Foster on Film – Page 87 – The Film Criticism of Matthew M. Foster

The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1974)

Sep 281974

Sinbad (John Phillip Law) finds himself in possession of a golden tablet, which combined with one held by the Vizier of Marabia, forms two thirds of a map to great riches and magical powers. The two set out to claim these treasures, along with a beautiful, tattooed slave girl, Margiana (Caroline Munro), and Sinbad’s loyal crew. Complicating the mission are monsters, savages, and the evil sorcerer Koura (Tom Baker), who wants the items for himself.

I’ve never awaited a movie with such anticipation as I did The Golden Voyage of Sinbad. I’d seen Jason and the Argonauts and Mysterious Island, so I knew what Ray Harryhausen was capable of, but I knew this would be so much more. The advertisement, just a B&W theater ad in the local paper, displayed the alien cyclopean-centaur along with a portion of a nimble sailing ship. It was going to be great, transporting me to mythic lands and unleashing hordes of monsters to be defeated by a foreign hero. I was twelve, and it was 1974, and I even cut out those poorly-inked newspaper pictures. How could any film live up to that?

Guess what? It did. It fulfilled every dream in my just-adolescent heart, and after all these years, it still does. One selling point is that, for a change, a film of the Arabian Nights puts an effort into being Arabian. While it’s at it, it tosses in a touch of India and the Far East, all of which are very far away from my everyday life. I can’t say how accurate the accents are, but it doesn’t matter (who knows what anyone sounded like in the time of Sinbad?) as long as no one sounds like they are my neighbor. Previous films, such as The 7th Voyage of Sinbad, always felt like they were cast by the local branch of the KKK. I swear they’re all in Kansas. Worse, they are in 1950’s Kansas, with appropriate hair cuts. But The Golden Voyage of Sinbad transplants the viewer to an ancient never-land of Arabia, where I can believe dark magicians and horrendous but wonderful monster abide.

This is a Harryhausen flick, so spectacular effects are expected, and he doesn’t disappoint, with work that is only rivaled by the bronze giant and skeletons of Jason and the Argonauts. Here we get the small, winged, demonic-looking homunculus (a new word for me in 1974), a walking ship’s figurehead, a one-eyed centaur, a griffin, and the real prize, a six-armed, sword-wielding statue of Kali. All are marvels, though the last stands out as Harryhausen’s single finest work. Its fight with Sinbad’s crew is the high point of the stop motion animation technique.

The acting is as good as it needs to be, with John Phillip Law (the blind angel from Barbarella) making a surprisingly effective Sinbad. He plays it less as a wild swashbuckler and more as a thoughtful, if impulsive, sea captain. Caroline Munro (a Bond girl in The Spy Who Loved Me) is one of the most beautiful women to ever grace the screen. She has little to do beyond looking stunning in her cleavage-baring slave girl costumes, but that’s enough. In most Harryhausen films, the creatures eclipse the actors, but Munro holds her own, making it difficult to know where to look.

But then there is Baker, who outshines them both. He is the real star of the show, and that’s what makes this the best Harryhausen movie; there is something better than the effects. Baker would go on to become the 4th Doctor in the long running British series Doctor Who, where he did excellent work, but I can’t help wondering if it wouldn’t have been better if he’d skipped that role so that he could have had more of a film career. He makes Koura gleefully evil. With a lyrical voice and a powerful bearing, he commands every scene he’s in. So many filmmakers fail to understand that the villain is more important than the hero. A good villain makes a film, and Koura can join the ranks of Dracula (Lugosi’s), Sir Guy of Gisbourne, Darth Vader, Hans Gruber, Hannibal Lector, and Agent Smith at the top of their profession. A problem with so many magical villains (and heroes) is their tendency not to use their powers. Even Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings is marred by Gandalf’s inexplicable reluctance to use his abilities (once it is shown he can repel all the the Ring Wraiths at once with a beam of light, it’s hard to figure why he never uses this skill again). But Koura has a reason, and it is so brilliant, intuitive, and simple, I can’t imagine why no one else ever uses it. Every time Koura casts a spell, the evil spirits he invokes take part of him, causing him to age. With such a cost, I’d be selective on what I did with my magic too.

Ray Harryhausen’s other features are The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (1953), It Came from Beneath the Sea (1955), Earth Vs. The Flying Saucers (1956), 20 Million Miles to Earth (1957), The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958), The 3 Worlds of Gulliver (1960), Mysterious Island (1961), Jason and the Argonauts (1963), The First Men in the Moon (1964), One Million Years B.C. (1966), The Valley of Gwangi (1969), Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger (1977), and Clash of the Titans (1981).

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Fantasy, Giant Monsters, Reviews Tagged with: Five Reels

The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974)

Sep 091974

While driving through rural Texas, Sally, her wheelchair-confined brother, Franklin, and three other late teens (or early twenty year olds) pick up a deranged hitchhiker. After tossing him out, they stop at the abandoned family home and then run into the neighbors, who include the hitchhiker, a chainsaw wielding maniac, and other assorted cannibals.

A direct descendent of Psycho (both claim to be inspired by the story of Ed Gein, but have as much in common with that Wisconsin murder case as they do with Mary Poppins), and parent to Halloween, all the trappings of the standard Slasher are here. The victims are young (and the girls are cute), the killer wears a mask and takes out his victims with hand weapons, and it all comes down to one screaming girl. Its significance to the sub-genre is enough reason to see The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, (and yes, in Texas, they can’t spell “chainsaw”). There’s nothing frightening in the film (all sorts of claims of its terrifying nature are tossed around, but usually as part of marketing), but it is a weird film with some gruesome (though not gory) scenes. The sudden hammer attacks and the meat hook (you can guess) have more impact than any Slasher murders outside of Psycho. This is basically a snuff film with filler; if that’s what you are looking for, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre won’t disappoint.

All is not well in this very low budget flick. The grainy 16mm look isn’t a big problem in bright scenes (though the glare is annoying), but in the many dark scenes it is hard to make out any details. The sound is worse, with no depth or separation. The acting is sub-par; that’s OK for the freaks (not exactly difficult roles) who come off as funny, but it makes the early scenes with the soon-to-be-victims a mess. Watching Sally and Franklin talk by the side of their van is painful. Franklin is always a problem; Tobe Hooper keeps changing the character. Sometimes he’s a reasonable adult, sometimes a bratty child, and sometimes he’s mentally retarded. Luckily, he gets killed so that takes care of that problem.

Reviews, Slashers Tagged with: Three Reels

Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla (1974)

May 231974

Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla isn’t much, but that still puts it miles above its predecessors. The aliens are now space apes, in human form, naturally. The big news is that Godzilla has just one opponent. That’s shaking things up. It is a laser-shooting mechanical Godzilla, so fearsome that the real lizard only stands a chance with the help of a man in a dog outfit. King Seesar, that’s the dog man, is an ancient god–except they still call him a monster–that a prophecy declares will rise up when the world is in greatest peril, and fight along side another monster (guess who). Apparently that peril only comes after the humans do a lot of wandering about, but they are less annoying humans than in the last five films, so their wandering isn’t a strain to watch. Mechagodzilla is a non-embarrassing foe, though we are served up some silly combat moves. I give this the mildest of recommendations to anyone who can get past the ridiculous pooch. I can’t.

Godzilla, Reviews Tagged with: One Reel

The Satanic Rites of Dracula (1973)

Oct 181973

Powerful government officials are meeting in secret, holding black masses, and planning some unknown threat against king and country. The head of the security service knows this is too politically hot, so calls in Inspector Murray (Michael Coles), who had faced dark forces in Dracula A.D. 1972. He in turn, calls in Professor Van Helsing (Peter Cushing). Might it all be the evil doings of Dracula (Christopher Lee)? Yes, yes it might.

Made by the same team as Dracula A.D. 1972, and with the same lack of talent, The Satanic Rites of Dracula doesn’t look or sound like a movie, but like any number of cop shows of the time. There’s simply no skill behind the camera.

However, once we get past basic film-making skills, things improve. Without the earlier film’s groovy ‘60s vibe, there’s space for mystery and suspense. A spy caper is several points up from yet another vampire revenge film. We have clear protagonists and clear aims, which allows us greater time with the characters who matter. Satanic Rites has arguably the best plot of any Hammer Dracula film (yes, that’s a low bar, but it is something) with an actual story that goes somewhere and can’t be explained with: “Vampire wants revenge. Get’s stabbed.”

It’s also nice to have a direct sequel, sharing multiple characters with the previous film, though in one case without much care. They were forced to recast the role of Jessica Van Helsing, taking on Joanna Lumley, who does a fine job, but I wonder why they didn’t bother with a blonde wig. Appearance aside, the character is completely different, now a brilliant assistant to her Grandfather without her hippy ways. But since I’m happy to forget the hip cats, I can live with the inconsistency.

Hammer had been awkwardly adding nudity to their films for several years, but had kept the nipples covered in their Dracula films. That changed here, with long and loving shots of a naked sacrifice, but it actually fits the film. It would be more awkward for her to have stayed dressed. For Hammer, that’s a significant success.

However, one thing doesn’t fit The Satanic Rites of Dracula: Dracula. Vampires make no sense in the movie, but Hammer wanted to squeeze a few more dollars from the name. Make Peter Cushing “Professor Johnson, special consultant to Scotland Yard” and Christopher Lee the “non-vampiric D. D. Denham, evil priest and industrialist” and you are all set. Dracula pretends to be just that for most of the film as is, and his plan to use modern technology doesn’t require a vampire. Vampirism just confuses matters and the cult makes it redundant. But I have to review the film for what it is, not what it should be, and what it is is one of the better Hammer Dracula films, though deeply flawed.

The other Hammer Dracula films are: The Horror of Dracula (1958), The Brides of Dracula (1960)—which lacked Dracula, Dracula, Prince of Darkness (1966), Dracula Has Risen from the Grave (1968), Taste the Blood of Dracula (1970), Scars of Dracula (1971), Dracula A.D. 1972 (1972) and The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires (1974).

Reviews, Vampires Tagged with: Two & 1/2 Reels

The Legend of Hell House (1973)

Oct 111973

Hired to determine if there is life after death, Lionel Barrett (Clive Revill), a physicist and psychic researcher, Ann (Gayle Hunnicutt), his wife, and two mediums, Florence Tanner (Pamela Franklin) and Benjamin Franklin Fischer (Roddy McDowall), investigate the extremely haunted “Hell House.”

A by-the-numbers retread of the standard ghost story, The Legend of Hell House is a dumbed-down version of The Haunting, which isn’t exactly rocket science to begin with. As in that film, four people, one being a scientist, and two being psychics, go into a haunted house to see what will happen. This has the same split of genders, and even has one woman as “the sexual” one. Where they differ is in the discernable effects of the ghosts. In The Legend of Hell House, voices mumble and plates are flying off tables from the beginning. There is so much activity, and it is taken so lightly, that I was expecting Florence would start asking spirits to turn off the lights at bedtime.

While the story shows no variation from the basic ghost story, that alone isn’t a huge problem since it is a good story. What is a problem is how incredibly dim these four people are, and how the plot can only progress as long as they keep acting stupidly. Three of the four don’t bother to get basic information on the house and the hauntings before showing up, and have to quiz Benjamin to get the details. Before venturing into a possibly deadly situation, I’d at least spend a few hours at the library. Benjamin’s slow exposition (oh, so slow) exists to spoon-feed the background to the viewer, but there are better ways to convey information. All of the characters speak in short, cryptic phrases, just to sound cool and make it more difficult to understand what they mean. Again, this is a dangerous place; would you really want to be unclear? They also split up as often as possible, choosing to sleep apart and wander into the basement alone. Some films can pull that off because the dangerous nature of the house is still uncertain, but there’s no such vagueness here. There’s been eight victims before our “heroes” even show up. Hey, it’s the ’70s; time to overcome that shyness and sleep in one room. But then, these are people that find it normal for physical object to fly about, but are shocked when it becomes dangerous. Whenever anything threatening happens, or someone acts strangely, the others panic, get angry, and blame each other. It’s obvious that the ghost is at work and they are being possessed, but no one takes that into account. Perhaps the worst case is when Lionel gets upset and his wife feels guilty after she propositions Benjamin while possessed. Ummmm, she’s possessed. Doesn’t that mean she isn’t responsible? But the stupidity goes on, such as when no one tries to restrain Florence when she is known to be psychologically deranged and deeply opposed to Lionel using his cheap-looking machine pulled from a bad ’50s space opera. Might she try and break the machine? No one else seems to think so.

I am curious about the local law. When they find a dead body, they simply bury it on the grounds. Hmmmmm. Shouldn’t they call the police? Or the coroner? Or somebody? It’s not as if they attempt to report any of the other events that would require the law to show up. Sure, they are way out in the middle of nowhere, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t time to start hiking.

It all ends in one of the least satisfying ghostly secrets on record. Not only does the mystery inspire more giggles than shrieks, but the manner of combating the ghost with the information makes the entire film a bad joke. I suppose the ending, and much of the rest of the film, could be forgiven if the whole affair was light and fun, but the filmmakers took it very seriously. The Legend of Hell House is presented as deep and horrific drama, even down to putting a note up at the beginning of the film from respected clairvoyant and psychic, Tom Crobett, that the events in the movie could happen. Is there such a thing as a respected clairvoyant and psychic? For a film that proclaims itself to be “realistic,” perhaps a bit less Hammer-type fog might have been clever.

While the cast overacts at every opportunity, Roddy McDowall is always a kick to watch and almost saves the film. Director John Hough went on to make Howling IV: The Original Nightmare, which explains a great deal about this production.

Ghost Stories, Reviews Tagged with: One Reel

A Name For Evil (1973)

Oct 111973

John Blake (Robert Culp), discontent with city life, takes his wife (Samantha Eggar) and moves to his great-grandfather’s ruined country mansion. But it is haunted and something doesn’t want him there.

Quick Review: Not so much a completed film, but a series of scenes edited together with no concern for narrative structure, the randomly named A Name For Evil is a ghost story with almost no ghost activity. Blake is delusional, seeing his wife as she once was, which makes it hard to determine what is meant to be real. Most of the film is Blake and his wife bickering or Blake walking around the grounds of the semi-haunted house. If you are looking for a film about walking in a big yard, this is the film for you. There is also the sudden shift to a hippie sing-along and the accompanying orgy, neither of which fit the film, but are an improvement over the bickering scenes. I really expected the ghost to do something at the climax, but he didn’t. Depending on how you feel about a naked Robert Culp, there is either nothing, or very little of interest in A Name For Evil.

Ghost Stories, Reviews Tagged with: One Reel

Lemora: A Child’s Tale of the Supernatural (1973)

Oct 091973

Innocent Lila (Cheryl Smith), raised by the local preacher (Richard Blackburn), receives a letter stating that her gangster father is dying and wants to see her to gain her forgiveness, but she must come alone. The letter was actually composed by Lemora (Lesley Gilb), a vampire, who controls the town of Asteroth and is holding Lila’s father. The journey will force Lila to confront lewd ticket-takers, offensive bums, forest undead, and her own desires.

Very European in flavor, Lemora is less a horror film, and more a dark fantasy. It’s a dreamlike fairy tale. Little Red Riding Hood, in all her childhood glory, goes to grandmother’s house and meets a lot of wolves, sometimes as lecherous mortals, sometimes as raving zombies, and sometimes as stimulating vampires. It becomes clear that in the world of temptation, depravity, and human weakness, Lemora may be the best thing going. Innocence is not a fine quality to keep. Lila’s journey is her sexual and sensual awakening.

Don’t look for that “sexual awakening” to produce any graphic nudity. This is a PG movie. Much has been made of the lesbianism in the “bathing scene,” but that’s usually from people who haven’t seen it; metaphor is all you’ll find in Lemora.

Writer/Director Richard Blackburn claims the movie is about repression. Critics say it’s about the loss of innocence. The statements are close, but Blackburn was going for more of a triumphant realization, not a sad bow to reality. He comes close.

There’s a lot to like about Lemora: A Child’s Tale of the Supernatural. It has a strong mood, an unusual setting for a vampire film (southern United States of the 1930s), and a stunning lead in Cheryl “Rainbeaux” Smith (who went into exploitation flicks and died at age 47). It isn’t just another vampire film, but something unusual.

However, the low budget drags in down. A few more dollars on makeup effects would have helped, but the real problem is the need for professionals at the top, and the money wasn’t there to hire them. Blackburn, directing his first and only feature, does his best with this labor of love, but lacks the skill to make the film sing. The pacing is uneven, and the picture has a flat, video feel. Camera angles vary from dull to unnecessary. He needed to retain a fight choreographer (along with a DP who knew how to film a fight) as Blackburn was forced to change the ending in postproduction because his climatic battle looked silly. More money might have allowed Blackburn to fix the sound; there are numerous times when the looped dialog doesn’t synch with the actor’s lips. For low budget fare, this is OK, but it needed to have a real budget.

Reviews, Vampires Tagged with: Three Reels

Female Vampire / Erotic Kill (1973)

Oct 091973

Countess Irina Karlstein (Lina Romay) vacations on the island of Madeira, where her family’s vampirism has become myth. However, it is quite real, and as she kills locals for their life force, a few believers seek her out, several to destroy her, and a poet to be with her.

As the credits appear, we see a beautiful and sexy young woman, clad in only a cape, belt, and boots, walking toward the viewer. The camera jerks now and again, but that’s OK as all attention is focused on the nearly nude figure. The poor focus is more of a problem, as it makes it hard to see this vision. And this sensual female steps closer, and closer, and then…bumps into the camera lens. Yes, she hits it with her face, and no, this isn’t a comedy. Now there are several questions that the “whack” brings to my mind, such as: Couldn’t she see the camera or was she so obedient that she just kept following her instructions to walk forward even after it was obviously a bad idea? But the biggest question is why did writer-director-editor-cinematographer-cameraman Jesus Franco (he did them all using different names) put that in the final cut? It isn’t the last “why did he do that?” type question that popped to my mind while watching Female Vampire, a film that bears a striking resemblance to the work of any guy with a camcorder and a willing girlfriend.

Primarily, Female Vampire exists to show off the substantial charms of Lina Romay, who spends most of the film naked or nearly so, rolling around on a bed by herself or with a victim. Her thrashing about shows little choreography. I suspect Franco’s direction consisted of, “OK, wiggle, and show some sexual interest toward that pillow.” I doubt she ever saw dailies, which would have helped her in choosing more satisfying movements. While she could have been more artistic, I cannot complain about her enthusiasm and can think of many more unpleasant ways to spend a few hours than watching Romay in the buff.

While Romay can be forgiven any shortcoming, that’s not the case with Franco, who lacks even the basic skills of a director. Since he’s filming naked people, sometimes having sex, sometimes just laying there, I understand his uncontrollable desire for zoom shots, but these would work better if he zoomed in on something specific. More often than not, as he zooms, the camera drifts, and he ends up with a full screen shot of a patch of pale skin or a close-up of a mole. Occasionally, he stops short, getting half of a face (perhaps missing the nose). My best guess to explain the “style” of the movie is that Franco only had one camera, and wasn’t very good at moving it while shooting, so zooming was pretty much all he could manage for motion.

As for the story, don’t worry about it. It hardly exists. The Countess kills people by draining them during sex. Except for a poet who spends the first half of the film gazing out over the sea, the victims are no one in particular. In one instance, she attacks a leather-clad, bondage mistresses. Nothing in the film states why there are S&M fans sitting about ready to take on anyone who shows up. But then I shouldn’t expect much of anything to be stated when there is only approximately five minutes of dialog in the entire film, and most of that is pretentious statements like “Nothing can stop the march of destiny.” Ummmm. I guess not. I suppose that’s why it’s called destiny.

There is a professor, a doctor, and a police inspector, but nothing comes of their appearance in the film except to show the blind professor feeling a dead woman’s genitals, searching for the vampire’s mark.

The whole thing is submerged in early ’70s elevator music, which does nothing to help the mood. A reasonable score would have at least made this a music video.

Still, I can’t dismiss the film, in small part because it has supposedly affected so many European filmmakers, but mainly because Romay is certainly worth gazing at. I found my second viewing superior, when I watched it in the original French, without subtitles (as none were available). Not only is the English dubbing horrible, but it is a relief not to know what anyone is saying.

Female Vampire has been released under multiple titles. A version with hard-core insertions (which are not the original actors) goes by the title Insatiable Lust. Another cut, Erotic Kill, has many of the scenes replaced to create a slightly more traditional vampire film. In it, Romay is considerably more covered, and she bites her victims to drink their blood. Unless you are more sexually excited by blood than by a beautiful nude woman (or nude man), there is no reason to see, Erotic Kill.

Foreign Language, Reviews, Vampires Tagged with: Two Reels

Satan’s School for Girls (1973)

Oct 051973

Elizabeth Sayers (Pamela Franklin) can’t believe that her sister would commit suicide, so enrolls in her school under an alias to see if something suspicious is happening there. She finds a severe headmistress (Jo Van Fleet), a pleasant art teacher (Roy Thinnes), a sadistic psychologist (Lloyd Bochner), a group of friendly girls (Jamie Smith-Jackson, Kate Jackson, Cheryl Stoppelmoor—soon to be Cheryl Ladd), and a mystery.

Admit it, if you are interested in Satan’s School for Girls, it’s either the title—which implies exploitation—or the names of two of Charlie’s Angels that got your attention. Well, it does have pre-haloed Kate Jackson and Cheryl Ladd, but there are no scantily clad schoolgirls on display. This is a made-for-TV horror flick that tries for frights but is bound by early ’70s television sensibilities. That means no blood, the girls covered from neck to toe (everyone seems to wear frumpy sweatshirts or something equally blanketing), nothing blasphemous, and deaths taking place only off screen. It also means a tiny budget, lackluster directing, forgettable music, and a cinematographer who later worked on The Love Boat. Sound bad? Well, it isn’t. It’s not great. “Great” may be out of reach for made-for-TV fare. But given the limitations of the medium, particularly in 1973, it’s pretty good.

Things start off as tense as TV allowed at the time, with a girl frantically trying to escape unseen forces. She doesn’t, which brings in her sister, lots of nighttime investigating, and a number of almost-scares. No, it isn’t frightening, but then neither is Halloween.

The story is better than I would have expected. No cinematic or horror rules are broken and while it isn’t all that tricky to figure out what’s going on, every piece isn’t obvious from the start. I was particularly fond of the ending, which takes the most heat from the film’s detractors. But those who complain usually want a different kind of film. Up until the final minutes, it could have been a melodrama, a suspenseful criminal tale, or a monster movie. How much you enjoy the film will depend on which one of those you wanted it to be.

Pamela Franklin (who played an unstable psychic in The Legend of Hell House the same year and had started her career as the daughter in the ghost story The Innocents) plays Elizabeth like she’s ten years too old, unable to deal with reality, and in a big hurry to finish the film. Much better is Kate Jackson, who carries the picture. As the in-the-know, amiable but not sugary Roberta, she is sincere and moving. Her speech on what she has gained at the school has more conviction than I would expect in an Aaron Spelling production. And she’s a beauty. Her not-yet cast mate, Cheryl Ladd, doesn’t get enough screen time to make much of an impression; she’s just a pretty girl that knows our heroes.

If you don’t expect much, you’re likely to find Satan’s School for Girls an agreeable diversion for an hour and a half. It’s not a movie you’ll want in your collection, but probably one you’ll want to catch on late night TV.

Reviews, Witches Tagged with: Two & 1/2 Reels

Attack of the Blind Dead / Return of the Evil Dead (1973)

Oct 021973

Attack of the Blind Dead, aka Return of the Blind Dead (1973)

The town of Bouzano is preparing for its celebration of the blinding and burning of a group of satanic knights. Jack Marlowe (Tony Kendall) arrives to set up the fireworks show, and finds his ex-girlfriend, Vivian (Esther Roy), who is now the mafia-like mayor’s girl. The mayor (Fernando Sancho) sends his henchman to teach Marlowe to leave Vivian alone, but everything is interrupted by the blind dead templars, who have risen from their graves to seek revenge.

Those blind dead templars are back, sort of, in a misnamed film that is better made than its predecessor, but not as original. The Blind Dead first showed their skeletal faces in La Noche del Terror Ciego (inaccurately translated as Tombs of the Blind Dead), a low budget Spanish/Portuguese production memorable for introducing a new type of zombie, and for its weak script. The creatures were a hit, so with a higher budget, writer-director Amando de Ossorio made this semi-sequel, with a better script that still had enormous plot holes and bizarre characters.

While the makeup is the same, Ossorio has ignored the details of the origin of his monsters. A group of Satanic knights (many more than in the first film) are killed by peasants (no explanation is given on why the sword-wielding templars don’t cut down the villagers), and this time, have their eyes burned out. In modern day, a deformed and abused cemetery worker summons them from the grave with a sacrifice. No mention is made of their previous undead behavior in La Noche del Terror Ciego, where they rose on a nightly basis and bit into their victims, creating more zombies. There’s no biting in this one, nor additional zombies. It’s just a bunch of dead guys out for revenge. All this means the film fails as a sequel, and should be taken as a completely separate story, that just happens to have some similar elements.

Marlowe is another macho man common in ’70s Spanish cinema, and is as stupid as his counterparts. When any sane man would realize he was in trouble, this guy just hangs around enjoying the view. I think Marlowe is there simply to join in the “who’s got the biggest one” contest that this village is bound to have every few days. Most of the men have been bathing in large vats of testosterone nightly and are dying to show off their manhoods. It gets old quickly, and I was rooting for the zombies to take them all out. Only the local hot babe Amalia (Lone Fleming, who played a different character in the first film), and the mayor, who oozes evil, are of any interest.

So, that leaves the undead as the real virtue of the film, and they are a sight. Skeletons in rotting robes, these are great monsters still searching for a better movie. They are horrific enough to scare kids and cool enough to satisfy monster-movie fans. They spend more time walking slowly, riding their undead horses, and standing still than killing anyone, but they look good whatever they are doing (except when several die in scenes that needed more cash in the special effects bucket).

Return of the Evil Dead (1973)

The English dubbed version has been saddled with the title Return of the Evil Dead, which would have sounded better in the ’70s, before The Evil Dead and Return of the Living Dead were made. It has also been trimmed by several minutes, removing some nudity and gore. While I recommend the Spanish language version, it doesn’t make a lot of difference. The cuts create another plot hole (the sacrifice is gone, so there’s no reason for the zombies to awaken), but in a film with so many holes, what’s one more? The acting is less than sterling in either version.

The blind dead appear again in The Ghost Galleon (1974), and Night of the Seagulls (1974).

Foreign Language, Reviews, Zombies Tagged with: Two & 1/2 Reels

The Wicker Man (1973)

Oct 021973

Devout police sergeant Howie (Edward Woodward) travels to a private, remote, Scottish island to investigate the disappearance of a schoolgirl. He is disgusted to find a colony of pagans, practicing nude rituals and public sex, who are hiding the truth of the missing girl.

Sergeant Howie (played with appropriate frustration by Woodward) is unpleasant from his first moment onscreen. He is inflexible, self-righteous, cruel, and willing to break the law he keeps yelling he is there to uphold. Told differently, this could be a horror story about a man surrounded by evil, but that isn’t this story. This is the story of a fool who enters paradise and can’t see it. He is not outraged that somewhere there must be a murderer; he is outraged that the murderer, and the other islanders, have not accepted their “proper” place in society, that they do not believe as he believes. And in this, Howie is far too much like the average man. Though this paradise has a few fanged snakes.

If you aren’t in the mood for a thoughtful movie, this is an enjoyable film. The mystery is engaging, and who can be unhappy about a nude fertility dance from Britt Ekland. Christopher Lee makes an excellent pagan lord of the manor, and his exchanges with Howie contain most of the best lines.

Lord:   I am confident your suspicions are wrong, Sergeant. We do not commit murder here. We are a deeply religious people.

Howie: Religious? With ruined churches, no ministers, no priests… and children dancing naked!

Lord:   They do love their divinity lessons.

Howie: But they are…are naked!

Lord:   Well, naturally. It’s much too dangerous to jump through fire with their clothes on.

Howie: And what of the true god, whose glory, churches and monasteries have been built on these islands for generations past? Now sir, what of him?

Lord:   He’s dead. Can’t complain, had his chance and in modern parlance, blew it.

The Wicker Man is generally called a horror film, but I think “cult” is a far better category for it. It doesn’t go for cheap scares, nor does it care about normal struture. The film has multiple songs (enough for the director to call it, only partly joking, a musical). There are dream-like sequences that may or may not be part of a dream. And a few long speeches. It is its own kind of movie, and a brilliant one. Lee called it his finest film and I agree. This isn’t Halloween viewing, but think about it for May Day.

There are multiple versions laying about, which go by a confusing number of names, but I’ll simply call them the Short, Medium, and Long cuts. The Short version is a studeo required hack-job, done by execs who had no interest in the film. It cuts important moments, removes a day, and moves around scenes for no good reason. Avoid it. Between the other two, there is less reason to choose one over the other. The Long cut has extra bits at the beginning of Howie in his police station and at church. Those aren’t necessary, and I slightly prefer the Medium cut.

Holiday Films, Horror, Reviews Tagged with: Four Reels

Double Indemnity (1973)

Sep 291973

Insurance salesman Walter Neff (Richard Crenna) is seduced by housewife Phyllis Dietrickson (Samantha Eggar) into killing her husband. Walter falsifies an accident policy for the husband that has a double indemnity clause: it pays double if the insured dies in a train accident. Their one foreseeable problem is Barton Keyes (Lee J. Cobb), a crack insurance investigator and Neff’s friend, who isn’t likely to let things go. Then there is the far more dangerous problem that they never considered, that it is only a matter of time before Walter and Phyllis turn on each other.

So soon after reviewing the remake of the classic The Mark of Zorro I’m back with the same situation: a 1970s TV version of a great 1940s movie that had helped define its genre. This time the classic is 1944’s Double Indemnity, a pivotal Film Noir work. And like the remake of The Mark of Zorro, this is an unnecessary, pedestrian affair that shows how good the original was.

There are few additions to the Billy Wilder/Raymond Chandler script that had served Fred MacMurray, Barbara Stanwyck, and Edward G. Robinson so well. But there are numerous cuts, bringing the film down from 107 minutes to a commercial friendly 75. Every cut hurts the film, as we lose the humor, Neff & Keyes’s relationship, and most of the step daughter’s subplot. But the deletions don’t damn it. Make the same cuts to a print of the ’44 version and you’ve still got a terrific flick. Nope, the real problems lie with the cast, and to a greater extent with the director.

Richard Crenna does create a cynical and sleazy insurance salesman. It’s not a bad performance and if it had been in another film, I’d be praising it. However, it isn’t Neff. Crenna’s man has few values and little faith, but he isn’t the jaded, empty soul that MacMurray created. MacMurray’s Neff was willing to join in on a murder simply because there was no reason not to; it might be something fun to do, though nothing was ever that much fun. Crenna’s isn’t that gone, which leaves a big hole in the story: why does this Neff commit murder? The money’s not good enough, and he doesn’t love Phyllis (with the two actor’s lack of chemistry, he doesn’t even appear to notice her). This Neff would have forgotten about killing and instead gone out to a bar to pick up “cheap broads.”

Samantha Eggar is attractive enough to play the ultimate femme fatale, but she lacks the mystery, edge, and power. She’s cute, with lovely long red hair and a pleasing accent, but never displays an allure that would cause men to kill. She doesn’t come off as dangerous, but merely as a bored housewife.

The exception to the casting blunders is Lee J. Cobb. He devours the part of Keyes, displaying the proper mix of fanaticism, fatigue, and affection. His only flaw is that he isn’t Edward G. Robinson, but then, who is?

But forget the actors. This movie is won or lost on direction, and Jack Smight (responsible for the rapes of the works of SF giants Ray Bradbury and Roger Zelazny: The Illustrated Man and Damnation Alley, as well as numerous generic TV shows) is no Billy Wilder. Constrained by an insufficient television budget, he plops the story on film like half cooked spaghetti. There’s no sign of imagination or even an understanding that how a scene is shot make a difference in what that scene means. Take Phyllis’s entrance. Here she’s just some hot chick in a towel answering the door. Thirty years earlier, she was an enigma, standing high above Neff and looking down on him, both literally and figuratively.

With plain, brightly lit shots, Smight has pulled the Noir from this Film Noir classic. As the script axed the comedy, all that’s left is a none-too suspenseful soap opera. However, some value can be taken from this anemic bore. It is highly instructive to student directors and beginning film critics to compare the two versions of Double Indemnity and see why the first is superior. Luckily, the only way the ’73 take is available is as an extra on the second disc of the two disc Double Indemnity collectors addition. As an extra, it isn’t bad at all. As a film, forget it.

Film Noir, Reviews Tagged with: Two Reels

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