Since I seem to be in a bit of a vampiric mood tonight, how about a scene from the 1922 classic, Nosferatu, for today’s scene that I love?
This scene features the titular vampire taking over a boat and it proves that movies didn’t need to be scary.
Enjoy!
(As a reminder, if you like this scene, you can watch the whole movie by clicking here!)
In the middle of the night, a woman (Christine François), wearing an orange nightgown walks down a dark, Paris street.
She is followed by three men, all of whom are wearing strange, bird-like masks.
The woman turns a corner and runs into Pierre (Olivier Rollin). Pierre and the woman stare at each other, without saying a word. Though it may be their first time to meet each other, both their attraction and their bond is instantaneous.
Both Pierre and the woman run down the street. The men in the marks follow them.
Finally, in a deserted alley, the men corner the woman and Pierre. Though Pierre escapes, the woman is shot by one of the men and promptly collapses.
The men pick up the woman’s body and carry her to a nearby, gated building. A bearded doorman lets them through. Several other people, all wearing tuxedos and fancy gowns, come to the gate and, after showing the doorman their invitation, are allowed to pass through. Pierre tries to follow but is told that he cannot enter because he has not been invited.
And so begins Jean Rollin’s 1970 film, The Nude Vampire. This was Rollin’s second film, following the controversial Le Viol du Vampire. The Nude Vampire, while once again featuring all of Rollin’s pet obsessions, is still a far more assured piece of filmmaking than Rollin’s first film. It’s interesting to watch The Nude Vampire directly after Le Viol du Vampire because you can can truly see Rollin developing as a director. Once again, Rollin is telling an odd story about a frequently disrobed vampire and once again, all of the action leads to the beach. However, the plot is far easier to follow in The Nude Vampire than in Le Viol du Vampire. If the first film often seemed to be too indulgent for its own good, The Nude Vampire is just indulgent enough to work. Of course, as with any Rollin film, your mileage may vary. What seems rather coherent and almost tame to a Rollin fan may seem like the exact opposite to someone who has never seen a Rollin film before.
As for Pierre, he is determined to figure out what happened to the woman, even though his own father says that it is sometimes best to just leave well enough alone. After punching out a partygoer and stealing his invitation, Pierre gets into the building and discovers that, despite having been shot in front of him, the woman in the orange nightgown is not dead. In fact, she doesn’t even appear to be injured. Instead, she drinks the blood of a party guest who has just committed suicide. It turns out that the party is actually a cult and they worship the woman.
As if that’s not shocking enough, Pierre discovers that his own father is in charge of the cult! His father explains that the woman is actually a vampire but that there might be a cure for her condition. But, in order to cure her, she must be kept safe from the vampires who are trying to capture her….
And that’s not all! But I won’t share any more of the plot. I only have limited space here, after all. The film plays out like a serial, with twists and turns and a lot of scenes involving people being chased from one location to another. As I mentioned before, it all leads to the beach because this is a Rollin film and Rollin’s vampiric visions always ended with the beach.
As one should always expect from a Jean Rollin film, The Nude Vampire plays out at its own deliberate, dream-like pace. As a director, Rollin was such a strong visualist that somehow even his film’s lapses in coherence seemed to make a strange sort of sense. If every movie is a dream then who are we to complain when they employ dream logic? As with any Rollin film, The Nude Vampire is not for everyone but fans of Rollin’s unique aesthetic will definitely find much to enjoy.
4 Shots From 4 Films is just what it says it is, 4 shots from 4 of our favorite films. As opposed to the reviews and recaps that we usually post, 4 Shots From 4 Films lets the visuals do the talking!
This October, we’re using 4 Shots From 4 Films to look at some of the best years that horror has to offer!
4 Shots From 4 1999 Horror Films:
The Blair Witch Project (1999, dir by Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sanchez)
The Rage: Carrie 2 (1999, dir by Katt Shea)
The Sixth Sense (1999, dir by M. Night Shyamalan)
Stir of Echoes (1999, dir by David Koepp)
“Bela Lugosi’s dead….” Peter Murphy sings at the start of 1983’s The Hunger and, in the case of this film, it’s as much of a challenge as a tribute.
Bela Lugosi and Dracula are gone, the film announces, and so is the old-fashioned vampire movie. Here’s a new look at an old favorite….
Of course, seen today, The Hunger doesn’t seem new. Since The Hunger‘s release, there’s been a countless number of films in which vampires have been decadent and chic aristocrats, hanging out in dark nightclubs and looking at the world with ennui-stricken eyes. By today’s standards, the stylish decadence of The Hunger can seem almost quaint. Much like Paul Schrader’s remake of Cat People, The Hunger is such a film of the 80s that you half-expect someone to offer you a line coke while you’re watching it. Also, like Cat People, it’s such a glorious tribute to excess that there’s no way you can’t watch it once it starts. It’s hypnotic in its excess.
In The Hunger, our vampires are Miriam Blaylock (Catherine Deneuve) and her lover, John (David Bowie). Miriam has been a vampire since at least the time of the ancient Egyptians. Rather than sinking her fangs into the necks of her victims, Miriam uses an Ankh pendant to slit their throats. John was once a cellist in 18th century France. Now, they live in an expensive New York townhouse, where they teach classical music and occasionally murder anyone that they can convince to come up to see them.
When they first met, Miriam promised John that he would have eternal life but she didn’t promise him eternal youth. Unfortunately, it takes 200 years for John to notice. When he starts to rapidly age, he seeks out aging expert Dr. Sarah Roberts (Susan Sarandon) for help. Though Dr. Roberts is originally dismissive of his claims, she is shocked to see John age several years in just an hour.
When an angry and desperate John kills the music student (Beth Ehlers) that Miriam was hoping to transform into her next lover, Miriam is forced to search elsewhere. When Sarah shows up, searching for the man who aged years in an hour, Miriam feels that her search may be over.
As one might expect from a film directed by Tony Scott, The Hunger is an extremely stylish film, to the extent that the film’s story is often secondary to the way that Scott chooses to tell it. The set design is so ornate and every scene is so precisely lit and shot and that, at times, the movie feels a bit like a commercial for vampirism. It’s easy to imagine Britney Spears singing “Work Bitch” in the background of some of the scenes. (“You want a hot body? You want a Bugatti? You Want a Maserati? You better work vamp.”) Throughout the film, New York glows like a neon wonderland while John and Miriam coolly look out over the world like 18th century French aristocrats who have no idea that they have a future date with the guillotine. At times, it’s a film that becomes almost ludicrous in its celebration of grandeur and style. One could imagine Jean Rollin telling the same story just as effectively while spending a lot less money.
And yet, it’s that very embrace of the over-the-top ludicrousness of it all that makes The Hunger a memorable film. The film’s a tribute to excess, with an ending that falters precisely because it attempts to reject precisely what it’s spent the past hour and a half celebrating. The Hunger doesn’t add up too much but its hypnotically stylish and well-acted by a cast who does their best to keep up with Tony Scott’s camera.
A serial killer known as “The Avenger” is murdering blonde women in London (which, once again, proves that its better to be a redhead). And while nobody knows the identity of the Avenger, they do know that the enigmatic stranger (Ivor Novello), who has just recently rented a room at boarding house, happens to fit his description. They also know that the lodger’s landlord’s daughter happens to be a blonde…
Released in 1927, the silent The Lodger was Alfred Hitchcock’s third film but, according to the director, this was the first true “Hitchcock film.” Certainly it shows that even at the start of his career, Hitchcock’s famous obsessions were already present — the stranger accused of a crime, the blonde victims, and the link between sex and violence.
Also of note, the credited assistant director — Alma Reville — would become Alma Hitchcock shortly before The Lodger was released.
The Banana Splits Movie takes viewers behind the scenes of a children’s television show and shows us the sordid world that nobody knows about.
The stage manager is overworked. The new head of the network is a jerk. The star of the show is a drunk. The lovable Banana Splits, who play silly games and all play music instruments, are all actually robots who are looked down upon by their human coworkers. When Stevie (Richard White), the star of the show, learns that the show is being canceled, he makes the mistake of telling the robots and, before you know it, all Hell is breaking lose. People are getting stabbed to death with lollipops. Network executives are getting dismembered. One unfortunate person gets slammed in the head with a giant hammer. You gotta be careful who you piss off, folks. Robots are ruthless.
To me, the most shocking thing about The Banana Splits Movie was the discovery that it was based on an actual show. Apparently, the Banana Splits were real and they had their own show in the late 60s and early 70s. I’m going to guess that the Banana Splits were played by people in costumes as opposed to just being big robots. At least, I hope that’s the case because, after watching The Banana Splits Movie, I’m kind of over wanting anything to do with robots.
I will say this. If I imagine the characters from this movie not killing people, I can kinda understand why they would have their own TV show. I mean, they’re all really cute, except for when they’re covered in blood and brain matter. My personal favorite was Snorky, who was a big elephant and was a bit less murderous than the other three members of the Banana Splits. In fact, I have to admit that the film kind of left me feeling a little bit depressed because all of the robots are so cute that you really don’t want to see them murder people or get damaged themselves. The film actually does a pretty good job of contrasting the adorableness of the Banana Splits with the pain and carnage that they caused.
And make no doubt about it. There’s a lot of blood spilled in this movie. The Banana Splits are ruthless murderers and they don’t care how nice you are or if you paid money to see the show or if you’re just trying to make your daughter into a big star. If they see you, they’ll kill you. In fact, I have to admit that it sometimes got to be a bit too much for me. I got a little bit tired of all the violence but, at the same time, I also appreciated the film’s satiric intent. In a world gone mad, why wouldn’t the stars of a children’s TV show turn out to be a bunch of killer robots? When you think about all of the once beloved celebrities that have fallen from grace over the past 10 years, it makes an odd sort of sense.
Anyway, The Banana Splits Movie is well made splatter film with a satiric vein running through all blood and guts. It was a bit much for me but I respected it for sticking to its subversive premise and I do think it will be appreciated by a lot of other horror fans and pop culture fanatics.
I’m just hoping that the sequel features more Snorky.
Since I reviewed the film earlier today, I guess it makes sense that today’s horror scene that I love should be the cemetery scene from Hammer’s The Plague of the Zombies!
Enjoy and watch your step!
“Let’s go to the cemetery.”
That line is actually from another Jean Rollin film, Requiem for Vampire, but it also perfectly sums up the plot of his 1973 masterpiece, The Iron Rose.
A man (Hugues Quester) meets a woman (Francoise Pascal) at a wedding party. They agree to go on a date, one which includes a railway station, a picnic, bicycling, and finally a walk that leads to a seemingly deserted cemetery. On what seems to be a whim, the two of them enter the cemetery. The woman seems to be fascinated with the place. The man is dismissive, saying that funerals are an expensive, waste of time. The woman believes that there is something after death. The man is cynical, saying that once you’re dead, you’re dead. As any couple would do after having a theological conversation, the two of them enter a crypt and make love.
While they’re busy making love, we discover that there actually are others in the cemetery. There’s a clown that places flowers on a grave. There’s a mysterious man who has been watching the couple as they walk among the graves. (In the credits the man is called “Le vampire,” though he never actually does anything in the film that would indicate that he’s a bloodsucker.) And then there’s the old woman who, as night falls, promptly closes the cemetery gates.
When the man and the woman emerge from the crypt, they discover that they are trapped. There’s no way to open the gate and there’s no way to get out of the cemetery. The two of them start to walk around, searching for either an exit or, at the very least, some sort of shelter for the night. As they walk, strange things start to happen and we’re forced to reconsider our previous assumptions about not only the man and the woman but also the cemetery itself. Did they enter the cemetery on a whim or did one of them specifically lead in the other? As the night progresses, the feeling of impending doom only grows. It all leads to a rather macabre fate for one of our lovers and a dance among the tombstones for another.
The Iron Rose is one of Jean Rollin’s best films and, sadly, it’s also one of his most unjustly obscure. Even by the standards of Rollin’s early vampire films, The Iron Rose is a surreal film, one that is far more interested in creating a haunting atmosphere than in telling a traditional story. What is the real reason that leads to the man and the woman entering the cemetery? The Iron Rose is full of hints but, for most part, it’s left to the audience to answer that question for themselves. The film’s haunting final scenes force us to reconsider everything that we previously assumed by the characters and their actions. Are they obsessed with love or are they just in love with death? There are no easy answers.
Obviously, a 90-minute film about two people walking around a cemetery is going to have some slow spots but, in this case, those occasional moments just add to the film’s ennui-drenched atmosphere. As filmed by Rollin, the cemetery becomes as important a character as both the man and the woman and a reminder that the present is always going to be tied to the past. The Iron Rose is Rollin at his dream-like best.
4 Shots From 4 Films is just what it says it is, 4 shots from 4 of our favorite films. As opposed to the reviews and recaps that we usually post, 4 Shots From 4 Films lets the visuals do the talking!
This October, we’re using 4 Shots From 4 Films to look at some of the best years that horror has to offer!
4 Shots From 4 1998 Horror Films
Blade (1998, dir by Stephen Norrington)
The Faculty (1998, dir by Robert Rodriguez)
The Phantom of the Opera (1998, dir by Dario Argento)
Vampires (1998, dir by John Carpenter)
One of the best (and scariest) zombie films of all time came to us from Hammer Studios.
The 1966 film, The Plague of the Zombies, takes place in a small, fog-filled English village. The village has been hit by a plague, one that is wiping out all of the inhabitants. Unable to combat or even diagnose the mysterious illness, Dr. Peter Tomlinson (Brook Williams) calls in his friend, Sir James Forbes (Andre Morrill) for help. Sir James arrives with his daughter, Sylvia (Diane Clare) and suggests that the graves of the recently deceased should be dug up so that he can examine the bodies himself.
Sounds like a reasonable idea, right? There’s only one problem. ALL OF THE COFFINS ARE EMPTY! Now, before anyone asks, they weren’t empty when they went into the ground. There were dead bodies in them when they were originally buried. But now the coffins are empty, the bodies are missing, and that can mean only one thing — ZOMBIES!
And since this is a Hammer film, that also means that a squire is to blame! Seriously, if there’s anything that I’ve learned from watching British horror films, it is to never trust a squire. Squires always seem to end up practicing some sort of black magic. In this case, Squire Clive Hamilton (Jack Carson) has just returned from Haiti, where he apparently spent some time researching the art of zombie creation. Squire Hamilton has a tin mine to manage and undead workers are apparently far less demanding than living workers.
(Of course, today, Squire Hamilton could have just automated the mine and brought in robot workers, who would probably be even less demanding than zombie workers. In fact, with the march of progress, there may soon be no need for zombie workers at all.)
This is a Hammer film so, needless to say, Sylvia eventually gets kidnapped and it’s up to Dr. Tomlinson and Sir James to put an end to the Squire’s evil plans before Sylvia is transformed into a zombie herself. That’s not going to be as easy as it seems, because there’s zombies everywhere!
The Plague of the Zombies is one of Hammer’s best films and it’s also one of the few that, even to a modern viewer, remains frightening. The village is a wonderfully atmospheric location, mixing all of the usual gothic tropes that we’ve come to expect with Hammer films with a very real feeling of decay. Even before the whole zombie plague started, one gets the feeling that the village was already dying a slow, economic death. The tin mine may be the only way to keep the village alive but, at the same time, killing the village is also the only way to keep the tin mine open. The Plague of the Zombies is a moody and rather sad film, one that has a bit more on its mind than just supplying the usual Hammer combination of cleavage and blood.
Speaking of blood, Plague of the Zombies has one of the scariest zombie scenes of all time, in which one of our heroes finds himself wandering through a mist-covered cemetery while the dead rise around him. At one point, he literally steps over a pool of blood. Of course, the scene itself turns out to be a dream but it’s still effectively frightening. Also frightening are the zombies themselves, with their pasty, decaying flesh and their blankly hostile faces. It has been suggested that Plague of the Zombies was an influence on Romero’s Night of the Living Dead and you can definitely see that in its portrayal of the zombies as being a threat not because they’re fast but because they’re so relentless and pitiless.
The Plague of the Zombies is one of the best Hammer films out there so watch it this Halloween!
Through the Shattered Lens 