Showing posts with label Possession. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Possession. Show all posts

Saturday, October 22, 2011

The Last Exorcism (2010): or, He Puts on a Hell of a Show

October Horror Movie Challenge, Day 21!

Cotton Marcus (Patrick Fabian), former child preacher and the last in a long line of evangelical exorcists, invites a film crew along to document all the hocus pocus that goes on behind the scenes. It seems the good reverend has lost his faith--while he still believes he provides a service for his flock, giving them the mystical experience they psychologically crave, he does not see himself as anything more than a showman and second-tier magician. Picking a letter at random from his pile of requests, Marcus and crew go to rural Louisiana to help Nell Sweetzer (Ashley Bell), whom her widowed and Bible-obsessed father Louis (Louis Herthum) insists is possessed by the Devil. Marcus gives the yokels the whole show, and seems to cure Nell's ills. But soon the preacher discovers that there might be something to all this exorcism business after all...

The Last Exorcism (2010) does a lot of things I liked, and does them very well. The set-up of a revivalist preacher documenting his own hokum is taken directly from Marjoe (1972), the fascinating documentary about child-preacher and later B-movie star Marjoe Gortner.* Certain early scenes and even some of the dialogue seem to be direct quotes of that movie. Director Daniel Stamm lets the mystery of what's happening to Nell unfold slowly, rushing directly to the neck-snapping exorcism business, but still dropping enough clues and stingers along the way to keep the viewer engaged--unlike some recent horror flicks. The script by Huck Botko and Andrew Gurland is intelligent and intriguing--and I don't want to spoil the ultimate solution to Nell's troubles, but it was shocking in a way that still made sense with what had come before, and sent me into the end credits with an appreciative smile.

*And a highly recommended viewing in its own right.

The acting is great from top to bottom. Fabian plays Cotton Marcus as a charismatic, sardonic but lovable rogue, a man who knows he's full of it but nonetheless genuinely seems to care about the people who come to him for help. Bell's Nell (ha!) is wonderful--all fresh and innocent and giggly at the beginning, throwing her later sinister turn in stark relief. (According to imdb trivia, Bell also did all the amazing, poster-spoiled contortions herself, without the aid of special effects.) Herthum makes a great menacing, possibly not so well-meaning dad, and Caleb Landry Jones (X-Men: First Class's Banshee) gives a nice performance as Nell's brother.

Put simply, The Last Exorcism is one of the best recent horror films I've seen in a long time. A fresh look at the "possession" subgenre--a stylish, entertaining and even frightening film. 3 thumbs. Recommended.

On third and short, the Devil shows Blitz.

MORE MADNESS...

Friday, October 14, 2011

[REC] ² (2009): or, 28 Floors Later

October Horror Movie Challenge, Day 13!
 
An apartment building in the center of a Barcelona has been locked down, sealed off with plastic wrap, and surrounded by police and officials. It seems the people inside have come down with a particularly bad case of the Extreme Ocular Hemorrhage and Homicidal Violence Flu. The virus is extremely contagious, leading the municipal health department to take drastic measures. A SWAT team is sent in, along with the secretive Dr. Owen (living Pixar character Jonathan Mellor) to locate Patient Zero and get a blood sample, which they hope will allow them to find a cure. But when one blood-spitting murder machine gets surprisingly un-murdery after Dr. Owen holds up a crucifix and lays some scripture on his ass, the members of the police party realize there's something much more sinister than just a virus going on...

Picking up precisely where 2007 hit [REC] left off, [REC] ² is more of the same--but I didn't really mind that much. The demonic possession-as-virus idea is not bad as such explanations go, adding a supernatural layer to the standard 28 Days Later-style infection flick. (Which by now should in fact be its own subgenre.) Once again co-directors Jaume Balagueró and Paco Plaza use the first-cameras again, here mounted on the SWAT team's helmets for command and control purposes--to set up some tense "moving through the shadows" shots and frenetic attacks by the infected remnants. The "night vision" shots are back too, and used here to the same good effect. Manuela Velasco also returns in a reprise of her role from the first movie, with a welcome if predictable twist.

[REC] ² doesn't do anything particularly new, but it does deliver an exciting, bloody, action-packed and sometimes creepy ride. 2 thumbs up.

"We're out of jelly."

MORE MADNESS...

Monday, January 25, 2010

Lisa and the Devil (1974), Or Telly Savalas Owns Us All


Dearest friends, the Duke of DVD bids thee welcome. Won't you come in, sit, and let us talk of all things Mario Bava? After many reviews of his work, I thought nothing he could do would surprise me. I was wrong! So very, very wrong. Lisa and the Devil is his masterwork, in my humble opinion. An unfettered look into Bava's mad-genius mind in which the plot doesn't matter so much as the camera, which serves as an unblinking eye, showing us sights that range from the amazing to the macabre.

I should start by mentioning that Lisa and the Devil stars two of the most talented people to ever grace the silver screen. First we have Elke Sommer, whose "talents" are on display for all to see. Next we have Telly "Motherfucking" Savalas, who exudes an almost child-like glee in this movie. You can really tell he was having a blast, and he easily steals every scene he's in. I've seen him in a lot of movies, from war movies to westerns, but this is, in my eyes, his best performance.

Lisa and the Devil has a rather interesting production history as well, which I'll get into later, but suffice it to say I am agog.

Let us explore, shall we?

Our movie opens in an old Spanish town where a tourist by the name of Lisa Reiner is vacationing with a friend. A tour guide is leading them through an area filled with baroque churches and other buildings. The guide takes them to a fresco on a church wall which depicts the Devil Himself, doing something devilish. Lisa is enthralled by the painting. At that precise moment, she hears some haunting music coming from a nearby alleyway. Telling her friend she'll be right back (yeah sure!), she heads to investigate.

Coming around a corner, she finds a shop on a deserted street. It's filled with all manner of thing, from handwoven tapestries to life-like mannequins (basically, it looks like the Vicar's drawing room). A dapper bald man stands with his back to Lisa, conducting business with the store's owner. Business that involves a life-like dummy. More on that later. The music, it turns out, is coming from a rather awesome music box of sorts that has small figurines that rotate on top of it. Lisa asks the owner if it's for sale, but he informs her that the gentleman here has already purchased it.


"Excuse me, is there anything in this shop that isn't an apparatus for smoking hashish?"

That gentleman turns around and... it's Telly Savalas, exuding charm, dashing, cunning, sex, and machismo in one all-engulfing wave that ripples outward through the screen like an ocean of burning testosterone. Lisa is stricken immediately with Soaked Panties Syndrome(tm) as well as the notion that Telly looks exactly like the fresco'd Devil, which Bava shows to us using super imposition. She backs out of the shop in horror, and starts to head back to her tour group. Or rather, she tries to. The twisting alleys get her confused in no time, and suddenly she's lost. The streets are deserted as well, except for a few slack-jawed yokels who offer no succor.


"I'm just here to get my RealDoll upgraded with an extra-tough O-ring."

Bava does a masterful job here of situating his camera to give us the maximum feeling of claustrophobia, as experienced by Lisa. The alleys are narrow and the walls surrounding them at all times are high. We get long shots down deserted cobblestone streets where not a soul is seen but Lisa, hurriedly walking, trying to get to safety. She looks increasingly more frazzled as her journey takes her further and further into desolation. Dust swirls off street corners, and no animals are seen at all. Lisa is truly lost and alone, and we feel it along with her.


"Have you seen my lollipop, baby?"

A few turns later and she runs into Telly again. He just happens to be walking through the same area as Lisa, carrying his disturbingly life-like mannequin and that music box from earlier. She asks him for directions and he points her off down another alley, which she quickly takes, as his oozing manliness is too much for her to handle without getting weak-kneed and giddy. A few turns later and we have what is just the start of this film's inherent fucked-up-ness: Lisa runs into a guy, who is basically the mannequin that Telly was carrying earlier! He seems to think she's an old love of his named "Elena". Lisa tries to get away from him, but he insistently grabs her arm. She shoves him away and he tumbles down some stairs, knocked unconscious by the fall. His pocketwatch slips from his coat and breaks nearby. Lisa flees in horror, realizing her day has gone from bad to worse.

Night falls soon thereafter, and Lisa is still lost. Slumped against a wall in yet another deserted alley, she is defeated. Suddenly, car lights appear on the horizon. A fancy old car pulls up as she flags it down. She asks for and is given a ride. The people in the car turn out to be Francis and Sophia Lehar, being driven by their hunky chauffeur George. The car is overheating but still drivable, so George takes off. Very quickly Lisa realizes the tension in the car between the other three people. With everyone casting sidelong glances at each other, we can quickly see that George is making googly-eyes at Sophia, which Francis pretends not to notice.

Driving Miss Daisy 2: Drive Harder

The car journeys for some minutes more before finally tanking out completely, a fact that Sophia seizes upon to complain loudly that Francis just has to have his classic cars. While George raises the hood and tries to make it work again, a gate opens outside an estate that they stopped in front of. Surprise surprise, it's Telly's estate! He quickly talks them into coming in to stay for the night, saving the car work for the morning. Lisa doesn't believe in fate, apparently, and begins backing away as soon as she sees Telly. Her flight is interrupted by a strange, handsome young man who apparently lives in the house as well. Using his piercing blue eyes, he talks her into coming in the house.

As it turns out, Telly is in fact the butler of the house! Dressed to the nines in full black-tie regalia, he cuts a striking figure. Wearing white gloves and a coat with tails, he fairly struts around as he leads the party through the opulent estate, around impressive gardens and statuary. The manse is certainly impressive. One can tell immediately that Telly is into this role, so different from his other films at the time. He has a barely restrained grin at all times, and a twinkle in his eye and a bounce to his step.

The estate, it turns out, is home to the Contessa and her son, Maximilian, the dashing young whippersnapper that got Lisa to come inside. The travelers are shown rooms to freshen up in. Sophia and George waste no time hooking up for a bit of the ol' in-and-out, which Bava shows us via a killer reflection shot off a makeup case. Lisa showers (off screen, unfortunately) and sets about combing her hair. A noise makes her look out the window, where she sees the dummy man again!

Fleeing out into the estate, she sees the dummy man lumbering towards her; she runs again, right into the arms of Max. He soothes her, says it's good to have her back, which she frowns at but doesn't pursue. He leads her back to the house. We see that the dummy man is once again in mannequin form, being carried around by Telly for who knows what nefarious reason.

"Sure, you can drive a car, but let's see how well you drive me!"

A sumptuous meal is prepared, and everyone sits to eat. The Countess arrives late to the party, and speaks cryptically about some 5th visitor that no one else has seen. Max calms her somewhat just as Telly brings out a multi-tiered cake and a bottle of red wine. He drops the wine, shattering it on the floor, which gives Bava an excuse for another insanely awesome reflection shot of Telly's face in the red wine. Genius! Max begs off with a piece of cake, taking it to someone upstairs. He enters a hidden room via a secret door among a row of mirrors upstairs. The room is dank and we can hear some woman moaning and sometimes giggling. Very creepy! He offers the cake to someone on a bed shrouded with dark linens hanging from the ceiling. We don't see who it is.


"Would you care for some fava beans, or perhaps a nice Chianti?"

Meanwhile, post-repast, the chauffeur George is attempting to repair the car. Telly watches, sucker in mouth. As most fans of his know, Telly Savalas is well-known to affect a lollipop at most all times. This started with his work in the Kojack detective tv series, which the great Wikipedia in the sky tells us came about because he needed something in his mouth in lieu of a cigarette for a certain scene. It worked so well that it became a trademark of Savalas's (just like talking with a lisp and holding his hand out to be kissed, not shaken, is a trademark of the Vicar's).

The others, meanwhile, are relaxing in the parlor. Sophia is tired of waiting and is itching to leave. The Countess arrives, Telly in tow. It turns out she's blind! Given no indication of this before at dinner, the guests are as surprised as we are. She asks to "see" Lisa, having Telly describe her as she feels her face. Elsewhere, Max is looking through some old diaries and we see his love Elena looks exactly like Lisa! He burns the picture, apparently moving on with his life now that Lisa's arrived.


"Yes, and her boobs are this big."

After being groped by an old blind woman, Lisa is tuckered. She retires to her room, whereupon she has a fanciful dream, featuring her in a ludicrously low-cut dress (huzzah!) and also featuring a heaping helping of classic Bava slow-motion and dream-like soft focus. She runs through the sunlit estates, coming to a pavilion, where she meets none other than dummy man! They begin to make-out. Lisa suddenly wakes up to find Max in her room, watching her sleep. He whispers sweet nothings to her and suddenly they begin to kiss. The camera rotates around and we see that she is in fact kissing the mannequin guy! Recoiling in horror, she flees once more.

Outside, Sophia comes looking for George, who is nowhere to be seen despite the car running. Calling his name, she turns to find her husband giving her the ol' stink-eye. She starts to go but he grabs her arm. She says to him "If this is your way of being a man, I'm not impressed!" to which he retorts "You slut!" then backhands her, a training tool useful for all slut interactions. As she falls away, she catches the door handle, pulling it open to reveal a murdered George! His throat has been punctured.

The murderer is swiftly revealed to be the Countess, as we see a quick shot of her holding a pair of bloody scissors. Telly the butler quickly arranges a cart to carry the body off as Sophia mourns. Telly wheels it away, with everyone following in sort of a small funeral procession. Bava's mastery is in full effect here, giving us silhouettes of each person passing behind a pair of stained glass windows. Amazing! We next seen a scene where the mannequin man, who is some old family ghost apparently, is watching through the shroud at whomever is in the secret room.

Bava showing us how it's done.

I must talk about a singular perfect scene involving Savalas and the rich guy. The rich gent is talking about leaving while smoking a cig, and Telly asks to bum one. He uses the man's lit cigarette to light his own just as the Countess comes down the top of the stairs behind them. Seeing her there, he quickly shoves his own cigarette in between the rich guy's fingers, waves the smoke away while saying very loudly "Can you please put that out sir, the Countess doesn't like the smoke!!", then he quickly whips a sucker out from his glove and pops it in his mouth! Genius!

Lisa meets Max out in the garden, where the Countess interrupts them. Lisa heads back to the house while the Countess admonishes Max, telling him to not get involved. Lisa happens across a ivy-covered building, where she looks through a window and sees Telly, busy setting out decorations for what appears to be George's funeral (which is bizarre in and of itself--why have a funeral for George at the estate?!). A wreath covers most of the corpse, but we can see the coffin it is lying in is too small for the body. Telly notices this as well, and unceremoniously breaks the corpse's ankles so that it now fits! He finally removes the wreath, revealing to us and Lisa that the body is instead that of mannequin man!

Lisa flees back tot house, running into mannequin man once again (WTF I say!). He again calls her Elena and professes his love. Lisa runs in horror back to the house. Meanwhile, the rich couple has had enough and is leaving. With the car running, Sophia climbs in first, and as Francis heads around the front of the car, Sophia seizes her chance and slides quickly over to the driver's seat, slams it in drive, and floors it. Francis barely has time to scream as the car plows over him. Slamming it into reverse, Sophia backs over Francis, then runs over him again, over and over, crushing his corpse further into the muddy ground. The effects used here are sublime.


Francis suffers what is known as the "Sicilian Divorce"

Sophia heads back into the house, where she is confronted by an angry Max, who uses a brass pole to club her to death in a rather brutal fashion! We cut to Telly who is in a room surrounded by mannequins. He's working to repair the mannequin man we keep seeing, which has a busted face. Lisa walks in and is suitably horrified once more. She leaves and runs into Max, who takes her up to the secret room behind the mirror. He tells her this is Elena's room, his former love. Pulling back the curtain, we and Lisa are horrified to discover that Elena is a skeleton, dressed in the low cut dress we saw Lisa in during her dream.


"Miss, does this rag smell like chloroform to you?"

Max drugs Lisa with a chloroformed rag, then puts her on the bed beside Elena's body. He strips Lisa, and Bava's camera gives us shy, partially obscured shots of Elke Sommer's awesome breasts and stomach. Seriously, I'd eat a plate lunch off her supple nude body. Max takes his own clothes off and begins kissing the passed-out Lisa. In an obvious nod to necrophilia, Max mounts Lisa and begins to go to town, but can't perform because he's crying like some sissy. Max flees in anguish, running to where his mother the Countess is. They get in a big argument, which culminates in Max stabbing his mother with a spiked candelabra.

Max flees the scene, heading to the dining room, where all of the visitors (and Elena's corpse) are arrayed around the table, mannequin-esque in their silence. They all stare at Max, who freaks the fuck out. Suddenly, his dead mother comes shambling into the room. Max backs away, and falls out a window, where he is impaled on top of an iron fence. The mother's body slumps over as Telly grabs her from behind, saying with a smirk "They just never stay put!"


"Spam for dinner, again?"

Lisa wakes up from her chloroform lunch. Still naked, she looks around to see that everything is grown up and decayed. The whole house and estate is covered in vines and decay. She dresses and walks out to the front gate, where a group of schoolgirls are tossing a ball around. The ball bounces over by Lisa, who picks it up and offers it to one of the girls. Another girl in the group tells her to stay back, that only ghosts live there, the house having been abandoned for over 100 years! The girls run away, leaving Lisa alone. She wanders away from the house and very quickly finds the same plaza where she started the film, under the Satanic fresco. She hails a cab, and asks the cabbie to take her to the airport.

Now in her seat on the plane, Lisa lays back and rests her eyes, weary from all that has happened to her. The plane takes off. She wakes up sometime later to find the plane deserted! Wandering around and finding no one, she heads upstairs to first class. Arrayed before her in various seats are the other guests of the house, all dead and mannequin-like! Seeing them stare at her with their dead eyes, she flees in horror, heading up to the pilots cabin. She knocks furiously on the door, pleading to be let in. The door unlatches and slowly swings open to reveal Telly Savalas, lolly in mouth, wearing a Captain's uniform! He turns slowly around and gives her that sly smirk and calls her "Elena." The camera pans back to Lisa, who is suddenly dressed in that low-cut dress from her dream. Her features are ashen and we see that she is now mannequin-esque as well.

Lisa has now become Elena. She slumps dead to the floor. Fin.

"What's that awful smell? Oh wait, it's me..."

Whew. Sorry to gush so much, dear friends, but I just couldn't help it! Bava's mastery of the camera was in full effect during this movie, demonstrating a filmmaker at the height of his powers. Bava's international success with Baron Blood had caused producer Alfredo Leone to give Bava carte blanche to make whatever film he wanted, and this was the result. Lisa and the Devil is like the journey into a twisted mind's nightmare, where nothing makes sense and we, along with the protagonist, are swept breathlessly along, not knowing what is coming next but unable to look away.

The movie ended up being a commercial bomb, despite getting critical praise at Cannes. This was mainly due to lack of distribution. Apparently theaters assumed the general public wasn't ready for necrophiliac overtones, a sweaty, lollipop sucking Telly Savalas, or the pert nipples of Elke Sommer. How little did they know! It was ultimately re-edited by Leone and new footage was cut in making it into a possession movie, turning it into a cheap attempt to capture some of the Exorcist hoopla at the time, and calling it House of Exorcism. The original Lisa and the Devil wouldn't be released until 2 years after Bava was called back to Hell.

To me, the movie was deliberately confusing, striving to make little sense to the viewer, who would be as off-put as the players in the movie. The film also dwelt heavy on decay, loss, and death. Bava's camera loved to linger on shots of dead bodies, or mannequins, or mannequins of dead bodies. It would appear to me that Lisa really is Elena, and that the whole trip to Spain is some sort of personal Hell that she is trapped in, forced to relive the events of her life over and over. One can easily pretend that in that final shot of Elena/Lisa slumping against the wall of the plane would then be cut to her arriving anew in Spain to see the fresco, the cycle starting over.

If I could, I would invent a new rating system just to give this movie a higher rating than others. Wait a fucking minute, I'm the Duke of DVD! I indeed have that power (along with the ability to drop a woman's panties at 30 paces, and to consume enough spiced rum to kill a mule and still be able to operate a motor coach). So, in the wake of that revelation, I give Lisa and the Devil 4 Fucking Thumbs Up! This film deserves to be in the ultimate pantheon of MAD movie greats.


"Who loves ya, baby?!"

MORE MADNESS...

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

The Manitou (1978): or, Native-American Exorcist is a Pain the Neck


The capsule review: Oscar-nominated Hollywood legend Tony Curtis and Susan "Daughter of Lee" Strasberg fight forces of ancient evil manifested as a rapidly growing tumor on Susan's neck, which turns out to be the fetus of a 400-year-old Indian Shaman. Fellow Oscar nominees Burgess Meredith and Ann Sothern also star in this final film from the director of Asylum of Satan and Three on a Meathook.

Do I really need to go on?

Okay, I will.

Based on the 1975 best-selling novel by Graham Masterton, 1978's The Manitou is something of a Mad Movie Miracle. How was horror/exploitation filmmaker extraordinaire William Girdler, whose other output includes the demon-possession/blaxploitation opus Abby and killer omnivore epic Grizzly, able to assemble such a cast of Hollywood heavy hitters for a mashup of The Exorcist, Rosemary's Baby, and The Omen, with a healthy dollop of Dr. Who and Luigi Cozzi's Starcrash thrown in during the slam-bang finale? The world may never know--but that mystery should only intensify our gratitude for this film's existence.

I appreciate a slow-burn character-establishing build-up as much as the next guy, but there's also something to be said for a movie that drops the laundry and gets right down to business, and the latter is Girdler's approach here. We open on a series of x-ray photos showing a strange growth on the neck of Karen Tandy (Strasberg). Drs. Hughes (Jon Cedar) and McEnvoy (Paul Mantee) discuss the case in serious tones--apparently the "tumor" appeared only a few days previous, and has been growing at an alarming rate. The x-rays show not cancerous cells, but tissue, fluid, and even bone, flummoxing the specialists. "I've been through every chemo book," Dr. McEnvoy sighs. "I wrote the books," Dr. Hughes shoots back, "And I still don't know what the hell it is." Subscribing to the "When in Doubt, Cut It Out" philosophy, Hughes schedules an emergency WTF-ectomy.

Not comforted by her doctor's vague reassurances and in despair at her shocking lack of back-story, Karen looks up former flame Harry Erskine (Curtis), a tarot-reading charlatan who wears a wizard robe and fake pornstache to bilk wealthy old widows of their hard-won inheritances. Ever the trouper, Curtis really throws himself into the performance, wringing all the eccentricity he can out of his new-agey pronouncements, and every drop of comedy possible out of his post-work disco dancing to his reel-to-reel hi-fi. Words really cannot due justice to the beauty of his performance here.


Get down, Tony!

After a long stroll through the streets of San Francisco ends with the former lovers in bathrobes back at Harry's apartment (I can only hope the lost love-scene footage, like Curtis's famously ambiguous scenes in Spartacus, will someday resurface and be restored for the NC-17 special edition), Harry hears Kathy mumbling a strange phrase in her sleep. No, it's not "No more wet celery and flying helmet!"; rather it's "Pana Witchi Salatu," a Native American phrase we later learn means "My death foretells my return!" When an elderly client of Harry's starts chanting the same phrase the next day, then levitates down the hallway and tosses herself energetically down the stairs to her death (breaking every bannister support on the way down), the mendacious mystic starts to wonder what his bulbous-naped booty call might have gotten him into.

Back at the hospital, Dr. Hughs tries to remove the lump, which he now admits "you could almost describe as a fetus!", but Karen goes all Regan MacNeill on his ass, causing him to cut his own wrist with the scalpel and forcing the cancellation of the procedure. Taking the (running) bull by the neck, Harry summons some friends for an honest-to-goodness seance (Sothern and Stella Stevens, who apparently taught Erskine all he knows), which summons a cigar-store Indian head out of the table's surface before ending in spinning chandeliers and French-door explosions, just as cinematic seances almost always do. Clues thus gained lead them to a book about Native American folklore containing the story of a medicine man who reincarnated himself through a lump on a young squaw's forearm. Could the same squamous squidginess be afoot in the City?

When I hold a seance, I usually hope to get a little head under the table.

This leads Curtis to the author of the book Dr. Snow (Burgess Meredith in an endearlingly absent-minded, doddering turn, and an even more endearing Colonel Sanders beard), who translates Karen's sweet nothings for them and confirms that they're dealing with a powerful ancient medicine man, whose soul or "manitou" never dies but is constantly reborn, growing in power each time. As to how to stop it, Dr. Snow basically tells them they're fucked--unless they can find a real live medicine man to help them undo that bad magic.

"I crap bigger than you!"

A quick flight to South Dakota and Curtis is talking to John Singing Rock (a frankly excellent Michael Ansara, who delivers some astoundingly silly lines with such dignity and conviction you nearly forget to laugh). Initially unwilling to help "Mr. White Man" due to the whole genocide/land-stealing thing, John relents when Curtis admits he wouldn't help the Indian if their positions were reversed. His price: $100,000 for the Indian Education Foundation, and a couple of plugs of tobacco. Oh, John Singing Rock, you are so wise and colorful and not at all cliched!

At the hospital things have gone from worse to WTF, as Dr. Hughes ill-advisedly tries to remove the fetus using a high-tech laser scalpel that looks like it's on loan from a Pink Panther film. Unfortunately, as John Singing Rock informs them too late, all things have manitous--rocks, trees, even machinery, like the LASER--and a powerful medicine man can call upon these non-human souls to do his bidding. What does that mean in layman's terms? It means the operating room turns into the opening scene from Star Wars, with the powerful laser scalpel blasting lights, burning trails in the wall, and maybe even killing a couple of people, all while Karen stands in the corner laughing. Hang on, folks, it gets better.

That's a precise surgical instrument, people.

Once John gets Karen to himself, he becomes a Native-American Father Merrin and questions the demon inside her, learning the intruder is Misquamacus, the most powerful, eeevil medicine man who ever lived, a man who in his 3rd or 4th incarnation could move mountains and send pebbles up the asses of his enemies on a whim. One glimmer of hope is the fact that modern technology seems to bother the 400-year old medicine man--the x-rays cause him pain (Dr. Hughes helpfully explains that every time they take an x-ray, some cells die, and in a fetus this could cause all manner of deformity).

Where the movie goes from there is so awesomely, amazingly MAD it can only be detailed in bullet-list form:

  • The x-rays have indeed interfered with Misquamacus's medicine, as he emerges from his birth-sack on Karen's back (in an effectively icky sequence) as a long-haired, wooden-faced dwarf!
"FEELINGS! Whoa-whoa-whoa, FEELINGS!"

  • Misquamacus summons "the manitou of the Flesh" to strip the skin from one orderly's body, later resurrecting him as a red-painted zombie to terrorize the rest of the staff. Later he summons the Manitou of Cold to turn the entire hospital floor into an icy wasteland, complete with Star Trek-level papier-mache icicles. A flash-frozen nurse gets shattered in the battle, her head snapping off and flying through a window!
  • Misquamacus summons "The Great Old One," the Native-American Lucifer, to do battle with his foes; TGOO takes the form of a double-exposure of a man in a lizard mascot suit, who bites off Dr. Hughes' hand!
  • John and Harry convince Dr. Hughes to focus all the hospital's high-tech computers (complete with flashing jewel-lights and reel-to-reel data stores) in one energy surge, hoping the machine manitous will help them send the medicine man back to where he came from. Unfortunately the surge causes Dr. Hughes to explode like a meat-filled firecracker!
"I'm as surprised as you are, folks."
  • The final battle takes place in a Dr. Who starfield, wherein Harry's love for Karen channels the machine manitous to her aid, leading to a Starcrash laser battle for her soul! Seriously.
For all Girdler's low-budget pedigree, he actually makes a fairly well-crafted film here, at least on the technical level. Interesting low- and high-angle shots, a non-stationary camera (frequent but not distracting uses of tracks and zooms), and some striking visual compositions go a long way toward keeping the viewer's interest, which is good, since certain sections of the movie admittedly tend to drag. The sets and settings are all lovely, and the shots of San Francisco simply gorgeous. Girdler had come a long way from Asylum of Satan--unfortunately the director died in a tragic helicopter accident before he could see his best film on the big screen.

But story-wise, there's no two ways about it, friends and parishioners--The Manitou is a megadose of movie madness from one end to the other. Watching Tony Curtis and the other talented actors struggle with the cheesy dialogue ("Harry, you don't call [supreme deity] Gichi Manitou!" "Oh yeah? Well he's going to ge a person-to-person call from me. COLLECT!") and the challenge of taking it all seriously gave me no end of joy, and the slam-bang finale just piled on the nuttiness until my cup was overflowing onto my lap tray. I don't know if the wild plot is entirely faithful to Masterton's novel, or if Girdler added his own amazing flourishes of insanity, but this is definitely one of the MADDEST stories I've seen in a while, and it never failed to entertain.

Susan Strasberg in Barbarella 2: 20 Years Later

Dwarf sorcerors, laser battles, shameless Exorcist rip-offs and has-to-be-made-up American Indian folklore, plus Tony Curtis in a wizard robe...really, you couldn't ask for more. In short, The Manitou is highly recommended, and garners an easy 3 Thumbs from your ever-lovin' Vicar.

Also recommended: the excellent and exhaustive website WilliamGirdler.com, where webmistress Patty Breen has compiled with loving care the definitive retrospective of Mr. Girdler's career and work. Don't ask why--just go and enjoy a fan's-eye-view of Girdler cinema. Tell her the Vicar sent you!

A few more images from The Manitou (1978):

Attempted Nape

"Hello, is this my agent? Maury, you are so fucking fired."


"Forget the tarot cards. Come fiddle with my planchette, IYKWIM."


Tony Curtis in Parasite


He represents the Fuck You Up League


PEW!



MORE MADNESS...

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Nurse Sherri (1978): or, This Nurse Possessed


What is it about the 70s nurses' uniforms that just exuded sex? The easily unzippable white minidress, just barely covering the tops of those coquettish white stockings, promising but not quite delivering a glimpse of garter belt? The traditional cap, clearly influenced by that sexiest of sexy-stern headwear, the nun's wimple? Was it the tied-up hair, ready to be whipped down when the doctor was away, loosing the wildcat that the professional woman must keep in check? Was it the clipboard? The horn-rimmed glasses? The sensible shoes?

Whatever it was, shlockmeister Al Adamson recognized the potential in the figure of the Woman of Healing, and in a your-chocolate's-in-my-peanut-butter moment, put it together with the horror rage of the day, possession. The result: Adamson's 1978 grindhouse cheapie Nurse Sherri, aka The Possession of Nurse Sherri, aka Terror Hospital. Hoping to cash in on the likes of The Exorcist, Carrie, and Ruby (all of which are name-dropped in the largely unrepresentative trailer), Adamson pulled out all the stops and threw the throttle open. But did the crash result in a delicious Reese's Cup, or something more sinister, like a Mr. Goodbar?

After some incongruously sci-fi opening titles (glowing letters and heavy theremin music reminiscent of the Outer Limits or Dark Shadows theme), we find ourselves in the presumably Californian desert, where a small cult is doing its cultish bidness under the guidance of spiritual leader Reanhauer (Gary Busey-lookalike Bill Roy). The cult is indeed a motley bunch--though Reanhauer and his right-hand man Stevens (J.C. Wells) wear business-casual sport coats and ties, other cult members model everything from hippie-print muscle tees to construction-worker chic to a rather amazingly colorful flower-print muumuu...which all goes to show how people from all walks of life have fallen under Reanhauer's hypnotic spell.

The main item on the cultish agenda just now is to heal one of their members of his diabetes using only their faith and the guru's limitless powers--a project Reanhauer insists is going well, despite the fact that the boy in question is three weeks dead! Stevens is having a crisis of conscience ("You convinced that boy and that boy's mother he didn't have to take insulin to save his life!" "He doesn't!" Reanhauer replies. "Not NOW he doesn't!" Stevens shoots back), but the cult leader puts it all down to a poisonous lack of faith and expels Stephens from the fold. When the nearly-rotten corpse seems to move during a particularly intense chant-o-thon, Reanhauer experiences such a rush of personal vindication that he collapses on the spot with a massive coronary!

Witchcult Today

Rushed to Our Lady of Cinderblocks City Hospital, the cult leader is toiled over by a group of crack surgeons and one extremely well-endowed nurse. It's not quite clear at this point what happens to the old man, though, as we soon start following Nurse Sherri (Jill Jacobson) and her day-to-day life around the wards. This consists mainly of flirting with her surgeon boyfriend Peter (Geoffrey Land), who seems to get off on sneaking up and shoving biohazard-encrusted gloves in his girlfriend's face. (Sample flirtatious dialogue: "You look so nice when you shake like that!" "Oh, go take a shower in formaldehyde!") She also passes the hours making innuendo-laden small talk with coworkers Tara (blaxploitation star Marilyn Joi) and Beth (Mary Kay "No I Didn't Sock It to the Harper Valley PTA" Pass).

Nurse Tara is our secondary focal point in the flick, as she develops a love/hate/REALLY LOVE relationship with NFL star Marcus Washington (Prentiss Moulden), whose free agent prospects have been lessened by his catching two eyes-full of windshield glass in a freak car accident. While Tara struggles to get through his wall of self-pity and crushed dreams via tales of her own super-fandom, Marcus can't seem to tumble to the fact that she's not a red-haired blue-eyed white woman, leading to some near hilarity and Tara exasperatedly labeling him a "bigot." They get over it later, however, and pair up as American viewers in the 70s had come to expect thanks to The Isaac Rule.*

*Established by the influential TV series "The Love Boat," The Isaac Rule (named for Ted Lange's character, Isaac the Bartender) stated that if an attractive woman of color boarded The Love Boat, it meant Isaac (the sole African American on staff) would be involved in a romantic subplot that week. The non-Love Boat corollary held that whenever two (non-villain) people of color of opposite sexes appeared in a movie of the era, they either were a couple, or would become one over the course of the narrative.

Love is Blind, and Needs a Fresh Bedpan

Home after a grueling shift taking care of the two patients the hospital is currently tending to, Sherri stretches out on the bed to relax, giving viewers a sense of the truly epic proportions of actress Jacobsen's rack. (Unfortunately a sense is all we get, iykwim.) As she drifts toward sleep, Adamson pulls the trigger on the movie's minuscule special effects budget, as an evil spirit invades Sherri's bedroom in the form of a cloud of low-lying disco sparkles! Soon a cloud of green, badly animated gas forms around the Spangles du Mal, which drifts over to the bed and covers Sherri's body, pulling her robe open only enough to see some nicely shaped gams. When the cloud dissipates and Sherri awakes to display some sparkling eye shadow, we know she has been fully suffused with gassy eeevil essence.

Al Adamson makes some questionable directorial choices here, not the least of which is withholding information from the audience until several scenes AFTER it becomes important. For instance, we don't find out for another half hour or so that Reanhauer refused care once he regained consciousness ("The powers of SCIENCE are FINITE! Mine are LIMITLESS!"), but that the chief of surgery opted to operate anyway, at which point the cult leader expired on the operating table. We also learn at that point via flashback that Reanhauer had struck up a strange relationship with Sherri, telling her she was "the one" or some other mumbo jumbo meant to explain why she'd be the target of his post-mortem attentions. At any rate, it comes out later that the green mist is Reanhauer's spirit, possessing Sherri to get revenge on his enemies from beyond the grave.

Possessed by the Need to Boogie

These enemies include the chief of surgery who put him on the slab in the first place, whom Sherri catches on his day off at the Bar None Ranch. I'd be remiss not to mention the surgeon's AWESOME cowboy attire, from his bright red, clean-pressed shirt to an UH-MAZING cowboy hat of the sort I've only seen on singing cowboys in 1940s musicals. The doc catches a pitchfork through the spine from Nurse Sherri, and she makes it back to the hospital with barely a speck of horse manure on her clean white shoes.

Also on the enemies list for some reason never made clear is Marcus Washington--but as luck would have it, the half-back's grandma was a voodoo priestess, and gave him a silver bracelet with the power to ward off evil spirits. Thwarted, Reanhauer turns his noncorporeal attentions to Stevens, who's become a drunken hobo since the cult went belly-up and is now pestering Peter for the location of Reanhauer's grave, so he can exhume the cult leader and burn his body, thus putting an end to his powers, somehow. Stevens manages to get the info (after a car chase/interrogation in which Stevens jumps out of a cliff-bound car Dick Tracy-style at the last minute!) and tosses a sheet-wrapped body into a smelting furnace downtown, which is clearly his only corpse-immolating option. Unfortunately in his drunken stupor he's dug up the wrong body, and takes a ghost-assisted nose-dive into the smelter himself, which given his blood alcohol level allows him to go out in a blaze of Mad Dog 20/20.

That Ain't Hay

Meanwhile Nurse Beth has been putting the "grrr" in "caregiver," applying bedside manor of the 70s porn sort to fat, hairy hypochondriac Charlie (Erwin Fuller) for no good reason other than the well-established nymphomaniacal tendencies of all women in the nursing field. (Again, we get nothing but innuendo and a naked back here; the only woman who didn't insist on a non-nudity clause in her contract was Joi, apparently, who displays her impressive comfort pillows in a throwaway "changing out of my uniform" scene that I, for one, am glad they didn't throw away.) Alerted to the danger to Sherri's soul by Marcus's inherited voodoo lore, Tara and Beth decide to find Reanhauer's grave themselves, dig him up, and roast some wienies over his corpse. But can they do it before their possessed workmate makes Peter pay the piper?

Nurse Sherri is a movie that puts me in a strange though not unique position review-wise: I have a great time talking about all the wild and crazy stuff that happens in the movie, which might give readers an inflated idea of how much I enjoyed the movie as it was actually rolling across my screen. Put simply, it's NOT a good film. The aforementioned narrative shuffling is a real problem, and robs the proceedings of the already small amount of menace they might have had if things had been presented in the order they happened. The acting is high school play level at best--Geoffrey Land as Dr. Peter is particularly atrocious--although Joi acquits herself the best of anyone, and Bill Roy is entertaining enough as the scenery-feasting villain. The effects are laughable, the gore mostly of the "you got some ketchup on your face there" variety, and certain plot elements just don't make a lick of sense, even considering the budget. (For example, a body pops up out of nowhere in Sherri's apartment just before the Final Confrontation, and I'm damned if I know who she was supposed to be our how she ended up dead behind the sofa.) Despite Adamson's rather lengthy filmography by this point, the term that kept springing to mind as I watched was "fucking amateurish."

The Romance is Gone

Still, if you like sexy nurses (who doesn't?) and low-grade cinematic cheese (ditto?), have a thing for possession flicks or a fetish for super-ugly 70s wallpaper, you might get a few yuks out of Nurse Sherri. As for me, I'll settle on a slightly more entertaining than average 1.75 thumbs and call it a day. And for all my diabetic parishioners, remember: it's okay to have faith in your local cult leader, but you might want to keep monitoring those glucose levels just in case. Believe me, I know.

A few more images from Nurse Sherri (1978):

Sherri and the Girls

"So, have you ladies had your yearly exams?"


"Say...whatever DID happen to Randolph Scott?"


Not covered by his HMO


There is no escape from the Horror of 70s Wallpaper

One too many Ho-Hos


MORE MADNESS...

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Exorcismo (1975), Or The Power of Naschy Compels You!


*Naschy Week 2009 continues with the Duke’s take on one of Naschy’s less action-packed but no less thrilling offerings, Exorcismo. Can the Duke stand the sight of Naschy dressed in a priest outfit without his nipples exploding with delight?! Let’s find out!*


Dearest friends, I bid thee well met! It is I, the Duke of DVD, once more launching myself like a crazed Mongolian horseman into the fray, slaying cinematic foes left and right before finally leaping from my charger to penetrate the nubile princess of celluloid awesome. This dark evening, let us converse once again about the man, the legend, that brought the Vicar and I together: Jacinto Molina, aka Paul Naschy, aka Captain Awesome, aka The Spanish Pec-Monster.

The year is 1975: a young Duke of DVD nuzzles at the teat of his mother, an ill-tempered jackal, and Paul Naschy is looking for a new movie project to helm. Friedkin’s The Exorcist had reached the highest levels of commercial success for films featuring crucifix masturbation a few years previous, so the earth was ripe for a Spanish version. Penning the story and screenplay himself once again, Paul claims that he wrote Exorcismo years previous to The Exorcist. Who are we to question Jacinto, mere mortals we? We do not. Let us just say that The Exorcist obviously had influence over this film, and that it is at least a worthy homage to Friedkin’s effort. There are striking similarities, but we can ignore them.

Ignore them we shall! Cinematic plagiarism or no, this is a Naschy film, so we must cast aside our inhibitions, as well as our clothes, and bask in the divine glory. Our film opens with, what else, a Satanic ritual! A scantily clad priestess carries a golden chalice around letting hippies imbibe what is no doubt a liquid rife with Devil Juice™. Two of the hippie youth are the stunning Leila (played by the smoking Grace Mills), and the bearded, slightly geeky Richard.

"Deep, Duke! I can almost feel it beneath my sternum!"

After getting drunk on Lucifer’s Own Spunk Lite™, they head off in their car, with a tipsy Leila behind the wheel. Burping up sperm-scented air, she hiccups, swerves to miss a car, and careens off a cliff. The effects here impress immediately as an obviously pilotless car rolls down a hill. Apparently this is before seat belts, because both Richard and Leila are tossed from the auto. Richard rushes to Leila’s side to see if she’s ok. She’s apparently well enough to try and twist Richard’s head off! Fainting before she can complete the effort, Richard takes her to the hospital.

At the hospital, Richard is joined by Leila’s brother John and her mother Patricia. Everyone notices how odd Leila is acting, in particular John, who seems to immediately suspect something that only a priest could cure. Very quickly, John sets up a meeting with Father Adrian Dunning, played of course by Naschy, who is sporting a full beard. With just a little silver in his hair, he pulls off the rakishly handsome priest with quiet dignity.

Paul helps a praying mantis decapitate her mate.

John shows up at the church and is quickly ushered into an office by Paul. John explains how his sister’s demeanor has completely changed, how she is offensive and foul. Father Dunning assures him it is probably just the result of the wreck, or perhaps the folly of youth, and certainly the family shouldn’t leap to the conclusion that she’s possessed by Satan Himself. The Father agrees to a personal meeting with Leila, though, at the family estate, just to make sure.

"Greetings friends. I don't always drink the rendered fat of an uncut youth, but when I do, I drink it from a beaker."

The next day, Udo the butler/chauffeur is dispatched to pick up the Father in the family Rolls. Udo, played by Louis Induni, is a freakishly large, totally bald, man who towers over everyone. Why anyone would want such a giant bull of a dude for a chauffeur is beyond me, unless he also doubles as a bodyguard. There’s no indication of this, but Udo’s role in the film expands as we shall see.


Paul finally admits to his affair with the Vicar.

Meanwhile, everyone is gathered around the pool, Leila looking scrumptious in her red bikini. Father Adrian meets with Patricia first, Leila’s mother, who expresses her consternation with Leila’s behavior. The Father meets Leila’s sister Deborah, and then talks with Leila herself. She seems fine, and introduces Father Dunning to the family German Sheppard, a dog named Bork.

Seriously. Bork. The greatest name for a dog in domesticated canine history. Bork.

Bork, people.

Ahem. Anyway, as Father Dunning takes his leave to go chat with John in the greenhouse, we cut to said greenhouse to find John in the middle of giving a good rogering to a married woman whom he’s been seeing for a while apparently. They finish up right before the priest arrives, so Paul is spared the sight of a Barry Gibb clone muff-diving someone. *shudder* The mind reels.


"I've got the Night Fever, baby."

The two have a talk about Leila, and Naschy assures John that he thinks Leila will be fine. He takes his leave, but unfortunately for everyone else, Leila is just getting warmed up! A housekeeper finds John stuffed in a closet, his head twisted around 180 degrees! Once again the Father is called upon to investigate. He heads to Richard’s apartment, and as he’s going up the stairs, he’s rudely pushed down by a person dressed all in black and wearing an admittedly scary Devil mask.


Black cape: $25. Scary Devil Mask: $15. Scaring the pantaloons off the Duke: Priceless.

Father Adrian quickly discovers that the hapless Richard has had his head twisted around as well! Is no head safe from twisting in his town? Not if Leila has anything to say about it! Later, it’s Leila’s birthday and a full party is in swing. A birthday cake is brought out, and something (perhaps the smell of Naschy’s musk) triggers an outburst from Leila. She accuses the party goers of all being “asses” and rushes into a nearby room, slamming the door. Naschy goes to comfort her, but instead finds her writhing on the floor, bellowing like a newborn calf.

"No, Vicar, not the whip again!"

The next day, the police finally get involved with the head-twisting murders. Father Adrian works closely with the lead Inspector, who initially thinks Paul might have something to do with the killings, due to their ritualistic nature and the fact that the Father has studied Satanic ritual for so long. The Inspector has a great line here where he says that the head twisting death was “employed by Satan Himself to take care of witches in His service who displeased Him!” I’m not sure where they got this from, but I like it!

Meanwhile, Leila’s mother Patricia is attacked by an invisible force and once again Father Dunning is called in. Does this guy ever sleep? No! Naschy needs no sleep. Turns out, Leila is missing. Her sister has some suspicions as to where she has gone, and so her and Father Adrian take off to an abandoned tower. Descending into its bowels, they find a full blown Satanic Festival going on! Euro-titty abounds as Leila lies naked as a living altar before dancing, hooded figures. As Paul watches, no doubt fully erect, Udo leaps from the shadows and attacks!


Naschy's version of Two Girls, One Cup, and One Gimp.

It seems that Udo all along has fostered Leila’s growing Satanic leanings, and probably in hopes of giving her a hot beef injection, he’s been watching over her, and in fact has been murdering for her--first John, for getting to suspicious, and then Richard, for having put his filthy hands on Leila. The police show up and drag Udo off for interrogation, which goes badly as Udo frees himself and leaps to his death out a nearby window!

Breath Play, the Naschy Way

Leila is taken back home, where her mother and sister watch in horror as her face transforms and she is in full pea-soup-vomiting mode. One final time, Father Dunning is called in to take care of things. Dressed in full priestly regalia, Paul cuts a striking figure as he faces down the possessed girl. Throwing holy water hither and yon, he begins the rites, but unfortunately forgets to lock the bedroom door, as Leila jumps up and rushes out. Pursuing her, Naschy catches her on the top of the stairs, causing both of them to fall in a wad, tumbling down to the bottom.

"Excuse me, I asked for a 'Duke facial', not the acid facial."

Just as Father Adrian completes the rites of exorcism, the unlucky dog Bork wanders into the room. The demon/Devil seizes the opportunity and jumps straight into poor Bork! Growling like a pack of Hell hounds, Bork attacks Naschy, biting his arm and clawing his face! Paul seizes a nearby fireplace poker and beats the dog with it before finally running it through! The demon, lacking a nearby vessel that isn’t a priest, is beaten. Leila moans and opens her eyes, apparently cured and none the worse for wear, despite having fallen down 2 flights of stairs. We freeze-frame on her angelic face. The end.


"No Bork, Noooooooo!

I’m of two minds about this film. On one hand, it's Naschy, so of course it is great. Paul's ever-present aplomb is in full effect here, especially in the film's climax, where his sweaty brow, piercing gaze, and overall screen presence really shine. On the other hand, this movie is fairly boring. Pretty much 90% of the movie's runtime is filled with talking. Father Dunning talking to John the brother. Father Dunning talking to Leila. Father Dunning stabbing a dog. Ok, not that last one, but you get the idea. Even the head-twisting deaths aren't on film.


"I also play the maracas."

As a take on The Exorcist, though, it is fairly well-realized, but unfortunately other than just throwing a tantrum, Leila really doesn't exhibit much in the way of possession until the final 10 minutes. The movie definitely could have used more Devilish antics, that's for sure. It is high on the Eurobabe quotient, though, which instantly adds at least one Thumb Up. We even get a hint of lesbonic activities as Leila is being used as an altar. These scenes, while titillating, are too brief and too few to really overcome the slowness of the plot, though.

In the end, I would have to give Exorcismo an unfortunate 2 Thumbs Up. I call this normally good score "unfortunate" because Exorcismo could have been so much more. It has plenty of hot women, it has Paul Naschy in a priest outfit throwing holy water, but the movie is weighed down by the long passages of dialogue. The investigation of religious happenings, and also the subject of class, are very much explored, in ways other Naschy writing efforts have in the past, but I couldn't stop myself from wishing that the movie had contained more than 15 minutes of awesome action.

Nevertheless, I must insist that all of our readers hunt up a copy of this film and see for yourself, as ANY Naschy film is worth watching. Once again, Naschy's magnetism and skill expand past the tight confines of a small budget to elevate not just Spanish horror cinema, but all of film.


Pure Awesome.

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