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kifaru
Reviews
Deathmaster (1972)
Over-the-hill hippies become vampire's meal tickets
***SPOILERS*** ***SPOILERS*** Ah, the 70's. A time of turmoil and contradiction. America was at war, both in and out of country. The Flower Children had become assimilated by the very society they protested against. Nowhere was this confusion of cultures more evident than in the movies. The 70's are primarily regarded as the "Grand Era of Exploitation," a title well-deserved if only for the quantity of films unleashed on the masses at this time. Both big and low budget productions utilized the conflicts of the generations and their concurrent heroes to milk profits from the movie-going public. Whenever ideas seemed to be drying up, society itself gave us new myths for our brave new world. In the 70's, one such myth was personified by Charles Manson. The crimes of Manson and his followers are well known, as is his manipulation of the media during and after his trial. He is a certified nut job, and, as anyone in the biz can tell you, that means he's box office gold. Don't believe me? Just look at the number of films made since 1969 involving a messianic character leading a counter-culture rabble. Also, think about how many of these flicks portray these types as anti-heroes done in by their own greed. Sizing up the prevailing conditions, and knowing a quick buck when they see it, Ray Danton and the gang at AIP hopped on the band wagon in '72 with "The Deathmaster." Made a year after "Count Yorga, Vampire," then rushed to release after that one started making unreal profits, this is the quaint little tale of hippies led astray by an ageless guru with a really bad wig. Of course, their hairpieces are nothing to sneeze at either. The film opens innocuously enough with vampire Khorda's coffin washing up on the shore. A curious surfer starts snooping around and runs into cliche numero uno, Barbado, the hulking, mute, ethnic and, therefore, unbelievably strong, servant. After dispatching the wimp ( and man did he look pale to be a surfer in SoCal), Barbado lugs the boss' box up to the local commune. In the next hilarious sequence, we are introduced to our hero 'Pico' (?!) and his girlfriend Rona. They rub biker dude Monk and his sleazy girlfriend Esslyn (where did they get these names?!) the wrong way. The ensuing fight makes Tom & Jerry look like "Crouching Tiger." As all good young folk do, they call a truce and hit the bricks when the cops show up ('cause cops hate bikers and hippies equally). Monk compliments 'Pico" on his fighting skills(?), whereupon 'Pico' informs him he is a master of "Gung Fu." Gung fu. Uh-huh. Joining the hippies for a groove-in, Monk and Esslyn are introduced to the commune as "new friends." A blackout during the daily chanting sessions gives Khorda the opportunity to make his entrance. he does so rather quietly, and introduces himself as a seeker and bearer of enlightenment. At this point, Monk has seen enough, and announces he is splitting the scene, getting away from these freaks and going into town for some whiskey and steak. His trip is cut short by Khorda's abrupt ambush, which the chanting flower children fail to see or hear (must be some serious chanting going on there). After a few more yarns about finding his center (or some such drivel), Khorda excuses himself, but has the sense to ask Esslyn to join him. The hippie gals and guys separate for the night and go to their respective gender sides of the house. Wait a minute! Hippies with morals? Egad! While the art school rejects are showering (?!), Khorda offers the aroused Esslyn (she really digs him, man) a brief history lesson. The lesson ends with her becoming a snack for the guru. Her screams are heard by the guys and gals, but since barbado locked the bathroom doors, they can't get out to help. The doors mysteriously unlock after a brief silence, and Khorda appears with the now-vampirized Esslyn. She puts the moves on 'Pico,' who rejects her toothsome advances and flees the scene. This is where it gets weird. 'Pico' gets Pops (a rightfully embarrassed John Fiedler) to accompany him on a "Save Rona" trek. They, of course, get sidetracked in a battle with Barbado (what about that Gung Fu crap, dude? It should've been easy to dispatch a lumbering ox like that) and assorted vamp-slayings (see ya, Esslyn). Pops disappears for a time, but winds up on the wrong end of 'Pico's' stake attempt. Khorda has the befuddled hippie watch as he initiates his girl to the cult. He snaps out of his reverie long enough to stake the Deathmaster, turning him to dust. However, the same fate befalls the now dead Rona. The film ends with our "hero" sobbing over his lost lady like a man who bet the farm on the Jets. Like so many of the exploitation films of the 70's, "The Deathmaster" suffers from the director and crews' desire to combine all of the great elements of cinema in a weak story with rotten actors. The result is a mish-mash of plot devices but no real coherent story. Lots of unanswered questions left hanging. The only real reason to see this film (outside of a desire to snicker at the inanities of a bygone era) is Robert Quarry. As in "Count Yorga, Vampire" and other films, he rises above all of the contrivances and the hideously untalented supporting cast. His turn as Khorda successfully combines Manson's charisma and the vampire mythos, which, when you think about it, is probably what the crew was aiming for.
El retorno del hombre lobo (1981)
Choppy editing and nonsensical translations only slightly dampen the proceedings.
I love Paul Naschy's movies. At least his catalog of horror films. In these gems he has portrayed every classic monster (including Dracula), and never cheapened or belittled their impact on our culture. Because all of his films are Spanish productions, they all do suffer one common problem: They have to be dubbed into English to be distributed here. What's interesting is that most do translate well, and the onscreen action lends itself to understanding. Most of the time.
I first caught "El Retorno del Hombre-Lobo" late one summer evening after a trip to the video store. I was in search of B-movie excitement, and found it. The American title was "The Craving" and the box art and plot desription were amateurish at best. The movie teetered on the brink of being equally thin, but redeemed itself somewhat with the lead performances.
Naschy once again portrays Waldemar Daninski, Polish nobleman who, in this this universe, was consort to Countess Elizabeth Bathory (yes, that Countess Elizabeth Bathory). The Countess , Daninski and their followers are dragged before the local Federales and charged with the usual "unspeakable acts of depravity and witchcraft." Waldemar wimps out and accepts the judgement of the court, while the Countess hurls curses before they are all executed.
The slow pace doesn't let up. Waldemar's resurrection and subsequent full moon forays put a dent in the population and add some zest to the stagnant feel. Elizabeth's return is also a highlight, with old-school style thunder and lightning and appropriate symphonic music. Unfortunately, the excitement soon bogs down in tepid melodrama and acting class homework. The plot falls into way too familiar territory. Lead vamp resurrected; collects band of followers; menaces hero and his sweetie; comes close to actually taking sweetie away; is vanquished in knock down-drag out with hero. Slightly misogynistic overtones crop up throughout the movie: the women are evil, and that evil is the source of their power. Erica, one of the trio of hotties who come looking for Bathory's grave, is a devoted follower bent on bringing her back, while Karen, Daninski's love interest, is an ineffective crybaby. The other two women, Barbara and Mikaiya, are there for vampire fodder,and of course, end up assisting the evil. Although he nightly pillages the countryside, in gory Italian-Zombie-Flick fashion, Waldemar's affliction ain't his fault. Getting involved with the wrong woman led to his downfall. And when Karen is visited in the wee hours by Elizabeth, she gives in quite easily to the darkside (granted, this was probably an attempt by the creators to pay homage (read: rip off) Hammer's lesbian vamp movies).
This particular entry into the Daninski saga suffers from two very big problems: continuity and lighting. There were several scenes that left me going "Huh?", like the delivery of coffins in the dead of night by curious villagers. What? They just up and deliver to anybody, anytime? It was also curious that the werewolf's attacks caused so little concern, while the vampires feastings were worthy of a town elders powwow with Waldemar. The lighting was atrocious. Granted, electricity isn't too readily available in most of your Balkan countries, but still, eyestrain is not something you want viewers to leave your films with. That is, if you expect them to come back. The dubbing surprisingly didn't detract from the film; some of the translation actually fit in with the onscreen stuff.
A word about the actors. Paul Naschy/Jacinto Molina is very much Lon Chaney with a matinee idol's looks. He scripted most of these movies (and rewrote others during filming), but never cut out the other actors around him. His Waldemar Daninski is a real tragic hero, despising his condition, but so in love with life he can't put himself down. In all of the "Hombre-Lobo" flicks, no matter how he became a werewolf, he had to find and lose true love to stop the beast within. Julie Saly, who starred with Naschy in several other films, gets kudos for gracing Elizabeth with viciousness and charm. My one complaint is that she only turned up in scenes involving blood. That aside, another excellent performance. Silvia Aguilar is the real star as the conniving Erica, intent on reviving Elizabeth, and, even after being vampirized and ordered about by the Countess, taking control of several situations. The other ladies provide decoration, especially Azuncen Hernandez as the brainless Karen.
"The Craving" is an unbelievable mishmash of folklore, black magic and melodrama. But that's the beauty of these movies, I guess. Not only is belief suspended, but all forms of natural and unnatural law as well. Like the Hammer films of the 70's, each Daninski film was released in America with more and more gratuitous nudity. Most were, of course, filmed with nude scenes, and those were excised for distribution. Pretty much all retailers now offer "original and uncut" versions. I need to snag the uncut version of this one. If only to figure out why Bathory resurrected some moldy guardian that was so easily dispatched. Jeez! Why didn't you just get a dog?
Mirror Images II (1993)
Flesh show, and not much else
Right off, let me say I appreciate beautiful women. I'm also not averse to a movie designed solely for the purpose of showing me the natural (and/or scientifically enhanced)attributes of said women. What I don't like is a promise undelivered.
"Mirror Images II" is just that. It starts off tepidly, bringing back the good twin/bad twin conflict. But then it sort of peters out. It's like it lost it's direction (not surprisingly after Sara Suzanne Brown appears and steals the show with her gravity-defying body) and couldn't decide who the real villain was, the evil twin or the scummy cop/husband of evil twin's sister. In the end (and who couldn't see this end a few minutes into the flick?), both pay the price for being evil, and good twin is free to enjoy sex with the handsome PI she's known for a week (Hey. In California that's a long-term comittment/)
Some films give you the impression they're some of the cast off results of the old "infinite number of monkeys typing" experiment, and I suspect the offending primate who authored this was summarily beaten to death by his counterparts. Or maybe auteur Gregory Dark (Hippolyte) is the twisted genius behind this mess. All of the women in this flick are major league babes. A couple even exhibit a hint of talent. The trouble is, the material is so lame, and the erotic scenes so stiff or bland (except for the girl-on-girl sequences, which start off strong, then retreat into soft-focus voyeurism), that the fast-forward button gets a healthy workout. Shannon Whirry deserves better material. I was heartened a few years back to see her on "The New Mike Hammer" with Stacey Keach. Since then, she's sunk from view.
Aside from the aforementioned Ms. Brown, Kristine Kelley is the only one trying to act. The other women are decorations, except PJ Sparxx, who performs as is expected for an adult film star. Give these women better material, and give us a break.
Beast from Haunted Cave (1959)
Unusually creepy 50's horror
The 50's are often fondly remembered by those growing up in them as a Golden age of SciFi & Horror movies. As a child of the 60's & 70's, I give grudging assertion to maybe a quarter of what came out. While this one pales in comparison to "The Thing" or "Them!," it certainly has it's own special quality. I first stumbled across it one quiet summer evening at my Uncle Billy's house in New Orleans. I caught it just after the opening credits, and thought I'd landed on "Peter Gunn" or one of the other B&W crime tales flooding the airwaves in '68. Silly me. I recently bought a DVD player and have begun amassing a collection. As as was my desire when I bought my first VCR, I am collecting these rare old gems. I got this one on a double-feature disk with "The Brain that Wouldn't Die!" Cool!
Plot wise, the film does a lot of character building in a short time, mainly by sticking with the basics: Scowling guy is the villain; he has two dorky henchmen (one of them a would-be Sid Melton); the girl is a tarnished angel-type; and our hero is a square-jawed manly man. I half expected his name to be Lance Manion (although Gil is pretty snazzy).
The locals of the town our villains flee to after a robbery are also cookie-cutters, the exception being the plump little barmaid the Sid Melton-ite bonds with. She shows some depth, and provides the ominous prophecy duties. The hottie bar-girl seemed to have been added as an after-thought(and she runs circles around fallen angel in the looks department). The villains decide to rob the town while they're there. The Beast pops up after the antagonists arrive in town. From barwench's tale, we learn that it is a local legend that no one ever proved existed, although some folk have disappeared over the years. The scenes of it acquiring victims are really creepy, and some of my older relatives have asserted this was a really scary flick back then. It's physical appearance leaves something to be desired, but this is a jaded child of the media talking. It's minimalism fits in fairly well with the production. I believe the intent was to portray it as a spider-monster, and the scene of it feeding on the hottie barmaid are really gruesome. The plot lurches a few times as it heads towards the final confrontation. Amazingly, square-jaw and fallen angel willingly go to the cave (the former laughingly mentioning the presence of the monster while the latter smiles admiringly at his virile countenance), soon followed by the ostensibly jealous scowler and henchman #2. Scowler, of course, is looking to off square-jaw (out of jealousy and common sense. It seems he has some connection to the local authorities). The monster appears, bad guys die, but not before Scowler sets the beast ablaze. The End. The wintry setting of the film adds to the isolated atmosphere, and with better production values and some dinero, a decent remake is possible (are you listening Charles Band?). If you get a chance, check it out. The DVD has the original theatrical trailer. too cool.
Dracula Has Risen from the Grave (1968)
Best of the series still underutilizes its greatest strengths
I am a long time fan of Christopher Lee. I will stop channel surfing to watch him in pretty much anything (even the abyssmal "Airport 77," but no way, no how "The Stupids.")and was probably the most excited 14 year-old on Earth when "The Man with the Golden Gun" was released(Talk about a work of fiction. Everyone knows Bond would be no match for Lee in real life). This admiration completely explains my having seen every Hammer movie the man has made. As Dracula, Lee infused the second most-filmed character in cinema with unmatched strength and power. It was not a stretch to see him as Vlad Tepesch, prince of Wallachia, leading his army against the invading Turks. Nor was it beyond belief that women would find him appealing. Although Dracula to most will always be Bela, I always think of Lee as the Lord of the Undead. In this third entry, I saw the beginnings of the downward spiral that would drag the series to an unsatisfying conclusion, and put Hammer in financial peril (again). The real problem was the scriptwriter's apparent inability to give the Count anything to do but bite the girls and, occaisionally, throttle the guys. They seemed to believe that the aura of menace the vampire lord projected could be construed as personality. A truly regrettable oversight. The cast rose above the tepid material, giving life to their characters despite the constraints. Of them all, besides Lee, I give major props to Barbara Ewing. Her characterization of Zena, the barmaid by turns slatternly and caring, was excellent. her jealous desire for Dracula's full attentions perfectly illuminated Stoker's original portrayal of the Count as irresistable to even the most cynical. Much has been written about Veronica Carlson's part, most of it focusing on her obvious beauty. She, too displays a deft ability to shift from innocent to slut in the presence of the Count, bewildering her would-be protectors. I was even pleasantly surprised by the hero, Paul, played with smirking enthusiasm by Barry Andrews. His verbal sparing with the Monsignor (the redoubtable Rupert Davies) was a high point in the film for me. Even the peripheral characters (Marion Mathie, Michael Ripper, and George A. Cooper) brought the screenplay to life.
Freddie Francis' cinematographic strengths were in full evidence throughout the proceedings, from the opening shots of the sleepy village to the menacing sight of the castle, perched like a vulture overlooking it's prey. All of what I've said would lead you to believe I like the film. In truth, I believe it to be the second best (behind the original). But the real pity is that with all of the aforementioned strengths, the film peters out early. The main complaint I have is the one I cast on all in the series except the first one: Count Dracula is merely a set piece, brought in to move the action from one scene to the next. None of the vast potential of the character is used. You're telling me Drac's only activity consists of pacing around a dank cellar, waiting for a minion to fetch him a meal? He could be strolling around the city (NOBODY KNOWS HIM THERE!), maybe stirring up public dissent amongst the populace against the church (now THERE'S some revenge!), engaging in heated debates with Paul (remember, he doesn't know him)about life, nature, the reality of the Christian faith. But, alas, the vampiric act is his only useful attribute to the box office. I guess my real disappointment is with the filmmakers who have followed, and who have attempted to give Drac more presence. Unfortunately, they are usually stuck with either some primping fop or some method actor who plays the Count like he was Amadeus, or worse, Ernest T. Bass. You dropped the ball Hammer. Shame on you.
Vipers (1998)
Looking for a mindless erotic thriller? You could do worse than this
Kudos from the outset to the writer and director for keeping this one in familiar territory. The plot is pretty simple: young out-of-work stud finds job at posh mansion owned by wealthy jerk with lonely wife. Add adultery, murder and a couple of red herrings, shake gently, roll the credits.
The women are, of course, the attraction here. All handle their respective roles well. In point of fact, they could each have pulled off the other roles. In any event, they are the stars, and the cameraman knows it.
The men are, as men usually are in these movies, slightly dense and pretty much self-serving. The hubby isn't happy being married and chases after the maid. The stud not only goes running after the wife, and eventually the daughter from the hubby's previous marriage, but has a very entertaining fantasy in which all three women jump in bed with him (Yeah, that was germane to the plot). Neither man sees the swerves and dangers right in front of them. Oh well, why spoil a good ride.
In short, "Vipers" is a basic tale of lust, greed and double-cross. It leans toward film noir, but lacks the dark texture. The scenery is great, especially Shayna Ryan. It is worth a look if you're in the mood for escapist entertainment that doesn't tax the brain cells.