Tag Archives: review

Music Video of the Day: American Horror by Speedy Ortiz (2014, dir by Peter Binswanger)

Posted on by Lisa Marie Bowman

Needless to say, the part with the dancer being controlled and then transformed into something else totally freaked me out, mostly because I’ve had nightmares like that.

And then, of course, you have the tentacles and the graffiti, which feels like something that H.P. Lovecraft would have come up with if he had lived in New York City in the 1970s and had to travel on the subway everyday.  It’s easy to imagine old Howard Lovecraft, heading to an accounting job while staring at the graffiti all around him and wondering what type of monster was responsible for it.  Cthulhu tags his territory.

As for the wizard with the eyes — well, glowing eyes are always freaky.

Enjoy!

The TSL’s Horror Grindhouse: The Flesh and Blood Show (dir by Pete Walker)

Posted on by Lisa Marie Bowman

I had a few reasons for watching the 1972 slasher film, The Flesh and Blood Show.

First off, the film was directed by Pete Walker.  Though Pete Walker may not be as well-known as some of his contemporaries and his overall cinematic output is dreadfully uneven, he was still responsible for enough memorable films that I will always give him a chance.

Secondly, it’s a British film and the British were responsible for some of the best horror films of the late 60s and early 70s.

Third, speaking as a horror fan, that title is just irresistible.  The Flesh and Blood Show?  Well, there’s nothing subtle about that!  Looking at that title, you find yourself wondering, “How much flesh and how much blood is actually in this film?”

Well, having watched the film, I can tell you that there’s very little blood and a good deal of flesh.  The Flesh and Blood Show was Walker’s first horror film.  Before moving into the horror genre, Walker specialized in making sexploitation movies and it’s kind of obvious that, when he directed this film, he was still more comfortable asking people to undress than asking them to play dead.  As opposed to other slasher films, the majority of the young cast survives and the almost all of the murders occur off-screen.  Every couple of minutes or so, someone else is getting undressed.  The constant nudity actually starts to get pretty funny after a while.  One could very easily use The Flesh and Blood Show to construct a drinking game.

As for the film’s plot, it deals with a group of actors who receive invitations to an abandoned theater.  An unseen producer apparently wants them all to perform an infamous play, perhaps the same play that is rumored to have led to tragedy back in 1945.  If it seems rather odd that the film’s characters would willingly go to an abandoned theater in the middle of nowhere and perform a possibly cursed play, no one is ever going to accuse anyone in this film of being smart.  Why ask why when there’s so much dancing and undressing to do?

There’s also an elderly major (Patrick Barr) hanging out around the theater.  He was actually one of my favorite characters in the movie because he approached everything with this very British, very stiff upper lip attitude.  Of course, the major himself has a secret.  That said, the secret isn’t that surprising.  I figured it out as soon as he showed up.

Naturally, all the murders at the theater are linked back to a tragedy in the past.  The final 15 minutes of the movie are made up of an extensive flashback to that tragedy and I will say this: it’s the best part of the film.  The flashback was originally filmed in 3-D and Walker uses this as an excuse to indulge in some surreal flourishes.

There are a few positive things to be said about The Flesh and Blood Show.  Pete Walker was a talented director and that talent comes through in even his weaker films.  There are a few scenes where Walker manages to maintain a properly ominous atmosphere and the movie’s score is so melodramatic and over the top that it’s kind of hard not to love it.

But, for the most part, The Flesh and Blood Show is a rather forgettable film.  If you want to see a good Pete Walker film, track down Frightmare.

Book Review: The Vampyre by John William Polidori

Posted on by Lisa Marie Bowman

Though The Vampyre was often erroneously attributed to Lord Byron, it was written by John William Polidori

First written way back in 1816, The Vampyre is a story about an amazingly naive young gentleman named Aubrey who becomes friends with the mysterious Lord Ruthven.

Everything about the enigmatic Lord Ruthven would seem to suggest that he’s a vampire but Aubrey never figures that out while he and the nobleman travel across Europe.  Even after an inkeeper’s daughter dies of a vampire attack shortly after telling Aubrey about vampires (and, also, immediately after the sudden arrival of Ruthven), it still doesn’t occur to Aubrey that there might be something strange about Lord Ruthven.  When Lord Ruthven is mortally wounded by bandits, he makes Aubrey swear an oath that he will not tell anyone about Ruthven’s death for a year and a day.  Aubrey promises to keep the oath.

Now, apparently, back in the 19th century, people took those oaths very seriously because, even after Lord Ruthven shows up alive once again and now claiming to be the Earl of Marsden, Aubrey can’t tell anyone that he saw Ruthven die.  Even after Ruthven starts to court Aubrey’s sister with the obvious intention of draining her blood, Aubrey still cannot bring himself to break his oath.  Is it because oaths were really that important or is it that Aubrey himself is as in thrall of Ruthven as his sister?

John William Polidori was a physician and a writer, as well as a contemporary and friend to Mary Shelley, Lord Byron, and Percy Shelley.  The Vampyre was conceived and written as a part of the same contest that saw Mary Shelley write Frankenstein.  Though Polidori’s story is understandably overshadowed by Mary Shelley’s (and, it must be said, Polidori was nowhere near as good a writer as his famous friends), it’s still historically significant as the first “romantic” vampire tale.  It’s the story from which so many others have sprung.

Many have also speculated that the story was based on Polidori’s friendship with Lord Byron, with Polidori represented by the unstable Aubrey while the self-centered but charismatic Lord Ruthven was perhaps meant to be a stand-in for Byron himself.  This may be true or it may not.  (When it comes to Byron, the Shelleys, and Polidori, it’s always perhaps a bit too tempting to read too much between the lines.)

The Vampyre is a historically important piece of work so, if you’re a fan of vampires, you have to read it.  Flaws and all, we owe much to Lord Ruthven and John William Polidori.

 

International Horror Film Review: The Nude Vampire (dir by Jean Rollin)

Posted on by Lisa Marie Bowman

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.

Horror on the Lens: The Lodger (dir by Alfred Hitchcock)

Posted on by Lisa Marie Bowman

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.

Horror on TV: One Step Beyond 3.6 “Moment of Hate” (dir by John Newland)

Posted on by Lisa Marie Bowman

On tonight’s episode of One Step Beyond, fashion designer Karen Wadsworth (Joanne Linville) believes that she has the power to cause people to die just by wishing death upon them.  Her psychiatrist tells her that this simply isn’t possible and then dares her to try one little test of her supposed powers.

This episode features a good performance by Joanne Linville and, if nothing else, it perhaps makes the case that we should be a little bit less quick to wish the worst upon other people.  Just imagine all of the damage that Karen could have caused if she had ever set up a twitter account.

This episode originally aired on October 25th, 1960.

The TSL’s Horror Grindhouse: The Banana Splits Movie (dir by Danishka Esterhazy)

Posted on by Lisa Marie Bowman

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.

Book Review: David Warbeck: The Man and His Movies by Raymond J. Slater and Harvey Fenton

Posted on by Lisa Marie Bowman

David Warbeck

Anyone who is a fan of Italian exploitation films will knows the name and the face of actor David Warbeck.  Warbeck was the handsome, rugged, and surprisingly likable New Zealand-born actor who went from studying at London’s Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts to appearing in films that were directed by everyone from Russ Meyer to Antonio Margheritti to Lucio Fulci.  He played a small but pivotal roles in Sergio Leone’s A Fistful of Dynamite and then went on to star in The Beyond, The Black Cat, The Last Hunter, Rat Man, and so many others.  While his films may never have been critical favorites at the time of their release (though several have been positively reevaluated), Warbeck’s movie did well enough at the box office that he was even considered for the role of James Bond,  Warbeck was one of those actors who was consistently good, regardless of the quality of the film in which he was appearing.

Sadly, Warbeck passed away in 1997, before many of his films were rediscovered.  It’s a shame because — as the commentary track that he and Catriona MacColl recorded for The Beyond shows — he was a charming raconteur who had a way with a story.  Fortunately, in 1996, Warbeck did sit down and gave a lengthy interview to Jason J. Slater, in which he discussed his career and shared many anecdotes about his life as an international exploitation superstar.  That interview is at the center of a short but interesting book called David Warbeck: The Man And His Movies.

The book not only features the interview with Warbeck but it also takes a detailed look at his filmography, reviewing some of his more interesting (and, in some cases, infamous) films.  The reviews are well-written by people who obviously love these often underappreciated films.

If you’re a fan of Italian exploitation, this book is simply a must-have.  Admittedly, it’s not an easy book to find.  I ordered a copy off of Amazon and it wasn’t cheap.  But it was worth it!

International Horror Film Review: The Iron Rose (dir by Jean Rollin)

Posted on by Lisa Marie Bowman

“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.