Showing posts with label '60s. Show all posts
Showing posts with label '60s. Show all posts

Friday, December 7, 2012

Night of the Bloody Apes (1969): or, My Heart Belongs to Bonzo

In 1960s Mexico, female luchador Lucy Ossorio (Norma Lazareno) is an athlete at the top of her game. Resplendent in her Red Devil mask and form-fitting crimson jumpsuit, every night she wrestles to a packed house of adoring, sweaty male fans, tossing her hapless opponents around the ring like lumpy bags of week-old laundry. She's young(ish), sexy, strong and beautiful, and on top of that, she's dating Lt. Arturo Martinez (Armando Silvestre), a hotshot homicide cop with the brains of Hercule Poirot and the good looks and charm of a young Tony Orlando. Sure, it's a rough game, but this is one luchadora who really has the world by the tail.

But into the Happy Picnic of Life, the Swarming Ants of Tragedy are likely to crawl, determined to carry away the Pie of Contentment on their evil little chitinous backs. This is exactly what happens one evening when, drunk on her own in-ring indominatability, La Demonita Roja tosses her opponent, the unfortunate Gata Negra ( Noelia Noel) through the ropes and into the crowd. The girl takes a bad hop and lands on her noggin, pushing a splinter of bone into her brain and inducing immediate coma. Guilt-stricken, Lucy drops a couple of matches and then decides it's time to hang up the boots for good.

"Venir a mí, bro!"
Meanwhile, local brain surgeon and organ-transplant specialist Dr. Krallman (José Elías Moreno) has a problem. His angel-faced son Julio (Agustín Martínez Solares) is bed-ridden with terminal leukemia, and all the specialists at his hospital have given the boy up for dead. But like any devoted father, the good doctor is not about to take that lying down. In an astonishing feat of scientific reasoning, Krallman deduces that the blood of a more powerful creature--say, a gorilla, for example--might be able to fight off the cancer where puny human blood has failed. But since gorilla-juice is clearly too potent for the human circulatory system, he figures he'll need to swap out Julio's heart for an organ of the simian persuasion. Then bang! Roberto es su tío! 

It's true what they say: sometimes the simplest answer is the best.

With the assistance of his slavishly devoted manservant Goyo (Carlos López Moctezuma), the doctor sets about putting his plan into action. Sneaking into the Federal District's most un-security-conscious zoo, the two old men easily purloin a primate and plop its pumper into Papa's poor pestilential progeny, post-haste. In a few hours, the boy is on the mend, the doctor's hypothesis is proved, and the overcrowded monkey house at the zoo has some much-needed extra space. Everybody wins!

Well, almost everybody.
Of course near-death experiences are almost always transformative. People come back from the brink with a newfound desire to live life to the fullest, to help their fellow man, or to cash in and go on a book tour with John Edward. In Julio's case, however, the transformation is less spiritual--instead, his new ticker turns him into a rampaging half-ape monstrosity! (Actually, more like 1/8-ape...he only seems affected from the jawline up.) I guess everybody copes in his own way.

Soon the Bloody Ape (singular, despite the film's title) is out on the town, leaving a trail of mauled, broken bodies in his wake. Realizing his mistake, Dr. Krallman reasons that putting a human heart back in his boy's chest is the best way to correct things, and thanks to Lucy's earlier reasonless brutality, he has just the perfect subject in his hospital. Goya and the doctor remove the girl back to his basement lab (again with astonishing ease), and after recapturing Julio, perform the second transplant in as many days, again leaving Julio none the worse for wear.

"I can haz nanner puddin?"

The missing girl and the string of brutal murders finally alert the police to something amiss, and Arturo gets on the case. Most are blaming the "escaped" gorilla for the crimes, but when Arturo sees the fingerprints and notices they are "half-ape, and also half-human!" (Ed. note: Whaaaa?), he knows they're dealing with something a bit more sinister. Worse, Julio's condition isn't cured by his new ticker, and soon he's ripped Goya's head from his body and gone out to wreak yet more bloody havoc. Can Arturo stop him before he kills half the nubile women in the city? Can Dr. Krallman save his son from his own scientific hubris? Will Lucy ever wrestle again?

Night of the Bloody Apes (1969) is not a movie that pulls out all the stops--it's a movie that doesn't even acknowledge there are stops to be pulled. The ape-man's attacks are surprisingly gory, ina late-60s tempera-paint way: we have scalps being pulled off, throats being torn open, eyes being gouged out, and multiple vicious maulings, often perpetrated upon the unclad torsos of energetically screaming senoritas. In addition, director René Cardona also treats us to actual footage of real open-heart surgery--a circumstance that landed this film on the famous British "Video Nasties" list, and kept it unseen in that country for years.

"This really brings out your eyes."

There's an awful lot of nudity too. Lucy--who seems to gain about 30 pounds every time she steps into the ring, only to drop the weight when the mask comes off--thinks nothing of chatting on the telephone in the altogether, fortunately for us. Also, in keeping with the long-standing cinematic tradition of "rapey half-mans-half-monkeys" (further reading here), Julio frequently rips the clothing from his female prey before proceeding to rip at their flesh. Even the comatose Noel shows all pre-surgery, in the interest of medical accuracy, no doubt.


The film is badly paced--there are many, many scenes of a character walking slowly from one end of the set to the other, that could have been profitably trimmed--and most of the acting is expectedly terrible. The lone exception is Moreno as Krallman, who imbues his laughable lines with a certain genuine gravitas, and manages to be emotionally effecting as a father desperate to save his son. It should also be mentioned that this wouldn't be the last time the hunky Solares (Julio) portrayed a man-beast: he also appeared as the lycantrhopic Rufus Rex in the brilliant luchador epic Santo y Blue Demon vs Drácula y el Hombre Lobo (1973, reviewed on MMMMMovies here).

With nothing to do but lie in bed all day, Julio had time to make some interesting personal discoveries.

This film is deservedly one of the more popular subjects of the MST3K crew's derision, but in my opinion you don't need Joel (or Mike?) and the Bots to facilitate your viewing enjoyment. You can watch it for the xenotransplantation and pseudoscience, or for the hard-hitting wrasslin' action, for the blood or the boobs or the rather ridiculous beast. You can count the flubs--for instance, Cardona conveniently ignores the discrepancy between the number of medical personnel in Krallman's lab (two) and the number of hands working in the chest cavity (six); also, while Julio wrestles with a particularly spirited victim in a local park, her thrashing limbs displace the grass clippings standing in for a meadow, revealing the bare concrete beneath! Or you can just sit back and let the madness wash over you in waves. That's my suggestion.

2.25 thumbs

A few more images from Night of the Bloody Apes (1969):

"And you should see what I gave him from the elephant! Woohoo!"



"What are these fuckin' iguanas doing on my coffee table?!"

Waste of a Perfectly Good Monkey Suit

Splendor in the Grass...Clippings

Separated at birth? (reference)

"Now that I've got my framed portrait of the Duke of DVD, I really do have it all!"

MORE MADNESS...

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Night of the Living Dead (1968): or, Slow and Steady Wins the Race

October Horror Movie Challenge, Day 31!

I probably don't have to summarize this one for any of my parishioners, but in the interest of keeping good form, here goes: after laying a wreath on their father's grave, siblings Barbara (Judith O'Dea) and Johnny (Russell Streiner) are attacked by a shambling, murderous lunatic. Johnny is killed in the struggle, and Barbara flees to a nearby farmhouse, whose sole occupant is a partially devoured corpse. Soon she is joined by Ben (Duane Jones), a take-charge kinda guy who is fleeing from a horde of similarly murderous shamblers. They discover another group of refugees in the cellar of the house--lovebirds Tom and Judy (Keith Wayne and Judith Ridley), bickering married couple Helen and Harry Cooper (Marilyn Eastman and Karl Hardman), and the Coopers' injured daughter Karen (Kyra Schon). News reports inform them that what's outside are worse than murderers--incredibly, the unburied dead are coming back to life to kill and eat the living! As the group of would-be survivors tries to find a way out, tensions mount between them and the zombie horde grows larger and hungrier...

Rewatching Night of the Living Dead (1968) for the who-knows-what-numberth time, I was struck as I always am by how near-perfectly paced the film is. There's little to no drag, and from the opening scene in the cemetery to the well-known shock ending, the movie hums along like clockwork--with a very tightly wound spring. Every scene has a purpose and pushes the film forward, gaining momentum as it goes. The characters behave believably, doing what anyone would do in a similar apocalyptic situation; even Barbara's paralytic shock and Harry's angry assholery are understandable and relatable. And Romero's zombies are slow, implacable, and overwhelming, setting the standard for flesh-eating ghouls that continues to hold today.

Suspenseful, thrilling, and still scary after all these years, Night of the Living Dead is the perfect Halloween rewatch, and a great way to cap off my 31 days of horror movies. 3+ thumbs, of course.

They're all messed up.

MORE MADNESS...

Thursday, October 27, 2011

The Cabinet of Caligari (1962): or, Crazy, Baby

October Horror Movie Challenge, Day 27!

Jane Lindstrom (Glynis Johns), a free-spirited and adventure-seeking young woman, is driving her little sports car through a mountainous stretch of countryside when her tire goes flat, forcing her to seek shelter at the palatial home of enigmatic Dr. Caligari (Dan O'Herlihy). After an extremely odd and disturbingly insinuating conversation, the doctor instructs his assistant Chris (Constance Ford) to prepare a room for their new "guest." As it turns out the Caligari estate is full of guests, each one more eccentric than the last and none of them in a terrible hurry to leave. As Jane's stay stretches from hours to days, she discovers weirdness upon weirdness: the doctor's study has a glass revolving door behind its ordinary wooden one, the gates are locked and electrically charged at night, and the doctor seems inordinately interested in Jane's early sex life.

Things go from strange to threatening when Jane sees a leering face in the skylight window above her bathtub, and later watches Caligari's henchman David (Lawrence Dobkin) beat lovable elderly nutcase Ruth (the show-stealing Estelle Winwood) to death with a cane! Despite the reassurances of kindly old codger Paul and periodic visitor Mark (Richard Davalos), Jane grows more and more frantic to escape Caligari's sinister clutches--and then a shocking revelation sends her into a tailspin of phantasmagoric madness from which she might well not recover...

Until director Roger Kay's 1962 flick The Cabinet of Caligari showed up on my "suggested for you" queue, I had no idea the film even existed. (The only other version of the 1920 film The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari I knew of was the psychotronic brainfuckler Dr. Caligari, made in 1989 by Stephen Sayadian). I'm glad I gave this one a chance, because Kay (working from a script by Psycho author
Robert Bloch) delivers a neat update on the German-Expressionist classic, with beautiful black & white cinematography, bizarre and entertaining dialogue, and some truly odd images that will stay in your mind for quite a while.

The differences between this movie and its inspiration are significant. Here Caligari is a controlling Freudian madman, keeping Jane against her will and taunting her with scarcely glimpsed perversities. Kay and Bloch do away with the somnambulist Cesar and the carnival setting, focusing instead on the implications of the earlier film's ending. But while the majority of the action seems much more "real world" than in Weine's film, the climax in which Jane descends fully into madness is a real stunner. One particular sequence in which Jane sees a baker pulling loaves of bread shaped like infants out of a blazing oven even seems to prefigure David Lynch's Eraserhead in both theme and imagery--in fact, I would not be surprised to learn this film was a direct influence on that one.

The actors seem to pitch their performances to match the strangeness of the material. O'Herlihy, best known among horror geeks as the sinister Samhain stealer Conal Cochran from Halloween III, delivers his lines with such an odd accent and cadence that he seems almost like an alien from another planet impersonating Bela Lugosi. Glynis Johns's voice sounds like that of a particularly fluffy kitten that wandered into Dr. Moreau's transformation room, and her dreamy, high-pitched delivery never lets you doubt she's not entirely anchored in the real world. And Robert Bloch's dialogue--poetic, unnatural, and just plain weird--somehow manages to fit in perfectly.

Fans of the silent film by Robert Wiene--indeed any student of horror films worth his or her salt--will not be surprised by the explanation for the strange happenings at Chez Caligari. Nonetheless, The Cabinet of Caligari is a deeply odd and beautifully made film, and one that fans of the classics would do well to rediscover. 3 thumbs. 

"It will be morning soon. Halloween morning. A very busy day for me."

MORE MADNESS...

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Burn, Witch, Burn (1962): or, Under the Double Eagle

October Horror Movie Challenge, Day 17!

Everything is coming up roses for stuffy-but-suave college professor Norman Taylor (Peter Wyngarde): his students love him, his peers admire him, and despite his brief tenure at the university where he lectures, he seems a shoo-in for the Chair of the Sociology department--much to the consternation of rival professor Flora Carr (Margaret Johnston). Little does the skeptical scholar realize that his wife Tansy (Janet Blair) has been helping his career along by means of Jamaican voodoo and Olde Englishe Witchcrafte. When he discovers his wife's talismans (talismen?) strewn about the house, however, he decides to put a stop to all this superstitious rubbish by tossing the lot into the fireplace--after which his luck goes into what can charitably be termed a death spiral. One student threatens him with a gun for better grades, another claims the dapper dean violated her in the lecture hall, lorries barrel toward him out of nowhere, and his former friends shun him. Has he angered the Ancient Gods with his disbelief, or is there something more scientifically explainable (but no less sinister) at work?

Burn, Witch, Burn takes a little while to get going, but the payoff is definitely worth it. Director Sidney Hayers builds the suspense slowly, painting Taylor as an intelligent, over-confident man in love who clearly feels he deserves all the good that has come his way, then yanking that believe out from under him and letting the pieces fall. (It always helps when you're working from a script by speculative fiction superstars Charles Beaumont and Richard Matheson, themselves working from a novel by Fritz Leiber Jr.) Blair is excellent as Taylor's slavishly devoted wife, willing to do anything--even make deals with the devil--in order to advance her husband's career. (Think of a darker, more passionate version of Samantha Stevens from TV's Bewitched.) Wyngarde has a face like a Rolls Royce grille and looks simultaneously stuffy and sexy in his waist-high chinos and chest-baring silk shirts, and it's fun to watch his proper facade crumble. Johnston makes a wonderful adversary--petty, but intelligent and ruthless enough to do real damage--and the rest of the British cast is great too.

The movie plays out a bit like an extended Twilight Zone episode (no coincidence, perhaps, given its script's pedigree), but when it hits the barn-burning climax, it ventures out into another dimension of the MAD. No spoilers, but I definitely wasn't expecting the Final Boss.

Well acted, with a good script and efficient direction, Burn, Witch, Burn may be a little old fashioned, but I was entertained nonetheless. 2 thumbs.

Tan, Witch, Tan

(Image shamlessly lifted from Krell Labs--Where the Future is Being Conquered Today!™)

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Friday, July 15, 2011

Blu-Ray Review: Camille 2000 (1969)

Marguerite (the stunning Danièle Gaubert) is a girl who seems to have it all. Young, beautiful ,and married to a fabulously rich duke who puts few demands on her time and fewer still on her body, she is free to explore all the pleasures and excesses that late-sixties Rome has to offer.

These, you will find, are considerable.

We watch Camille as she organizes and attends a series of galas, orgies, and freak-out happenings, against some of the most sumptuous settings and clad in the grooviest fashions imaginable. She drinks, shoots up, and pops pills with abandon, floating from one erotic adventure to the next in a haze of altered reality. (When one of her exhausted, tripping friends asks breathlessly, "Marguerite, don't you ever come down?" she replies, "Not if I can help it!") The victim of an unspecified wasting disease, Marguerite has apparently decided to live life to the fullest every day, and to grab all the sexy goodies she can in the process.

Directed by Radley Metzger, the infamous auteur behind art-house classics (The Lickerish Quartet, 1970) and less-respected but no less arty porn flicks (The Opening of Misty Beethoven, 1976), Camille 2000 is a movie with so much style, substance almost doesn't enter into the equation. From the lush cityscapes of Rome, to bedrooms with inflatable furniture and mirrored walls, Metzger delivers one visual treat after another, for which the main story of Marguerite's affair with comparatively stodgy businessman Armand (Nino Castelnuovo) is simply the framework. The new Blu-Ray release from Cult Epics does great justice to Metzger's film, and should have arty-erotica fans standing at attention and saluting.

Nota bene: I do not have screen-capture capability on my blu-ray...therefore I have shamelessly stolen all the images in this review (unless otherwise noted) from Retrocinema by Wetcircuit, an excellent site that everyone should visit immediately. Full credit to Wetcircuit, who I hope will not hate and/or sue me.

About that story--Marguerite's world of carefree, casual sex and drug use is rocked when she meets and falls in love with Armand, the son of a wealthy Italian tycoon in Rome to learn the family business. After some rather stoic flirtatiousness at a couple of parties (including an orgy featuring a Eurobabe in an amazing mesh bikini), Marguerite takes Armand to her bed, kicking off a series of sensual sex scenes and an affair that will change everything for her, and not really in a good way. While Marguerite is a free-love kind of girl, Armand demands faithfulness.

Beautimous

When he tells her he wants her to be his alone, Marguerite sighs, "Are we there already? Measuring love like a coffin? Who loves the most, how do we measure it? In carats, or ducats?" Armand is not to be dissuaded, however, and Marguerite reacts by breaking a date with him so she can make love to a cruel young Count with whom she has a strange sex/power relationship. When Armand learns of the betrayal, he responds as you would expect--by sending a model to Marguerite's bedroom, who then strips nude to reveal a note on her back reading "YOU ARE A WHORE! I WAS AN IDIOT!" 

Okay, maybe you wouldn't expect that. But it does make an impression.

"No, it wasn't the couch...that one was all me."

The rest of the film is about Marguerite's relationship with Armand, how his need for faithfulness and hers for freedom clash. This comes to a head when Armand's father confronts her and warns her off, leading to a break-up, misunderstandings, erotic revenge, and a glittery partner-swapping bondage party with chain-mail dresses and public sex! Finally, Marguerite's strange malady reappears, lending a tragic end that you pretty much had to think was coming.

Except that's not really what the film's about. What it's about is the visual experience of Metzger's imagery, the amazing sets and costumes and compositions, which are usually centered around the act of sticky love. Two long sequences in Marguerite's amazingly appointed bedroom are visually stunning, containing some representations of oral sex (but cunni- and fellati-) that are both artistic and tasteful. (ba-dump) To be honest the story drags a bit at times, but if you give yourself over to the beauty of the images on the screen, it's well worth the trip.

For Mad Movie fans, there is joy to be had in the amazing costumery of Marguerite's hippie entourage, including some that look like they just walked off the set of A Midsummer Night's Dream. Also, though the flick was filmed in English, few of the actors seem comfortable in the language, and Armand's father's mush-mouthed delivery is an unintentionally hilarious highlight. The acting throughout is fairly wooden, but whether that's a directorial decision, or a result of the language barrier, or just how Europeans acted in the 60s, it's still rather secondary. Gaubert is stunning, Rome is beautiful, and the camera drinks it all in. That's all you really need.


Promo Art from Cult Epics

Cult Epics has done a great job with the Blu-Ray presentation, improving greatly upon previous transfers (despite some perhaps inexpungable print damage). The colors and sound are great, and the disc is packed with extras, including behind-the-scenes and restoration featurettes, commentary by Metzger himself, deleted scenes, outtakes, and trailers. A great package for lovers of 60s sexploitation.

Movie: 2.5 thumbs
Blu-Ray:  3 thumbs

And be sure to visit http://www.retrocinema.wetcircuit.com/ for more great images from this and other films!

Not from the Cult Epics transfer, but it does appear in the film, and was too wild not to show. Credit to Tenebrous Kate for the grab!

MORE MADNESS...

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Castle of Blood (1964): or, She's Dead and Lovely Now

On a dark and fog-shrouded night, a lone traveler finds his way to The Four Devils pub in a particularly seedy section of Old London Towne. Shaking the chill night air from his greatcoat, journalist Alan Foster (Georges Rivière) hears a deep, sonorous voice relating a macabre story about love, death, obsession, and a handful of stolen teeth. The speaker is none other than visiting writer Edgar Allan Poe (Silvano Tranquilli, credited here as Mongomery Glenn), offering an extemporaneous recital of his famous story "Berenice" (which you can and should read online here). His companion, Lord Thomas Blackwood (Umberto Raho, here called Raul H. Newman), is the owner of one of the most haunted mansions in England, so full of horrors that he's willing to offer anyone one hundred pounds sterling to spend a single night within its walls. Foster takes Blackwood up on his wager, hoping to get an interview with the famous American author on the way out to the estate, and perhaps some juicy material about Blackwood Manor to sell to his editors once he returns.

So begins the 1964 creepfest Castle of Blood (aka Danza Macabra), directed by future Eurotrash legend Antonio Margheriti (Cannibal Apocalypse [1980], Seven Deaths in the Cat's Eye [1973, reviewed on MMMMMovies here], et al.). Dripping with gloomy, Gothic atmosphere, boasting  positively Bava-esque black-and-white cinematography, and featuring a mesmerizing performance by justly lauded screen legend Barbara Steele, this one of the greatest, creepiest ghost stories in Italian cinema for my money, and one of my absolute favorite fright films of the 60s.

Poe is suddenly overtaken with horror, unable to remember whether he left the iron on.


In the coach on the way to Blackwood Manor, Foster manages to get a few choice pull quotes from Poe for his article, including the famous one about a dead, beautiful woman being "the most poetical subject in the world." I hope he keeps his notebook handy, because he's going to want to revisit that one in view of the ghostly happenings in store!

Blackwood and Poe drop Foster off at the gates of the mansion, promising to pick him up in the morning and present him with his winnings, should he manage to earn them. With night falling quickly, Foster makes his way past the creaky, rusted gate--making special note of the dangerously protruding iron bar that serves as the latching mechanism--and steps carefully through the crowded family graveyard up to the front door. Inside he finds the apotheosis of all creepy haunted mansions in literature and film history: the place is coated in thick layers of dust, festooned with ropy cobwebs, and dotted with candelabras bearing stubs of tallow candles. Foster lights a few and explores his surroundings for the night, a bit put out by the sudden gusts of wind that extinguish his light sources and by the hypnotic, seizure-inducing portrait of a lovely but severe lady dressed in the costume of a bygone age.

This opening exploration of Blackwood Manor is a real powerhouse sequence, executed with almost no dialogue, masterful use of light and shadow, odd camera angles, creepy sound effects and a moody score that for once is perfectly matched to the visuals. It might be a bit of a slow burn for viewers weaned on kill-a-minute slashers and the "we don't need no stinking backstory" modern directorial style, but this aged viewer was in eerie movie heaven. When Foster turns a shadowy corner and (with the help of that gloomy cinematography and a slight orchestral sting) receives his first scare of the evening, I got that delicious hair-rising-on-the-back-of-my-neck feeling that told me I was in the hands of a master.

Foster researches the truth behind the legend of Sir Reginal Blackwood's "Second Lance"
The slow build-up--which has been imperceptibly but effectively ratcheting up the creepy tension--pays off when Foster hears harpsichord music from a neighboring study, and sees (or does he?) a ghostly couple dancing past the aperture. Rushing to investigate, he finds of course an empty room, the instrument closed and covered with dust. Blaming it on his active imagination, he sits down to tickle the keys for a moment, and nearly jumps out of his skin (as do we all) when a slender pale hand drops on his shoulder!

Rather than vanishing like the others, however, this figure stays to introduce herself: she is Elisabeth Blackwood (Barbara Steele), Sir Thomas's younger (and considerably more attractive) sister. She claims that she's been a recluse at the mansion for ten years, since a mysterious traumatic event made her give up on the world and everyone in it. She explains that her brother, out of pity or spite or plain bored mischeviousness, sends her visitors every year on the anniversary of the event, but not before spooking them up with tales of the mansion's haints. Maybe Foster buys this story or maybe he doesn't, but one look in Bab's huge dark eyes is all he needs to convince him to start laying on the charm thicker than the dust on the mirrors. It's not long before Foster is making out with Elisabeth on the big four-poster in his room, his kisses insufficient to stop her blathering on about how "I need your warmth" and "Your love will give me life!"--which I'm sure is not sinister at all, just her way of saying she likes the way he puts the motion in the ocean AMIRITE?

"Alan, you're trembling...I like that in a man."
Unfortunately for our literate Lothario, Blackwood Manor is not nearly as deserted as it appears--in fact, as the night wears on, the place gets positively CRAMMED with corps--er, I mean, "residents."  Chief among them is Elisabeth's companion and confidante Julia (Margarete Robsahm), the blonde Teutonic ice queen from the portrait that gave Foster such a funny feeling earlier. Julia clearly doesn't like Foster, or any man for that matter (IYKWIMAITYD), though she does cruelly tease Elisabeth with the prospect of seducing the journalist away from her. They're later joined by Dr. Carmus (Arturo Dominici), a houseguest whose position in the household is nebulous--at least for anyone in the audience who hasn't seen a haunted house movie before, ever.

The good doctor soon spills the beans to Foster about what's really going on at Blackwood Manor--or rather BlackBLOOD Manor, as it was named before Sir Thomas wisely changed his family name. Seems the patriarch of the Blackbloods was Lord High Executioner some centuries back, and either because of that or because sometimes life's a bitch, everyone who dies at the house is cursed to remain there forever, reenacting their final hours on one night of the year before returning to the icy cold of their tombs. (And guess what day it is today?) This is where the slow burn of the earlier part of the movie gives way to NONSTOP HAUNTING ACTION, as Foster gets an Ebenezer Scrooge-style seat for the rest of the residents' final performances.

"Dr. Carmus--please tell me that's a ghost's hand on my bum..."

As it happens, Elisabeth was married to the lord of the manor once, but was carrying on an adulterous tryst with a musclebound and extremely possessive stable boy. At the same time Julia was sneaking into Liz's bedroom at night for midnight Sappho-snacks, creating a love quadrangle of the sort that never ends well. End well it doesn't, as Foster watches the stable boy rip the husband from Elisabeth's arms in flagrante de uh-oh and strangle him to death, before having his own skull bludgeoned to a meaty pulp by Julia. Never one to let two male corpses stop her from getting BIZAY, Julia puts her lesbonic moves on the shock-addled Elisabeth, who nonetheless has the presence of mind to grab a dagger and penetrate Julia with it--which is all I'm gonna say about that. Driven mad by the orgy of death in her room, Elisabeth screams and screams...and SCENE.

We get another couple of macabre danses, including the horrific end of Dr. Carmus himself. A paranormal researcher in the age before reality shows, Carmus was lured to Blackwood Manor the same way Foster was--by a wager with Sir Thomas, whose motives are growing ever more suspect. For some goddamned reason, Carmus goes into the crypt to uncover the body of the musclebound stable boy--who still has excellent pecs, despite his face having rotted away to a grim skull! In an exceptionally creepy and clearly Bava-influenced scene, the dust settles from the opened coffin lid and the corpse slowly starts to breathe, his papery skin flaking dust and damnation! Soon Dr. Carmus is a goner, doomed to assuage the ghosts' unnatural hunger.

A Flexing Pec Gathers No Dust


Because hey, get this! (spoiler) Turns out the ghosts need HUMAN BLOOD in order to be resurrected again the following year and enjoy one more evening of damnable life. Sir Thomas is the human agency that sends the undead their unholy sustenance, in the form of wayward souls looking to prove their bravery and earn a quick buck. And this year's menu includes Bananas Foster...or, you know, something.

In case it isn't clear: I LOVE THIS MOVIE. For creepy Gothic atmosphere and chilling, eerie set pieces, Castle of Blood is really tough to beat. Margheriti does a great job framing the gloriously spooky images, and the camera is seldom stationary, using slow zooms, Dutch angles, and even a surprising hand-held shot or two to keep things visually kinetic and interesting. The sets are picture perfect, the music actually FITS and sets a ghastly mood, and the plot is a ripping old-school ghost story that wouldn't be out of place in a collection of stories by Poe himself, or Sheridan Le Fanu, or even Algernon Blackwood, come to that...hey, waitaminnit!

That's Some Party

So the story has its roots in macabre tales of a past century, and the sets and visuals hearken back to the best of the Universal horrors of the 40s--but because this is the 60s, the story is able to go in some surprising (to me) directions. The love affair between Julia and Elisabeth is explicit--textually, anyway--and there's even a lesbian love scene complete with moans and gasps, though the camera pans away before the bodices are oped.  And a later scene featuring some ill-fated honeymooners who take Sir Thomas up on his bet features a see-through hoop skirt and some very impressive toplessness that made me wanna sit up and beg for buttermilk.

In addition to gorgeous cinematography and masterful atmosphere, Castle of Blood sports some great performances from stars and supporting players alike. Georges Rivière as Alan Foster strikes the right note as the skeptical-but-not-stupidly-so hero, and his shock reaction to the scenes of ghostly carnage is affecting, as is the surprising downbeat end to his character arc. Margarete Rosbahm as Julia is a dominant screen presence, and would have been right at home in a Hammer lesbian vampire romp or an Italian Nazisploitation sleaze-fest. But my favorite supporting actor hands down is Arturo Dominici--his Dr. Carmus is a subtly unsettling figure whose stoic stare and deadpan line deliveries make him seem truly otherworldly and sinister. When he says, "It is the hour; words have no meaning...I have a rendezvous with Death. Come."--well, I don't mind telling you it gave me the honest-to-god willies.

I may need a moment...and some wire cutters.
But of course the steadfast anchor of this marvelous ghost ship is Barbara Steele as Elisabeth. In the early days of my VHS Seminary I had seen a few lesser Steele vehicles, which did not showcase her talents and left me wondering what the big deal was. That all changed when I watched Castle of Blood for the first time--Steele is absolutely MESMERIZING here--ethereal, tragic, otherworldly, sensuous, and uniquely lovely, she totally owns the screen and had me stretching my eyelids to take her whole performance in. Though some might think Foster falls in love with Elisabeth too quickly to sustain plausibility, for me it was never even a question. I've since seen many of Steele's more famous portrayals, and it's hard to pick a favorite, but there will always be a special place in my heart for Castle of Blood, the movie that made me fall in love with La Steele.

In short, Castle of Blood is one of my top ten Gothic horrors--scratch that, one of my top ten PERIOD. If you haven't seen it, seek it out and thank me later. It's available in many public domain versions, but the Synapse DVD released in 2002 is my definitive release. This one contains the "uncensored international version," with scenes (including the lesbian tryst and honeymoon nudity) that were never included in stateside prints and thus never dubbed to English; as a result the audio for these scenes is take from a French print, with new English subtitles. (Gotta love the vagaries of Italian audio production!) Plus, it looks great.

3+ Thumbs for this classic MMMMMasterpiece. If you want a great Gothic time, this is the house to visit. And remember: Halloween may be over, but Barbara Steele is forever.

"OBEY!"
A few more scenes from Castle of Blood (1964):
Discouraged by all the attention Elisabeth received, Julia opted for toplessness.

"Seriously, dude: grab my ass one more time and you're getting decked, I don't care how fucking dead you are."

Necropiphany (n.): the moment you realize you just banged a dead girl.

Not What It Looks Like--Well, OK, Kinda

The Vicar, every moment La Steele was on screen
  

Harsh, but Fair

MORE MADNESS...

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Hercules in the Haunted World (1961), Or I Need Some Peplum Bismol!

Dearest friends, I bid thee welcome! It is I, the Duke of DVD, once more walking in on you as you step out of the shower, water beading on your supple skin. I shield my eyes and gasp in mock alarm, pretending to look away as I leer at you through my fingers. I smirk as you try to cover your nakedness with a hand-cloth. Fear not! That saucy tattoo of Mother Teresa being buggered by the entire line-up of the 1971 Manchester United football team will go unspoken of henceforth!

Come, join me once again as we walk down Mario Bava Lane. Notice the neatly manicured lawns starting to give way to rusted-fence-lined blackened earth. There, on our right, is the Johnson place, they with their two kids, fancy cars, and popular gatherings. Oh how I hate them! On our left is Old Man Shriveledsack, walking out to get his morning paper. Yes, we see you, no, we won’t wave in return, you scrawny git. Further down the lane we travel, red eyes from unnameable creatures watch us from shadowy thickets. Your hand grasps my arm more tightly. Do not fear! These are pathways I’ve traveled oft of late, and I will see you through it.

We arrive at a mansion seemingly carved of a single stone from the face of a granite mountain. Blackened and twisted, with no line a straight edge, the edifice reeks of madness and despair. Dare we enter? Not without checking the mailbox first! It seems Mr. Bava is a front-runner to win the Publisher’s Clearing House sweepstakes, and has also received a coupon for a free large coffee at Denny’s, the lucky sod! The front door creaks open of its own accord.

Let’s see what’s inside, shall we?

HERCULES! That’s right folks, the son of Zeus himself, oiled up by the gods, ready for action! Some might be surprised that the mad genius that is Mario Bava (along with co-director Franco Prosperi) would turn an eye towards Greek/Roman mythology, but indeed he has! In fact, Hercules in the Haunted World marks Bava’s entry into the world of color filmaking. Bava always paints a beautiful picture with his lens, and this movie is no different. Not only do we get to see fantastic landscapes and frightening widescreen vistas, but we also get Bava’s keen eye for showing well-oiled pectorals.

'Oh Theseus, is that a dagger digging into my hip or are you just glad to see me?"

Hercules, played magnificently by Reg Park, is returning to his homeland of Ecalia along with his best (and in no way gay) friend Theseus (George Ardisson). Having been out adventuring for many years, Hercules is longing to finally settle down with his honey Deianira (Leonora Ruffo) and perhaps live a simpler life. He’s having trouble getting back, however, because Theseus feels it’s his duty to sex-up any wanton maiden he happens across. It’s during one of these romps that our movie opens, with Theseus making out with a saucy farm woman beside a stream. Hercules is cajoling him to hurry things up when suddenly bandits attack!

"Yes, Hercules, your strength is very impressive. Now please untie the boulders from your wang."

Seeing no other recourse, Hercules picks up a wagon the size of a gypsy mansion and throws it at the marauders, finally succeeding in running them off. Little does Hercules know that Lico (the always awesome Christopher Lee), brother of the king of Ecalia, has sent these attackers to dispatch Hercules once and for all. Apparently Lico is also a dullard, to think something such as this would work, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Hercules finally makes it back home, only to discover that the king has died, leaving his daughter (and Hercules’ love) Deianira the heir to the throne. Lico isn’t much for the line of succession and wants to rule things himself, so he has a curse placed on poor Deianira, one which renders her nearly catatonic and only able to speak in spaced-out sentences. Seriously, it’s like she did 10 hits of LSD followed by some Jello shots.

"Herc, could you please do your butt-clenching exercises somewhere else? Marna there is overcome."

Hercules knows nothing of Lico’s designs and takes his word that something has befallen Deianira that must be cured.  Offering to help, Lico sends Hercules to the Oracle for advice. The Oracle tells Hercules that only Pluto’s Stone, hidden deep within the foul confines of the underworld, can save Deinaira. Not only that, but that the only way Hercules can brave the underworld at all is if he first possesses the fabled Golden Apple.

Hercules likes to give his friends the gift of Surprise Buttsex.
Before they can head out, though, Hercules and Theseus hook up with the bumbling comic relief of Telemachus (played awesomely by Franco Giacobini), who is the current beau of the last saucy beauty  Theseus hooked up with--though Telemachus seems unconcerned with that little tidbit. Telemachus tells them they must get ahold of a magic boat, which happens to be in the posession of this strange, beared man. We aren’t really sure why a magic boat is needed, but I guess if you are going to journey into Hell itself you need something a bit more reliable than Grandpa’s rusty fishing trawler.

"For the last fucking time, I'm not Kevin Nealon!"
After obtaining the boat, the trio finally set off and arrive at the island of mysterious women, the Hesperides. These women, prisoners of the monster Procustes, exist in a sort of permanent night, where they are required to sacrifice unwary travelers to their dark god. They also keep track of the Golden Apple--it’s all a bit complicated. While his two companions sleep on uncomfortable stone slabs, Hercules heads right to the giant tree that houses the Apple. He climbs, far up into the tree, only to be driven back down again by the wrath of the gods, which consists of lightning flashes, blowing wind, and someone just off camera dumping burning paper dangerously near Hercules’s head. Giving up on the climbing plan, Hercules instead takes some leather straps off a horse’s bridle and uses them as a sling for launching a boulder the size of his left testicle up into the tree. As it flies, he asks Zeus to guide it, and sure enough, down falls a limb with the Golden Apple attached. Great success!

Meanwhile, Procustes shows up to kill both Theseus and Telemachus. I have to admit, the costume department did right when it came to making a stone monster suit to represent Procustes. About the only thing wrong with the suit is that it doesn’t allow for any movement other than a slow waddle. Theseus hits it with his sword, which shatters (but later in the movie is mysteriously whole again, hah!). Hercules arrives just in the nick of time, and picks up the seemingly helpless Procustes and tosses him straight through a rock wall, which has the lucky benefit of opening a pathway to the underworld. Score!

With this film, Bava transitions from black & white to crimson & blue
Leaving Telemachus back at the boat with the Golden Apple (which sounds like a recipe for disaster to me, but whatev), Hercules and Theseus head off into Hades to retrieve the Stone of Awesome. Bava’s masterful use of color is in full effect here, folks. Stunning vistas surround the couple at every turn, making Hades look very unwelcome indeed, though beautiful in certain spots. Hades isn’t so much filled with demons and imps as it is a simple obstacle course, filled with burning lava, wafting stenches, and vines that bleed and moan when you cut them. Hercules and Theseus traverse this Hellscape with ease, until they come to a wide canyon filled with lava. Hercules uses some of the aforementioned vines to launch a rock once again, this time forming a rope bridge across the chasm that they two men then use to go across, hand-over-hand.

The Spectacular Stalagmite Sisters lull Hercules to sleepwith their #1 hit, "Fog Machine Boogie in D-flat."
However, halfway across, poor Theseus proves yet again that he isn’t the same manly man that Hercules is when he tires out. Hercules tries to make it back to help, but Theseus falls at the last second, sinking through the lava as Hercules watches on in horror. Herc moves on, knowing he can’t give up yet. Meanwhile, we see that Theseus lives, and is indeed perfectly fine. He wakes up in a mysterious, foggy cavern, and finds a stunning beauty beside him. As with anything bearing a vagina, Theseus falls immediately in love with her, not even bothering to find out who she is, and promises to get her out of Hades safely.

"Come on, Herc, hug it out."

Meanwhile, Hercules arrives at the Stone of Fantastical Things and pulls it free from its prison, burning his hands badly in teh process. But Hercules doesn’t need any ointment, oh no! Nor any elixirs, salves, unguents or poultices. He is a (demi)god among men! Hercules returns to the ship to find Theseus alive and well, much to his joy. Telemachus, who showed inhuman restraint in not eating the Golden Apple while the other guys were away, sets sail for home. During the voyage, Theseus spends an inordinate amount of time below decks, which makes Hercules curious, but not enough to investigate himself. He sends Telemachus instead, who discovers that Theseus has secreted away a chick, attempting to smuggle her out of Hell.

Pluto is pissed at the trespass, and sends a powerful hurricane in an attempt to stop the fleeing thieves. The girl, still nameless, bids Theseus to chunk the Golden Apple overboard in an effort to appease Pluto. Theseus runs topside, grabs the apple before Herc can stop him, and hurls it into the sea. Before Hercules can finish his sentence admonishing Theseus for such a crazy act, the hurricane clears and they are on the shores of Ecalia! It seems this plan worked. Their happiness at arriving home safe is short-lived, however, as they find Ecalia is in near ruins. It seems the wrath of Pluto has shifted to their homeland. Crops are withering, cows are dying, dogs and cats are living together. Just mass hysteria, I’m tellin’ ya!

"Is that a... Procustes turd?"

They all head back to the main castle, where Hercules uses the stone to heal Deianira, and the young beauty that Theseus rescued from Hades reveals herself to him, saying that she’s Persephone, most favored daughter of Pluto*, and that she is the real reason things are in ruins. Pluto is punishing humanity for the theft of his daughter. Theseus vows that he’ll protect her, even up to and including killing Hercules, if it came to that. Bold words, little man! Meanwhile, Lico isn’t in the least happy about Hercules returning to Ecalia. It is revealed that he is in communion with some dark god, who advises him to send Hercules to the Oracles, and so he does.

*Not the way the myth really goes, I know. I guess Bava was using a cut-rate translation of Bullfinch's Mythology.

Hercules decided to give Deianira the Stone of Horniness instead.

While Hercules is away, Lico jumps into action, killing Deianira’s servant girl and kidnapping Deianira herself, taking her into the catacombs below the castle. At the Oracle, Hercules learns the truth about Persephone and that in order to save Ecalia, he must convince Theseus to give up the underworld poon of which he’s grown fond. Hercules arrives back at the castle and has it out with Theseus, who attempts to fight the demigod, even going so far as to cutting Hercules’ arm with a sword, before finally Persephone interrupts the fight by causing Theseus to fall into a deep slumber. She tells Hercules it isn’t right that so many would suffer because of her love for Theseus. She promises now that Deianira is healed she’ll take the Stone of Kickass back to Hades along with herself to assuage Pluto’s wrath.

Altogether Ooky
Hercules realizes that he hasn’t seen Deianira in a while, so he goes looking, only to discover the servant girl dead and Deianira missing. He makes his way down to the catacombs to confront Lico, but finds that Lico has summoned an army of zombies! Folks, I have to tell you, Bava made the most of his shoe-string budget here. The zombies are fucking awesome! They fly through the air, or run on the ground, grasping and clawing at Hercules with their rotted, gray limbs. Hercules fights them off and finds himself in a trap, consisting of two rock walls slowly squeezing shut, with him in the middle. He manages to make it out at the last second, leaving the zombies inside to be crushed.

"Praise be to the gods for Rohypnol!"

He finds himself in a large chamber, where Lico is placing Deianira on an altar to be sacrificed, so that Lico can drink her blood while the moon is just right in order to obtain True Ultimate Power. Hercules runs up the slope to the altar, and begins tossing Lico around like a deranged bear trying to get at a Little Person's sweetbreads. Hercules picks up a nearby stone column and crushes Lico to death with it. At about that time, the zombies free themselves of the garbage compactor trap and begin assaulting the hill in wave after wave of zombie attacks. Hercules fends all of these off, tossing stone pillar after stone pillar at the zombies until they are all dead. Finally, the moon passes out of its critical phase, causing the pretty-much-dead-already Lico to burst into flame!

Hercules wields Procustes' cock as a weapon, with awesome results.

Bava then cuts to the seashore, where a newly-bedecked-in-snazzy-white Hercules pulls up in a chariot, along with the beautiful Deianira. Telemachus rides up on a horse, with the saucy brunette, claiming that she’s finally agreed to marry him! Before Telemachus can even begin to day-dream about the consummation of said union, Theseus runs up, telling everyone that he just had the most vivid dream in which he loved a beautiful woman and... Theseus sees the chick. He jerks her off the horse and they run laughing down the beach while a bewildered but not really mad Telemachus falls into the surf. Hercules and Deianira share a laugh. Fin.

Dearest friends, I submit to you that this is the pinnacle of Hercules movies. And I’m not just saying that because it had Bava’s masterful hand at work... ok, well, yes I am saying it for that reason, but it’s not the only one, no! Reg Park makes a fantastic Hercules (he played him in 4 films, including this one). His pecs appear to be sentient, and his beard could easily flay the paint off a battleship. The man is pure testosterone, and he plays Hercules fantastically, with a glint in his eye and a spring to his step. Christopher Lee is fantastic as always as the evil Lico. It’s said that a different actor dubbed Lee’s voice for the movie, which is sad (what, it wasn't sonorous and eeevil enough?), but it doesn’t detract from his brilliant portrayal.

"God, how I love you, Eddie Rabbit."

Once again, Bava was on a budget set ludicrously low, but this is how the Master thrives. I’m afraid given too much money Bava would have been not as cavalier about taking chances or setting up shots as he does in most all his films. His use of color and frame are unparalleled, and this movie brings those traits to life perfectly. Sure, the movie isn’t perfect by any stretch, but it’s exciting, good to look at, and even freaky (flying zombies, yeesh!). There are probably hundreds of movies in this genre (“Sword & Sandals” for the peasants, “peplum” for the in-crowd), but to me this one stands out as worth watching over most others.

Two Thumbs Up.

MORE MADNESS...

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