I broke my golden rule in order to watch The Death Avenger of Soho. Understand, I love gialli, Italian and Spanish, and I love 60s and 70s horror; I've watched hundreds and hundreds over the last few years. But after seeing about 20 films by one, the other or both of them in collaboration, I developed the rule: no more Jess Franco or Paul Naschy movies for me. I feel I have to explain.
Franco's only interest was getting as much nudity and sex (preferably lesbian) on to the screen as possible, at the expense of a coherent or satisfying plot. Maybe bare flesh was enough for people back then, but nowadays we have unfettered access to porn, so why bother with his rubbish?
Naschy seems to have had an ego the size of a house. He had to play the monster but also the hero at the same time. All the beautiful women had to be in complete thrall to him, repeatedly declaring their eternal love ad nauseum. Next film, same thing, and so on, and so on.
The thing is Naschy was a charismatic actor and, if his worst instincts were toned down or someone else had written the script, he was capable of turning in a good film. For example, I love A Dragonfly for Each Corpse and Blue Eyes of the Broken Doll. Seven Murders for Scotland Yard is also good, although his character is, once again and inexplicably, a babe magnet. But Franco was a completely lost cause. I guess, being a director, he always had the power to turn anything he touched into absolute c*** and he wielded it mercilessly.
Okay, that's the background. Sorry, Naschy fans (who I know are legion), but, since he's part of the golden rule, I had to explain why, even if he has no connection whatsoever with this film.
Anyway, on to The Death Avenger of Soho. Having seen all the other films in the Bryan Edgar Wallace series, I reluctantly broke the rule and watched it for the sake of completion. And yes, it turned out just as I knew it would.
All the usual Franco touches are here: silly long-distance shots, exaggerated close-ups, weird camera angles, bridging parts of the plot ripped out (for example, the lead detective goes to interview a doctor and meets his secretary, with whom he speaks briefly. The next time we see both of them, they're having dinner together in a restaurant), pointless violence against women, a hint of incest, lack of clarity as to character motivations, clumsy dialogue, bad music etc. The major difference with respect to normal Franco fare is that he's obviously been forbidden from including sex scenes here, otherwise what little plot there is would have gone out the window to accommodate them.
The Death Avenger of Soho is a tedious, garish, incoherent mess. I would advise anyone interested in the storyline to instead go and watch 1962s Secret of the Black Trunk, which is based on the same Bryan Edgar Wallace story and, therefore, runs along the same general lines. The difference is that it's a decent, satisfying film which won't have you logging onto IMDB to launch long tirades against the director and an actor who's not even in it.
The golden rule will not be broken again.
Franco's only interest was getting as much nudity and sex (preferably lesbian) on to the screen as possible, at the expense of a coherent or satisfying plot. Maybe bare flesh was enough for people back then, but nowadays we have unfettered access to porn, so why bother with his rubbish?
Naschy seems to have had an ego the size of a house. He had to play the monster but also the hero at the same time. All the beautiful women had to be in complete thrall to him, repeatedly declaring their eternal love ad nauseum. Next film, same thing, and so on, and so on.
The thing is Naschy was a charismatic actor and, if his worst instincts were toned down or someone else had written the script, he was capable of turning in a good film. For example, I love A Dragonfly for Each Corpse and Blue Eyes of the Broken Doll. Seven Murders for Scotland Yard is also good, although his character is, once again and inexplicably, a babe magnet. But Franco was a completely lost cause. I guess, being a director, he always had the power to turn anything he touched into absolute c*** and he wielded it mercilessly.
Okay, that's the background. Sorry, Naschy fans (who I know are legion), but, since he's part of the golden rule, I had to explain why, even if he has no connection whatsoever with this film.
Anyway, on to The Death Avenger of Soho. Having seen all the other films in the Bryan Edgar Wallace series, I reluctantly broke the rule and watched it for the sake of completion. And yes, it turned out just as I knew it would.
All the usual Franco touches are here: silly long-distance shots, exaggerated close-ups, weird camera angles, bridging parts of the plot ripped out (for example, the lead detective goes to interview a doctor and meets his secretary, with whom he speaks briefly. The next time we see both of them, they're having dinner together in a restaurant), pointless violence against women, a hint of incest, lack of clarity as to character motivations, clumsy dialogue, bad music etc. The major difference with respect to normal Franco fare is that he's obviously been forbidden from including sex scenes here, otherwise what little plot there is would have gone out the window to accommodate them.
The Death Avenger of Soho is a tedious, garish, incoherent mess. I would advise anyone interested in the storyline to instead go and watch 1962s Secret of the Black Trunk, which is based on the same Bryan Edgar Wallace story and, therefore, runs along the same general lines. The difference is that it's a decent, satisfying film which won't have you logging onto IMDB to launch long tirades against the director and an actor who's not even in it.
The golden rule will not be broken again.