish screams of terror, the mob soon captures the snarling beastette, binds her to a stake, and burns her alive--which I believe marks the first time I've seen a werewolf dispatched in this way. I did find the idea of the werewolf's curse being sought out actively through witchcraft and devil worship an interesting one, as it's in keeping with a lot of the older lycanthropic folklore. (An example of one such story can be read here.) Unfortunately that's about as far as they take the idea in this flick, since once the flames start singing the womanwolf's chest hair Daniella Neseri (Borel again) wakes up screaming from her horrible nightmare!
When Daniella's worldly sister Elena (the passably hawt Dagmar Lassander) returns for a visit with her handsome fiance, Daniella is both attracted and repulsed by her sister's sexual freedom. This ambivalence manifests itself in Daniella having visions of gore covered ghosts and nightmares of sharing her bed with a monitor lizard that crawls up her legs to come to rest on her crotch! What do you say about that, Dr. Freud?
Hung like a snake.
Later that night Daniella spies on the happy couple making love, which makes her horny and confused. She flees into the woods outside the manor; hearing the noise of her departure, the fiance follows to see what (the fuck) is up with his future sister-in-law.
Out in the forest, under a full moon, alone with a handsome slab of Eurohunk, Daniella is overcome by strange desires. She throws herself at him, and being a healthy Italian male who just left one Eurobabe in bed, the fiance responds by making out with his betrothed's sister. Like you do. It's a fatal mistake in more ways than one, as in the throes of passion Daniella makes her dreams come true by ripping out his jugular with her teeth and tossing his body down a ravine! Back in her room, the new trauma puts her into a catalyptic state, which prompts her father to have her institutionalized at last.
The police puzzle over the fiance's body (looks like it was attacked by an animal!), Elena vents her venomous grief on her sister, the Count grows increasingly frail, and Daniella stays mostly comatose in her new environs. But when a nymphomaniac inmate, recently rebuffed by her handsome doctor, decides to molest Daniella instead (!), she too gets murdered for her sexual trouble. Shocked out of her coma, Daniella escapes the institution and takes it on the lam, killing a female doctor in her car and later another hapless woman whom she happens to see fucking her boyfriend in a barn. It's a killing spree!
"Let me teach you about your body!"
Still rather slow to put two and two together, the police call in the big guns, namely Inspector Modica (Frederick Stafford, who looks like a poor man's Christopher George). As the Inspector grills Count Neseri and questions whether animals really did do for the fiance, Daniella hitches a ride from an aged Lothario who offers her a place to stay in exchange for certain services, iykwim. When Daniella defaults on her end of the deal, the misogynistic old man (who drops the cunt, whore, and bitch bombs with alarming regularity in his pillow talk) figures she must be one of those crazy chicks who likes to be taken by force. "You'd like me to rape you, eh? All right, I'll play that game--I like it, it'll be more exciting for us!" What a charmer. Of course in this movie an old perv and his trachea are soon parted, and Daniella's on the road again.
Things start to look up for our werelady when she stumbles into an abandoned village where a hunky and sensitive stunt man is staying to practice jumping through windows and off buildings in his down time. The exact opposite of her previous suitor, this guy treats her with respect, keeps his hands to himself, and happily sleeps on the sofa to let her rest in the master bedroom behind locked doors. In a couple of weeks love blooms between the two (including a great falling-in-love montage where the stunt man falls off towers only to spring up and make out with her, or crashes through glass directly into her arms), and Daniella can finally give herself to a man without thereafter bathing in his hot arterial spray. Ain't love grand?
Bruno was thrilled to find a woman who loved it doggie-style.
The last part of the movie concerns Daniella getting her revenge on the rapists Ms. 45-style, only instead of dressing up as a nun and blasting away with a heater she uses a wrench, an auto-crane, and fire. Shortly thereafter she's captured by the police in a reprise of the opening dance, and a voice-over informs us she died in an institution years later, this is a true story, names have been changed, etc. etc. The end.
The movie has a lot of action in it, and when it's hitting on all cylinders it keeps you interested and moving along. There are a few too many scenes with Inspector Modica hashing out his theories about what's happening (tiresome, since we've already seen it happen and he's always 100% correct), but Daniella's murders, redemption, and second fall are handled fairly well. The love-nest sequence when she's happy with the stunt man is cheesy in what I found to be an endearing way, and the total gear-change of her modus operandi at the end was odd but not boring.
"Smell like I sound, I'm lost in a crowd,
I'm on the hunt, I'm after you..."
As a werewolf movie, Werewolf Woman may fail for some viewers, but I found it an intriguing twist on the folklore and was entertained by it. It had enough cheesiness and sleaziness to keep a Eurotrash afficianado satisfied too, even if de Silvestro's direction was nothing spectacular. Therefore, I give Werewolf Woman a 2.25 thumb rating. It's available on the Mill Creek Nightmare Worlds 50-movie set and elsewhere. Give it a spin.
Check out these puppies.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Werewolf Woman (1976): or, The Bitch is Back
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
A Musical Interlude: Night of the Howling Beast
In researching his Naschyness lately, the Vicar came upon this musical tribute to all things werewolfery by THE RENFIELDS. Enjoy!
Monday, June 1, 2009
Night of the Howling Beast (1975), Or Leap Attack Fest 2009
Paul Naschy. Paul Fucking Naschy. The name rolls off the tongue with a tremble, the words themselves containing no power yet when uttered together the earth shakes, virgins become pregnant, flocks of birds angrily take to the sky, and small children pee themselves in terror. As most of our astute readers know, the Vicar and I have an, um, "thing", for Mr. Naschy. Let me give a little background on our Lord for those who might not yet understand the mystique.
Paul Naschy was forged on an altar of evil by blind eunuchs invoking the names of the 8 Beasts from Beyond Time. His piercing eyes, his barrel chest, his penchant for sexing every woman who comes within his personal gravity: these are the reasons we love him. His muscles rippling beneath his bronze skin like insane caged pigs, starving for succor. The wild forelock of auburn hair on his head causes us to enter a torpor state of awesome. His unending joy at film making makes us understand why we love movies, and why we write passionately on this blog.
I bring to you one of Naschy's cinematic gems, the superbly titled "Night of the Howling Beast". And what a night it is! Our movie opens with 3 mountain climbers walking uphill through the snow. It is a blustery day in the Himalayas, and these gents are out for a stroll, when suddenly Chewbacca attacks! Driven mad by the keening caw of the minoc, Chewy knows only red rage as he tears into the hapless climbers. Luckily one of them thought to bring a Saturday Night Special and promptly pumps Chewbacca full of hollow-points.
We then cut to what must be an anthropologist's office, given all the stuffiness and plaid-elbow-patched-jacket'ness of it all. Enter Naschy, playing once again Waldemar Daninsky, followed by the professor. Naschy cuts a striking figure, his navy jacket barely able to contain his testosterone levels. We find out that Chewbacca didn't attack at all, and instead it was the fabled yeti of Nepal. (We can only assume Chewy is safe on Endor, feasting on Ewok intrails, which he has acquired a taste for)
"Why yes, Professor, I do wear Stetson cologne."
The professor tells Waldemar that some researchers found a yeti, and were never heard from again, but luckily their backpack had been recovered, along with a diary. The professor presents Waldemar with a "yeti scalp", which looks like someone shaved a beagle and then hot-glued its fur onto a swimming cap. Pronouncing that "there's no doubt it's authentic", he asks Waldemar to accompany him on an expedition to find this yeti, and perhaps sign it to a book contract. The professor notes that not only is Waldemar an anthropologist and a psychologist, but he's also fluent in Nepalese!
We cut to Nepal, where Waldemar drives up to a hotel in an army jeep while smoking a cigarette, a sight that is guaranteed to disintegrate every pair of panties within a 10 block radius. Waldemar meets up with the other researchers, including the professor's daughter Sylvia (grrr, baby, very grrr!) and their hulking guide Tiger, a beastly, bulging man who nevertheless proves to be mostly a coward.
Learning that the mountain passes are all but snowed in, Waldemar is angered, until Tiger informs him of a man who claims to know the way no matter the weather. Off they go! I was expecting some ancient Shirpa to fulfill this duty, instead they go to an opium den and find a sweaty bald white guy who for some reason knows his way around the Himalayas. Waldemar goes on with the sweaty dragon chaser while the rest of everyone heads off to base camp.
Waldemar is to meet up with them later, but 2 days pass and he still hasn't shown. Fearing him lost and or injured, the party sets out to find him, despite the ominous warnings from Tiger and his crew about "demons of the red moon" in the high mountain passes. Meanwhile, Waldemar and his "guide" are lost. Instead of consulting with the stars, using a map, or employing any other sort of survival technique, the guide sweats a few minutes, panics, and jumps off the side of K2. Waldemar is left on his own, but not for long!
We have a few scenes here, back and forth, of Waldemar wandering in the mountains and the folks back at base camp, trying to work up the nerve to go out after him. The Shirpas employee a ritual folk dance to work up their nerve, the band resembling a cross between Dexy's Midnight Runners and the J. Geils Band. Back with Waldemar, we see he's almost at the end of his sexy life when he spies a cave! Catching a whiff of freshly baked muffin, he heads inside to find it warm and inviting, with candles and pagan statues everywhere. It reminded me a lot of the Vicar's steam room, only with more candles and less nude gypsies.
"My blood runs cold, my memory has just been sold!"
Just as Waldemar is starting to wonder where the toilet is, a sexy woman in a saucy outfit shows up, asking why Waldemar dropped by without so much as a bottle of Merlot. Before he passes out, Waldemar asks for sanctuary. He gets something, alright, but it isn't sanctuary, unless your definition includes naked women jumping on you while you are semi-conscious. Actually, that is exactly my definition of sanctuary. Waldemar can barely sit up before two wenches have disrobed and started sexing him, one of them rubbing herself all over his prone body while the other works his hog like a ravenous hound gnawing on a deer's femur. Miraculously, this cures Waldemar.
Paul opts for the continental breakfast.
Exhausted, Waldemar passes out again, only to awaken later, alone. He sets out to do some spelunking of a different kind and explore the cave's environs. He soon happens upon two of the wenches engaging in what would appear to be cannibalism. Horrified that their mouths were previously all over his supple body, Waldemar flees in disgust, only to find the way out blocked by a portcullis. Having no choice but to descend further into the cave, Waldemar sets off, but quickly runs into another room where a chick is kneeling before a stone bier upon which rests a shriveled corpse. A thin silver arrow pierces its chest.
Waldemar realizes he has to go through this lady, so he attacks! A fierce battle ensues until Waldemar gets the idea to use the silver arrow. Now, friends, if you've ever watched a Naschy film, you should know that pulling anything silver out of any part of the body of a corpse is a recipe for disaster. Luckily for Waldemar, this movie is different! He runs the chick through with the arrow, and another shows up! He tries to flee, but ends up impaling her as well, but not before she bites him on one of his rock-like pecs! Freed, Waldemar finally finds an exit and runs off into the snow.
If this yeti killing job doesn't work out, there's always the circus...
The full moon is out, and Waldemar clutches his chest as he runs. Soon, the pain is too great... he begins to transform! A time-lapsed shot later and we have the hairy wolfman version of Paul Naschy. Reeking of wolf-stink and man-sex, he sets off in search of prey. He doesn't have to go far. Three bandits have made a camp near some boulders. Using one of the boulders as a launching spot, Waldemar executes one of the most stunning leap attacks in the long, awesome history of leap attacks! Very quickly the bandits are reduced to bloody messes.
Ladies and gentlemen: The Leap Attack
We flash over to the rescue party, who seem to have made their camp in the middle of some snowless woods. The ever-changing environment in this movie brought me no end of mirth. One moment it's a blizzard, the next sunny and green. The rescue party is growing increasingly nervous, as they begin to hear howls in the distance. Sylvia thinks this would be the perfect time to go for an evening stroll. One of the other researchers tries to force himself on her, but Waldemar jumps out and rips out the dude's throat!
The campers go to investigate, and while they are away Tiger gets knifed by his own men, who are "crazy with fear" he says, dying. The researchers break camp the next day, only to be ambushed by a large party of bandits. It turns out they all answer to Sekkar Khan, a local warlord who lives high in the mountains inside a fortress. The surviving members of the rescue party are carted off to meet him.
Meanwhile, Waldemar wakes up covered in leaves wondering what the fuck he's been up to for the last 8 hours. The girl Sylvia is passed out next to him. He gathers her up and they set off looking for the rest of the party. They find one of the members that the bandits left behind, impaled on a pike. With his dying breath he lets them know that the others have been taken to Sekkar Khan's Fortress of Solitude. We cut to said fortress and see Sekkar Khan undergoing treatment for sores on his back. I'm going to assume syphilis. His head wench informs him that a doctor is among the rescue party, so hope for new treatment abounds.
Meanwhile, Waldemar and Sylvia happen upon a monastery out in the middle of nowhere. It is inhabited by an old monk-like guy and his mute friend. The old man knows Waldemar's "condition" and helps him by chaining him to a tree. This doesn't hold Waldemar, however, when the moon is bright and the wolfbane blooms. Tearing the tree apart, wolfy Naschy sets off, happening upon a bandit on horseback. Executing yet another awesome leap attack, he lands squarely on the horse, right behind the rider!
Back at the monastery, the monk informs Sylvia that she should use a rare red bloom from a flower that only grows high in the mountains if she wants to save Waldemar. Or, stab him with this handy silver dagger I just happen to have! The monk gives her the knife and wishes her well. Waldemar comes back from his beastly foray to find the monk and his mute friend dead, and Sylvia hostage. Waldemar, in his weakened state, is taken hostage as well.
"I'm... too sexy for these chains."
They are both taken back to Sekkar Khan's fortress. Waldemar is chained up in a cell, while some captive women are disrobed and beaten. Soon it becomes clear that this new medicinal remedy for Sekkar Khan's back involves the harvesting of skin off the girls to be grafted onto his back. It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again! Was she a great big fat person? At any rate, Sekkar Khan skins his humps.
Waldemar watches this happen with barely contained rage, and utters a fabulous line that I must quote: "The full moon has always filled me with fear, but now I wish it would come, so that I could destroy you!!" Meanwhile, Sylvia is put in with the other women, one of which discovers her secret silver dagger. They use this to kill the guard and escape. They find the head witch, who they also kill, but not before she utters another immortal line: "I'll have you killed, you bitches!"
Waldemar hooks back up with Sylvia, and they start to make their escape. However, Sekkar Khan has other plans! This kicks off one of the most well choreographed fights in Naschy film history! Waldemar executes several leap attacks, as well as a flying kick, all into the skull of Sekkar Khan, who finally falls into a spiked pit, which upon their inspection, also contains the corpse of the professor! The finally flee the castle, whereupon Waldemar informs Sylvia that they must go their separate ways, as it's becoming dark, and he's about to turn.
Ladies and gentlemen: The Flying Kick
And turn he does! Sylvia doesn't make it very far before Waldemar is in full wolf-out mode. Suddenly, a yeti attacks Sylvia! Her screams draw Waldemar like a siren song, and soon another epic battle is taking place. The yeti, however, is no match for Waldemar, and soon has its throat bitten out. Unlucky for Waldemar, however, the yeti gets in a final swipe, which proves to be devastating. At the last moment, Sylvia spots the fabled red bloom flower, which she takes a petal from, and, mixing it with her own blood, heals Waldemar for good! Together they walk off, hand-in-hand, into the snowy sunrise.
Friends, this movie is fan-fucking-tastic. It has everything we know and love about Paul Naschy films, and it cranks it all up to 11 and beyond. Love leap attacks? This movie is full of them! Love Paul's pecs? Pull up a chair! I can scarcely believe the amount of win this movie contains. Yeti scalps, Tibetan folk music, cannibalistic cave-dwelling bitches, I could go on and on. Suffice it to say that if you are a fan of this site at all, you should hunt down a copy of this movie post haste. Three Huge Thumbs Up.
"For great justice!!!"
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh (1971): or, It's In the Blood
I've decided I really, *really* like director Sergio Martino. In the few films of his I've watched for the site, he always seems to bring the stylish visuals, the neat compositions, and a much-appreciated Bava-esque use of color that always gives me a little ocular-induced frisson of pleasure. Seven Deaths in the Cat's Eye was a cool old-dark-house gothic chiller that in retrospect deserved a bit more than the 2 thumb rating I originally gave it, and All the Colors of the Dark was a super-cool Rosemary's Baby-influenced Satanic Panic flick with some really striking images and gorgeous cinematography.
(Note: astute commenters have pointed out that my original attribution of Seven Deaths in the Cat's Eye to Martino was incorrect--it was in fact Antonio Margheriti who directed that flick. Honest mistake: Martino/Martini, Margheriti/Margarita. That'll teach me to drink and review. :) )
Plus, I can thank Martino and that last movie for introducing me to the pants-straining wonders of Eurohottie Extraordinaire Edwige Fenech for the first time--a favor for which I can never adequately express the depths of my depraved gratitude.
Sure, Sergio gave me a bit of an upset tummy with his cannibal-cinema effort Slave of the Cannibal God, a flick that displayed none of the qualities I was praising a few sentences ago and thus I found not at all to my taste. (HAW!) But after watching today's entry, Martino's justly revered 1971 giallo The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh, I'm prepared to declare his Keach-filled cannibalsplitationer an unfortunate misstep in an otherwise sterling filmography. Because Strange Vice, with its wonderful shots, gorgeous colors, intricate and sometimes exuberant overplotting, and more Naked Edwige than you can shake yer stick at (almost), is a real winner by just about any Mad Movie standard.
After a very pointed epigraph from Sigmund Freud ("The very fact that the commandment says 'do not kill' makes us aware and convinced that we are descended from an unbroken chain of generations of assassins for whom the love of murder was in their blood, as it is perhaps in ours too"), we find busy-busy businessman Neil Wardh (Alberto de Mendoza) arriving at the airport, accompanied by the missus, Julie Wardh, played of course by the incomparably hot Edwige Fenech. Edwige is ROCKIN' the headscarf/turban-look, and is not at all upset that her husband can't accompany her to the hotel before heading to a financial meeting. She's a modern woman, after all--she has her own things to do.
The Lady Swami sees self-pleasuring in your future...
Arriving at the hotel, Julie notices a strangely familiar sports car parked outside--what are the chances? Unnerved, she flees into the luxury suite her husband has reserved for them, which has the kind of 70s decor I can only dream about--broad horizontally striped wallpaper, tinted bubble-pane windows on the doors and even in the hallways, and a glass-topped sitting table whose center is a Lazy Susan of Boozin'. Sweet, indeed. Edwige wastes no time stripping off for a shower, giving us more toplessness and a bare bottom shot to die for. Again, suh-weet.
Wow! Just LOOK at that wallpaper!
Before she can get wet, though, the porter knocks with a bouquet of flowers and a card from a mysterious admirer: "The worst part of you is the best thing you have, and will always be mine.--Jean." Okay, maybe *not* so mysterious. Anyway, with her possessive and violent ex-master following her around Europe, Julie obviously has more immediate concerns than the razor-slasher to worry about...or does she?
Three days later Mr. Wardh has *still* not made the time to relax and cavort with his bored young wife (IDIOT!), so Julie goes to a party given by her ditzy socialite friend Carol (Conchita Airoldi). There she meets Carol's cousin and co-inheritor of the family fortune George (the eponymous and ubiquitous George Hilton), who seems en- rather than dis- couraged at the sight of Julie's wedding ring. Jean makes an appearance as well, leering evilly at Julie while two Italian models rip each others' paper dresses off for a good-natured, squealing naked catfight in the middle of the room! Yes, it's that kind of party. Where's the mashed potatoes at?
Ivan the Terrible
As she's leaving the party Jean catches up with Julie and makes his intentions clear: he wants to get together for a little slap-and-tickle, minus the tickle. At just that moment Mr. Wardh finally shows up and confronts his former rival. At one point he pops Jean one in the jaw, leading to some excellent acting from Ivan as he first gets all bestial and angry looking, then slowly calms down before letting loose a wonderful eeevil laugh. It recalls a similar scene from Bela Lugosi in Dracula, and that's a huge complement.
Back at the hotel Julie has another flashback to her problematic relationship with Jean, this one much more in the style of the freaky surreal sequences Martino did so well in All the Colors of the Dark. We get some cool fish-eye lens work as Jean towers over the sprawled Julie, first pouring a glass of champagne on her bosoms (nice) and then smashing the bottle on a table, sending a shower of gem-like shards of glass raining down on her! (NOT nice!) He uses the broken bottleneck to cut off Julie's shirt, also leaving a bleeding scratch on her torso, the sight of which again seems to push Mrs. Wardh from terror to desire. Obviously sex and fear and blood are all mixed up in poor Julie's psyche, and when Jean falls on top of her and they begin making love on a bed of broken glass, her back is soon dotted red with small cuts. Strange days indeed.
I don't want to reveal too much more about the plot, as the movie takes this set up and goes on a narrative version of Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. Will the Razor Slasher be revealed to be the violently jealous, jilted Jean, the obvious choice? Will it turn out to be Mr. Wardh, who perhaps knows more about his wife's dalliances than he lets on? Could it be (gasp!) her new lover George, who seems too good to be true and probably is? The flick gives motives and opportunity to all, and the way it pulls all the threads together in the end will please some and frustrate others, but at least it's never boring.
I would like to talk a little about some of the things Martino does right, though, as he really flexes some cinematographic muscles here. The director keeps a tight rein on the story, and the editing and pacing keep things going forward at a good speed, even if not always in a straight line. He also puts together some very stylish compositions. A scene where Carol goes to meet a blackmailer in Julie's stead at a botanical garden is both beautiful and tense, and a later scene where the killer stalks Julie through a darkened parking garage recalls some of the gorgeously geometrically lined shots from All the Colors of the Dark. (In fact, at times in that movie Martino may have been visually "quoting" himself). The flashbacks are great in their trippiness too, though not approaching AtCotD's weirdness, and a late confrontation between George and Jean in a desert-like setting looks like it could have come straight out of a super-stylized spaghetti western--a genre I'm sure Martino dabbled in at least once.
Here's Looking at You
As for the "strange vice" of that memorable title, I was surprised it didn't figure more prominently into the actual machinations of the plot than it did. Whether you interpret Julie's vice to be straight S&M or full-out hematomania, it's an intriguing aspect of her character that I felt could have been explored (and exploited) more fully. As it is, the vice is used to explain her attraction to the otherwise repugnant Jean, which is fine as far as it goes. But in this case, I think it could have profitably gone further.
The acting is good from just about everybody involved. Ivan Rassimov is a real villain's villain, with his reptilian looks and snarling voice injecting menace and creepiness into every scene. (His blonde locks seem to get several shades lighter in some scenes, which I take to mean he is in fact a chameleonic reptoid alien.) Hilton is not as good, but passable enough. And Edwige is mesmerizing as usual, though for my money not quite as believably terrified here as in All the Colors of the Dark. But as a Nef Double-D (Naked Edwige Fenech Delivery Device), Strange Vice has it all over that later film.
Nothin' Strange About It
Much as I liked Strange Vice, if I had to pick a favorite Martino joint right now, I'd still go with All the Colors of the Dark. I'm just a sucker for a good hippie devil cult, so sue me. But that's in no way to diminish the goodness of this flick, which more than earns its 2.75 thumbs rating. If you like giallo and love Edwige Fenech (and as for that latter point, who doesn't, eh?), you should really give it a look. And I'll be looking for more Sergio Martino flicks in the future.
"OBEY!"
Postscript--Someone who's a better mixologist than I should really see if he or she can create a Sergio Martino-themed cocktail, called (naturally) the Sergio Martini. It should have vibrant colors, not *too* much taste, and after you drink it you should feel happy and dizzy. And be naked. Get to work, people, and send me your recipes!
Bonus Material: Added Edwige--because too much is never enough.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
The She-Beast (1966), Or, How I Was Really, Really Wanting To See Barbara Steele's Hoots.
Dearest friends, it is I, the Duke, writing to you from my estate in the south of France. Normally in this space I would relate to you my recent exploits, enthralling you with tales of odious gypsies in the darkest reaches of the globe. However, I will not be doing that this time, as I have been battling a curious malady that has forced me to stay close to home. Without going into specifics, let me instead suggest that if the Vicar invites you to accompany him to a brothel high in the Andes, a brothel filled with deformities cursed by what must be the most hate-filled god, politely decline.
Having nothing to do but smoke via my hookah, I had a trusty servant bring me a random sampling from the media library. I was pleasantly surprised when she returned with The She-Beast, starring the fabulous Barbara Steele. Made in 1966 by first-time director Michael Reeves, the movie was shot on a shoestring budget and was entirely made within 3 days. While this haste shows, we still get a movie that is wholly enjoyable, if for different reasons than me might first have expected. Let’s examine it more closely, shall we?
Our movie opens with a drunken old man driving a yellow car up to his “house”. I use house loosely because it’s really a cave, despite it having a front door and a little green mailbox. The cave is decorated with skulls, so props to his interior decorator. In his stupor, he stumbles over to his bed and picks up a book for some light reading. The book is an account of the nearby town’s witch problems some 200 years previous. Flashback time!
A boy flees through a forest and through fields, blood trickling down his forehead. Onward he runs, finally arriving at the village church. He pounds on the door, interrupting a funeral in progress, where most (probably all) of the townsfolk are gathered. The boy informs the villagers that the witch has taken his brother! The priest quickly calls for a torch-wielding posse. There’ll be an ol’ fashion witch-hunt tonight, oh yeah!
"My posse's on Broadway!"
As they are rushing out the door, one of the priests of the church tries in vain to remind everyone that the Count should be sent for first, so that he can exorcise the demon out of the witch before they kill her, because if they don’t she’ll “forever be in our midst!” Ignoring him in their bloodlust, they rush into the hills anyway, torches waving. The procession finally arrives at the witch’s cave and the head priest steps forward. “Come forth, Sister of Satan!!” he bellows.
"Surprise! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you!"
Screeching like a Turkish sailor who just paid good money to have a prostitute in high heels to stomp on his sack, the witch flies out of the cave in a rage. Her face looks like she began using boric acid as a pimple cleanser and didn’t know when to stop. Her hair could only be described as “kind”… the kind that grows on a goat’s ass. Wearing only a black dress and a bloody bone around her neck to accessorize, she strikes a fitting image for a bride of Satan.
She bites and claws, but quickly the villagers have her subdued. These folks really know how to show a witch a good time! Off to the lake they go, whereupon we are greeted by the sight of what I thought at first was a witch catapult. This movie would have vaulted into a hallowed 3+ Thumbs territory if they had loaded the witch into a catapult and launched her, screeching, out into the lake. Sadly, it turns out this was simply a dunking stool, or “ducking stool”, a medieval device designed to dunk people into water, sometimes for minor offenses, but eventually it grew to be used for determining if someone was a witch or not.
The Vicar looks on with excitement as his servants begin Operation Pig-Launch(tm)
Here the villagers refer to it as the Chair of Chastisement, a fitting name given that they already know this lady is a witch and simply wish to dispose of her in as horrible way as they can. The witch is strapped into the chair, and then a giant heated spike is driven in through the back of it, into and through the witch’s body. These villagers know how to go the extra mile! The device is wheeled down to the water’s edge and the witch is then dunked repeatedly, and one must assume she is drowned. However, before they can properly torture her to death, the witch utters the classic “I’ll haunt this place, I’m super serious!” witch-curse. Why no one thought to gag her first isn’t covered.
Suddenly we are back in modern times. A young married couple are driving a VW Beetle through the Transylvanian countryside (also known as somewhere in Italy, where the movie was shot). We have Philip, played by Ian Oglivy, and Veronica, played by Barbara Steele. We learn they are lost, until a policeman comes by on a bicycle and recommends them an inn to stay the night at. They head off in search of the inn.
"Excuse me Miss, but ZANG."
The inn, it turns out, seems to have only one room, and is run by a grotesque fat man who apparently is a Communist. The couple meets up with the drunk old man we saw reading the book at the start of the film. Turns out he’s a Van Helsing, decedent from a long line of Van Helsings who watch over this area, waiting on the witches curse to kick in. Meanwhile he spends his time getting toasted. Soon the couple is ensconced in their room, whereupon they start getting a bit randy.
What’s a perverted fatass of an innkeeper to do but watch? Groper (a fitting name) sneaks around back and watches the festivities. I was hoping here for some glimpse at Steele’s ample mammaries, but unfortunately we only get some cleavage, which really is enough, because, well, zang. Veronica catches him looking and alerts Philip, who rushes outside and repeatedly fucking BASHES Groper’s head into the wall! I thought he was dead, given all the blood, but no he’s ok it seems, waking up a bit later.
"Easy, dear. You might feel a little pressure..."
Groper rips the distributor cap out of the VW, out of revenge I guess, but this doesn’t work out too well, since Philip just barges into his room and gets it back after realizing it’s missing from the car. With that, the couple is on their way. Or so they think! Something, some “force”, takes over the car, and suddenly Philip can’t steer! Narrowly avoiding a lorry, they plunge off into the very lake the witch was drowned in! The truck driver, thinking he has some responsibility for what happened, drags Philip and Veronica out of the lake, but alas poor Veronica has expired!
The driver takes the unconscious Philip and the dead Veronica back to the inn. Groper helps him put the bodies in the kitchen. The driver leaves, fearing police involvement, and Groper sits down to wait on Philip to wake up, bottle of booze in hand. Philip finally comes around, and Groper drunkenly informs him of what went on. Rushing to check on his wife, Philip pulls back the cover they have over her to reveal… someone who isn’t his wife! It’s the witch! Of course, Philip and Groper don’t know this, and are quite perplexed as to what is going on. Luckily Van Helsing shows up. He’s the man with the plan.
"Where's my money, man? Where's my money?!"
Van Helsing whisks Philip away, back to his man-cave. He grabs a wooden totem, which looks quite phallic frankly, and begins reading from another of his books, trying to discern the best way to get rid of the witch. Philip becomes impatient, and runs off, heading back to town. Van Helsing can’t locate Philip, and heads back to the inn himself, wooden dildo in tow. He chants over the witch, bringing her back to life (so that she might be exorcised and killed properly, natch). He quickly regrets this decision, as the witch promptly chokes him into unconsciousness before running off into the forest.
Van Helsing is an erotic asphyxia practitioner.
Meanwhile, Groper is reclining on his soiled bed reading through a naughty book, when sudden a local girl bursts in through the front door. Seems she had been passing by when she heard some suspicious screeching in the woods. Groper, drunk and horny, throws the girl on his bed, ripping her shirt open and attempting to mount her. I could only compare this to an attractive girl being dry humped by a walrus. The girl gets away, fleeing in terror. Groper runs after her, calling for her to come back, when Philip walks up asking Groper to call the police. Startled, Groper swings the bottle he’s carrying before really looking to see whom it is. Philip is down!
Thinking Philip dead, Groper drags him into the middle of the road, where, after narrowly avoiding getting hit by the same lorry driver from before, Van Helsing finds him and pulls him to safety. Meanwhile, back inside the inn, Groper gets what’s coming to him, as the witch returns, sickle in hand, and proceeds to very messily murder Groper. It was about here that I realized the director was taking a different direction with this film. After killing him, the witch tosses the sickle onto the floor, where it comes to rest on a hammer, making the classic Soviet symbol!
Where's Joseph McCarthy when you need him?
The witch runs off, Philip and Van Helsing begin tracking her down. Their search leads to an alley in a small town, where a young boy has snuck out of his house in order to watch a cock fight through a window. The witch attacks, but the guys save the boy from certain death. Injecting the witch with something to knock her unconscious, they take her back to the inn and leave her.
Meanwhile the lorry driver finally turns himself into the police, and upon hearing his story the police chief decides more investigation is in order. Off to the inn they go! They discover the witch’s body, and load her up into a van, and speed off, just as Philip and Van Helsing are returning to finish the job. This sets off another corny set-piece of the movie that had me scratching my head. We get a way over-long chase scene in which the bumbling police drive all over trying to get their van back. The director uses sped-up camera techniques meant to convey speed, and the whole thing plays out like a Benny Hill skit.
Van Helsing also likes a little man-on-man action.
Soon, though, the chase is over. The witch hops out and attacks the cops, who finally corner the van. Distracted, she doesn’t see Van Helsing sneak up and inject her yet again! Quickly they drag her down to the lake, strap her into the dunking stool, and dunk away, submerging her repeatedly. Suddenly, she is no longer on the chair! The guys have a moment of panic until a newly healed Veronica floats up out of the water!
"I think I broke a nail..."
Philip wades out and drags her to shore. She’s groggy and wet, but appears unharmed. We cut to later as Van Helsing admits there’s no longer a reason to stay in this country. He decides to accompany Philip and Veronica as they head back to England. All three pile into the VW and head out. Philip says he can’t wait to put Transylvania behind him, and Veronica says “Oh… I’ll be back.” Dum-dum-DUUUUUM goes the music! Quick cut to a close-up of Veronica’s face. She gives a sly smile, and repeats the line:
“I’ll be back.”
Overall, I enjoyed this movie. Did it blow me away? Heavens no! It came across as exactly what it was: A cheap movie with a cast of about 10 people made for as little as possible. However, it was terribly enjoyable. I loved the humor sprinkled throughout, especially the sickle and hammer shot. How could I not chuckle at that? The Benny Hill car chase was a bit much since it went on for so long, but overall it was evident the director, and all involved even, really tried to put their best foot forward and make a good movie with what they had.
In researching this film, it seems Barbara did this movie simply as a side project that she got paid $5000 to do over a 3 day period. Reeves, very young at 22, started crafting his techniques that would become more famous with his epic film Witchfinder General (also one of my favorite bands!) The film stock presented on this new DVD is the original Technoscope 35mm print, and overall it looks fairly descent. There were a lot of noticeable scratches, dust, and at one point what appeared to be a bubble creeping across a few frames, so it is evident that not a lot of restoration went into the final cut. I wish it had had some more care but at least it is watchable and in the correct aspect ratio.
In the end, I would have to give this film 2 Thumbs, mainly because we get to gaze upon Barbara Steele quite a bit, and also for the corny humor that I had to laugh at despite myself. With only one good scene of violence, when Groper gets sickled, there isn’t much gore to speak of, except for a few close-ups of the witch’s visage, oozing blood and such. The music also deserves special mention, I felt Ralph Ferraro’s score was fitting.
My friends, if you find yourself wanting some good witch-dunking entertainment, you could do a lot worse than The She-Beast.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
The Manipulator (1971): or, Hey Kid, Let's Put on a Show!
There was a time when there were not that many people in the world more famous than Mickey Rooney. The star of the hugely successful 1930s and 40s series of "Andy Hardy" movies for MGM, Rooney was the perfect embodiment of all-American male purity, optimism, and energy, a kid whose boundless enthusiasm and willingness to put himself out there couldn't help but result in a happy ending. His onscreen partnership with music and film legend Judy Garland only cemented his star status. In 1940 he shared a special "Juvenile" Oscar with Deanna Durbin "for their significant contribution in bringing to the screen the spirit and personification of youth, and as juvenile players setting a high standard of ability and achievement." Hell, rumor even has it that Walt Disney named his most famous creation after the lad. THAT'S how famous he was.
But as often happened to actors who achieve their greatest fame as youngsters, Rooney found it difficult to make the transition from Golden Boy to more dramatic, adult roles; the studios and public just weren't willing to accept Andy Hardy as a grown man, and Rooney's diminutive stature didn't help him any there. In the middle years of his career, plagued by drug addiction and unable to find big studio work (with the exception of his now infamously un-PC portrayal of buck-toothed Japanese neighbor Mr. Yunioshi in Breakfast at Tiffany's), Rooney was forced like others before him to take some film roles that many considered far beneath his ability and reputation.
Perhaps none of these roles was further removed from that fresh-faced boy of the 40s than Rooney's portrayal of demented wannabe-moviemaker B. J. Lang in Yabo Yablonsky's 1971 cinematic freakout, The Manipulator.
We open the film in a pouring rainstorm, showcasing some excellently composed shots of an old-fashioned streetlamp and a decrepit back alley. A trench-coated figure wanders down a lonely back street and finally ends up at the stage- and movie-props warehouse that may or may not be his home. Once inside he takes off his weather-wear to reveal--well, MICKEY ROONEY, but with a bushy gray beard that makes him look like a kinder, gentler Coffin Joe. He's also wearing exactly the same sunglasses Kermit the Frog wore when pretending to be a big-shot producer in The Muppet Movie, which makes me wonder if Jim Henson was a fan of the film.
"I watched a snail crawl along the edge of a straight razor. That's my dream. That's my nightmare."
This goes on for a while, and it's to Rooney's credit that it never gets particularly boring--though a viewer gets the very real feeling that Mickey is perhaps more than a little "altered" here, and not just through method acting, Rooney's years of training and experience come through strong and he is able to hold your attention and make you interested in his character's psychosis. He's assisted greatly by the work of cinematographer Baird Bryant, whose work will be consistently wonderful throughout--extreme closeups of dust-covered props and extreme Dutch angles give the creepy old warehouse a "haunted playroom" ambience that's quite effective.
It's during this part of the movie Lang first starts hallucinating what might be scenes from his movie, but in fact are a kind of waking nightmare--kabuki-faced women and naked old men doing a slow waltz in front of the derelict props, mannequins smiling and laughing at the action, and Lang himself pushing them on to great heights of frenzy. I was reminded favorably of the opening sequence of the Roald Dahl TV series "Tales of the Unexpected", in the best possible way.
Hallucinations in a Deranged Mind
Soon Lang starts hearing high-pitched noises that could be whimpers or mad laughter, and at first this seems just another manifestation of his madness. However, the stakes are raised when he pulls back a dusty curtain to reveal the source of the noises: the wheelchair-bound Carlotta (Luana Anders), an actress Lang has somehow kidnapped and is forcing to perform in his "masterpiece." Note that when I say "wheelchair-bound" here, I don't mean she's paralyzed--I mean she's literally bound, tied to the wheelchair with strips of cloth and stout cord, unable to move till Lang calls for ACTION.
Obviously Carlotta has been Lang's prisoner for quite some time, as when Lang appears she immediately starts begging for food. "I'm hungry, Mr. Lang...Mr. Lang, I'm hungry!" Lang ignores her pleas for a while, chastising his actress for being late to the set and reliving a few more memories of his glory days in studio-era Hollywood. Eventually he relents to her pleas, though, feeding her spoonfuls of baby food from a small glass jar. The way Carlotta snaps at the offered spoon every time Lang's attention wanders is actually kind of chilling, emphasizing the mental and physical strain the poor girl is under.
The rest of the movie is pretty much Lang tormenting Carlotta by insisting she perform the romantic lead in his version of Cyrano de Bergerac, with Lang himself as her long-nosed hero, of course. More mental torture is in store as the increasingly unhinged director reminisces about the Old Days some more while applying Carlotta's make-up--all while in the persona of the fey make-up man Lang in fact used to be, with Rooney wearing heavy eye-shadow, lipstick, and tons of rouge! Again, Rooney manages through force of acting talent to take the strange, silly scene and make it somewhat chilling, coming off like nothing so much as a crazy old man in Nora Desmond drag.
He's ready for his close-up.
You'd think that an hour of watching an old man act crazy for the benefit of a young(er) lady tied to a chair would get tedious, and unfortunately you'd be right. Despite Rooney's periodically excellent performance, the plot wears thin by the halfway point, and even Carlotta's eventual required escape (accomplished through a piss-poor all-around heart attack scene in which the spasming Rooney releases Anders so she can get his pills) and extended game of hide-and-seek through the creepy warehouse (featuring a cameo by a frankly embarassed-looking Keenan Wynn as a homeless drunk crashing in the costume department) do little to spice things up.
What *does* help spice things up, though, are Yablonsky's frequent detours into cinematic Acid Trip-ville. Not only do we have repeats of Rooney's earlier creepy hallucinations and more extreme close-ups than you can shake a powder-puff at, we also get Mickey doing a rendition of "Chattanooga Choo Choo" at Keystone Kops speed (TWICE), an extremely odd wrap party/orgy sequence (featuring moustachioed men in harem girl outfits, writhing masses of gauze-draped hippie chicks, and a naked toddler Rooney cradles to his chest protectively, whispering "My baby! My baby!"), and a delirious Carlotta dashing down long corridors of hanging sides of beef only to encounter a string quartet performance going on in a butcher's locker, men in tuxes and women in furs enjoying the chilly, meat-scented performance! And yes, it makes just as much sense as it sounds like.
Sonata in D minor, for Cello and Spare Ribs
When it's talked about at all, The Manipulator is often compared to Otto Preminger's infamous LSD-fueled flop Skidoo (1969), in which Rooney also had a role. I haven't seen that film yet, but judging from the synopses I've read, that sounds about right--only replace the all-star cast with a one-star cast, and remove the Preminger prestige factor. While LSD is never mentioned in The Manipulator, one can't help feeling it or some other mind-altering drugs (or perhaps a coctail of *all* of them) had a hand in forming Yablonsky's vision.
Yablonksy himself never directed another film but had some success as a playwright and screenwriter; in fact, the stage version of The Manipulator (entitled B. J. Lang Presents: Cyrano) is still periodically produced. His teleplay for the TV movie Revenge for a Rape (1976) also got some good notices.
Rooney was famously "born again" in the 70s, becoming good friends with Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker and making frequent appearances on the PTL Club. He also experienced a latter day career resurgence, as his boyish stature and aged baby-face looks suit him very well playing kindly and/or crotchety grandfather types. He's still working, recently putting in a role as an unlikely heavy in the blockbuster Night at the Museum. Rooney always says he's proud of everything he's done, and only wishes he could have done more--still, I have to wonder if his post-conversion pride extends as far as The Manipulator.
Whatever the case there, for a Mad Movie fan, The Manipulator has an undeniable charm. Despite the late-film drag and the rather silly ending, the joys of the weird visuals and Rooney's kind of amazing performance more than even it out. Though it's been called "one of the most bizarre, inept films ever made" by those who obviously haven't seen as many such films as I have, I give The Manipulator 2.25 thumbs. It's on the Mill Creek 50 Drive-In Movie Classics set, so it's easy to come by for those interested. If you get the chance, give it a spin.
CUT!
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