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Sucker Punch (2011)
Beautiful, magical, inspiring.
Despite it's critical mauling and audience apathy, the world created by Zack Snyder's Sucker Punch is something truly special, uniquely beautiful and, though flawed, it stands as a good example of the ongoing trend of big name directors gambling on films that offer something different to the same old story, same old set pieces and same old sequel friendly endings.
I'm biased. I admit, this film could easily have been made just for me: I am a white male in my 30's who loves video games, fantastical fiction and beautiful women kicking ass in skimpy costumes.
That said, I like artistic depth and bold choices in my cinema and despite Sucker Punch's lurid façade and apparent lack of characterisation, it is a film of considerable profundity which belies a high level of attention to detail and artistry.
Dealing as it does with a brooding 1950's nightmare of loss and domestic dysfunction, giving way to a young woman's incarceration in a mental asylum; in turn snapping to a fevered vision of a glamorous yet resolutely abusive brothel which holds young, vulnerable women hostage in order to 'entertain' various n'er do wells. From there we are dragged deeper into a series of microcosmic worlds populated by monsters, robots and steam-powered zombies, in which our protagonists re-materialise as an elite team of ludicrously sexy and infinitely cool warrior women. I think it's fair to say that I can't think of another film that does visually beautiful, surreal, action-packed and amazingly choreographed to such a mad degree. But yet, never does it feel gratuitous, pondering, as it does, matters of guilt, regret, atonement and self sacrifice throughout.
Much has been made of the films lack of character development and reliance on music video style to tell it's story and, to be honest this is true. However, rather than a weakness, this is simply how Snyder has chosen to tell the tale. On first viewing, it is perhaps less than effective. The story is not thrilling. It is something different: like a visual poem, it whispers to you, drawing you into the luxurious veils of chocolate brown, copper blue and red wine that seduce the eye. I must confess that initially, it was only the outward glamour that held my attention and only upon reaching the end, contemplating the sparse dialogue and the portent glowing symbols which spring from the screen, did I think about it all and realise just what an unusual and magical film it was. The next day I watched it again. The day after, I watched the extended edition. Now, despite it's flaws it is one of my favourite films.
Regarding said extended edition. Yes, it is required viewing if the original version cast as much of a spell over you as it did me, but as a standalone work, it is inferior to the theatrical version.
A couple of the scenes blatantly should have made the final cut: Baby Doll's conversation with the High Roller at the end is absolutely beautiful to watch and listen to, gives huge credit to both actors and backs up the Doctor's apparent compassion towards the asylum inmates. Equally, there are a few bits and bobs in the phenomenal 'trenches' sequence that should have stayed.
On the other hand a couple of bits, ultimately should have remained on the cutting room floor. We didn't need to see Sweet Pea stealing the clothes from the washing line at the end. It only served to undermine the dignity and beauty of this wonderful character, so tenderly played by Abbie Cornish. Equally, the stylised gunplay in the 'dragon' sequence was a bit of a bridge to far. While elsewhere, the weapon handling is quite convincing and does credit to the film's military advisors; here things get slightly ridiculous. Also Sweet Pea's swordplay in this scene looks a little weaker than Baby Doll's.
Lastly, things I am on the fence about: The extra musical number in the brothel. Yes, it's great to watch if you are already familiar with the film. But perhaps it lightened the mood just a shade too much, showing a playful side to Blue and giving too much of an identity to the other girls in the brothel, who, for the remainder of the film, remain as indistinct beauties in the background.
Zack Snyder apparently commented somewhere that the film was not completely finished. Indeed you can imagine the big money behind the project getting jittery about how abstract it was, tapping their watches and ripping the incomplete product from his hands. Indeed, this lack of completeness does resonate somewhat in the film. The ending in particular is fairly cerebral and downbeat. It is possible that on first viewing you might not even pick up that Sweet Pea is the narrator and that both Baby Doll and the Wise Man are 'Angels'.
It is a flawed piece, no doubt. But as mainstream Hollywood films go, it is among the most interesting, thought provoking and downright stunning films of it's generation.
You have the weapons
now use them!
Eaten Alive (1976)
Grimy, cheap and nasty goodness!
It's a surprise that Death Trap (Eaten Alive) was the film Tobe Hooper followed up The Texas Chainsaw Massacre with as, at first sight, TCM is totally and utterly superior in every way. However, that is not to say the Death Trap is not without it's charm. Albeit a warped, distorted, bizarre charm that leaves you feeling as if you've been watching the film through the bottom of a jam jar
after seven pints of beer.
Okay, so right off the film lacks Gunnar Hansen's iconic, brilliantly unveiled antagonist, instead delivering
Judd. He is a mumbling, demented hotelier who looks a bit like a messed up version of my father-in-law, talks stream of consciousness nonsense and at one point sings a painfully elongated rendition of a song so annoying that you will want to murder him yourself. For all that, Judd is an interesting villain when set against the physical power of Leatherface. He doesn't look particularly sinister, almost certainly isn't particularly strong and due to his inability to speak properly, we can only guess at his motives and back story. In some ways these factors makes it more shocking when he lapses into hysterical, jittering psychotic episodes which are usually followed in short order by him feeding his victims to an extremely naff-looking plastic crocodile.
On the subject of Judd's victims, this is one area where the film takes a pleasantly surreal turn and sets itself aside from it's peers. The crowd who visit the hotel on what appears to be rather a brisk day for trade are even weirder than Judd himself. We start with a messed up young woman sporting a wig so fake and pathetic looking that it would have stuck out like a sore thumb in an early 80's porno. Then you have the anal-retentive, deep-south John Cleese who comes looking for his estranged Daughter and Robert Englund, looking good as an angry southern hick who's only goal in life seems to be to get a female of the species to indulge him in the love that dare not speak it's name. Next onto TCM's lovely Marilyn Burns wearing, for reasons unknown, yet another really lame looking wig and her daughter, sporting a metal leg brace. But by far the craziest character here and, indeed, the most unhinged man this side of Frank Booth is Roy. This boy, to be fair to him, is a complete and utter raving lunatic who thinks nothing of lapsing into crazed animal impersonations and descriptions of having his eye burned out by his wife in front of his weeping child.
Death Trap unfolds on a few scant, cheap and sleazy looking sets, none of it appears to be shot outdoors and all of the proceedings appear murky, often lit with a trashy red hue. These things should not be considered negatives to fans of this kind of cinema (myself included) as the whole thing looks like some ungodly, nightmare 70's theme park gone wrong and the constant soundtrack of either analogue synth bleeps or wailing atonal country and western music give the film a truly evil and otherworldly atmosphere.
Personally I love the days of these crude, surreal, trashy films which now seem so far behind us and if the above are to be considered pluses then sadly there must be minuses. For me my single biggest gripe is that some scenes where nothing really happens, play out just too long and too uneventful. The problem here is that Judd's character is established as being so one-dimensional that once we have discovered he is a murderer, there isn't really anywhere else to go other than to show him shambling about being irritating. I guess Tobe Hooper wanted this film to more closely follow the perpetrator, rather than the victims (as in TCM), but with so little psychological meat, it just doesn't work.
The overall film is also hindered by the fact that it doesn't gather pace heading towards the climax a la TCM. There is no real feeling of ratcheting up the suspense as Judd's actions get increasingly more risky and threaten to expose him.
Tobe Hooper should be applauded for following a runaway indie hit with something that was so different. Can you imagine a writer/director these days under contract to some big shadowy corporation choosing to buck a winning formula and try something completely distinct in style? It simply wouldn't be allowed to happen. Which is why we need to treasure these films and our memories of the times they come from. Because it was a time when challenging, even assaulting the audience was the film maker's first goal and if you left the drive-in after seeing Death Trap feeling like you needed a shower then Tobe had done his job.
He did his job.
P.S.. I love you Marilyn Chambers.
Predators (2010)
Another Wasted Opportunity.
Spoilers ahead.
I'm sure you may be wondering what Nimrod (appropriately named) Antal's Predators is actually like. Well, I'll save you a trip to the DVD shop because, of course, it's ultimately dung.
As dungy as the vomit inducing (for all the wrong reasons) AVP franchise? Well, to be honest, it's worse.
But wait a minute because this film isn't just a roller-coaster of crud from beginning to end, oh no. It's almost all the more disappointing for the fact that it actually starts really well. As promised the basics of the film, location and characters have been hammered together with love, and respect for the original franchise, albeit the array of 'big hitters' thrown together in the alien jungle mostly look about as hard as a hot banana. It grates particularly with Brody's lonesome mercenary tough guy, who despite the guy's acting skill looks all together too wistful and sad with his slender face, roman nose and doe eyes.
None the less the initial expositions – the crates, the American SF soldier's traps (they should have made the film about him), the 'dog' attack and even to a point, the camp scene are all handled remarkably well. But beyond that, we enter Laurence Fishburn territory and it all goes south, quick. While initial glimpses of the predators camouflaged are no more than flashes, things remain pretty tense but soon we are annoyingly and patronisingly introduced to them one at a time – massive head predator, really massive head predator and sodding enormous head predator. Then we're on a rocket sled to film hell.
While Fishburn's part isn't as bad as some are making out, it does herald the end of any kind of suspense and dignity in the film. After that Rodriguez and his mate might as well have called it 'I Hate Predator and Predator 2'. In truth, up until Fishburn's reveal and the awkward chase that follows, I quite liked the film and was wondering what all the people on the IMDb were griping about. But while we started off exploring, suddenly we are mired in a horrible creature feature, with idiotic, clumsy fist-fights featuring (seemingly) fat men in rubber suits who have neither the physical grace nor understanding of the role to represent what the Predator was set up as in John McTierman's original. Put simply, the predators occasionally look embarrassingly naff and even gift-like set-pieces such as the stand-off with the Yakuza guy pass without me inwardly going 'that was cool'.
As two of the 'wolf' predators are slotted with laughable ease it rumbles towards an unthrilling end using the ridiculous premise that the 'hero' might be able to persuade 'classic' pred to help him fly their space ship back to earth (really). Then Rodriguez drops in the twist that no one can really be arsed with - Topher Grace's character is a nutter after all! Shock horror! He's a crazed serial killer who is quite happy to stay on the planet with the predators! No one bothers to ask what he thinks that might be like and how he thinks he'll survive. But this drek, in itself, is cinematic dynamite compared to the climax between Brody and Black Super-Mega-Ultra-Hollywood Predator of Doom 8000.
Now, Arnie was a big guy. So was Dan Glover. Sadly, hard looking blokes aren't allowed to be film stars anymore. Apparently it's politically incorrect to portray western males as people who might be able to give you a decent sized battering. It might upset somebody, somewhere.
Gender-Neutral fops on the other hand, are big business.
Enter Adam Brody. Now, the film makers know Brody wouldn't be able to physically take on the BSMUHPOD 8000, so, instead of taking him on mano e mano, he uses his superior fitness (stay with me) to run the predator ragged. Then he stops... and strikes.
Repeatedly.
Now stop me if I'm wrong here but isn't the whole point supposed to be that the predators are not only very strong but also super-nimble and fast. That's the whole point isn't it? That they are the ultimate warrior, the ultimate hunter.
If this guy can kick the shinola out of one, then I don't want to go to the cinema ever again.
For god's sake, the film is about the predators, not their prey. So, BSMUHPOD 8000 ripping Brody's fanny-pack off and beating him to death with it, leaving Eric Forman alone on the planet with ridiculously improbable IDF sniper as his love-slave wouldn't be the chirpiest of endings, but to make a good film - IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE! I just don't get why Hollywood insists on shoehorning a 'happy' ending onto every film, despite what has gone before. Anyone out there only seen the American theatrical cut of Neil Marshall's The Descent? Right, go get yourself a copy of the original British cut and observe what I'm talking about.
But I digress.
As a big fan of the first two Predator films I must end by saying I despise the way Hollywood trashes its own legacy just to make a quick buck and while there are flashes of the right stuff in this film, it ends up the same way that almost all modern action flicks do: Limp wristed and filled with compromises.
Do yourself a favour, watch this film up until Fat Ass springs his trap, then just switch it off and pretend that's the end.
Terminator Salvation (2009)
It's not the end of the world as you know it!
I truly believe in McG's commitment to the Terminator franchise and to this project. Propelled by the desire, not only to honour the franchise but also to endow his career with the kind of Batman Begins, franchise-revitalising boost that Christian Bale would surely provide, how could this possibly be a bad movie?
Well, in fairness, it isn't. It's a really good picture and a fun way to spend two hours. But, has McG succeeded in taking things back to their gritty roots? Were all his efforts to force his cast and crew to read Cormac McCarthy's 'The Road' in the hope of capturing a truly bleak, unforgiving post-apocalyptic future worthwhile?
Of course not. It's McG and he's a plonker.
Yes, as assured as the cast are, as wonderful as the sets and even to a point, the story are what you basically have here is a bunch of beautifully coiffured and made-up lipstick commandos throwing heroic shapes in a slightly litter-strewn desert while some robots that look a bit like Arnie fire miniguns very, very inaccurately at them.
But what about Skynet? I hear you say. Haven't the machines taken over? Isn't humanity on the bones of it's arse?
Well yes and no. You see,life in McG's future really isn't that bad. Basically, the rule of thumb is: if you see/hear a really loud, silver machine coming towards you, run like f**k. Other than that, you can basically just carry on as normal. The buses don't run anymore but if you have a hunt about there are some pretty nice cars lying around with petrol still in them. So don't worry, okay?
Oh and for all you vain ladies out there, McG's future still has plenty of good hairdressing salons open for business (evidently).
Seriously though, Salvation, apart from it's certificate 12A tameness is spot on. The cast are excellent with a reasonable balance between eye-candy and solid acting and the set pieces are universally thrilling. Although, I should warn my hero Christian Bale that if he plays it any more intense he is going to push himself into self parody.
Salvation for all it's Charlie's Angels in the future-ishness is far superior to Rise of the Machines and personally I feel that an Arnie cameo would have wrecked things as only Arnie in his latter days could. As it stands, his digital appearance is a uniquely thrilling moment that almost makes up for the distance the franchise has travelled from it's dirty, downbeat first instalment.
Provided we make peace with the fact that Hollywood simply doesn't do films like Terminator 1 anymore, then this is as good an action film as any of the current generation.
But don't expect another Batman Begins.
The Vampire Lovers (1970)
Worship the Goddess Ingrid Pitt!
The problem with Hammer Horror films it is, for all their charm and atmosphere, it is, at times, difficult to ignore their weaknesses - the uneven pacing, shoddy sets and hackneyed characters that dog their history. That said Vampire Lovers is a particularly fine example and a cultural milestone that heralded the arrival of vampyric characters as being romantic, charismatic and seductive. For all the strength of the cast in this film – George Cole and the obligatory Peter Cushing, for all it's whimsical, dreamlike eroticism and relatively slick (by Hammer standards) execution this film rises head and shoulders above its peers solely by virtue of it's leading lady.
Essentially defining the vampire for the generation of films that would follow Ingrid Pitt carries the cast and production effortlessly on a tide of charisma, charm, grace and almost preternatural beauty.
While this film is undoubtedly exploitative and resolutely sexist, it manages to inadvertently empower it's female lead albeit at the cost of the bevy of blushing, fainting beauties who line up only to fall under her spell. The patriarchal men who populate the film, dotting about looking worried, grumpy and pallid, just look pathetic next to the animalistic, virile goddess squaring up against them. As they cower behind their trinkets of religion, powerless to stop their women being spirited away, we inadvertently begin to side with the vampires. Just observe the scene where Ingrid's Carmilla bears down on the young buck who storms in to rescue the dizzy young virgin from our anti-heroine's clutches: Is it me or does the phallic sword that he wields seem to droop slightly as she surges down the stairs towards him?
Weight is lent to Ingrid's performance not only by her almost unbelievable natural charisma, but also by her acting abilities. This woman possessed more talent than the horror genre often asked of it's ladies - Check her out working the subtle nuances of her craft as the spectre of a smile creeps across her face on hearing that she is to be taken in by yet another unsuspecting band of aristos. Also fantastic is the scene where a couple of male characters discuss the fact that the predator amongst them is a woman
'an extremely beautiful woman'. We are then treated to a quick cut-away to Ingrid sitting in a chair managing to look haughty, sexy, smug, dangerous, seductive and powerful all at the same time – I kid you not!
The film's much vaunted eroticism, through solely projections of male fantasy, are undoubtedly stirring. Ingrid's seduction of Madeline Smith when she chases her round the room before falling onto the bed alongside her is as erotic as anything I have seen on screen and the real life revelations that, at the time the film was made Madeline was a virgin, while Ingrid was almost certainly not, make it all the more intoxicating. That Ingrid did not go on to achieve greater success as an actress is a sin, after all she was (and is) a fine actress and surely one of the most beautiful women alive. That she went on to have a successful writing career and continues to be worshipped by a legion of fans is wholly apt.
To conclude Vampire Lovers is a gem which deserves to be savoured and relished over and over again.
Resident Evil: Degeneration (2008)
The Stage is Set.
Perhaps you might read this thinking review: 'I quite fancy Degeneration. After all, I liked the Milla Jovavich films.' You might be in for a disappointment.
Much as I hate to acknowledge the Resident Evil critics (i.e. those who have never placed themselves in the direct path of one of the games for long enough for it to get it's hooks into you), there is some truth in the fact that Degeneration doesn't stand on it's own as a film particularly well. It skirts over too much, expects that the viewer already has a certain level of knowledge and brazenly tosses out cryptic references that only the fans will get.
Make no mistake, though this contains all the ingredients of a film: a story, a selection of set-pieces, a smattering of characters, this is
basically an informative insert in the lineage of the Resident Evil universe. It is a wedge between parts 4 and 5 that few who have not played them will appreciate.
The plot, such as it is, pertains to attempts by individuals to profiteer and exploit the dubious legacy of the, now destroyed Umbrella Corporation, punctuated by yet another unsuccessful attempt to use the G-Virus. Sadly, much of this is barely explained or fleshed out, serving only to introduce Umbrella's successor, Tricell ahead of their involvement in the events of Resident Evil 5. Lamentably the same lack of focus affects the characters and is particularly apparent in the case of the tragic anti-hero Curtis Miller as well as Albert Wesker-alike Frederic Downing.
While I cannot deny that I would struggle to see anything at all that a non RE fan would like about this film, to me, despite what I have just said, it still has it's charm. The CG animation is absolutely fantastic. As is the voice acting, despite one or two clunky RE moments (Jill Sandwich anyone?) and while the score is restrained in comparison to the games it contains the same portent piano motifs at suitable junctures. But first and foremost the events leading up to this film make it worth the bother in the first place. After all this where we get to see what Leon is up to after the events of RE4. This is where we get to see the reunion of Claire and Leon after the events of RE2 and revel once again in that gloriously wooden sexual tension. Perhaps most importantly of all, this is where the stage for RE5 is set.
And that really is where all it's beauty and all it's merit lies.
One for the fans? You bet.
Creature (1985)
Much Better Than You Might Think
As a young lad I watched Creature or The Titan Find as it was boxed in the UK some time after my first exposure to the genius that is Alien.
At the time I was unable to pick out the often blatant rip-offs from Ridley Scott's masterpiece. I was however, scared sh*tless. The Titan Find creeped me out in a way that Alien, as magnificent as it is, simply didn't.
Years later my disgust at what has become of modern action and science-fiction films – rendered bloated by cost-cutting yet impotent CG effects has found me searching obscure websites for interesting films buried by the sands of time.
Put simply: I would much rather sit through a sleazy 1980's b-movie with dodgy acting than the modern breed of bloated, egocentric, cash cow, star vehicles.
Okay, so I shove the DVD of The Titan Find in the machine and discover that this film has obviously never had a proper DVD release and this is simply ripped from a VHS tape. Frankly, I don't mind, the grainy quality of the picture reminds me of the good old days of home video and stops some of the more shonky sets from looking too lame.
My next observation is the sheer lengths the film makers went to to emulate Alien. Even the score in the first half hour of the film sounds like it and the scene where the ship has a rough touch down on the surface of Titan is basically a direct transcript of the Nostromo's landing on LV426.
Yet, I still have feelings of nothing but love for this film. The reason for this is that underneath all the cheap emulation is a film that has it's own strong points. It is in fact a slice of lurid gore, loaded with cracking horror riffs all drenched in that delicious 1980's atmosphere.
If I may just go back in time once more and explain why I bothered to search this film out: Like many of you out there I have seen thousands of films over the years. Over ninety percent of them are consigned to the waste disposal chute of my mind. Destined to never be thought of ever again. Not so with the Titan find. Though it has been somewhere around the two decade mark since I watched it there are certain images, events and characters that are forever etched in my consciousness. As I watched the filmd anew last night and saw them again I was amazed that they have lost almost nothing with time. The bizarre image from the bridge of the space ship seconds before it crashes into the base at the beginning of the film is a profoundly disturbing moment even now and one that I found myself rewinding twice over before I continued.
Beyond that the first hour of the film (up until the monster's slightly disappointing reveal) is evenly peppered with wonderfully nasty stuff: Fennel being lured outside by his hot yet decaying girlfriend, the discovery of the German crew then Fennel's reappearance and gruesomely literal unmasking all still pack a punch and gorehounds will not be disappointed.
Despite some slightly B-movie acting The Titan Find even manages to notch up a few good characters with Bryce and Sladen providing diverse hotness with icy, post-Ripley cool in the former and cuddly, girly lovability in the latter. Oh yeah, and some bloke called Klaus Kinski is in it too, busting loose a few raw acting chops!
My only disappointment when comparing my memory to the modern reality was the final reel in which the creature itself is confronted. To be honest, the unpredictable, bloody atmosphere and creepy happenings leave the building completely as we see a ridiculous rubber model slug it out with the remaining survivors.
Happily the film makers obviously realised the monster was a bit crap and so hold it back until the final ten minutes. Search this film out and get your mind past the Alien-isms.
Nightmare (1981)
A Disappointing Entry in the Nasties List.
Much has been made about the legacy of Nightmare (aka Nightmare in a Damaged Brain). Some commented on the film's rank unprofessionalism and poor acting but more commonly it is noted as one of the more sleazy and exploitative nasties on the BBFC's oft-misguided list. Having waiting a long time to see this particular nasty and recently having procured one of the most complete versions of it, I have to say that I found it to be roundly disappointing on most counts.
First off, I personally didn't find the acting all that bad. Okay so the children were a bit crap but the rest held their own well enough with the Baird Stafford looking genuinely disturbed at times (like a poor man's Jack Nicholson in the Shining). While the acting never really grates, the other trappings of B-moviedom on the other hand, quickly do. Yes, lengthy scenery shots, lingering focuses on inanimate and irrelevant objects, mundane conversations stretched out to almost real-time duration they are all here in spades. As if that wasn't bad enough the sleaze really isn't that sleazy by today's standards including a visit to a peep show little worse than something you might bring the whole family to! The plot is dull and crude as the main protagonist, George Tatum gets wound up enough to start killing people while the assorted dumbasses who misguidedly released him from incarceration do their best to round him up using a totally unconvincing looking computer program. Things tread water to such a degree that when the action finally does happen, there is no real way it can live up to your expectations.
Cutting aside most of the flab and threat of violence that comprises the majority of the film's run time there are really only two gore sequences of any note. The first is the scene where George stalks and stabs a woman after she drives home. This is fairly graphic and visceral (literally) and taps perfectly into what I think of when someone mentions 80's horror trash. The second notable scene is the flash-back to George Tatum's childhood, glimpses of which are peppered throughout the film (distracting the viewer from the film's lack of variety). While the dismemberment therein is by no means deftly executed (sorry) something in it's staging works quite profoundly well. The image of the young boy dressed in white, holding the axe aloft before both he and the entire room are doused in the blood of his father and an unfortunate prostitute strike home quite well. Indeed the final moments of the film where we see young George, caked in blood after the event, cut against the image of the boy we discover to be his son in the back seat of the police car are quite striking.
Nightmare honestly isn't as good as it's reputation suggests and to my mind is more trash than trashy. It suffers fundamentally from a lack of a couple of things that make the best horror films so wanton, frivolous and fun. Namely violence, bizarre imagery and nudity (the very beautiful Sharon Smith was sorely underused on this count)! If you are about to set out trying to track down obscure nasties and this is high on your list be warned: This is a highly uneven ride propped up by only one or two good scenes and there are better nasties out there.
Trust me, go for Island of Death. It rocks like a three legged table!
Death Ship (1980)
A Forgotten Gem.
Like at least one other reviewer here the lurid cover art of Death Ship drew me in as young, impressionable boy standing in the local dodgy video store in the early eighties shortly before many of the horror and exploitation films therein were whipped from our shelves by the fledgling BBFC and consigned to that cinematic void that lurks somewhere between obscurity and cult-fame.
Of course the over-zealous authorities did us a favour really. Ridding the shelves of films that in many cases were utter dross, propelled forward by enticing cover art. However there were some diamonds among the dung, Death Ship being a particularly shiny one, and it truly is a mystery how such a great film remained almost completely unavailable and unknown until it's recent repackaging and rerelease.
Despite a few B-movie clangers like the ridiculous day/night differential in the opening scenes Death Ship isn't true horror trash. For a start, it's got a famous-ish cast including George Kennedy, Richard Crenna and not to mention that bloke who went on to play Donnie in Frasier! But the area in which this film really sets itself apart is the set. The Death Ship in reality, I understand, was a decommissioned Canadian freighter of some description (albeit from the sixties rather than the forties) and most of the movie was filmed either on the decks or in the vessel's actual interior. It certainly looks the part with the ship's black, rust streaked exterior and grim, outdated interior brilliantly telling the tale of a Nazi interrogation ship given a life of it's own by the ghosts of it's past.
As the eerie first half of the film gives way to the helter skelter second half there are some truly sinister moments with the old woman's disfigurement at the hands of some innocent looking candies ranking as particularly shocking as was Nick Mancuso's wretched demise in the ship's flooded hold.
Rather less impactful was the supposedly infamous shower scene in which the gorgeous Victoria Burgoyne takes a bloody shower. The reality is however, overlong and sightly tedious.
I guess I could complain a little bit about the lack of answers provided. For example what was with all the frozen sailors and airmen? Were they poor unfortunates the ship had picked up for interrogation during the Second World War? But perhaps I should be grateful that the Death Ship just sailed off into cinematic obscurity rather than ruin it's poise by spelling every single thing out to the audience.
In short, this is a cracking horror yarn that deserves to take it's rightful place in the annals of history.
Doomsday (2008)
Gratifying from Beginning to End.
Do you remember the glory days of action films? Predator, Robocop, Mad Max and all the hundreds off knock offs that at the time felt lousy but compared to todays cash-bloated, egocentric, star-vehicle, CGI riddled Hollywood crud-fests were spot on? Course you do.
Let me tell you: I damn well love Neil Marshall.
I love him.
Marshall is a guy who has enough talent to make a variety of different ideas work and yet at the same time never gets given enough money for his films to become too grandiose and self indulgent. After sitting enthralled through three of his films I can honesty say that I don't want this guy to ever be at the helm of a super-budget movie. I think more money would ruin it.
While his previous outings Dog Soldiers and the phenomenal The Descent harked back to old-school, dingy, downbeat British horror, Doomsday evolves by taking that grime, that darkness and fusing it to an apocalyptic view of Great Britain and specifically Scotland.
As mentioned elsewhere this film fuses elements of Mad Max, 28 Days Later, Escape from New York and Aliens (I refer to the initial infiltration scenes in the hospital) to come up with something truly entertaining and special.
Given Hollywood's current penchant for remakes, self reference and the achingly pathetic concept of the 'reboot' it's easy to see how this could have been an appallingly bad movie trading on past glories and desperately treading water. Instead it represents a return to the glorious, high octane, ridiculous action movies of yesteryear where ornately designed sets, cool vehicles and amusing deaths were every bit as important as political correctness and gratifying the ego of the leading actors.
As I mentioned before Doomsday is given strength by the constraints of it's budget. While showing a derelict, overgrown Glasgow in broad daylight would have dictated expensive and cheapening CGI effects Marshall instead uses dark, atmospheric and spectacularly well designed sets to tell the story. From the tribal Thunderdome-esquire Glaswegian interiors to a medieval castle and an underground storage facility borrowed from Romero's Day of the Dead things look universally incredible with more detail than the eye can take on one watch alone.
Similar efforts have been made in the costume department with Glasgow's strangely attractive looking Gothic cyberpunk tribes people hijacking the limelight during most of their screen time. Duly noted too was a gleefully insane and always scene stealing turn by Craig Conway as Sol.
Despite a few bits of clunky B-movie grade acting from the supporting cast there is little not to be liked about the film and as it rocketed towards a highway climax that came across as a loving homage to Mad Max 2 The Road Warrior I found myself wishing that I could flip the disk back to the beginning and start over.
It really is that good.
Hobgoblins (1988)
The Most Meaningless Experience Imaginable.
It is at the point where the character 'Pixie' lollops across the floor of Club Scum. She's moving like demented totem-pole on legs, her stupid Marge Simpson hairdo standing up a clear six inches higher than her arms which are raised at right angles. She moves in a bizarre extended gait that tries (and fails) to register her horror at the appearance of the hobgoblins. The purported dive of a club across which she runs is actually some form of cafeteria, replete with plastic tables, a serving hatch instead of a bar and punctuated with advertisements for products such as 'beer' and 'sex' highlighted by tinsel.
'Good day old chap. Can I have a beer and sex please?'
It is at this moment that mentally I pack my bags and give up on Hobgoblins.
Don't think I'm stupid, deluded or both. I went into this with my eyes open having read each and every one of the reviews posted on IMDb. For some reason though, I thought I knew best. Okay, so you all thought it was soul-splittingly bad, but I like bad films. I'll like it. I even took the bold decision to watch the non-MST3K version, so sure was I that it's badness would translate as good.
Sadly, it isn't a question of simply bad or good.
Obviously this film isn't good. The directing is beyond inept, the acting non-existent and there is no pacing, no tension and no humour to speak of.
Technically however, I couldn't call this film bad either. For a film to be bad it has to try and fail but hobgoblins doesn't even try
anything. Any action, any opportunity for a set piece or anything which might further the plot simply comes and goes without event, solution or explanation. Take for example the scene in the house where the main characters first encounter the hobgoblins: They don't even try to pretend that they are actually being attacked, instead simply hold the puppets while delivering their lines dead pan.
It took me some time to work out how to classify this uniquely unenjoyable experience but in the end I came to the conclusion that it isn't actually a movie. It's just a series of random scenes on DVD. Like watching a DVD of some paint drying.
Other reviewers have mentioned bad parts of this film which to me sounded like they might be quite fun. For example the rake fight, the odious slut (who actually isn't even that), the horrible big-arsed bloke who's addicted to sex lines and the crappy puppets but the truth of the matter is that Hobgoblins is so profoundly meaningless and without personality that these inept features fail to even raise a derisive smile.
Hobgoblins is a vacuum of an experience that I beg you to never, ever embark upon no matter what the temptation.
The Devil's Men (1976)
Nice Atmosphere, Shame About Everything Else.
The Devil's Men represents what turned out to be one of the last gasps of the occult obsessed horror scene of the 70's shortly before Halloween came along, tore up the rule book, set fire to it and kicked it screaming through a plate glass window.
To cut a long story short a couple of enterprising Greek film makers fancy their chances of nailing together a new film franchise featuring the unlikely double act of womanising, wise talking American investigator Milo and stuffy but kind hearted priest Father Roche. An exiled nobleman is mixed up in some satanic jiggery pokery - offering up tourists as sacrifices to an extremely unfrightening effigy of the minotaur and only Milo and Roche can stop him!
Or something like that.
The reality is however horribly dull, frustrating and loaded with wasted opportunities. I strongly suspect that the fledgling film makers blew most of the budget on getting Donald Plesance, Peter Cushing and Brian Eno (for the soundtrack) onboard and hoped that would be enough to sway audiences in the English speaking world.
It isn't. The Devil's Men looks beautiful with assured, camera-work and fantastic locations. Eno's score, though basically just a one chord drone that he probably cranked out in an afternoon is suitably atmospheric and the movie is laden with cracking 70's crumpet including that Austrailian sort from Fawlty Towers and uber hottie Jane Lyle of Island of Death infamy. But there the positives end. Cushing sleepwalks through it, looking like he has a corn cob up his bum and Pleasance fusses about trying his best, but never quite getting things right. To make matters worse the character of Milo is appallingly flimsy and unlikeable.
Okay, so it doesn't look that good. But from there the film simply refuses to go anywhere. There is an insinuation that the local villagers are possessed, but to be fair to them, they never really do anything very much other than shuffle about looking glassy eyed. Perhaps they were just tired? Just when you are sure things will come to some kind of a head Milo and Roche interrupt the Baron's satanic party with laughable ease, sending him on to meet his maker. The statue of the minotaur falls silent and hey presto! Satan is defeated.
Yeah right.
The inane optimism that The Devil's Men might be the first of a series of films is hammered home by Father Roche's final line mere seconds before the ridiculously rushed ending.
"Who knows Milo? Perhaps one day I may call upon you again to help defeat the Antichrist."
I'm sure you'll be putting that call in any day now Donald.
To symblegma (1978)
A Very Well Hidden Treasure.
As this film is almost impossible to get your hands on in it's uncut form I will skip quickly over the plot - beware of spoilers:
Lovely but slightly dim prostitute Suzan, backed into a corner, kills her abusive pimp/boyfriend (who looks like a young Captain Birdseye)and then flees to the island of Mykonos to stay with her ludicrously shifty fashion designer friends and indulge in the boho lifestyle: shagging like it's going out of style, dancing in crap-looking nightclubs and getting nekkid once every four seconds.
On Mykonos Suzan attracts the attentions (and affections) of would-be gigalo Paul. Suzan thinks Paul is great although he can barely conceal his disinterest in her. She continues to believe in him even when he gets off with a wealthy, Roman-nosed uber hottie right in front of her face.
To the Director's credit the viewer really sides with Suzan and feels genuinely sorry for her when she becomes the victim of a plot to blackmail her out of her (very) hard earned savings. But who could be the guilty party when everyone in the film (and I mean everyone) looks as guilty as the man behind the grassy knoll?
While having neither the sleaze of 70's exploitation nor the carnality of 70's hardcore Mykonos Illusions succeeds quite remarkably by trading on it's variable merits of hilariously wooden acting,beautiful locations, woozy eroticism and a plot that wouldn't seem out of place in a daytime soap opera.
It's a dreamy and strangely psychedelic experience as the beautiful Patricia Donaldson (long before porny actresses started doing sit-ups!) drifts dumbly from location to location while various men and women attempt to seduce her. The sex is explicit enough, especially the first scene and Suzan's liaison with Paul near the end but it never really lingers on the money long enough to become hardcore, despite some fairly graphic (and unfashioniably hairy) views and one instance of bodily fluids flying about!
As the film draws towards the end of the second act it neatly sidesteps the lag in pace that trash cinema often encounters by introducing, gasp... a twist! Although not entirely surprising and plenty easy to poke holes through (the bullets in the gun appear to be intermittently fake/real as the plot requires) this ups the pace, drawing the film to a conclusion that while perhaps a little rushed, certainly does not outstay it's welcome. I must also say that the sight of the Cop walking casually up to the couple having sex at the end was unintentionally, but brilliantly hilarious!
To conclude Mykonos Illusions is an enjoyable and overlooked curiosity, buried in time not because it's crap but because it's director has gone on to become very successful in the world of mainstream TV. If you like 'so bad they're good' type films, sleaze with more than a little bit of sex and that promiscuous 70's vibe a la Russ Meyer then you will definitely like this.
As a footnote for super-anoraks I understand that Jane Ryall, star of the infamous Greek treasure, Island of Death is in this film somewhere (I was hoping it would be in one of the sex scenes!!). Personally I couldn't see her. Also I note Patricia Donaldson appeared recently in the appalling Pitt/Jolie vehicle Mr and Mrs Smith. It might be worth sitting through that flaccid mess again just to see how Ms Donaldson has aged.
Ta paidiá tou Diavólou (1976)
Kind of Worth the Wait.
Of all the infamous nasties out there Island of Death, for me seemed to be one of the more luridly attractive ones. I.e. contained the most depravity! Having finally tracked down a reasonably priced and uncut version of the film I finally got to see what all the fuss is about.
It is certain from the outset that explicit violence and gore are not what got this film banned. The nails through the hands and force-fed paint scenes are certainly no worse than what you see in glossy 15-rated Hollywood horrors now. I think what offended with this one is not so much the actions of the film's murderers, Celia and Christopher but the lifestyles of their victims.
Oh yes, gay, lesbian and straight, the promiscuous and the drug users are all in the cross-hair here. The film maker even takes time out to execute a black detective. Just for having the audacity to try and bring good old Chris and Celia to justice.
While the violence is muted the sleaze certainly isn't. Things bash along in a fashion that stops a little shy (a little too shy if you ask me) of softcore porn. But don't worry, what it lacks in explicitness it more than makes up for in frequency. You will be pleased to know that the absolutely gorgeous heroine (or should that be villainess) played exceptionally woodenly by Jane Ryall only ever keeps herself covered up for thirty seconds at a time.
In truth Island of Death is worth it for Ryall alone. She genuinely looks good enough to eat and that whole ditsy, can't act thing that she does only serves to heighten her appeal! For me anyway. Rather disturbingly, the comely Ms Ryall appeared briefly in one other crap Greek film and then was never heard from again. I mourn.
The story of Island of Death is the usual poor fodder, although certainly superior to many. The Bonnie and Clyde thing is never fully realised however as it is implied that Christopher is the real psycho and Celia is just meekly caught up in his wake - occasionally looking wretched and criticising his actions. But yet she carries out probably the most cold killing in the whole film. What the hell is that all about? Either make her a proper victim or a proper villain. It also irked me a bit the speed at which she turns on Christopher at the end. Mind you, this is trash cinema after all. Island of Death plays out almost like a crap sex comedy and that isn't a bad thing. No one likes a bad film that takes itself too seriously.
This is definitely one for fans of trash films and 'so bad its good stuff' (me). The acting is universally poor with a couple of the characters apparently just reading their lines conversationally.
Aside from that however, it actually looks quite professionally made. The shots are reasonably framed and the camera-work not too static. The editing has dated it a bit but that just lends it that inimitable sleazy 70's feel.
So thats about it, nasty in tone, but not in action perhaps? A little kinky, certainly: Just check out the promiscuous older woman being urinated on. Does it deserve its infamy? Probably not, but its still a good bit better than most of the dross on the nasty's list.
Oh yeah, bring back Jane Ryall.