EMPUSA (2010): or, Naschy's Final Bow

A little more than five years ago, the Duke of DVD and I started this blog with a review of Vengeance of the Zombies (1973). That film was and is a perfect example of everything Mad Mad Mad Mad Movies has sought to celebrate, a little-known slice of insane and deliriously entertaining cinema that brought us so much joy, we just had to share it with the world. It was also the first movie we had ever seen featuring the legendary hunk of monstrous manliness that is Jacinto Molina, better known to us all as Paul "Fucking" Naschy. Over half a decade and more than 350 reviews, Paul has been the patron saint of our site, inspiring us to continue our search for treasure in the forgotten realms of b-movie madness, and providing an immovable foundation on which we have tried to build a fitting tribute. His frequent appearances here only give a small glimpse of the wonder he has afforded us, the joy he has so generously given.

So it's only fitting that, in this belated 5th Anniversary Post, I come back to the man who started it all. And ironic perhaps that I do so with the film that, in a way, ended it all: Paul's very last starring role in a feature film, Empusa (2010). I admit, going into this flick, I was a little worried--I'd been waiting for this since August of 2007, two years before Naschy's death, when I heard that principal photography was finished and post-production had begun. As the months passed, my excitement flowed and ebbed, and now at last here it was, ready to be watched. Could it possibly live up to my anticipation? Would it be a fitting end to my idol's magnificent career? Would it deliver the madness and joy I craved, or would it fall flat? Would Empusa (perish the thought) disappoint?

Ah, Paul, fogive me. I should never have doubted you.

J&B: the Breakfast of Champions

 In a beautiful resort city somewhere on the sunny coast of Spain, retiree Abel (Naschy, whose long flowing wig and array of do-rags tread the line between ridiculous and awesome) lives a simple, quiet life. He spends his days walking the beach with his fisherman friend Victor (Antonio Mayans) and his nights between the legs of innkeeper/saloon girl Natalia (María Jesús Solina). He writes about his avocational occult researches, socializes with local aristocrat Baron Ulrich (Paco Racionero),  takes recreational barbiturates and consumes gallons of undiluted absinthe. You know, the simple pleasures.

His peaceful routine is shattered, however, when one day he and Victor almost literally stumble over a grisly discovery on the beach: the severed right hand of a young woman, bearing a very strange wrist tattoo. Over the strenuous objections of his friend, Abel takes the hand back to his apartment and sticks it in the fridge, for...um, further research or something. Abel promises Victor he will return the hand to the beach in a couple of days--three, tops!--and then they can call the police.

Even Paul's porn is classy

A quick Internet search later, Abel has confirmed his initial suspicion--that the hand belongs to a victim of the Empusa, a class of demons in Ancient Greek mythology that are like vampires, only meaner. These exclusively female creatures have none of the traditional weaknesses of folkloric vampires, and satisfy their unholy appetites on the blood of their male and female lovers. Their surviving victims thereafter become "second-hand vampires," which are the garlic-fearing, sunlight-shunning, stake-hating sorts of folks we're all much more familiar with. Which makes sense, you'll agree. Shaken by this discovery--though not so much so you'd notice--Abel takes the hand back to the beach and tosses it into the ocean, forgetting his promise to inform the authorities.

Sadly, this is not the end of the horror--a few days later the police discover a nude body on the beach, a young Nordic tourist who coincidentally is missing her right hand. Not long after, Victor and a friend go squid-fishing only to pull in another mutilated body in their nets. A couple of seashell-seeking daytrippers are attacked Alfred Hitchcock-style by a flock of seagulls (vampires:bats::seagulls:empusa, apparently). And while dining with the Baron, Abel gorges himself on all-you-can-eat shrimp while the aristocrat is assassinated by a steak knife-wielding Belgian--though apparently this has nothing to do with the empusa. Just a value-added bloodbath.

"Got any Chapstick? Just put it on my bill."

Meanwhile, Abel's social life has taken a turn for the "Wow!" While lunching in town, the old Lothario strikes up a conversation with a striking, flame-haired young woman, Christabel (Cristina Carrión), who just so happens to be of Greco-Hungarian extraction. Despite having discovered evidence of a Greek demonic invasion mere days earlier, Abel sees nothing strange in a Hellenic hottie making eyes at a man three times her age--because fuck you, I'm Naschy, that's why! He meets Christabel later frolicking nude in the waves with a female friend, who seems similarly drawn to the irresistible Molina Man-Musk™. A day or so later, he meets yet another interested party--the absolutely smokin' hawt Laura De Pedro--who is looking for some silver artifacts that are rumored to be in the possession of the deceased Baron. With all the new women in his life Abel has little time for Natalia and Victor, the latter of whom just can't shake the feeling that the hand they found and the recent death-storm raining bodies on the beach might have something in common.

Of course Victor's not wrong--Christabel and her ever-expanding army of Eurobabes are indeed a pack of empusa on the loose-a, sucking their way through the local populace while Christabel prepares to battle with their queen Lilith (yes, THAT Lilith...apparently Greek and Jewish mythology have significant overlap) for empusian supremacy. She thinks Abel might be the wild card she needs to overthrow the ancient queen, but of course once she reveals her plan, the old fox is none too keen on helping her. Maybe she and her bffs shouldn't have killed Victor in a blood-fueled frenzy before asking for help? No use second guessing, I guess.

With vengeance on his mind, Abel sets out to bring down Lilith and the other empusa, getting posthumous help from Victor, who appears to him as a rotting corpse a la American Werewolf in London. But what can an old man do against an army of deathless vampire-demons and their ancient queen? Can he find a way to defeat them before they take over all of coastal Spain? Will aged justice prevail over nubile evil?

Puh-leez.

No, thank you.

In addition to being his last starring vehicle, Empusa also marks Naschy's last writing and directorial credit, and as he often does, here he adopts the "everything and the kitchen sink" approach that makes so many of his movies such wild, delirious rides. Obscure ancient mythology, literary and cinematic allusions, European folklore and good old-fashioned exploitation all rub together and produce a friction that is as delicious as it is confusing. Naschy was never afraid to throw everything at the wall just to see the splatter-pattern, and his last effort is no less fearless in this regard than his first.

It's also, believe it or not, extremely funny--and in this case, that's by design. Yes, parishioners, Empusa is not simply a monster movie: it's an all-out horror/comedy! Naschy plays Abel as an absolutely unrepentant rascal, and his chemistry with Mayans as the perpetually exasperated Victor is the stuff of comedy gold. There were many laugh-out-loud scenes for me, including but not limited to:

• Abel's ravenous obliviousness as the Baron regales him with tales of his ancestors' outrageous sexual exploits ("She dyed her pubic hair every color of the rainbow!") before the Baron's hilarious dying soliloquy (his last words compare his gaping abdominal wound to "a waiting, open c****!")
• A police inspector who reflexively punches out a corpse
• Victor communicating with Abel from beyond the grave...via FAX.
• An elderly priest, cop, and fisherman discussing their new status as "second-class vampires"

Viagra: Let Us Put an Epidemic in Your Pants™

• An absolutely hysterical sequence where Abel tries several traditional methods of repelling vampires on the empusa, with hilariously ineffective results
• Naschy learning the hard way that you shouldn't buy crossbows over the Internet

That's not to say the movie is perfect, however. While the women playing the empusa are all completely gorgeous and frequently naked (zang), as actresses they are almost uniformly terrible. I guess it's too much to ask for a modern equivalent of Julia Saly or Helga Liné, but still--ugh. The lone exception is Laura De Pedro as Lilith, who actually seems to know what she's doing and thus comes off as the best actress in the piece.

And also the sexiest.
(photo credit empusafilm.blogspot.com)

The score is either questionable or hysterical depending on your taste, veering from melodramatic orchestral swells to Danny Elfman-style whimsy with reckless abandon. The editing is a trouble spot too--transitions step on dialog, gaps in coverage are filled with random scenes of archaeological digs (?), and a couple of kills--one in a back alley by an empusa, and another in an amusement park spookhouse (??) by Lilith herself--pop in and out of the narrative with such disregard for coherence and continuity that I almost got whiplash.

I found it interesting that with the exception of the monsters, almost the entire cast was made up of actors of more advanced years. I don't think I saw a single human character under the age of 50 who had more than a few lines, which is extremely unusual and a little refreshing in our youth-obsessed culture. However, perhaps as a result of this (and perhaps as a result of the film's budget) there were noticeably few "action" scenes--in fact, a great deal of the film's runtime involves two people sitting in a cafe talking, which may be trying to some viewers' patience. The one real special-effects scene is a standout though, with Lilith in her true form--a nicely grotesque mixture of green scaly demon-beast and hot nude Eurobabe--chowing down on a hapless victim.

Literature: Bridging the Generation Gap since 1955

I would say that whether you enjoy Empusa or not will depend very largely on whether you are already a Naschy fan. To be very honest, I can't see someone unfamiliar with his work watching the film and getting much out of it. But for me (and for the Duke, judging by his chortles and snorts as we watched), it was entertaining, joyful, and a heck of a lot of fun. It's not the best of Naschy's movies by any means, but neither is it the worst. It has the kitchen-sink mentality and the heedless creative energy that make all of Naschy's films such a treat for his fans. And best of all, it has Naschy, his wry wit, his love of all things horror, and the boundless childlike joy that no film could fully contain and no amount of years could ever exhaust.

You gave it to me right to the end, Paul--for that, and for everything, thank you.

2.5 thumbs.

HEAR YE: You can (and should!) download your own copy of EMPUSA for a mere $5 by going to the following link.

http://www.naschysempusa.tk/

Do it! Do it NOW!

A few more images from EMPUSA (2010):

Feel the Glamor

Naschy's man-musk sends all mammals into uncontrollable sexual frenzy--even aquatic ones.

"AND YOU RAAAAAAN! YOU RAN SO FAR AWAAAAAAAAAY!"

Their sermons have only one subject: "Stay Away from the Wall"

Naschy always gets a "Thank You" card--as well he should.

*standing ovation*

MORE MADNESS...

Summary only...

Santo y Blue Demon Contra Los Monstruos (1970): or, Now THAT'S a Main Event!

More and more these days--as Time's Winged Chariot drags me inexorably closer to the shadowy bourne of that Undiscovered Country, and the vistas of Future Possibility shrink and close around me like the heavy gray walls of an Inquisitor's tomb--I find myself wishing that I'd come into contact with certain things earlier in my life. For instance, I was fully fifteen years old before I first read Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, a book that would have stood me in much better stead before I'd followed the philosophical dead ends of its protagonist Raskolnikov. (I ended up getting my watch back, though, so no lasting harm.) Similarly, I discovered the cinema of Paul Naschy as a slightly past middle-aged adult (if we calculate the middle as half the "threescore years and ten" of verse)--a fortunate discovery, but one, had I made it earlier, would have afforded me that many more years of grinning, face-beaming joy.

In recent years I've added another item to that "wish I'd met you earlier" list: Lucha Libre movies. One of the unique cultural contributions to Western society of the great nation of Mexico, the Lucha Libre subgenre grew out of the immense populatity of professional wrestling south of the U.S. border, and the colorful, larger-than-life characters that peopled its ring. Many (if not most) of the professional wrestlers in Mexico are traditionally "los enmascarados," or masked men. While many of the masked wrestlers in US wrestling tend to be "heels" or villains, in Lucha Libre they are more generally like superheroes, their glittering capes and colorful cowls symbols of their commitment to justice and fair play. In the comic books and films that these characters inspired this commitment is taken to the logical (?) extreme, as los enmascarados do battle against gangsters, aliens, mythological creatures, and yes, b-movie monsters.

El Santo Rocks the Turtleneck

When I was a kid, I was heavy into both professional wrestling and the Universal horrors, so it's a damn shame I didn't discover this combination back then, this Reese's Peanut Butter Cup of awesomeness that combined the two great tastes I loved. But then I might have changed my life goals and tried to become a crime-fighting luchador instead of a priest of obsolete video formats, so maybe a greater Plan was at work, after all. Maybe it's best, in a way, that I'm only now seeing Santo y Blue Demon Contra Los Monstruos (1970, dir. Gilberto Martínez Solares) for the first time.

But I kinda doubt it.

The most famous of the film luchadores is without question El Santo, the Man in the Silver Mask. In a ring career that spanned five decades, Santo became the most famous and beloved luchador in the history of the sport, and between 1958 and 1982 starred in over 50 feature films. In many of these he was paired with his in-ring rival but filmic mejor amigo Blue Demon, and together they comprised the most dynamic crime- and monster-fighting duo Mexican cinema has ever seen. The films range from quickies that seem to have been shot in a single weekend between matches to well-lensed, respectable b-features, but all share a mix of grappling, intrigue, and contagious glee that's hard not to respect and enjoy. (The films are also pretty family-friendly as a rule, so if you've got a monster-loving kid who's sick of Godzilla movies, the genre is a good next step.)

Blue Demon: These Nipples Don't Run

Santo y Blue Demon Contra Los Monstruos begins with what amounts to a main-event introduction, as the music plays and the principals come out with their names plastered across the screen, a low-angle shot making them all look 10 feet tall and bulletproof. In this corner, El Santo, posing on a hill in a forest in full ring attire (like you do) and his tag-team partner, Blue Demon! And in the other corner, the cavalcade of monsters!

• La Momia! (The Mummy, looking more like an elderly burn victim than a resurrected pharoah!)
• El Ciclope! (The Cyclops, a hulking brute with a flashlight eye and a puppet head!)  
• Franquestain! (Frankenstein's Monster, Mexican version, complete with pencil-thin bandito moustache!)  

«El fuego es malo...¡MUY MALO!»

• El Hombre Lobo! (The Wolf Man, a barefoot homeless dude with fangs! Or as I like to call him, El Hobo Lobo!)  
• El Vampiro y La Mujer Vampiro! 
• And of course the Mad Doctor Bruno Hadler, the man responsible for all the carnage we're about to witness.

It's not a diss to say the plots of most of the lucha libre movies I've seen have a certain "childlike" quality, as if two movie-loving, hyperactive playground buddies were sitting behind the typewriter pounding out everything that entered their sugared cereal-addled brains. Symbol stands in for substance--there's no need to establish the wrestlers as heroes, since they're CLEARLY heroes, and likewise the monsters and mad doc as villains. These groups are in the same movie, so they're gonna fight, right? So what are we waiting for? Let's get ready to rumble!

El Fappo Grande

We open, as we almost always do in lucha films, with a good 5-10 minutes of in-ring action. In this case we watch a tag-team match between female mascaradas, which has some pretty priceless narration from the TV announcer on call. ("The physical strength is primitive to man...the elasticity of the movements and that feline agility in these beauties!") Santo watches from the backstage area, a scholar of the sport as well as a master. After the brawlin' beauties finish, Blue Demon and partner take on a couple of punching bags and make short work of them, establishing BD as one tough little hombre, and not a person upon whose Cerulean mask you'd be well-advised to tug.

Moving into the story proper, we find ourselves at the funeral of Bruno Hadler, a mad scientist of the first order who had successfully resurrected dead bodies by means of brain transplantation! (Why this was not a Nobel Prize-winning discovery I can only guess--perhaps he had yet to publish his findings in a peer-reviewed journal prior to his death.) Bruno's brother Otto is an upstanding member of the community, and also the father of Gloria, who happens to be la novia del Santo. Apparently Santo and Blue Demon had something to do with the mad doctor's misfortunes, since upon learning of his death Santo worries that he "made a promise before he died," one he might yet make good on.

He died as he lived: with a Cuisinart on his head

Of course he's right to worry, as the funeral is crashed by a gang of muscled-up thugs in badly applied green grease paint, obviously the doctor's zombie minions! They rush the shrouded corpse back to the lab, where Bruno's right-hand man Waldo--a scoleosis-stricken dwarf, naturally--fires up the ol' 12-volt and brings the doctor back to life! As a side note, along with Waldo and the zombies in the lab is this intriguing character:

Your guess is as good as mine

If you're waiting to find out what sort of monster he is, what his powers are, and how he's integral to the Mad Doctor's plan...well, don't. He just hangs out in the lab the whole movie and never does anything. Maybe he's a friend of the landlord's or something.

Thinking about what Santo said, Blue Demon decides to go on a little reconaissance mission, and of course drives directly to the huge Spanish castle/fort that the doctor is using for an inconspicuous hideout. BD batters down a drawbridge through sheer brute force and enters the subterranean dungeons (why? BECAUSE THAT'S WHERE THE MONSTERS ARE, of course!), and has a quick scrap with the zombies, who somehow manage to subdue him. Waldo wants to "experiment" on the luchador (ooer!), but Doc Hadler has bigger plans--he slaps BD into his tanning bed/human Xerox and runs off a perfect copy of Blue Demon, one that will follow his every command without question! THE FIEND!

It was at that moment--with a Hulk-beast to his left, a dwarf to his right, and an unconscious luchador right at crotch height, that Dr. Hadler finally understood what true happiness meant.

Out on a drive in the Silver Santomobile, Santo and Gloria are interrupted in the second chorus of "Besame Mucho" by the Doc's roving gang of zombies. This allows Santo to show off his fighting skills for the first time in the flick, tossing the zombies around and even executing a splash off the hood of his shaggin' wagon! It must be said that the choreography of the fights is a bit more realistic than in the kung-fu genre, which is to say it's less like a duel/showdown than a giant clusterfuck. Still, it feeds the need for ACTION--Gloria is kidnapped, Santo rescues her, and then we're able to move on.

In a sequence reminiscent of Assignment Terror, Blue Demon 2 and the zombies are dispatched on a nationwide monster hunt, and surprisingly make quite a haul. In a nondescript crypt somewhere or other they find the happiest Vampire in the World--a guy in evening clothes, cape, and London After Midnight-style top-hat who just cannot stop grinning. Thereafter they go to another crypt and find A FREAKIN' MUMMY--which I can only assume is of the Aztec variety, given the locale. Back at the lab Dr. Hadler has somehow acquired a block of ice containing The Cyclops, which he melts with a life-giving acetylene torch. Then they pull Franqestain and El Hobo Lobo out of their ASSES, because suddenly they're just there. A quick blast with the mind-controlling ECT machine, and Los Monstruos are ready to do the doctor's bidding!

"I'm a vild und krazee guy!"

The rest of the plot is basically a series of vignettes of three sorts. Monsters attacking people: El Ciclope takes out some fishermen, the Vampire acquires a couple of brides, Franquestain crushes an amorous couple under his metal boots, and El Hobo Lobo takes out an entire family. El Santo tracking the monsters: he can't find the castle BD1 drove straight to, for some reason, and has to hunt through the woods and lakes aimlessly. (A sequence in which he swims through a lagoon looking for the Cyclops--his mask still on, of course, as a luchador never unmasks, even while making out with muchachas--is wonderful not only for Santo swimming, but for the LITERAL FISHTANK effects to show the Cyclops underwater). And finally: Santo vs. the Monsters and BD2, which as I say are big clusters interspersed with shots of the Cyclops' puppet-head yowling. One thing just follows right after another, and while it's not exactly coherent, it never lets you get bored.

In the most incredible (and awesome) development in the story, El Vampiro decides to take on Santo on his own turf--he challenges the Man in the Silver Mask to an actual wrestling match, right there in the arena under the lights! Of course Santo accepts, and the crowd rolls in, completely unfazed that the opponent for the night is AN ACTUAL FUCKING MONSTER. Even better, El Vampiro dons a mask for his match, even though he's never worn one previously--doubtless to cover the stunt double. But still, how awesome is that? Could it be more so?

"Get ready for The Hurting, boys."

The answer is YES: el Vampiro gains the upper hand in the match, but then is put off his game by a glimpse of the gold cross around Gloria's neck. This leads to a staple of pro wrestling, the "Run In" match ending--only in this case, instead of the heels running in to thwart the babyface wrestler's triumph, THE GANG OF MONSTERS RUNS INTO THE RING FOR AN IMPROMPTU BATTLE ROYALE! Frankenstein's Monster, the Cyclops, the Mummy, all bouncing off the ropes, fighting Santo and his friends from the locker room! If I'd seen this at age 12, my head would have exploded with glee. In fact, it might yet.

(Nota bene: I have to say, this is exactly what I was hoping for with my previous lucha libre experience, Santo y Blue Demon contra Dracula y El Hombre Lobo, but in that flick the monsters never climbed into the ring. It was a much better movie in all other respects, but I'm glad this flick righted that glaring omission.)

Of course eventually, somehow, we end up back at the lab, Santo discovers that Blue Demon has not undergone a heel turn but has just been cloned, and BD and Santo have a final confrontation with the monsters (complete with Santo braining zombies with a rubber morning star and Blue Demon wielding aGUN and a dangerous torch) that leads to a fiery cataclysm and widescale destruction of scientific machinery and historical buildings. Good triumphs over evil, the Luchadores beat Los Monstruos, and all is right with the world until next week's main event.

El Hobo Lobo

All right, so the movie has its problems. There is an awful lot of day-for-night stuff, especially when El Vampiro is on the prowl, that is among the worst such effect I have ever seen; I guess we're just supposed to assume it's night by virtue of the fact that the vampire is not going up in flames. Costumes are pretty weak, with the lower end being the embarrassing Mummy costume and nearly non-existent werewolf makeup--a hobo beard, while awesome, does NOT a wolf man make. (Though I admit I liked the ambition of the Cyclops get-up.) The score is pretty annoying bleep-bleep-bleep semi-carnival music, though my reaction to that may be more cultural than critical. Also, there's an extended nightclub/dance sequence in the last third of the film that goes on way too long, even though it's sort of entertaining in a Gene Kelley/Cyd Charisse rip-off way. And as I noted earlier, the plot developments are on a level with the 3-paragraph short story you wrote for your 2nd grade Halloween essay contest, meaning it's heavy on the non sequitur ACTION and light on poetry and character-driven drama.

But this is a genre of movie in which those latter problems can hardly be considered flaws. As in a well-choreographed wrestling match, this flick has its marks to hit, its set-pieces to execute, and it does so with a breathless energy that's easy to get swept up in. If you can turn off the adult portion of your brain, go back to your childhood and imagine seeing this on a Saturday afternoon and then going out and reenacting it all with your like-minded friends, you'll agree the scrapes and bruises would be well worth the joy.

2-Man Mob

Acting-wise, the film is pretty difficult to critique. Santo and Blue Demon are wizened performers, though their performance style is informed by the larger-than-life acting style of the wrestling ring, and thus perhaps more akin to silent movie acting than more modern methods. Still, the two have charisma to burn, even if it's obscured a little by the expressionlessness of their masks. Carlos Ancira as Dr. Bruno Hadler chews the scenery the way a Mad Scientist should, and his brother Otto, portrayed by Jorge Rado, is a good counterpoint/voice of reason, if such can be said to exist in the world of the film. Hedi Blue as Gloria is attractive but given little to do, and the dancer who becomes a vampires bride adds some welcome soft PG sex-appeal. Also, Mexican trash movie fans should look out for Santanón as Waldo the hunchbacked dwarf--the actor also appeared in one of Boris Karloff's last movies, the embarrassing to some/entertaining to others voodoo flick Snake People (1971).

Santo y Blue Demon Contra Los Monstruos is not the best lucha movie I've seen--it's easily outdone by the dramatically and cinematically superior Santo y Blue Demon vs. Dracula and The Wolf Man--but I found it an endearingly naive and fun excursion into a world of wrestlers and monsters. 2.5 thumbs, and Vive El Santo!

"Hold me, Waldo...just hold me!"

Bonus Linkage: 

• Click here to read the Vicar's take on Santo & Blue Demon vs. Dracula & the Wolf Man, with Tag-Team Partner Tenebrous Kate!
• And click here to read Empress Kate's glee-filled essay on The Champions of Justice, in which Blue Demon leads a team of five luchadores agains a mad scientist and his army of midget wrestlers!

Still Yet More Images from Santo y Blue Demon Contra Los Monstruos (1970):

Monsters of Acne

"Wait, whut? you know OLAF?"

Besame Enmascarado

Scary, but not in the way they intended

Collect Them All

Squick!

He Only Dives from the Top Rope

Pecs of the Vampire

H.R. Puffnstuff: The Lost Episodes

Consider Yourself Pinned

"Vicar, NOOOOOOOOO!"

MORE MADNESS...

Summary only...

DVD Reviews: NOCTURNE (2007) and INBRED REDNECK VAMPIRES (2010)

Look, folks, you know I like to give the movies I watch the benefit of the doubt. No matter how ineptly made, how crudely plotted, how bargain-basement the effects, I always try my damnedest to work with the filmmakers and find those little nuggets of inspiration, those small successes that may not redeem the entire work, but at least keeps it from being a total waste of time.

This is particularly true in indie movies. I mean, God bless the Indie Filmmaker, right? Without the resources of a major studio at their disposal, with just an idea and a dream, these cinematic warriors get out there and do their best to realize their visions. They don't let the things they lack--money, time, equipment, often even basic movie-making talent--stand in their way. I respect that, I do. It's the Doctrine of the Glorious Failure the Duke and I lined out in or MMMMManifesto: to wit, it's better to aim for the stars and miss, than to aim for a pile of shit and hit it.

But if you go back and read the above-linked mission statement, you'll find another tenet of our philosophy that's just as important, the First Inviolable Commandment of the Church of Mad Movies, the one that must be upheld no matter what else goes wrong: THOU SHALT NOT BE BORING.

I think you can probably guess why I'm telling you this.

I recently received these two straight-to-DVD movies for review: A Nocturne: Night of the Vampire (2007) from Troma DVD, and Inbred Redneck Vampires (2010) from MVD Entertainment. The films share a few things in common. Both are indie films--so indie, in fact, that I was unable to find either of them on imdb.com. Both are about vampires. Both look like they were made on consumer video equipment, whether they actually were or not. Both break the Cardinal Rule of Mad Movie enjoyment. And neither should be watched by you.

Let's get through this as quickly as possible, shall we?

A Nocturne caught my attention because the back cover sported some glowing pull-quotes on the back cover, comparing the flick's visual tapestry to that of Vicar-fave director Jean Rollin and similarly vamp-obsessed reprobate Jess Franco. Near as I can figure, the only reason for the Rollin comparison is that the movie is about vampires, and at one point there's a woman in it who speaks French. Otherwise--not so much.

The movie is about a male/female vampire couple, "X" and "Y" (seriously), who have been alive for hundreds of years and are SO VERY BORED. They communicate this boredom to the viewer by staring off into space, not saying very much, and walking around in a blank-faced daze for fully 2/3 of the movie. There's an old man who I think is a priest but is certainly a cannibal, who indulges in long nonsensical wannabe "poetic" soliloquies about his dead wife, which you can barely hear over the pervasive microphone hiss. Every now and then the vamps kidnap someone we've never seen before, who obviously wanders in just to be bitten, and bite them. There are a couple of Nietzsche quotes, and the aforementoned French woman who comes in for an info-dump monologue that doesn't really explain much, and what it does explain is stupid. At the end, somebody else we've never seen before shows up out of nowhere and kills one of the vamps. Fin.

Really, that's IT. There's no character development, no plot to speak of, and nothing much happens. At least in Rollin, even when characters went for 40 minutes without a line of dialogue, SHIT WAS HAPPENING. Mad shit. Here--no.

But as I said up above, I really like to work with movies to see if I can find something good. So here are the good things about Nocturne:

• There's periodic nudity, pretty good, usually with blood.
• The crazy old cannibal, while never making sense, is clearly totally committed to his role, to an almost admirable degree.
• The aforementioned French actress seemed to actually know her way around a line of dialogue, and was by far the best actor in the movie.
  
• The movie really succeeds in making you feel the boredom of its protagonists, by making you feel like you've been just that bored for 400 years.
• It helped me determine that the fast-forward button on my remote was in top working order.

Moving on...

Inbred Redneck Vampires is just what it sounds like, but worse. Here's the company synopsis, straight from MVD Entertainment's website:

Sexy vampire Catherine and her familiar Lendel are on the run from a ruthless vampire hunter. They hide out in the small redneck town of Backwash, where Catherine hatches a plan to turn the backwoods folk into an army of her vampire slaves. Cultures further clash when Ma Poissier wins a free room redecoration by fruity Frenchman Jean-Claude Les Eaux, who tries his best to fit in with crazy hillbillies like Lil' Junior and his buddy Cletus. Beer drinking, bean eating, tripe cooking, shower peeping, competitive farting, strip poker playing and all manner of insanity follow, all leading up to the town's annual Tripe Days Festival.

Hoo, boy.

It's a maxim by now that of all the "bad movie" categories, the worst of the worst is "bad comedy." Think of it--with any other genre, be it Bad Horror, Bad Scifi, Bad Action, or Bad Drama--you can at least laugh at the ridiculousness of it, or chortle affectionately about the filmmaker's wrong-headed but right-hearted attempts. Bad Comedy, however, removes that possibility of enjoyment. If a comedy makes you laugh, it's not bad--it's GOOD. Therefore, a bad comedy is by definition one you CANNOT laugh at.

Inbred Redneck Vampires is a very, very bad comedy. The "shower peeping" (in which the peepers fail to notice when a sexy trailer park woman switches out with her hairy boyfriend--hilarious?) and "competitive farting" scenes (this latter goes on for a good 5-10 minutes, and is just three guys at a table eating beans and farting on each other--laffin' yet?) alone make Mama Dracula look like Lust for a Vampire. The "redneck" humor is sub-sub-Hee Haw! levels. (Think about that: it's LESS FUNNY than HEE HAW.) I only chuckled once in the whole movie, and that was when a nude, obese, one-eyed woman stumbled backward to crush a vampire's head with her gigantic ass. Sue me, I was desperate for mirth.

With both the redneck and the vampire portions of the plot, the filmmakers never reach beyond the broadest, most obvious joke. That Frenchy, he talks funny! Hey, Cletus is a midget, and he always calls Frenchy "Peckerwood"! Somebody put cat shit in the tripe! The Frenchman thinks it's delicious! That vampire ate some garlic by mistake! Stop it, my sides!

But again, there's enough negativity in the world. Good things about the flick:

• Again, there was some passable-to-decent nudity, and most of the redneck chicks were fairly hot, if you could get past their terribly overwrought country accents.
• The "sexy vampire queen" did a pretty good impression of Teri Garr in Young Frankenstein. This was annoying at first, but by the end marked her as the best thespian in the flick.
• There was a Rube Goldberg-esque vamp-staking that was borderline creative.
• Umm...that's it.

We all love the Ideal of the indie filmmaker--someone outside the bounds of Hollywood, pursuing his or her unique vision and overcoming all obstacles to bring something personal and creative to life. And periodically that happens--but more often, it seems, we get uninspired, unsuccessful imitations of movies that weren't that good to begin with, made without a trace of the passion or drive required to make the results watchable.

Unfortunately, these two films are examples of this latter trend. While I can respect the work it must have taken for the filmmakers to get their work out there, and don't doubt they all had a good time seeing it through, I didn't enjoy watching them, not one little bit. I sincerely hope both find better projects in the future, and realize them more fully and entertainingly. But in these cases, I can only say this: no thumbs. AVOID.

These two deserve better.

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Grave of the Vampire (1974): or, Oedipus Necks

Oh, Mill Creek DVD--every time I'm just about ready to give up on your poor-quality transfers of mostly forgettable public domain dreck, every time I'm almost ready to swear I'll never drop twenty bucks on another fifty movie pack that will never live up to the glories of that 50 Chilling Classics set, you come through with an undiscovered gem to remind me why I've been telling everyone about you for two years running. You're like a bad girlfriend who every now and then comes through with a truly sweet gesture and/or mind-blowing sex. I just can't quit you, baby!

The kicker this time comes from my barely-tapped Night Screams set, which seems to be made up mostly of 1940s poverty row programmers. However, nestled in there among the odd Tod Slaughter film and jungle-woman adventure flicks, this weekend I found John Hayes's 1974 groovy gothic Grave of the Vampire. Was the print bad? Terrible. Was the sound off? You betcha. Were the production values low? But of course. But the flick has that special something that brings a smile to the Vicar's face. Call it heart, call it ambition, call it borderline-incestuous vampire lore starring one of the most distinctive granite-chinned character actors of the 70s and 80s; I call it kismet.

Titular vampire, titular grave

It's the early 1950s somewhere in California, and Caleb Croft (Michael Pataki, whose lengthy filmography includes such roles as Count Dracula in Zoltan, Hound of Dracula, George Martin in Sweet 16, and 'Man Who Moons Courtroom' in 1982's Night Shift) rests uneasy in his tomb. As the lid creaks and shifts, the credits roll over some cool spooky music and gothic fog banks that set a nice tone. Then we're whisked away to a wild college party, where Paul and Leslie (Jay Scott and Kitty Vallacher, memorably credited in the opening crawl as "The Unwilling Mother") are making their excuses so they can sneak off for a little slap and tickle. The partygoers beg them to stay--"Lola Blossom's gonna do a dance, and we got all the freshers dressed up like dogs so they can crawl on their knees and bark at her!"--but our het-up young couple climb in the antique sedan and take off. If I had been Paul and heard that invitation, I guarantee you the movie would have been about an hour and twenty minutes shorter.

Paul and Leslie go straight to the local graveyard, which is strongly implied as the site of their first premarital coupling. ("It was almost on this very spot!" Paul grins, affectionately stroking a gravestone.) He's returned to the scene of the crime to ask Leslie to marry him, an offer she readily accepts, despite the fact that he's clearly fifteen years older than she. Of course Paul couldn't have picked a worse night to make an honest woman of her, as Caleb Croft picks just that moment to rise from his tomb--a bestial, dessicated corpse--and goes on the expected rampage that leaves Paul bent backwards over a gravestone and drained of blood. Apparently quenching his bloodlust makes Caleb hornay, and Leslie, her heart as broken as her lover's spine, is dragged screaming into a convenient open grave to sate the vampire's OTHER wicked desires.

"You're a BACKBREAKER, LOVE MAKER, BLOOD TAKER, don't you mess around with me!"

Back at the station, Lietuenant Panzer (Eric Mason, who had a little vampire experience thanks to his appearance a year earlier in Scream Blacula Scream!), is one of those refreshing investigators who doesn't let himself get bogged down in traditional police work routine. He considers the facts--one dead, drained body, one traumatized, molested girl, and one conspicuously empty tomb--and immediately jumps to the only sane conclusion: VAMPIRE ON THE LOOSE! Seriously, this is his first and ONLY theory! Lucky for him it's absolutely correct. Meanwhile, the understandably unstable Leslie finds out she's pregnant and persuades herself it must be Paul's baby. She also becomes BFFs with strung-out looney Olga (Lieux Dressler), who convinces her the doctors are full of shit when they say she should abort the baby (the doc's bedside manner her is exemplary: "What's growing inside you isn't alive!...What's inside your womb is not a human being, it's a parasite!") and the two women leave the hospital together, determined to birth that baby come hell or high water.

After Croft kills another local, we're all set-up for the Cop vs. the Armies of the Undead thriller of the sort most of us have seen more than once. However, Hayes and co-writer David Chase have a few twists up their sleeves--after meticulously setting Panzer up as the vampire-fighting hero, they have him wander by the Croft Crypt to do some investigatin'. Once there he's surprised by the vampire himself (now wearing a cape that he did not have in his coffin, just to remove any confusion, I guess) who chokes the cop out, opens the concrete sarcophagus, and crushes the lieutenant's head under the lid! Awesome! Myah, who's yer messiahr now, see?

Oh, SNAP!

Nine months later Leslie is giving birth to her little bundle of joy, with Olga dressed in a period pilgrim outfit to serve as midwife. The baby is born with gray skin and an aversion to milk, to the point that even Olga must suggest they take him to the town doctor to find out what (the fuck) is up. But when Leslie, baby uselessly pressed to her breast, reaches for a super sharp paring knife to peel an apple (like you do), the resultant blood splatter falls on junior's lips, and I bet you can guess what happens after that. Some creepy kooky visuals here include Leslie cutting her breast to give her baby suck, the blood splatters around the hungrily licking baby's mouth, and Mom taking a syringe full of arterial goodness and using it to fill a baby bottle!

Suddenly we get a montage of the little tyke growing up, complete with a Wonder Years-style voice over from the grown man he becomes. We see he can walk around in daylight but prefers the shadows, and never quite "fit in" with the rest of his pals--which only makes sense, as he's half human/half vampire, with the strengths and weaknesses of each. On her deathbed mom spills the beans and tells young James about his ill-fated nativity, at which point he swears he'll hunt down the vampire who raped his mother and make him pay for his crimes! Hey, Wesley Snipes, are you taking notes?

Nipple-lickin' good!

James "Don't Call Me Blade" Eastwood is played by bodybuilder/character actor William Smith, whose face should be instantly recognizable to any fan of action movies of the late 70s and 80s. The granite chin, the chiseled, squinty eyes, the flat geometric planes of his face--it's hard to imagine a tougher looking fellow, and it's not surprising he's had very few leading roles, since he seems tailor-made to play the villain/henchman/tough-as-nails military type (as he did memorably in his role as General Mintz in Memorial Valley Massacre). Here he's the romantic lead, though, and does reasonably well lending a Clint Eastwood-esque intensity to his role of fearless vampire hunter.

James tracks Croft to a university campus, where he's taken to teaching extremely well-attended night classes in mythology and folklore. The first night James meets roommates Anita Jacoby (Diane Holden) and Ann Arthur (Lyn Peters). Swingin' folklore major Anita comes on to James hard, demonstrating a shared interest in the infamous Salem Witch Trials-era vampire John Croydon, who James secretly believes to be Croft. However, James only has eyes for Literature teacher Ann, and it's not long before he's got her back at his apartment, drinking wine and doing the horizontal mambo to the music of their beating hearts. (A throwaway bit where Ann finds a half-eaten plateful of raw meat with a knife and fork on the side is a nice touch.)

William Smith: He Craps Bigger Than You

Meanwhile, Croft knows James is onto him, though for what purpose he doesn't yet dream. There are a couple of cool vampire rampage scenes thrown in here, as Anita confronts Croft with his identity and demands he make her his vampire bride, only to have her throat slit for her trouble, and another borderline-hilarious bit where Croft gets very testy with a sassy librarian MILF who won't lend him the book he wants.

What's very interesting to me at this point is the clearly intentional Oedipal twist on the vampire/revenge plot here. James is clearly Oedipus Rex, out to kill his father for having fucked his mom. This is further underlined by Croft's realization that Ann is the reincarnation of his first wife Sarah, who was burned for a witch in Salem. Of course James is schtupping Ann, the wife of his father, bringing the whole classical reference full circle. Like I say, a neat take on the convention, and one I don't believe I've seen before.

"Let me warm this up for you. Please."

Things take a turn for the MAD when Croft sets up a seance for some of his more promising students, secretly hoping to summon Sarah's spirit so that his wife can permanently possess Ann's body and they can be together forever. One step ahead, James uses his vamp-mojo to summon Anita's spirit instead, leading to a crazy scene where Ann speaks in Anita's voice, taunting Croft and offering still to be his vampire bride if he'll just kill Ann already so she can take permanent residence. James breaks that up with a quickness, and once Croft has disposed of the rest of the party guests, it's time for the big final confrontation between father and son.

"You never came to even one baseball game, Dad! NOT EVEN ONE!"

And what a confrontation it is! After throwing his human guests around like rag dolls, Croft is amazed by James' preternatural strength and cunning as he fights the vampire off his lady love. When James hits him with the truth--"I'm your SON!"--all bets are off and a truly epic battle begins. I'm talking five minutes of brutal, Naschy-meets-Roddy Piper in THEY LIVE style violence. During the course of this tussle Croft gets whipped with chains, James gets set ON FIRE, and the buff beefy son GORILLA SLAMS his dad down the ornate mansion stairs! Of course it can only end with Oedipus the King triumphant, but it appears James has neglected one little piece of dhampyr lore related to the inheritance due the son upon the father's death...

Should have thought this through

I enjoyed Grave of the Vampire from the beginning on, but that wild finish is what pushed it over the edge into Mad Movie love. Freudian psychology, subverted genre expectations, and a final battle to send you out of the grindhouse cheering--what's not to love? If there had just been a little more gore and/or nudity (the movie falls squarely into the PG-horror category), it would have been a 3-thumb no-brainer. Still, I can't give it less than 2.85 thumbs for sheer passion and entertainment value. I don't know if this one movie is worth buying the whole Mill Creek Night Screams set for, but it's definitely worth seeking out on its own if you get the chance.

A few more images from Grave of the Vampire (1974):

Ann falls victim to Vampiric Halitosis

"No, look, it'll be easy--I'm double jointed, and you can just hold onto these collar wings!"

"Hey, Sonny Boy! I gotcher nose!"

Damn kids.

Oh, movie, could I love you more?

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