Burial Ground (1981)

Director: Andrea Bianchi
Writer(s): Piero Regnoli
Starring: Karin Well, Gianluigi Chirizzi, Simone Mattioli, and Peter Bark

I saw Burial Ground (aka Burial Ground: The Nights of Terror) once as a teenager, and was immediately enthralled by its complete lack of plot, which felt exactly like the kinds of films I was attempting to write in school right around that time. I was never much into the time required to fully flesh out characters, and so my scripts would usually require the action to start well before the tenth page, or else I would quickly lose interest in it (I actually lost interest in just about all of them regardless...out of dozens of attempts, I only finished two or three, and they are awful by today's standards). Sure enough, here we are treated to a brief (five minutes or so) introduction that ever-so-vaguely hints at a cause for the ensuing zombie outbreak, another five minutes (or so) featuring characters meeting in a villa, and then the rest of the movie is survivors vs. zombies in an all-out zombie apocalypse.

I kind of have to give it some credit for that, because once the zombies start rising, the film never slows down or eases up on the survivors, who all tend to stand around until the last possible moment before fleeing from the oncoming hordes. Unfortunately, that's about all I can give it, because, while it manages to be entertaining for long stretches (unintentionally, of course, but “entertaining” nonetheless), there's very little talent on either side of the camera.

It clearly takes its queue from the sudden international success of Lucio Fulci's Zombie (which, in turn, took its queue from the sudden international success of George A. Romero's Dawn of the Dead). I've not made it a secret that I greatly admire Fulci's film--while still acknowledging it has more than its fair share of flaws—but what makes Fulci's vision work are the stupendous special effects. Sure, its characters are sublimely stupid, and unforgivably so, with the writers often having their characters stand “paralyzed with fear”, conveniently giving the incredibly-slow corpses time to shamble over and finish them off, but it worked because the make-up effects are still impressive to this day, while the gore effects just may be some of the best ever put to film.

Burial Ground is what would have happened had Fulci been a complete Z-grade director, with large chunks of screentime dedicated to lingering closeups of poorly made-up zombies slowly inching their way toward hapless victims, ear-piercing high-pitched synths often providing the sole musical backdrop for attack scenes (sounds made even more unbearable when seen in a theater, which I had the fortune of doing for the second viewing upon which this review is based). It has the feeling of a production that was shot and edited over the course of a single weekend, with only a day allotted for the atrocious English dubbing. The make-up effects, I suppose, are acceptable, but some of the zombies do look more humorous than scary, which offers up even more unintentional laughs. Meanwhile, the gore effects leave a lot to be desired, though many just consist of watching zombies tear out the insides of hapless victims, before gorging on their organs. It's appropriately disgusting, but the other effects are rare, generally weak and surprisingly tame.

The film would probably have slipped into complete cinematic limbo were it not for the random inclusion of a small child who is sexually obsessed with his mother. Played by 25-year-old Peter Bark, “Michael”, as he is known in the movie, has become a character of legend, with his likeness bearing T-shirts and other merchandise, even to this day. It shouldn't need to be said, but every sequence between Michael and his mother manages to be supremely uncomfortable, whether he's getting jealous as he watches her kiss his father (?), or attempting to feel her up as he makes out with her (?!); the infamous “climactic” scene between the two just may be one of the most nauseating scenes in movie history. (He does mostly redeem himself with one scene. Early on in the film, before the zombies attack, he grabs a random piece of cloth sitting on the floor, sniffs it, makes a weird face, shambles over to his mother, hands the cloth to her, and says, "Mother, this cloth smells of death!" I'd be lying if I didn't admit this is one of my favorite movie quotes of any film ever made.)

This is the kind of movie that will only appeal to a certain clique, and I cannot say that I am firmly entrenched within such a group. Sure, it has enough moments to keep you awake, but none of it could even remotely be classified as “gripping” or “suspenseful”. It's just an extreme cinematic cash grab, quickly written and shot so as to capitalize on the then-newfound explosion of the Italian zombie subgenre; seeing it in a theater only seems to heighten the amateurishness on display (while also magnifying the impact of the ridiculousness of it all). I have always admired it for its brazen lack of anything resembling a coherent story, but unfortunately when every other facet of the film suffers in a similar fashion, and the high point involves a weird-looking midget with a mommy fetish, there just isn't much there to recommend.

RATING: 3.5/10

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Possession (1981)

Director: Andrzej Zulawski
Writer(s): Zulawski and Frederic Tuten
Starring: Sam Neill, Isabelle Adjani, Margit Carstensen, and Heinz Bennent

Rarely in the annals of cinema history has such a hectic film been branded with such an unimaginative title. I’d imagine that many who had never heard of it would have simply scoffed it off and ignored it on video store shelves, images of an uninspired Exorcist ripoff dancing through their heads. But on the other hand, for those adventurous few that decided to pick it up anyway must have been in for a hell of a shock, because Possession is nothing like you would imagine it to be.

If you have stumbled on this blog looking for an explanation, or some kind of answer as to what it is they have just witnessed, or, if you have not yet seen it, what you should prepare for, I will save you the hassle of reading and just tell you to move along. Just as I long ago lost interest in trying to decipher cryptic, often personal lyrics in music, so too have I stopped wasting time attempting to decode the motives and inspirations of filmmakers. There’s absolutely no point to me. Some people can’t enjoy a movie unless they attempt to understand every single nuance of the film they just viewed--if that helps them to get involved, then that’s great--but I don’t like spending a lot of time searching for answers that just aren’t there, or can’t be readily verified.

In this case, all that director Andrzej Zulawski has revealed is that he wrote the screenplay for this film while he was going through a divorce. So then it is perhaps not surprising that divorce plays a pivotal role in Possession; as it opens, Anna wants a divorce from her husband, Mark. The weirdest part about it is that the change seems sudden—as far as Mark is concerned, they were doing just fine. He demands to know why, and after much hesitation, Anna finally reveals that she found another lover, Heinrich, whom she has been seeing for over a year.

From here, we go into the typical range of emotions that we expect to experience in a drama dealing with a crumbling relationship: Mark pays a visit to Heinrich and questions his own shortcomings that might have played a role in their downfall, while Anna toggles between her two lifestyles, one as wife and mother, and the other as lover in a relationship with newfound freedom. But then we go into territory that goes unexplored in most similar films, as Anna slowly starts to lose her grip on reality. She neglects her child and disappears for days at a time, while Mark tries to hold everything together as best as he can, including taking care of Bob, their young child.

She’s gone more and more frequently, leaving Mark to question her whereabouts. Where is she spending a majority of her time? Does she have more lovers than just Heinrich? He hires a private investigator to get to the bottom of this mystery; the PI follows Anna to an apartment building. He calls Mark to let him know Anna’s whereabouts, before gaining entrance to her place by posing as the building manager. But what he comes face-to-face with in her bedroom is something beyond description, and it’s the last thing he sees before Anna kills him.

You know what? I’m just going to stop with the synopsis right here, because none of it really matters. As I alluded to from the outset, there’s really no possible way to tell exactly what’s going on: there are killings and creatures, and Mark even has an affair with a woman that looks exactly like his wife (and is, in fact, also played by Adjani). The movie often feels like a series of interconnected dreams, with only a vague resemblance to real life. The tradeoff is that this movie is pretty unpredictable, with the menacing, surrealistic atmosphere that would have been impossible to obtain with a more traditional narrative. Its ambiguity is also a big reason that it has any sort of fan base at all, with people still attempting to analyze every little detail. Oh, and it doesn’t hurt that it also has, quite possibly, one of the greatest single acting performances of all time.

Sam Neill is just fine as Mark, the estranged husband, but the centerpiece of Possession is the jaw-dropping performance from Isabelle Adjani. Apparently, the facts state that shortly after this film was completed, Adjani suffered a nervous breakdown, and rumors persist to this day that it was the requirements from playing the character of Anna that pushed her over the edge. She has never verified or denied this, at least not that I could find, but just watching her completely envelope her character, going far beyond the call of duty, it’s easy to believe that it’s a strong possibility. Her Anna spends a good majority of the film losing her mind, screaming at her poor husband for the smallest of offences, and slowly losing her grip on reality.

It’s a strong, all-around performance. But it can all be summed up in one (in)famous scene in which she “miscarries” (whether it’s figurative, or literal—or both—within the confines of the story is another matter) all alone in a subway. The build-up, in which she screams, and writhes, and crawls all over the dirty floor is an epic one-woman show in and of itself, to speak nothing of the shocking way the scene ends. It also functions as the perfect introduction to this film: If you watch the clip and are still intrigued, you will probably like Possession a great deal. If you can’t make it all the way through, well, it’s probably good advice to stay far away. 

Because things get even weirder than that.

RECAP: Isabelle Adjani’s unbelievable performance, which just may be one of the greatest performance of all time, is the centerpiece of this surrealistic nightmare from director Andzrej Zulawski (RIP). The face-value “storyline” is simple, and concerns a husband desperate to find out what’s causing his wife to slowly go mad, but it’s completely obvious there’s much more to it than that. If you enjoy analyzing movies down to the final detail, this would be a great pick for you, whereas anyone that enjoys a more straightforward narrative will end up lost and/or frustrated. I’ll end this on a word of warning: Don’t be fooled by its simple, unimaginative title. It’s not a typical possession flick (if it even is at all), and only gets weirder and weirder as it rolls along.

RATING: 8/10

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Ms. 45 (1981)

Director: Abel Ferrara
Writer(s): Nicholas St. John
Starring: Zoe Lund, Bogey, Albert Sinkys, and Darlene Stuto

VHS cover art courtesy of Retro-Daze

Hollywood is rife with stories of actors being consumed by the excess of a glamorous lifestyle, but very few are as genuinely heartbreaking as the story of Zoe Tamerlis, the beautiful lead actress of Abel Ferrara’s cult revenge thriller Ms. 45, who was only 17 years old at the time of filming. Three years later, she followed up her debut with an even bigger role in journeyman director Larry Cohen’s Special Effects, in which she played two leading parts. Even though she wanted to branch out from the shadow of Ferrara, determined to carve her own career path rather than merely latch on to his success, she returned to help him pen Bad Lieutenant, the infamous film that arguably put him on the map for good (after his normal writer, Nicholas St. John, refused to write it because of his devout Catholic beliefs). In between those last two projects, she married Robert Lund in 1986, a relationship that would technically last for the next thirteen years (though they were separated in 1997, neither filed for divorce).

If things sound like they were going well for her, they weren’t: she was a heroin addict. Now that’s nothing new in and of itself, but what makes her story so harrowing was her dedication to the drug: she was not just addicted to it, but came to believe it harnessed a power within her that otherwise could not be accessed. She went so far as to become an outspoken advocate of the drug, never once seeming to realize—or rather, maybe completely disregarding—the danger that her addiction was putting her in. She continued to write, finding inspiration from other junkies who met premature ends, such as model Gia Carangi, noted as one of the first “supermodels”, who spiraled into drug addiction before dying of AIDS at the age of 26; Lund was commissioned to write a screenplay based on Gia’s life, which would remain unfinished.

After separation from her husband in 1997, she moved to Paris, France, with a new boyfriend, only to succumb to heart and lung failure, exacerbated by her constant drug use, in April of 1999. Drug-related deaths are always sad, because many of them feel so preventable: if only people could have reached out to them, or made them see the error of their ways, we wouldn’t have been robbed of such talent so soon. What makes Lund's story so depressing is that her life felt like a linear story, one that was marching to an unavoidable, foregone conclusion. I cannot find any stories on how friends and family, specifically her husband, reacted to her heroin addiction—did they try to get her to quit, or did they just turn a blind eye and hope for the best?—but so strong was her faith in the illicit drug that none of that information even seems to matter. The limits of her talents (prior to becoming a writer, she was a brilliant composer/musician) would end there, never to be explored.

In Ms. 45, she plays Thana, a mute woman who is raped twice in the same day on her way home from work: once in a back alley (this rapist is played by Abel Ferrara), and then again at home, after unwittingly walking in on a burglar in the process of scouting out her home. She kills her second attacker in the act, by beating him to death with a tire iron, then becomes drawn to his gun, a Colt .45, which she takes with her wherever she goes. During the process of attempting to hide the body (she cuts the limbs off, puts each one in individual trash bags, then disperses them at random points throughout the city over the span of several days), she begins a transformation from timid seamstress, to full-on murderer of men.

To be fair, Ferrara’s New York paints every male as a leering, psychosexual predator, and gives her many chances to utilize her new weapon. Men catcall Thana (and her friends) at every turn, they follow her to give her back the bags that she's intentionally dropping, they proposition her for sex, and the list goes on and on. Sickened by their actions, and slowly going insane from her previous abuse, she kills her attackers with a lessening amount of hesitation, and in the process, becomes a kind of feminist superhero, ridding the streets of misogynistic trash one bullet at a time. At first, she seems to do it out of necessity (the first man she shoots is running at her and screaming, so when paired up with her recent traumas, it’s easy to believe she feels she is doing it out of self-defense), but soon she is encouraging men to approach her, wearing dresses and layering on the make-up, and taking an active part in luring them to their deaths.

Since she cannot speak, and doesn’t seem to have anyone close enough that she can confide in, she keeps her emotions bottled up inside, which eventually leads to a drop in her work quality. She assures her boss that it will get better, but it doesn’t; in what feels like a last-ditch effort to save her job, she agrees to go to an office-wide Halloween party with her boss, which leads to a violent but effective slow-motion finale where she completely snaps, and all the male partygoers become fair game.

Ms. 45 was critically reviled at the time of its release, largely dismissed by uncaring critics as irredeemable exploitation trash, but there’s plenty here that elevate it beyond the sleazy archetypes of that subgenre. Exhibit A is Lund's performance as Thana: removing her ability to speak gives her with a lot less to do, but she still manages to pull off a strong, and sometimes even emotionally-charged, performance. The sounds of her occasional (and barely audible) whimpers during the second assault are gut-wrenching, while the lingering scenes of her curling up after each of her assaults gives her all-too-human qualities that approach a realism missing from most exploitation films. Her facial expressions as she continues to deflect co-workers’ concerns also brilliantly convey a woman that is hiding much more pain than anyone should have to repress; this may not completely justify her transition into “avenging angel”, but it certainly gives us a good reason to understand it.

The film’s biggest misstep is the inclusion of Mrs. Nasone, the landlady of Thana’s apartment building who is always meddling in her affairs. The problem is, her intrusions are unconvincing and clearly serve only as a thin way to advance the plot. For example, in one meeting, Thana heads out of her apartment with a paper bag (that does happen to contain human remains, but that’s beside the point), and, without any provocation whatsoever, Mrs. Nasone aggressively inquires about what’s in the bag. In another, she inexplicably enters Thana’s apartment without any form of consent, leading her dog, Phil, to act suspicious around the bathtub and fridge. Her character might have been included for comedic effect, but she actually manages to be way more infuriating than humorous.

The film’s low budget is also an occasional hindrance, with a few bad performances and some weak special effects. The writing also seems to lose focus, such as a fairly early scene in which Thana sees someone reading a paper talking about one of her murders, but as the body count grows, and as she starts killing more and more people in public with a loud gun, there’s very little mention of her in the media. Likewise, there’s really no mention of police, until a couple make an appearance toward the end, after Mrs. Nasone calls them to report something weird that she saw after essentially breaking into Thana’s apartment. If the police and/or media aspects weren’t going to be fleshed out, why even include them at all? Completely removing them could have given the film an even stronger feeling of anarchy, while heightening the revenge fantasy components.

The climactic Halloween sequence, with its nightmarish, slow-motion soundtrack, ends things on a positive note. This is due, in no small part, to the finale of the scene, which shows a loyalty among Thana and her female “allies” that manages to be strangely, powerfully potent.

As feminism seems to be an ever-growing movement these days, with women continuing to be pushed around and playing second fiddle to their white male counterparts, it’s no wonder that this film has slowly earned a loyal cult fanbase. I would suspect such a following will only increase over the years; though it’s directed by a man, it still maintains a unique, empowering female viewpoint while also avoiding many of the sleazier aspects of typical “exploitation” films; the end result is a flawed, but ultimately gripping, revenge film that will sadly remain relevant far into the future.

RECAP: It’s flawed, and its low-budget sometimes does it no favors, but Ms. 45 is a gripping feminist revenge thriller that manages to avoid the usual trappings (and the general sleaziness) of similar exploitation films. Zoe Tamerlis/Lund is good as the mute seamstress Thana, who is raped twice in one day and begins a rather speedy descent into a man-hating feminist superhero, offing any man who makes a pass at her with a Colt .45 handgun. There isn’t much plot to speak of, and the whole formula does get a little old, with men approaching Thana (or, later, her enticing them to do so) and then her just as quickly dispatching them, but it works rather brilliantly as a feminist fantasy. Finale at a Halloween party ends everything on a brilliant note. Not surprisingly, it was reviled upon release, but is finally starting to get the attention it deserves; definitely worth a watch.

RATING: 7/10 

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Q: The Winged Serpent (1981)

Director: Larry Cohen

Writer(s): Cohen

Starring: Michael Moriarty, David Carradine, Richard Roundtree, and Candy Clark

In what seems to be a recurring theme, I had a lot of good memories from watching Larry Cohen’s Q for the first time when I was in my mid-teen years.  A lot of that might have had to do with the simple notion that I had seen it after being vastly underwhelmed by both God Told Me To, and The Stuff, two additional cult movies directed by Cohen, in which he completely squandered unique premises.  I guess the fact he didn’t screw this one up was an endearing quality to me.

There’s a lot going on here, but to boil it down to the basics: Michael Moriarty plays Jimmy Quinn, a man who’s part time piano player, and part time thief.  To earn some money, he agrees to be the getaway driver for a diamond heist, but as always, things do not go as planned.  During his escape, (in which he is hit by a taxicab and loses all of the money) he ends up in the Chrysler Building, where he eventually stumbles on a shocking sight:  A large egg in a large nest at the top of the skyscraper.

Meanwhile, two cops (played by Richard Roundtree and David Carradine) are investigating a series of bizarre murders; in some, the victims are beheaded, yet in others, they appear to have been skinned alive.  Could the monster in the nest have anything to do with any of this, and if so, how?

Q starts off with a full head of steam, getting right down to it with three murders (and a set of titties!) within the first five minutes.  Unfortunately, there’s not nearly enough story here to sustain the momentum, and it eventually comes crashing back down to Earth long before it’s over.  That’s a sad thing, because this is a movie with a lot of potential; if Cohen had more time, or perhaps more money, to develop it, it’s interesting to think about all the improvements that could have been made.

More interesting than the movie itself is the story behind it.  Basically, Cohen was hired to direct a movie called I, The Jury but didn’t get along with the producers, so he was fired just a couple of days in.  Not wanting to waste the month that he had paid for to stay in a New York hotel, he quickly wrote this movie, rounded up a cast, and shot it on the cheap.  In an ultimate twist of fate, both Q and I, The Jury ended up opening on the exact same day, with Q pulling in more money on a fraction of the budget.

It’s certainly admirable what Cohen accomplished essentially off-the-cuff (he re-wrote entire scenes the night before shooting them, in some cases), but its rushed nature is also pretty evident.  The plot feels like it goes from point A to point B on a whim, with very little logic, even for the standards of a B-movie like this, and it only gets worse and worse as it drags along.  The creature effects start off charmingly dated, as Cohen barely shows it for the whole first half.  Then, inexplicably, he overuses the creature for the finale, with disastrous results; for the first time in the movie, we can see just how shoddy the special effects really are.  If he would have kept the creature visuals to a minimum, I think it really could have helped create a much better atmosphere; it might have even allowed some tension to sneak in.

I also really hated Moriarty’s character, and although his performance has been given plenty of praise, I didn’t like that, either.  I thought it was wildly uneven, and his annoying “tough guy” slur really grated on my nerves.  Cohen’s script didn’t do him many favors either, casting him as a one-dimensional smart-ass; thus, just about everything that comes out of his mouth is dry and sarcastic.  Peppering in some lines like this here and there while toning it down a bit would have given him more depth; as he is written, he comes off as little more than an annoying know-it-all.  I know, I know, that’s what Cohen seems to have been going for, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.

The other performances are befitting of such a film, with David Carradine’s effort (playing a cop known only as “Shepard”) reminding me a lot of Larry Sanders, Garry Shandling’s long-running late night character, with his laid-back, “don’t care” attitude; this contrast with Richard Roundtree’s “sharp as nails” Powell creates a decent, if too familiar, “good cop bad cop” routine.  Candy Clark, as Quinn’s love interest, alternates between entertaining cheesiness and almost genuine authenticity; it’s clear she’s giving it her all, though, so her character remains endearing.

Q is a good B-film that manages to be entertaining overall, but it unfortunately never seems to set its sights too high.  As hinted at earlier, part of the problem is no doubt the time and budgetary constraints, but unlike its titular monster, Q the movie is never really allowed to spread its wings and be anything more than fascinating schlock.

RECAP: Q starts off with a bang, then gradually loses steam the rest of the way.  The movie is filled with one-note characters, with the worst offender being Michael Moriarty’s Jimmy Quinn; many publications have praised his performance, but I thought he was wildly uneven.  Monster effects are effective in the beginning because it is barely shown; once he becomes the focal point of several shots at the end, we see just how terribly dated the effects really are.  It’s entertaining, and considering the time and budgetary constraints involved, it’s impressive that it was even finished; but by the end, there’s the unshakable feeling that just about everyone involved was capable of so much more.

RATING: 6/10

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