Nightmare City (1980)

Director: Umberto Lenzi
Writer(s): Antonio Cesare Corti, Luis María Delgado, Piero Regnoli
Starring: Hugo Stiglitz, Laura Trotter, Maria Rosaria Omaggio, and Francisco Rabal

Aaaah, the Italian zombie movie. On the one hand, it has provided us some classics, such as Lucio Fulci’s 1979 epic, simply and appropriately titled Zombie, and on the other, it has given us some abominations, like Umberto Lenzi’s Nightmare City. This is a film so inept, that it goes beyond the entertaining kind of bad, and instead becomes a masochistic exercise of unbearable proportions—and of course, I am talking about for the viewer.

Fulci’s zombie exercise worked because, although the plot was threadbare, and the writing atrocious, it was obvious that time and care went into something on the production; of course, I would be referring to the effects, both in the gore, and the make-up department. Very rarely are either of those anything less than astonishing, and that’s even comparing them to modern films, who have mastered the art of computer-generated blood but will never master the spirit of the “real” thing.

Lenzi’s film does not work, because the whole film looks like it was written and shot in one of those 72-hour filmmaking competitions, where contestants have three days to write, shoot, and edit a movie. The “zombies”, which I guess for technicality’s sake, are actually “mutants” (though billed as zombies in all film-related literature) simply look as if they’ve had mud smashed onto their faces, while a vast majority of the kill scenes simply consist of poorly edited attacks—a zombie will apparently stab (more on this later) a victim in the chest, with the camera set up behind the victim, the camera will cut to a shot in front of the victim, and all of a sudden the person’s face is covered in blood.

As with many Italian horror films period, this one is only loosely plotted: An airplane lands on a runway in an unmarked European city. After it becomes apparent there is no one in the cockpit, police are called to the scene to investigate. A reporter, Dean, is on hand to interview a scientist about a radioactive accident that is all over the news. He brings his cameraman with him to investigate this mysterious plane, in the meantime. Finally, the doors open, and out step the mud-faced radioactive mutant-zombies. What makes these undead creatures even more interesting than the normal brain-dead shamblers we’ve seen in so many previous movies, is that not only can these run, but they also seem to retain similar brain capacity compared to when they were alive. This spells trouble for survivors, because these mutant-corpses can shoot guns, swing axes, and stab with knives—so basically, they’re just radioactive supermen described as zombies in an attempt to appeal to the masses.

Anyway, Dean is so horrified by what he sees, that he runs to the nearest television station and interrupts a terrible live dance routine to try to warn people about the impending attack. Surprisingly, television station owners don’t take kindly to people interrupting their shows to ramble on about gun-toting zombies, and so his speech is cut off, and he is kicked out of the station. Down but not out, he instead narrows his focus; instead of trying to warn everyone in the city, he sets his sights on just warning his wife, Anna, who works at a nearby hospital.

After they escape the hospital (which is under attack), the rest of the movie consists of the couple on the run against seemingly insurmountable odds, interspersed with random footage of large groups of people being killed by the mutant beasts. That might sound like a formula that could work, but given the uncoordinated “fight” and kill scenes, it all just comes off as an improvised, rushed mess. Even the Dean and Anna scenes are largely uneventful, with Dean briskly walking away from a threat of danger that never feels urgent.

It doesn’t help matters that Dean is the kind of character who is always so calm and collected, that he can’t be bothered to run, even when the situation dictates it. His face also seems to be used only when absolutely necessary, meaning he frequently looks blank and lifeless in the face of dangerous situations, and this is the guy that we’re supposed to be rooting for. There’s also something that annoys me about his wiry facial hair that I can’t quite put my finger on…it looks like it was glued on, or something. Everything about him screams the opposite of “tough lead character in a mutant-zombie film”; “librarian” would be more the character that springs to mind.

I know, I know, these movies are often terrible and, to an extent, that’s their appeal. But as I said earlier, there has to be a line between “enjoyable bad”, and “just plain bad bad”, and this one tends to fit snugly in the latter category. It’s very rarely humorous, whether intentionally or not, and the kill scenes are largely thrown-together; as is everything else. Even Stelvio Cipriani’s score feels out-of-place, and he’s usually pretty reliable: it might be a pretty decent score, just not for this film. It’s not scary, it’s not adrenaline-pumping…it’s just a rather slow slog that never amounts to much. I guess in this regard, it might have more in common with the film than one would think.

RECAP: Nightmare City is that worst kind of horror film: one that’s so plainly godawful that it’s not even entertaining in a bad kinda way. The kill scenes are poorly-staged and terribly-edited, while the gore scenes are cheap and hokey. Makeup effects consist only of smearing mud on people’s faces, apparently, so even those are pure hokum. Even Stelvio Cipriani’s score feels like it was just thrown in randomly, and his music is usually pretty close to a sure thing. I really want to end this on a positive note, but I’m seriously struggling to even come up with a positive that I can justify. This movie does have a following, so fans of this kind of movie might like it, but I’m definitely not among its champions.

OVERALL RATING: 1.5/10

TRAILER

Dressed to Kill (1980)

Director: Brian De Palma
Writer(s): De Palma
Starring: Michael Caine, Angie Dickinson, Nancy Allen, and Keith Gordon

I have not seen a lot of Brian De Palma’s filmography, but an almost universal acceptance—even amongst his own fans—is that the results are wildly uneven. Having seen Dressed to Kill, I can only imagine such feedback is accurate, because even the results within this 105-minute love affair to Italian giallos manages to run the entire gamut from unintentionally hilarious, to feverishly original.

Angie Dickinson plays Kate Miller, a sexually-frustrated wife who vents about her husband’s poor performance in the sack to her psychiatrist, Dr. Robert Elliott (Michael Caine). So desperate is she for an intense sexual encounter that she throws herself at him, to which he denies her, on the basis that he is both married, and a doctor. So she heads to an art museum, where she catches the eye of a mysterious man. In a ballsy scene that seems to go on forever, Kate searches for the man, while he plays “hard to get”. First, she drops (or intentionally leaves?) one of her gloves on the ground. The man picks it up and tries giving it back to her, but she seems to think she is being attacked (?) and runs away. Then she realizes he was just trying to give her back her glove and goes searching for him, only to discover that he is gone. Just as she’s about to give up for good, she spots him, waving her glove, in a taxi cab.

The entire above sequence lasts close to nine minutes, and features no dialogue whatsoever; it is accompanied entirely by symphonic score. Somehow, despite Kate’s ignorance over the whole glove fiasco, it works, but it’s not the only time De Palma allows substance to fight with style; thanks to his assured direction, style generally manages to win, but the margin always seems to be too close for comfort.

Anyway, having just met this man, they proceed to make out (and then some) in the back of the taxi. She goes home with him and spends some intimate time with him, before they both crash on the couch, to the soothing sounds of television. She gets up and plans to sneak out, but then contemplates calling her husband, which she finally does. Like in all these movies, she can’t bring herself to speak to him, but his uncaring attitude after answering the phone tells her all she needs to know, so she hangs up. Next, Kate goes to leave her man a note, only to discover paperwork that affirms he has a venereal disease. Oops! This pointless plot contrivance will be a moot point in only a matter of moments. She gets on an elevator to head to the lobby, but the forgetful bitch has once again forgotten something…this time it’s only her wedding ring. Again, it's another moot point--once she hits the seventh floor, she is viciously slaughtered by a woman wielding a straight razor.

As with many giallo films, there are a couple witnesses: a prostitute and her latest customer. He jets the moment he sees Kate’s mutilated body, but in true Italian slasher film fashion, the prostitute eventually teams up with Kate’s son, Peter, and the two launch their own investigation into the murder. It just so happens, too, that Peter is a science nerd; his freewheeling creations, paired up with Kate’s fascination (in both the case and, eventually and inexplicably, Peter himself) put them hot on the trail, and directly in the crosshairs of, the killer!

I have to confess that I never care enough to guess the identity of the killer in any of these films; oftentimes, the clues laid out don’t add up to much, but here I have to say it all comes together surprisingly well. I still didn’t even try guessing as to the killer’s identity, but once it’s revealed, it does actually make sense. Also true to similar films from the genre, there’s even an obligatory “wrap up” at the end, featuring a panel of characters more or less breaking down every little detail of the movie, just to make sure we understand everything and were following along. It also goes deeper into the murderer’s motivations, and I have to say, it’s pretty inspired stuff, especially considering I don’t even like most of these scenes in authentic giallos.

In the end, Dressed to Kill is often dated, but at least it’s never boring. De Palma utilizes some elongated sequences to incredible effect (the whole elevator murder sequence is a thing of beauty), but also slips up with several split-screen scenes that are so unnecessary, they’re singlehandedly the “unintentionally hilarious” scenes I alluded to in my intro. It also doesn’t quite have the same level of inventiveness or wild visual splendor that a great film by, say, Argento might have, but it’s probably as close to capturing the same level of whimsy that any American director could hope to achieve, especially within the era this movie was made.

RECAP: It alternates seamlessly between “pointless”, “dated”, “inspired”, and “original”, but De Palma’s work is certainly never boring. There are a few moments of unintentional hilarity, and there’s not nearly as much style as one would find in a typical giallo film (of which this was clearly inspired by), but it’s helped along by some excellent shots, a great orchestral score (by Pino Donaggio), and confident direction from De Palma. Of course, sometimes that confidence is entirely misplaced, but it’s still confidence nonetheless. Worth a look for giallo fans, but slasher fans and gore hounds take note: aside from the murder that serves as centerpiece to the story, there’s not a lot of additional violence at all.

RATING: 6/10

TRAILER

Anthropophagus: The Grim Reaper (1980)

Director: Joe D'Amato
Writer(s): D'Amato and George Eastman
Starring: Tisa Farrow, Saverio Vallone, Serena Grandi, and George Eastman

Skip this paragraph if you’ve heard me talk about my boring, movie-themed childhood, or want to avoid ruining this film's "pivotal" scene: When I was a late-teen/early-twentysomething, I went through a long phase where I tried seeking out the most graphic movies I could find. Anthropophagus was consistently mentioned as one of the “pinnacles” of such movies, and yet, for whatever reason, I never saw it.  It has gained infamy based on one harsh sequence, so known as the “fetus-eating scene”, because, in it, a pregnant character’s fetus is eaten, making it an appropriate nickname.

As I have mentioned in a previous review, slasher movies are the mainstream movie equivalent of hardcore pornography: no one cares about the story, they just want to get to the graphic bits.  Well if that analogy is considered accurate, than Anthropophagus: The Grim Reaper is the equivalent of a sex addict having to settle for softcore porn; there are long buildups to nothing, and despite its notoriety, there is surprisingly little violence, at least until its finale.  But by then, we have waited 70 minutes for something to happen, and it’s too little, too late.

It’s the kind of movie that makes much better background noise than it does actual viewing material—there’s really no mystery to speak of, save for what happened to an island’s previous inhabitants—but the answer to this is pretty clear from the outset.  To pay Anthropophagus any close attention is to simply waste your time; and by doing so, we have already put more effort into the whole production than the filmmakers themselves.

Tisa Farrow (of Lucio Fulci’s Zombie fame) plays Julie, a woman who solicits the help of some tourists looking to take a tour of Greek islands.  She, too, is looking for an island, but (surprise!) even though it’s along the way, it’s not one of them featured on the tour.  She talks them into dropping her off, where she can be reunited with some friends who inhabit the almost-uninhabited island.  With some reluctance (one of the tourists reads tarot cards, and gets a bad vibe about the place), they all agree to go.

There, they are hunted, one-by-one, and usually in long, drawn out sequences that end up with the characters being completely fine.  It’s seriously around the 50-minute mark that we even get our first glimpse of the “grim reaper” of the title, and even then he doesn’t become a main focus until we’re more than an hour in. I suppose I should be grateful that director Joe D’Amato at least tries to build some suspense, instead of just focusing on the graphic deaths, but it simply feels like padding, rather than anything of substance.

About the highest accolade that I can give it is that the killer’s makeup is pretty decent.  I have seen the actor (George Eastman, aka Louis Montefiori, who also co-wrote the film’s screenplay) in another production (Mario Bava’s excellent Rabid Dogs), and in complete makeup, even in close-ups, he is completely unrecognizable.  The gore scenes, for the most part, are pretty standard, save for the aforementioned infamous scene; though I didn’t find it to be as stomach-churning as I was expecting, I still have to give D’Amato props for at least trying something new.

Unless you are either a die-hard Italian horror fan, or a slasher film completist, there’s really not much here that’s worth the time investment required to watch it.  About the only thing that might make it worthwhile, is the fetus-eating scene, but that’s available in several locations on YouTube—if that’s the main reason you want to see this, as it was mine, then just spend the two minutes watching it online, and skip the rest.  Trust me, you’ll thank me later.

RECAP: A slow-moving “slasher” movie about a group of tourists being hunted on an uninhabited island, Anthropophagus has received attention for a nasty sequence that got the movie banned in several countries.  As grotesque as it is, it’s shockingly the only bit of creativity in this droll mess, which features no suspense, a bloated run-time of 90 minutes, and drawn-out scenes that are meant to build terror, but only end up leading to yawns.  If you’re merely curious about the infamous murder sequence described above, then save yourself 88 minutes and watch the clips of it online.

RATING: 2/10

FETUS SCENE (WARNING: NOT FOR SQUEAMISH OR MINORS)

TRAILER

Christmas Evil (1980)

Director: Lewis Jackson
Writer(s): Jackson
Starring: Brandon Maggart, Jeffrey Demunn, and Dianne Hull

There are quite a few—many would say too many—horror movies that are inspired by, or take place during, Christmas.  But most of them don’t take themselves too seriously; using the term “lighthearted” might be a bit of a stretch, but even a film like Silent Night, Deadly Night, which was pulled early from its theatrical run due to parental protests concerning its violent subject matter, amounts to little more than campy amateurishness.

What really caught my attention about Lewis Jackson’s Christmas Evil was the assurance from several sources that it takes itself with complete seriousness.  I didn’t really know how to take that at the time (was it just a straightforward slasher movie, with all elements of humor removed?) but after having just watched it, I can only say that this has to be one of the most unique of all Christmas horrors; a film that strives for equal parts sympathy and pathos for its mentally disturbed star, and actually manages to elicit both.

Before we go any further, I should mention that anyone looking for a holiday bloodbath, or even a slasher film at all, would do best to just turn around, start walking, and never look back.  Sure, it’s billed as a slasher film, and it does have a couple murders, but that’s only because everything has to be labeled these days.  And if it doesn’t fit snugly into a specific genre, it’s just lumped into whatever category will make it the most money. 

Christmas Evil opens to a house on Christmas Eve in, 1947, where young Harry, his brother Philip, and their mother huddle on a staircase, watching Santa Claus as he comes down the chimney, and puts their presents under the tree.  When the two brothers go to bed soon thereafter, younger Philip informs Harry that was their father in the costume, a simple fact that Harry refuses to accept.

Flash forward to the “present day”, which in this case, is 1980.  Harry is now grown up and living alone; when we see his living quarters completely decorated in Christmas paraphernalia, we can only assume it is this way all year long.  His mind is always caught up in Christmas, so perhaps it’s not that surprising that he has a high-ranking job in a toy manufacturing plant, and that he watches neighbor kids with binoculars, and makes notes about which of them are naughty, and which of them are nice.

Much of the film’s effectiveness is garnered from its refreshing unpredictability—Harry just honestly wants to spread joy to everyone.  He is mentally disturbed, but he’s not some psycho that’s simply out patrolling the streets with the intent to kill; he wants everyone to revel in the spirit and the atmosphere of Christmas.  Now, to be clear, he’s not above the occasional murder, but when he does resort to violence, it’s sudden and shocking, rather than drawn out and expected (the first murder came up so abruptly that my jaw virtually hit the floor).  Having the murders take a backseat to the story is a welcome change from your average horror film, and one that makes the violent sequences sting that much more.

It’s also helped along by Brandon Maggart’s strong, vulnerable performance as Harry.  Actually, a majority of the performances are strong, but Maggart’s borders on the heartbreaking; the quiet scenes of him alone in his house reach a level of poignancy that few horror films would ever even attempt to achieve.  Harry’s clearly out of his mind, but his heart is in the right place, leading to a moral tug-of-war for the viewer—we realize that he needs help, but at the same time he is so sincere in his kindness and generosity that it almost wanders into a gray area.

Speaking of unexpected, nothing could possibly brace you for the ending, which is so out of left-field that you will either love it or hate it: there’s absolutely no middle ground.  At first--before it had even fully registered, and while I was still regaining my senses—I admired it for its audacity, but as it absorbed in my mind, it really grew on me.

Now, in a work this original, it’s only inevitable that not everything works.  Once the police start getting involved, for instance, it kind of ruins the fantasy aspect (like it would really be that hard for cops to track down a windowless white van with a huge sleigh hand-painted on it).  The second murder sequence, though not entirely bereft of originality, stretches the limits of believability a little too far (short of a coma, no way a wife could sleep through that), while also muddling the film’s message a little bit.

But out of the new Christmas movies I’ve seen this year, horror or otherwise, Christmas Evil is the only one that I could see becoming an occasional holiday tradition for me.  In avoiding the typical horror tropes and by wearing its heart on its sleeve, it somehow manages to sympathetically capture a man desperate to cling to the innocence of Christmas, no matter the cost.

RECAP: Closer to a drama than a slasher film (as it’s marketed), Lewis Jackson’s Christmas Evil is a surprising gem of holiday horror.  Brandon Maggart’s strong performance as Harry Stradling, a mentally-handicapped (and traumatized) man who dedicates his life to spreading the Christmas spirit is surprisingly heartbreaking, and there are several brilliant ideas at play here.  It does start to fizzle out once the police start to get involved, but an audaciously original (and unexpected) ending finishes things off on a strong note.  Those looking for a steady supply of blood and gore will be sorely disappointed, but when violence is used, it’s often quick and shocking.  On a side note, look for Patricia Richardson (of “Home Improvement” fame) as the mother of one of the naughty boys on Harry’s list!

RATING: 7.5/10

TRAILER: