Showing posts with label donna wilkes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label donna wilkes. Show all posts

Sunday, July 24, 2022

Blood Song (1982)

Late teen Marion (Donna Wilkes) is having a bad time: one of her legs is in a medical brace after an accident, and at the beginning of the film, it’s not at all clear if she’s ever going to walk without one again. Her family life is rather terrible, thanks to her alcoholic, controlling and abusive father Frank (Richard Jaeckel), who also just happens to be responsible for the accident that caused her injury. Obviously, he uses his recurring bouts of guilt as yet another excuse for his drinking.

Things are so bad, Marion has concrete plans to run away with her boyfriend Joey (William Kirby Cullen). It’s only a question of time, and of Joey getting a job somewhere as far away as possible.

Because when it rains, it pours, Marion starts having visions and daymares of the killing spree of a guy with a flute fetish (Frankie Avalon). Why? Because she once had a transfusion of his blood, of course!

It’ll come as no surprise to anyone that the musical killer and Marion are headed for a collision course.

I found Alan J. Levi’s Blood Song a decent attempt at finding the point where ABC Movie of the Week style thriller and actual slasher meet. It makes decent use of its somewhat melodramatic mock-social realism, putting effort into building Marion and her social life up well enough to make her a more interesting heroine it is easier to care for. Of course and alas, it then finishes on exactly the sort of horror movie bullshit ending this sort of character was not made for, going for the boring trope when a semi-happy ending would have been much more fitting. Cynicism has its place in horror, obviously, but cynicism as an empty gesture is not really all that more interesting than the automatic happy ending it wants to replace while strutting around with typical edgelord non-grace.

Levi’s direction is very typical for a TV guy putting in some time in the horror mines early in his career: there’s a solid grip on all technical basics of filmmaking as well as the basic techniques of suspense, but also a certain lack of visual flair. Though, to be fair, Levi does put his locations in the part of town where the working class with aspirations lives to effective use, and has some success with flash cutting into and out of Marion’s visions.

The acting is very solid as well. Wilkes is convincing playing down six or so years of age, and is a generally likeable and believable heroine. Jaeckel does assholes rather well, and does his best with the script’s somewhat misguided attempts at trying to make Frank more likeable without him ever actually doing anything that would make him so until he catches a knife meant for his daughter. It’s the old “heroic self-sacrifice as the cheapest way to redemption without all that unpleasant need of having to actually change” move. Avalon clearly enjoys escaping his clear-cut image here, and, as is so often the case with this type, only needs to play up his natural creepiness until everybody in the audience notices it. He also plays the not exactly great idea with his trademark father-built flute (Professor Freud on line one, please!) so surprisingly natural, it works as a killer’s weird trademark despite of itself.

So, as an early 80s attempt at a non-typical slasher, Blood Song isn’t half bad. It’s not the sort of film I’d fall in love with or champion as a big lost masterpiece, but it does have enough virtues to be absolutely worth one’s time. Which is a lot more than I’d say about many a slasher.

Wednesday, October 20, 2021

Grotesque (1988)

Lisa (Linda Blair) takes her friend Kathy (Donna Wilkes) with her to a get together of her family in some rather impressive mountain vacation home to help her through a bout of lovesickness. Lisa’s Dad, Orville Kruger (Guy Stockwell) is one of the great special effects makeup artists (though the work of his we see doesn’t really sell that greatness too well). He’s also in the habit of putting on some of his masks and entering the bedrooms of young friends of his daughter to really give them a fright, but that’s not going to be the sign of a coming killing spree by an effects artist you might expect.

In fact, Kruger, his wife Malinda (Alva Megowan), Lisa and their guest will fall victim to a home invasion by a gang of punks led– as far as that verb applies to insane ranting – by one Scratch (Brad Wilson). For reasons, Scratch and the Sniffs (bad punk band name not actually included in the movie) believe a famous effects guy like Orville will have loads of money, perhaps even gold bars, squirreled away in a hidden treasure room in his home. When neither gold nor treasure show up, the gang instead decides on a small rape and murder spree only Lisa will survive.

Even though there aren’t valuables hidden in the house, there is indeed a secret room there, a room in which dwells the huge, deformed and mentally not exactly healthy foster son of the family, Patrick (Robert Apica). Once the punks’ search leads to his room, he makes his displeasure with them murdering his family violently clear, turning the next twenty minutes of the movie into a bit of a slasher with the twist of the slasher killer being the (sort of, if you’re not into murder) good guy.

And that’s not the last change of sub-genres Joe Tornatore’s Grotesque will go through. After a tiny bit of American gothic horror, punksploitation, 70s style home invasion and slasher, there’s still enough time left for some hilariously weird tough cop time, and then a bit of vigilante business with Orville’s cosmetic surgeon brother Rod (Tab Hunter) – who came too late to get slaughtered or help anyone – which turns rather EC horror, after which there’s still a bit of time left for some of the goofiest, bizarre and tonally dubious fourth wall breaking imaginable. All of which goes to show that, if you simply don’t care for coherence and have never heard of the concept of a throughline, you can pack an astonishing amount of stuff into your movie.

Obviously, none of this is developed or sensibly connected in any way, shape or form, lending Grotesque a quality of randomness so pure, it’s difficult not to be surprised in which direction the movie’s going to go off in next. Hell, as it stands, you couldn’t even say who is supposed to be the film’s protagonist.

All of this, needless to say (but I’ll do it anyway), does not lend itself to a film with much of a dramatic, emotional impact. Everything is so disconnected, even the sleaziest exploitation bits can’t really hit anyone’s guts, so that this movie full of theoretically risible elements begins to feel weirdly friendly and companionable.

It is also wildly entertaining, not only thanks to its random march through all subgenres of horror that could be squeezed into it, but also because so much of the film is endearingly goofy, starting with Orville’s certainly not award-winning award-winning effects, going through the least plausible punk overacting by actors who clearly weren’t any such thing you’ll ever enjoy (we get equally unbelievable cops later on, too) and ending on a meta-horror bit so random and pointlessly, improbably bizarre, it’s impossible to find words for it that’ll do it justice.

And this, ladies, gentlemen and everybody elses, is why humanity is great (at least as a cosmic joke).