A corpse, having neither arms, legs, nor head, and harassed by shrieking seagulls, is washed up on the rock-clad shore somewhere in the Izumo Prefecture of one of the lesser Japanese islands, thus the horrible series of bodily dismemberments, spanning some decades, and which have young women as their victims, which policewoman Nami in this flick must follow up on, and which she thereupon finds herself immersed in, and leads her into abstract interiors with many rotating fan blades in pursuit of a serial killer the toxicity of whose ambition has filled whole freezers with cataloged limbs and appendages, trunks, and other fragments of human carnage.
Several times there are bodies are found near, in or around the seaside, and always where they can be got at by sea-gulls, which, like the pigeons which tear at Dr. Génessier's daughters face in Franju's Les Yeux sans visage (1959), symbolize madness.
Throughout the continental plate of dissolute magma which is the Japanese cinema runs a phosphoric radiance of morbidity, veins of deterioration, supernatural malaise, and splendid new devices of torment, Evil Dead Trap 3: Victimage of Exquisite Mutilation, it may be, is eclipsed by it's predecessors, as it is somewhat more lackadaisical but none the less, and although, like the first two films, is has no connexion with those flicks with which it shares it's title, is, as such, worthy to be dismissed as yet another untarnished diadem in the triplicate crown of J-Horror, whose threefold platforms include Dissension, Disarray, and Moral Leprosy.
Moreover, another anology about Japan, is that it is like some vast soup-ladle, infested with maggots, and dispensing it's putrifaction to the lower Sub-Asian Penensula . . .
The version I saw was picked up in a VHS emporium in New Dheli and had some warping due to somebody leaving it in a hot car on a summer's afternoon, after watching it I barfed curry pudding into a sack...
Several times there are bodies are found near, in or around the seaside, and always where they can be got at by sea-gulls, which, like the pigeons which tear at Dr. Génessier's daughters face in Franju's Les Yeux sans visage (1959), symbolize madness.
Throughout the continental plate of dissolute magma which is the Japanese cinema runs a phosphoric radiance of morbidity, veins of deterioration, supernatural malaise, and splendid new devices of torment, Evil Dead Trap 3: Victimage of Exquisite Mutilation, it may be, is eclipsed by it's predecessors, as it is somewhat more lackadaisical but none the less, and although, like the first two films, is has no connexion with those flicks with which it shares it's title, is, as such, worthy to be dismissed as yet another untarnished diadem in the triplicate crown of J-Horror, whose threefold platforms include Dissension, Disarray, and Moral Leprosy.
Moreover, another anology about Japan, is that it is like some vast soup-ladle, infested with maggots, and dispensing it's putrifaction to the lower Sub-Asian Penensula . . .
The version I saw was picked up in a VHS emporium in New Dheli and had some warping due to somebody leaving it in a hot car on a summer's afternoon, after watching it I barfed curry pudding into a sack...