As Paul Naschy Week winds down here at the Vicarage and the Duchy, it's a bit of a sad sight. Crepe paper streamers twist lazily in the breeze, confetti and bones of roasted boar litter the Main Hall, empty wine tuns are rolled down the stairs by Faulk and the Duke's pet gorilla Shnazzerpuss while Italian-American plumbers flee in terror, and of course the serving girls apply salve to their raw areas and pray for the somber stroke of midnight that will signal the end of the celebration.
But before we take the Vicar's cassock down from the Duchy's flagpole (where ALL salute), and bleach the Duchal Pantaloons for the first in a series of ritualistic scrubbings, we thought we'd lift our spirits once again by revisiting some of our favorite Faces of Naschy. Come with us, won't you?
10. Naschy as Mr. Hyde (Dr. Jekyll and the Wolf Man, 1972)Vicar of VHS: He wasn't Mr. Hyde for very long in this one, Duke, as the Wolf inside could not be denied...however, you have to admit he makes a dashing Hyde. That cravat is what really sells it for me, even more than the undersized hat.
Duke of DVD: Yes, verily, he looks to be about to call for a horse and carriage, to whisk him away into the London fog, perhaps to a small pub I once visited called "The Strangled Goose", where he might sit at a scarred, wooden table and sip a glass of port. I appreciate not just the cream cravat, which is brilliant, but also his fully buttoned coat.
9. Naschy as Amenhotep (The Mummy's Revenge, 1973)V: Any role that allows Naschy to rock the Egyptian headdress and bicep bracers while also going shirtless is okay in my book. Though they must have had a crew of shaving technicians on staff at all times, I'd wager.
D: No doubt about that, I suspect they had to shave his chest between each take, sometimes forcing a cut during dialogue to try in vain to tame his thick nest of tangled hair. Of special note here are the golden necklaces, which no doubt absorbed so much Naschy Musk(tm) during filming that they had to be smelted and formed into bullets to be used to assassinate only the most powerful of demon lords.
8. Naschy as The Devil (Vengeance of the Zombies, 1973)
V: What can you say about this one? From the movie that started us down this road all those years ago, this is an image that never fails to put a quiver in my ribcage.
D: The crazed expression is what gets my blood pumping. No one sells "intense crazy" like Paul.
V: He's just perfect here--the horns, the most goatish goatee you could imagine, the crazy eyes and skull/black drop backdrop. Which incidentally they reused in The Devil's Possessed.
D: I have that same backdrop hanging behind my evening reading chair. Notice Paul's ruby red lips, as if he's already been feeding upon a virginal youth. Exquisite!
7. Naschy as Irenius Daninsky (The Beast and the Magic Sword, 1983)
V: This still more than any other makes me wish Naschy had made a true sword & sorcery flick. Can you imagine him in the Conan role? You don't have to imagine it: here he is. And he looks AWESOME.
D: He wears manliness like a cloak. Speaking of cloaks, he appears to be physically wearing the tanned hide of a yeti. He resembles a Viking god, and if I were sitting in a tiny seaside village and saw a longboat arrive with him at the helm, I'd open my wrists and toss myself down the nearest well.
6. Naschy as Dracula (Count Dracula's Great Love, 1974)
V: Naschy wasn't afraid to stretch, and playing the King of the Undead was admittedly a bit of a stretch for him. I love the movie of course, but like his idol Lon Chaney Jr., I think it's clear he was more comfortable playing the werewolf than the suave sophisticated vampire.
D: I concur, but I applaud his noble effort. Naschy looks young here, fresh-faced, with just a hint of stubble. I would imagine they overran their shooting schedule due to him bedding all of the female cast repeatedly. Just look at him! How could anyone resist?
V: He does look great here, with the pale skin, lowered brows, rockin' sideburns--kinda like Glenn Danzig, but taller and more awesome.
D: It might seem hard to be more awesome than Glenn Danzig, but Paul achieves it with little effort.
5. Naschy as Father Adrian Dunning (Exorcismo, 1975)V: Much like Irineus up there makes me wish for a Naschy Conan, this one makes me thirst for a Naschy Nunsploitation.
D: The world is not ready for that, dearest Vicar. Oh no! I love Naschy's horrified look here, and that sacramental drape doesn't look like standard Vatican issue. It's just how Naschy rolls.
V: Indeed, the orange velvet with apparent paisley pattern may not be what the Pope had in mind, but only because he didn't think any priest could pull it off. Naschy is the exception that proves the rule.
4. Naschy as Alaric de Marnac (Horror Rises from the Tomb, 1972)V: The arrogance. The Evil. The supreme self-confidence, even in the face of Death. Naschy fucking OWNS this scene.
D: He does indeed! Look at the wild, wavy mane of hair, and the bushy beard that says "Hey, look at me, I'm Grizzly 'Fucking' Adams." That headsman behind him looks positively terrified.
V: As well he should be! Alaric really is the opposite of his Waldemar Daninsky character, and you can tell Naschy has a great time being the all-out evil villain. Plus he gets to look at Helga Line's boobs. LEGEND.
D: While the Waldemar character will always hold a special place in my heart, his Alaric truly is a special accomplishment. Plus the Euro-boob.
3. Naschy as Waldemar Daninsky (Curse of the Devil, 1973)V: This one's all yours, Duke.
D: Oh dear. Where to begin? I would beggar my kingdom to own that chain tunic he is wearing, or to drink wine from that studded skullcap. Naschy is fully composed of win and awesome here, and his raw talent is in full effect. Bow before him, mortals! HE'LL SEE YOU BITCHES IN CHAINS!
2. Naschy as the Werewolf (Night of the Werewolf, 1981)
V: Of course we could have picked any number of werewolf shots from the Daninsky saga, as the make-up changed (sometimes drastically) from flick to flick, but I believe this is my favorite example of the werewolf look on Naschy. A little bit Oliver Reed in Curse of the Werewolf, but still all Jacinto. The fiery cataclysm behind him helps.
D: Some really great makeup effects here. I love the teeth, too. I'm guessing at least 50% of that hair is actually Naschy's.
V: His virility is such, he can just tense up and "take a beard." Too bad they didn't do a time-lapse "Naschy grows his own make-up" shot in any of the flicks! Staying absolutely still for the 2 hours it would have taken him to grow a full beard would have been difficult, but Naschy is nothing if not dedicated.
D: Be still, my leaping codpiece!
1. Naschy as Waldemar Daninsky (Night of the Werewolf, 1981)
V: I hesitated to have the top two from the same movie, but really, Duke, we had no choice.
D: No choice had we, I agree. I am simply agog.
V: I just really can't speak in the presence of this photo. I'm awash in a sea of awesome.
D: The piercing gaze. The long, untamed hair. The weighty heft of the weapon of war he's wielding. There's just so much to love.
V: I think I need a Moment.
D: Yes, I'll be right back... Readers, talk amongst yourselves. Here, I'll give you a topic: The Holy Roman Empire was neither "Holy" nor "Roman". Discuss.
Well, that about wraps up Naschy Week 2009. Hope you all enjoyed it, and keep coming back for more Madness!
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Naschy Week Concludes: The Faces of Naschy
Thursday, August 6, 2009
El Ultimo Kamikaze (1984), Or How Paul in Drag Made Me Question My Already Questionable Sexuality
Dearest friends, it is I, the Duke of DVD, once again herding you like stunned cattle to worship at the altar of Paul “The Spanish Love Muscle” Naschy. Shot in glorious Fujicolor in 1984, El Ultimo Kamikaze represents yet another movie written, directed, and starred in by Naschy, Jacinto Molina to his friends/worshipers. Unfortunately for the non-Spanish speakers of the world (which includes the Duke, alas I am only fluent in English, Latin, and a offshoot of vulgar Ural-Altaic), this movie is entirely in Spanish and without any subtitles, so I was forced to glean what I could from the intense stares and sweaty brow of Naschy. To my delight, nothing much was lost in translation. Let us explore… join me, won’t you?
El Ultimo Kamikaze starts off with a tablescape of red velvet, on which sit various pistols, sub-machineguns, and other accouterments of brooding Spanish killers. A pair of hands comes out and begins putting on leather gloves, which not only serve to keep fingerprints at bay, but are also used by Naschy to drink wine. We then cut to a park where a limo pulls up and disgorges a corpulent mob boss fellow, along with his skinny bodyguard. Out for his afternoon constitutional, the mobster sets off at a brisk jog.
The Vicar goes for a jog...
As he rounds a corner, we see an old man, smoking a cigarette and drinking wine from a bottle. The mob boss is disgusted, but his disgust is as short-lived as he is, for the bum is revealed to be Naschy! Paul leaps up, machinegun in hand, and mows down both the boss and his lackey. He runs, still in costume, to a nearby motorcycle stashed in the bushes, and off he goes, thus cementing himself further into my brain as the most awesome individual in cinema history.
"Get off my lawn!"
It's not really Naschy, but do I care? No!
We next see two guys who look like businessmen having a conversation over a lobster dinner. One of the men wears a leather glove only on his left hand (much like the Vicar), and we quickly discern that he has lost the use of it. Not being able to speak Spanish except for a few handy phrases like “That’s far, FAR too much for 10 male prostitutes, are you insane?!” and “No, in fact I did not firebomb that village of Spanish gypsies Your Honor, please accept this suitcase full of gold coins for your reelection campaign.”, I really couldn’t follow what was going on here very well. However, the power of Paul’s script revealed all!
"Ooof, this lobster is giving me gas already!"
Basically, Naschy plays an assassin who is very good at disguises and who has a penchant for lobbing grenades. He’s also a troubled man, who expresses himself via painting and is haunted by his family’s past, which included Nazis, but more on them later. The leather glove-wearing guy, or Leather Glove Guy (LGG), is also an assassin. He tends to hang out with his blond wife and smoke a lot. I could never be sure, but I believe Paul was the reason he lost use of his left hand. I’m going to assume that’s true, even if it isn’t. The movie contains a lot of exposition between LGG and his wife, and between Paul and his various lovers, all of which I’m sure was important for establishing motive, but which I pretty much glossed over during, instead getting repeated chubbies from Paul’s bulging arms/pecs.
We establish Paul as the badass assassin early on. Not long after he kills the jogging mobster, he is off on another job, this time greasing another mob-looking guy at a pool party. This pool party resembles most all pool parties of the ‘70s, being that it’s full of naked chicks and hunky, muscle-bound guys. While the mobsters commiserate and view the local hotties, Paul rides up on a motorcycle in full black leather regalia! To say my heart skipped a beat is a vast understatement. I also ruined a good set of self-removing trousers.
Paul Naschy, the leather-clad motorcycle-driving assassin.
Stashing the bike once again in some handy bushes, Paul sneaks forward with a duffle bag. He quickly removes the contents, revealing two hand grenades and a sub machinegun. No subtle assassin is he! Paul goes balls-to-the-wall or not at all! Lobbing the first grenade, which explodes harmlessly in the pool, he then lobs the second, which explodes one of the naked hotties in a shower of body parts and blood. He then rips into the assemblage with the machinegun, first mowing down the mobster and his cronies, then gunning down their dinner (seriously, he lights up the table full of glasses and plates for no real reason), and then finally he guns down every single person attending the party. No one escapes the wrath of Naschy! As he leaves we get a nice shot of the floating head of the exploded chick, and one of her severed legs.
We then cut to Naschy the artist. Wearing a groovy hat, he’s painting a nude model, who turns out to be one of his many girlfriends. Hanging on the wall behind him are horrible paintings of Nazis and prison camps, etc. He gets a call for yet another job, but before leaving he takes the time to bang his woman, naturally. Paul then travels to Egypt, meeting some nefarious fellows near the Great Pyramids, ostensibly for a job. First, though, he takes the time to go bed an Egyptian hottie, who he then suspects as being a spy. Throwing water in her face and then roughing her up a bit, he eventually tosses her out of his room. "I just don't think I got the curve of your ass correct..."
"I told you that you had to buy tickets to the gun show in advance!"
Finally he goes out for the job, dressed as a repairman in a blue jumpsuit. Gaining entry to his target’s apartment, he is lead by the lady of the house back down a hallway. He kicks open a door, revealing a man taking a shit while reading a newspaper. Paul pumps him full of lead while his lady screams, which Naschy stifles by choking her to death! He then heads to yet another large city, I believe this one is in the US. To save money on production it is obvious that stock footage was used when applicable and most of the killing is done in non-descript hotel rooms.
"Who... does... Number Two... Work... For?"
Coming upon his mark in yet another of these hotels, Paul is dressed simply in a trenchcoat and hat. He guns down the dude in mid coitus with a smoking hot chick. He decides to spare her for some reason, giving her the money in the dead dude’s wallet. This begins Paul’s slide into self-loathing and paranoia, but first we get more Leather Glove Guy time.
LGG and his wife go dancing, they hang out, they converse. I’m not sure what about, but I’m going to guess it was about the Vicar’s last party in which they both did things both embarrassing and exhilarating. The LGG is a different kind of assassin. Instead of using disguises and hand grenades, he employs James Bond-esque tools, including a sword cane and a smoking pipe that doubles as a blowgun. He uses these tools to great effect. First, he visits a rather flamingly gay dude wearing a silk robe, who recognizes him as an assassin, pulls a gun on him and begins to dial the police. Before he can complete the call, however, LGG kills him with a well-placed pipe blowgun dart to the forehead! Next up he kills a guy getting a massage with the sword cane, and finally dispatches a group of golfers using a golf club shotgun. Very handy with gadgets this guy is! "I don't know why I'm so surprised, I'm used to my face being penetrated by men..."
Meanwhile, Naschy gets a new target, this time a sheik. Nothing says international terrorism and evil deeds in 70s cinema like a dark-skinned fellow dressed as a sheik! First, though, Paul gets some well-needed rest. As he nods off, he dreams he’s in Nazi Germany, forcing Jewish women in a camp to strip before having them gunned down. He wakes filled with rage and shame, and begins knifing the portrait of his Nazi relative, I’m gonna guess it’s his father. He then smokes a joint with his sexy nude model girlfriend and all is well with the world. Then Paul leaves to kill the sheik.
Who got their Nazi'slpoitation in my Naschy?!
He does this in a disguise that nearly sent me over the edge with giddiness: he dresses as a woman! Dressed to kill, obviously. He wears a black dress with matching black hat, and way too much make-up, thus making one ugly butch of a woman with bulging arms and a barrel chest he tries to hide by stooping, which doesn’t help much. He arrives as the sheik is landing via copter, and proceeds to kill the dignitary and all his bodyguards employing several grenades and a John Woo-esque double pistol style.
"This just in, Dame Edna goes on murderous rampage outside local Starbucks!"
As he’s leaving, on a motorcycle of course, still in drag, he passes right by Leather Glove Guy, who was waiting for him! A chase ensues that ultimately ends in LGG crashing his car into a light pole at such a slow speed one has to wonder how he managed it. This allows Paul to get away, but sets us up for a climatic finale.
"Sheesh, another love sonnet from the Vicar..."
Before that can happen, however, Paul gets hired by a hot lesbian to do some deal involving the exchange of money, only the exchange turns out to be a double-cross, and Naschy barely escapes with his life, gunning down the would-be killer. He heads back to the chick’s apartment and interrupts her mid-muff dive, blasting both of the women in the torso with a sawed-off shotgun. The squib effects here are fantastic, the effects people need to be commended.
Paul arrives early for Hairy Taco Night.
Paul heads back to his house in sweaty ruin. He’s been double crossed, chased by a one-handed man, forced to dress as a woman, and is continually haunted by his family’s Nazi past, and he’s high on pot. He awakes from a fever dream (complete with WWII Nazi footage) to find Leather Glove Guy standing over him. They talk a bit about the plight of the Russian worker, the price of oil in Indo-China, and whether corn futures would be a worthwhile investment in this shaky global economy. Finally, Paul makes a move, pulling a pistol, but LGG is faster with his gun-cane! Paul, shot in the chest, is left for dead. The big reveal comes, however, when LGG walks over and examines Paul's gun, finding it empty! Obviously his Nazi-ridden past, not to mention the cancellation of Falcon Crest, was too much for him to bear.
"Prilosec... save me!"
Leather Glove Guy heads back to his apartment and wife, who apparently hates his guts, for she pulls a gun hidden in the couch and mortally wounds him. As she’s standing over the dead body of LGG, Naschy stumbles through the door, wounded but still going, and in the climatic final shot, fires two bullets through the chest of LGG’s wife/lover, before finally expiring himself. Such drama!
The Duke's various lovers fight to determine who brings him breakfast in bed.
To say this movie impressed me despite the language barrier is an understatement. Once again, Naschy’s gusto and verve for writing and acting, as well as directing, just wafts off the screen in waves. His tortured looks of consternation and anguish, not to mention his bulging pythons and thick pecs, know no equal. The movie does drag in spots, particularly when Leather Glove Guy and his woman are expounding on something or other. Long scenes are devoted to their talks, and I can only guess that they are planning on revenge against Naschy, or perhaps talking about LGG’s current mark.
The movie had obvious budgetary constraints, and was mostly filmed in hotel rooms, but honestly I didn’t care. The effects work during each assassination was spot-on, and the actors/actresses other than Naschy did a great job. Naschy, of course, was his usual excellent self. I do hope that one day some enterprising studio picks this up for a U.S. domestic release with subtitles, but I wouldn’t let that stop any Naschy fan from seeking this film out and watching it by any means. It is well worth the effort.
3+ Thumbs Up"My new lesbian party blouse, ruined! This better come out in the wash..."
El Ultimo Kamikaze, indeed!
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Castle Freak (1995), Or The Art of Bloody Cat Eating
This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Strange Hostel of Naked Pleasures (1976)
I would tell thee of my trip to Svalbard in the winter of ’86. I boarded a barque near Murmansk and was quickly ensconced in the captain’s quarters as we set off across the Barents Sea. The ship reeked of the whale and seal fat used to caulk the wood, and I could feel dull thumps each time we struck an ice floe. The trip took several days, and I amused myself by employing oculomancy on the crew as well as wagering with the captain on how long one of his monkey butlers could stay up in the crow’s nest.
The reason I was on this trip at all was because I had heard rumor that a certain artifact had been uncovered during excavation of an old church on the island of Svalbard, north off the coast of Norway. Even the possibility of seeing this precious object had sent me scurrying. After almost 4 days at sea, we made landfall at a tiny fishing village officially called Nartwuld, but known to locals as something far more sinister, a name I dare not commit to this page.
None of the populace came out to meet our ship. Nay, I scarcely saw any living soul, save for a few haggard seabirds, huddled against the icy wind in groups of 3 or 4. A deep, chilling fog began rolling in as we tied the ship down and disembarked, walking down the pitted planks of a short dock. A shutter banged loudly as the fog enveloped us, and suddenly a blood-chilling howl pierced the fog up ahead, a sound that belonged to no animal or beast that I had ever come in contact with, and I didn’t want to start now. At that the captain and the small crew muttered excuses, made warding signs, and backed away, returning to their ship.
I soldiered on, further into the village. The fog was like a living thing, seeming to wrap itself around me. A faint smell, like a ham left outside in the sun, permeated everything. I tripped over a loose cobble, catching myself before hitting the ground. A quick glance at the loose “rock” revealed that it was instead a human skull, worn black by centuries of footsteps. I realized that I had been walking on these the whole time, skulls forming the entire cobbled street. I hurried onward, further into the fog.
The information that I had received said that I was to look for a church, and soon enough I found what had to be it, though it was unlike any church I had ever been in. The whole edifice was built using huge blocks of black volcanic basalt, the stones put together with such craft that no seams were visible. At the top on the steeple hung a symbol that bore no resemblance to a cross of any kind. Christianity had never been brought to these isles. The doors stood open, so I walked inside.
The interior was one huge space, with no seating. On the pulpit stood only an altar, stained crimson. A banner hung on the wall behind the altar, depicting a great, staring eye. I sensed movement to my left. Turning, I saw a priest shuffling forward, cradling something in his arms. He said nothing, merely offering me the wrapped parcel. Footsteps echo’d behind me, and I turned to see the townspeople, filing into the church with heads bowed. Knowing that I did not want to see what was about to take place, I clutched the package to my chest and fled, back down the cobbled street and to the docks. The salt air still on my lips, I said nothing to the captain as he made preparations to leave. Safe in my quarters, I pulled at the frayed strings holding together the package now in my hands, opening it to reveal…
Strange Hostel of Naked Pleasures. Finally my dear readers I get to bring you a rare gem from none other than Jose Mojica Marins himself, known to his friends as Coffin Joe. Strange Hostel is most certainly a Coffin Joe film, but does not belong to the Coffin Joe Trilogy. It is a film unto itself, but is 100% a Marins vehicle you can be sure. Filmed in 1976 and on a really small budget, the movie nonetheless impresses with its visual style and the obvious flair that only Marins could bring.
The movie opens in typical Coffin Joe fashion: surreal and disorientating. A troupe of women dancers, wearing skimpy outfits, dance to the drums beat on by shirtless guys. On and on they dance, while screams echo in the distance and lightning flashes in the sky. Finally, we see a black coffin. More dancing, more quick camera cuts. Suddenly, men wearing plastic breasts (seriously) show up, also wearing plastic monkey-esque masks on their faces. I’m not sure of the significance, but it’s very off-putting.
The dance continues until suddenly, the coffin opens, and Coffin Joe rises up. His top hat magically appears on his head, and his cape quickly follows suit, materializing out of the ether. Taloned hands extended, CJ begins to speak:
“Live to die, or die to live? Is there a correct answer? NO! Only doubts…
Only deductions… Only the certainty of the emptiness loneliness is desperately searching for…
Everything or nothing, the wideness of the gloom.
For the answer for this riddle would be the end of this mystery, the end of eternity’s secret,
The apogee of happiness. Before an accomplished mission, because man would be face to face with his best conquest, the awakening of origin itself!”
Obviously CJ is setting us up for some deep awesomeness. The title sequence runs at this point, and I felt it was very well shot, the credits being embedded on graves in a particularly ornate necropolis. We are also subjected to the moans and screams we’ve all come to know and love during CJ credits. We next see a star field surrounded by a bunch of planets (obviously hung from strings). CJ pontificates more on the meaning of life and the infinite nature of the universe.
Next we see a newspaper ad asking for some workers at a hostel. Quite a few prospects show up at the place, named “Hostel of Pleasures”. CJ himself is the proprietor. He walks out, staring at everyone with menace, and proceeds to pick out a man and woman to get the job. Everyone is understandably creeped out, and they all leave, even the ones who got the job. However, those two don’t go far, they return with zombie-like precision, obviously overcome by Coffin Joe’s power.
At this point, the movie goes into utter awesome territory. Seeing CJ in all his glory running the front desk of a hotel is just more than my brain can handle. He’s not in full CJ regalia, though. Still, we get many close-ups of his eyes as they dart back and forth. One after another, customers come in to rent a room, and as each are given a key, we get a close-up shot of a clock hanging on the wall behind the front desk. This will become important later, rest assured."Excuse me, Mr. Joe, have you seen my bra?"
The customers given rooms already have their names written in the guest book. A terrible storm is raging outside, so many people come in, only to be turned away by CJ, as their names aren’t written in the book. A rich man gets rebuffed and, in his anger, says he will return with the police. Among the people granted shelter are a couple who are obviously having an affair, a group of shady, gambling businessmen, and a giant group of hippie bikers. Seriously. They get one room for the lot of them. We also get a young couple who can’t stop from making out, much to our delight (the chick is seriously smoking). A suicidal man and a group of robbers fresh off a robbery round out the rest of the 12 guests.
I must pause here and give special props to the writing of this movie. Coffin Joe constantly speaks in parables, almost poetry really. For instance, to the rich guy who gets sent away, this is his explanation for refusing the guy a room:
“There is no redemption for those who want to be blinder than the blind one having his sight to see.”
Needless to say, this elevates the movie into the realm of Movies That Are Awesome. From here the movie spends quite a bit of time showing the different people going about their business. The couple in love get naked and start sexing up. The hippies also get naked and appear to be having a good ol’ fashioned freak-out. The gamblers gamble. Everyone just does their thang.No one is quite sure when to leave a Marins dinner party...
In the morning, they all awaken to find their watches are stopped at midnight. They ask CJ what’s up with that, and he reveals the true reason for the Hostel. It seems that all of them have died this night and that the Hostel is their eternal torment, where time has ceased to exist (queue shots of the clock on the wall again). So, let me get this straight: eternal damnation is having hippy group sex? Where do I sign up?!?!
CJ gives them all visions of what actually happened. The adulterous couple is murdered via knife by a jealous husband. The hippies plunge their motorcycles off a cliff. The robbers are all shot by the police. The suicidal guy is shown shooting himself. Everyone is dead, trapped for eternity in CJ’s own version of Hell. The scene cuts to daylight and we see the rich guy who was so rudely rebuffed show up with the police in tow. Hoping out of their cars, we see that they have arrived at the spot where the hostel was, only in its place is now a cemetery! The police laugh at the confused rich guy, who in turn just stands there looking confused."Your wife, how much for her?"
As they leave, we see the hostel yet again, with Coffin Joe walking up its steps. The sign for the hostel pops into existence on the wall next to the door. CJ turns to us, and his face fades into a skull as blood pours out of the eye sockets! Leave it to Marins to know how to end a film! This movie was very strange indeed, even more so than most CJ fare. I absolutely loved the imagery. When the suicidal guy shoots himself, smoke, sparks, and blood fly across the screen. It may have been low budget, but they really made what they could out of it, that’s for sure.
One interesting note about the film: Marins didn’t direct this himself, instead handing it off to his friend Marcelo Motta, although it is said that Marins maintained control over how the film was shot. As with the other Coffin Joe films, the movie is very surreal and features lots of screams and other weird sound effects that are designed to really put the viewer at unease. Seeing Coffin Joe standing at the counter of a hostel, stroking a stone skull, is not something one easily forgets. It is amazing to me how well these movies stand up, given their age, and Strange Hostel of Naked Pleasures is no different.
3 thumbs way up, the highest praises for taloned benefactor.