Night Killer 1989
aka Non Aprite Quella Porta 3
Directed by: Claudio Fragasso
Starring: Peter Hooten, Tara Buckman, Richard Foster
Review by Luis Joaquín González
I was saying to a friend the other night that after four-years of writing reviews for a SLASH above, I’m still nowhere near halfway through the slashers that I own. Due to the sheer weight of numbers, I’m guilty of overlooking the Giallo sub genre, which is a shame because Italy deserves its place in this online encyclopaedia. To make up for the lack of Tenebrae etc, I’ve tried covering the slasher films from Southern Europe that were moulded upon their US counterparts. The likes of StageFright, Nightmare Beach, Absurd and Bodycount have always intrigued me, because it’s strange that Italian directors adapted their methodologies to appeal to a foreign market trend that had been inspired by a style they created.
This is another one of their ‘Americanised’ exports and it’s by far the most obscure. It’s from Claudio Fragasso, who became a cult hero from the popularity of his daft project that was filmed on US soil. I haven’t seen Troll 2, but you don’t have to search far to learn that it’s a notorious ‘so bad it’s good’ cheese-fest. Fragasso began his career as an assistant to Bruno Mattei and it’s easy to see similarities in their filmographies. They worked extensively in the exploitation space and both seemed equally as focused on tackling popular cinematic trends on minimal funding. Due to loopholes in copyright laws, many low-budget flicks were released in Italy as unofficial sequels to renowned hits in order to grab an audience. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’s Italian title is Don’t Open the Door (Non Aprite Quella Porta). Well this one was circulated as a continuation of kind to that series (Non Aprite Quella Porta 3), which made me think that it might be heavily influenced by Leatherface and his cannibalistic family.
It begins in much the same fashion as did Michael Soavi’s StageFright, with a group of theatre performers practicing their dance moves. Before long we meet our masked killer and he slaughters one of the bunnies backstage with a Freddy Kruegar-esque glove. When the bitchy director goes to check on the missing cast-member’s whereabouts, she also gets attacked by the loon, but he only manages to slice her throat delicately, which weakens her vocal chords. What follows is an energetic chase sequence that ends with the injured female tumbling from the auditorium to the floor below. The cast members look on in shock at the corpse and the screen fades to black.
We soon learn that the city is being plagued by a maniac that is killing and raping females at a terrifying rate. Thus far, the Police and a Psychiatrist (by far the most credible Sam Loomis impersonation) have no lead on his true identity, but they’re desperate to put an end to the ferocious butchery. His next victim, Melanie Beck (Tara Buckman), manages to survive and gets a view of the attacker’s face, but the event has left her with short term memory loss and she doesn’t recall anything about the night. She is released from hospital and bumps into an alcoholic vagabond by the name of Axel (Peter Hooten). His frantic beeping of his horn and offer of alcohol doesn’t immediately woo her, so he follows her into the women’s toilets (even a cubicle) where she draws a gun and forces him to strip to his briefs and flush away his clothes (I’m not joking). Axel manages to find a T-Shirt and new pair of pants from somewhere and continues his pursuit, which results in him preventing the desperate female from committing suicide on a beach. After taking her to a hotel, he begins to reveal some worrying shades to his personality. It looks like Axel is increasingly unstable and could well be the vicious maniac that she escaped from last time…
I mentioned Bruno Mattei above and whilst it’s true that he made some pretty bad movies, his Eyes Without a Face is a smart giallo that proved that even directors renowned for cheesy trash could helm a stylish picture on occasion. if you break down this film to the sum of its parts, I guess you could say that it looks fairly mediocre. We do get some gore, but it’s very amateur (the boogeyman’s glove is clearly rubber), the uncredited score is only outdone by the flamboyance of the performances and we lack a traditionally ‘clean cut’ protagonist that the audience can sympathise with. Somehow though, the bouncy soundtrack, unhinged characters, peculiar dialogue (“Oh Grandma, what a big schlong you have(!)”) and videotape picture quality combine to create an authentic and pulsating movie that blew my expectations to smithereens. It’s almost as if I kept waiting for the runtime to become tedious, but it maintained a momentum and only grew in intrigue with every step.
It’s clear that Night Killer was structured like a slasher movie, but it certainly has the grit and (not so) subtle sexual themes of a giallo. Our heroine regularly exposes her breasts (she massages them at one point after receiving a threatening call (?)) and we are told that the victims are raped before they are slaughtered. Thankfully, this is never demonstrated visually, and we only see the psychopath punching his bladed glove through their stomachs like he was The Terminator (??). One of the unfortunate females is even killed by having her face pushed into a bowl of latex (???). I managed to work out who was under the mask long before the conclusion, but there’s a further revelation that makes zero sense on reflection, even if it would rival the denouement of The Usual Suspects if you happen to be the guy from Momento or a Goldfish with a five-second attention span.
As I alluded to above, the leads really go OTT with their portrayals. This is especially true in the case of Peter Hooten, whose demeanor and vocal delivery was reminiscent of Matthew McConaughey’s cameo from The Wolf of Wall Street. Despite the misleading Italian release title, Night Killer is not similar at all to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It’s pure slasher trash that plays like a mix between Terror Eyes and Halloween. There are no supernatural elements, but the killer’s mask is clearly modelled on the face of Freddy Krueger and then of course there’s the bladed glove. We even get a final sequence that could have been lifted from the Edmund Purdom trash bag, Don’t Open ’til Christmas. I know that seems unlikely, but if great minds think alike, I guess that the opposite can happen too 😉
It would be illogical to call Night Killer a well made movie, but it’s constantly entertaining and riddled with intrigue. I thoroughly enjoyed my viewing and it’s another of those time capsules from a long forgotten time that modern entries regularly attempt to but never manage to emulate…
Directed by: Andrea Bianchi
Starring: Gino Concari, Patrizia Falcone, Silvia Conti
Review by Luis Joaquín González
It’s somewhat ironic that Lucio Fulci supervised this belated entry to the giallo catalogue. Despite being two years his elder, Andrea Bianchi’s work has always made him look like something of a protégé of the notorious craftsman. There are many Fulci trademarks to be found in the works of Bianchi. Most notably the extreme use of gratuitous gore and a taste for barely logical plot points. Over the years many have labeled Fulci as an inept filmmaker that hid his directorial shortcomings behind the talent of his special effects team. But titles like Don’t Torture a Duckling and Zombi 2 have pretty much taken the gust out of that argument. If these critics truly believe that Fulci was an incompetent director, then gawd only knows what they’d make of Bianchi. His most famous movie – the notorious Burial Ground – is great fun if you love blood and guts. But if you judge it on it’s merits as a motion picture, then it fails in just about every department. The acting was diabolical, the direction non-existent and I don’t even think that it was filmed from a script. I hoped that Massacre would keep the gratuitous exploitation edge, but I was also looking for a little more credibility from Bianchi this time around.
Massacre kicks off with a gruesome murder that was re-used by Fulci along with other gore scenes in the bemusing Nightmare Concert. A guy wearing red gloves, shades and a beanie hat is seen cruising along a lengthy stretch of road. He pulls up beside a young woman in a skimpy dress who greets him with the classic line, “Hey cutie wanna make love mmmm!” Unfortunately, ‘making love’ isn’t exactly what this guy had in mind, and he proceeds to chop off the woman’s hand and then decapitate her with an axe. Next up we meet a film crew that are shooting a zombie flick in the area called Dirty Blood. There’s a whole heap of tension on the set because it doesn’t look like any of the employees seem to get along with one another. The lead actress Jennifer (Patrizia Falcone) is dating a Local Police Captain called Walter (Gino Concarni). We soon learn from him that this maniacal killer has already murdered four other victims, and the authorities don’t have a clue to his identity. Things really get nasty after the producer calls in a medium to hold a séance and teach his cast and crew the ways of the supernatural. The circle is broken when an evil spirit invades the sitting and forces the Medium to end the seance. Only hours later an unseen maniac begins slaughtering his way through the cast list one by one. Will any of them survive…?
Surprisingly, Massacre is not as bad as I had initially expected. Silvano Tessicini did a credible job with the photography and the director even managed to build suspense in places. No really. As this is a Bianchi joint, the exploitation is spread thick and fast, and there’s more female nudity than an Electric Blue omnibus. Look out for the scene where a victim flees the marauding killer with only a short skirt covering her modesty! The gory murders reveal a great flair for the macabre from the filmmaker and there’s a body count to rival an Arnold Schwarzenegger machine gun frenzy. You probably won’t solve the twist and turn mystery with ease, plus the boathouse massacre is a tremendous piece of mayhem, which deserves a second look. Massacre also boasts some wacky pre-politically correct dialogue, which will make even the most sinister viewer smile. It’s also worth noting the amount of American stalk and slash clichés that have been incorporated with the more typical native giallo platitudes. At one point a fornicating couple are slaughtered whilst parked in the woods – an indisputable trademark of the USA teen slasher.
But still this is far too bizarrely structured to be anything other than good in a bad way. As was the case with Burial Ground, there’s just too much inadvertent humor to allow this to join the giallo elite. The murders certainly could have benefited with a little more directorial flourish and the musical accompaniment was continuously monotomous to the point of frustration. Bianchi certainly has an eye for a beautiful actress, and he always tries to include everything from lesbian proposals to soft-core pornography. Only problem is that he seems to prioritize acting ability way below bra size. It’s a flaw that’s only too evident from the start.
The net result is a film that will satisfy forgiving fans that aren’t expecting anything along the lines of Tenebrae or even Eyeball. To put it another way, if you could sit through Burial Ground without cringing at the screen then you’ll probably enjoy this.
Final Girl: √
Directed by: Joe D’amato
Starring: George Eastman, Annie Belle, Ed Purdom
Review by Luisito Joaquín González
About fifteen-years ago, whilst looking round the second-hand video shops in Soho, London, I stumbled upon a gleaming copy of Absurd for only £4.00 ($8.00). Seeing how the movie had been banned in Great Britain since the Video Nasty days, I knew that the guy behind the counter wasn’t aware of the true price of what he was losing out on. Finding Joe D’amato’s splatter extravaganza completely unedited and at an extreme budget price was indeed good fortune on my part and so I picked it up and rushed home for a gore-soaked evening’s viewing.
This is not a direct sequel to Anthropophagus, although George Eastman returns as the demented bogeyman. The secluded Island has been abandoned as a location and instead he roams a small (supposedly) American town and hospital, which was obviously inspired by Michael Myers’ exploits in John Carpenter’s Halloween and Halloween II. Eagle eyed viewers will spot British-born actor and slasher regular, Edmund Purdom, who was certainly slumming it after already ‘starring’ in Pieces and following this with Don’t open ’til Christmas. His choices of roles over those years deserved an award of some kind. A B-movie Razzie? Well, not many performers at any level have endured trash to such an extent.
In the beginning, a priest (Purdom) is seen chasing Mikos Stenopolis through a forest. The pursuit continues until the visually deranged giant reaches a huge gate. As he begins to climb over, the clergyman grabs him and pulls him on to the sharp spikes, effectively disemboweling him. Mikos crawls up to the house that was behind the fence and staggers in to the kitchen where he falls to the floor clutching his entrails. A quaint family owns the mansion that he stumbles in to, and as you can well imagine, they’re pretty shocked when they see the bearded beast collapse in their doorway with his guts in his hands. (Literally!) He is taken to a nearby hospital where surgeons are bewildered by his impressive recovery skills and before long he’s up on his feet, drilling through the head of an unsuspecting nurse as he goes. For some bizarre reason, he seems to have taken a liking to the house that he chanced upon earlier, so he heads back there, taking the time to kill off any bystanders that he runs into on the way. A teenage girl that’s recovering from a spinal operation, a young (extremely obnoxious) boy and their babysitter inhabit the home and before long, our unstoppable maniac is skulking in the shadows with an axe. Meanwhile, perhaps the family’s only salvation is the priest from earlier who has joined forces with the local constabulary in a bid to stop the maniacal killer. We soon learn that his indestructibility was the result of a military science experiment and the only way that he can be killed is by completely destroying his brain. That sounds like the perfect cue for a gore-tastic showdown.
Whereas Anthropophagus made good use of its effectively foreboding locations to create an overall feeling of uneasiness that sat heavily on your shoulders throughout the movie, Absurd rarely touches on that level of fear or apprehensiveness. Instead the movie’s real impact is displayed visually, in the bundles of goo and vicious murders. Perhaps the most disturbing of the bunch is when an unfortunate guy is caught off guard whilst sweeping a warehouse and gets his head chopped in half with a band saw, which is, of course, filmed in graphic close-up. D’ amato tries to add as much suspense as he can to the stalking scenes, but more often than not his results are inconclusive. On occasion, he pulls off the odd effective shock, like when the assailant springs on the unsuspecting Emily as she attempts to cross the spacious kitchen to reach the child that she’s protecting. He then continues the savage brutality by trying to cook her head in an oven, whilst she’s alive and screaming for mercy. Slasher films are notorious for setting a tone that borders on black comedy and therefore avoid displaying the suffering of their dumb and poorly acted victims. Absurd on the other hand is incredibly sadistic and unforgiving in what it conveys on screen when Stenopolis strikes.
The roots of inspiration are grounded in the genre pieces from America and D’amato avoids the Giallo approach that is far more prevalent amongst his native counterparts. The director relinquishes the black hat and gloves of a mysterious killer in favour of a Michael Myers-alike hulking boogeyman that stays on screen from the outset. Setting a temporarily disabled teenage target as the film’s heroine was an effort to maximise Carpenter’s methodology of making his protagonist a polar opposite in terms of strength and defensive ability. It’s obvious that the director wanted the chance of survival for his characters to be as inconceivable as possible in order to make things all the more terrifying. Perhaps the only influence taken from his countrymen is the excessive use of gore that would become a trademark for names like Lucio Fulci, whom perhaps D’ Amato’s work can be most closely compared with. He lacks the panache of an Argento or Bava, and instead opts for shock tactics and bloody excess.
Seeing too much of Eastman’s growling insanity breaks the ‘less is more’ guideline that proved most effective in deft slasher outings. The fact that we know from the start that Mikos is indestructible removes the surprise element that we got from Michael Myers when he arose after those six shots in Halloween. There’s no denying the fact that the barrage of gore is attractive to horror hounds, but the film struggles to sustain a credible momentum during the in-between parts. The performances are extremely poor and Purdom’s attempt at a Greek accent is hilarious, even though he was arguably the best performer of an awful bunch. Let me state that again, Edmund Purdom was the best actor on show here… Yes, the movie does have that many problems. When we are away from the ferocity of Mikos and his machete, the pace slows right down to an almost standstill and sleepy heads might find their eyes beginning to link together for a snooze.
D’amato gets labelled as a hack more regularly than most, but the recent peak in slashers that include bags of goo have justified his work to be better than the criticism that he has received for the best part of thirty-years. It’s not hard to fill the screen with corn syrup, but creating a tone of dread is a skill that we don’t come across regularly enough. Even if it may be true that this lacks the chills that his previous slasher conveyed so credibly, it still provides enough to create an underlying atmosphere of gloom.
Final Girl: √
aka The Eleventh Commandment aka Camping Del Terrore aka Paraiso Sangriento
Directed by: Ruggero Deodato
Starring: Charles Nappier, David Hess, Mimsy Farmer
Review by Luisito Joaquín González
I once met Ruggero Deodato you know. I was at a Cinema festival in Camden and there were quite a few filmmakers of different statures, but me being me, I was only interested in those who had made horror films. I also spoke to José Ramon Larraz who was a gentleman and gave me his autograph and liked the fact I had loved Al Filo Del Hacha.Maybe it was a countryman thing though, because Deodato was nowhere near as interested in speaking to me. I remember clearly that he was wearing more jewellery than a gypsy fortune teller and a white Armani jumper. It was easy to make out because it had the words ARMANI blazed across it in bold capitals, probably in an attempt to make sure no one mistook it for PRIMARK. At the time, I thought that was pretty cool, I mean I was fourteen-years old; but now I look back and wonder why an adult would want to broadcast the fact that this was a DESIGNER top? Anyway, I digress…
Camping Del Terrore or Bodycount as it’s known in these parts is a cheese extravaganza. It’s a shameless dupe of the Friday the 13th series, but has enough in its suitcase to offer an enjoyable contribution to the cycle. Deodato’s prior works include exploitation classic Cannibal Holocaust and the tense revenge flick, The House on the Edge of the Park. Despite some criticisms of his style, he has proved to be a director that understands timing and can handle suspense and plot development. Here was his belated attempt to dip his leg in the slasher genre’s profit pool, but interestingly enough, this entry never secured distribution in the US, which is something very tough to understand. That should have been the market that this kind of flick tried hardest to target. I mean us Europeans love our horror, but there’s nowhere near as much chance of seeing massive revenue from Euro markets as there is in the States.
A group of youngsters who are touring Colorado in a RV pick up a hitchhiker called Ben who lets them stay at his parent’s campsite. They are unaware of local superstition, which states that ancient Indians sent a Shaman to guard the area because it was built upon their burial ground. The teenager’s antics bring the Shaman back to stalk the location and the blood begins to flow…
Deodato hired an interesting ensemble of B-movie stars here, including his old buddy David Hess – who had worked with him previously, Mimsy Farmer, Bruce Penhall and tough as nails Southerner, Charles Napier. Alongside those, there’s a typical cliché-laden group of young-adults, which consists of boys who are all jocks (except the usual lard-ass joker, played here by comedy writer Andrew Lederer) and some attractive girls who must be really dirrrty (not like that), because they seem to spend most of their screen time gratuitously scrubbing in the bathhouse. If they’re not soaking in the suds, then you can be sure that they’re doing little else than finding another reason to get naked somewhere else. When they’re not showering in their skin suits or throwing buckets of water over each other whilst smiling profusely, they’re being nastily murdered one by one by the old Indian shaman. This psycho-killer has hit jackpot with his intended prey here, because they don’t seem to notice when their numbers start to dwindle and even when they do come across mysterious occurrences, like skulls and that kind of thing, they usually wander off to check them out on their lonesome.
There’s one part where a cheery bimbo discovers her boyfriend in a bloody mess on the floor of a dilapitated house. Instead of immediately fleeing the scene whilst screaming frantically, she proceeds to go and lie down on the nearest bed and wait for the maniac to pop-up and ram a steak knife through her chest. One guy gets his comeuppance after climbing up a mountain only to bump into the Shaman, who at the time seemed to be doing little more than admiring the view. Nevertheless, the climber falls backward off the cliff, but must have visited a barber in-between losing his grip and hitting the floor, because the body we see plunging has completely different coloured hair from the one that we watched loosing his grip. (Was it that hard to find a blonde wig for the stunt ‘double’?) His girlfriend, whom was waiting below, witnesses the incident but not what caused it. Does she go and check if her beau survived or run off to get him some help? Of course not, instead she heads to the nearest bathhouse and begins taking off her clothes! Just what was it about that bathhouse and stripping?
To be fair, the teens never stood a chance against the most prepared killer in the history of slasher movies. When he slaughters one curly-haired blonde at the beginning, he manages to materialise a wig from out of nowhere that exactly matches his now defunct victim’s bubble-perm style. He then climbs inside a handy tree-trunk in record breaking time in order to convince her partner to walk over so that he can give him a violent tracheotomy. Shame he couldn’t have conjured a hairpiece as quickly for the stuntman which I told you about above.
In fairness, I liked the part when one character had his fingers chopped off with an axe and most of the murders are pretty cool and never without a splash of goo. I have a feeling that I have made Bodycount seem somewhat dumb, but to be honest it’s actually fairly engaging. Some of the flowing photography was brilliant as victims ran through the woods from the killer’s pursuit and there’s a fairly outlandish nightmare sequence that’s impressive and eerie. At times, the director builds a fair slice of suspense and the twist at the end was actually unexpected. Let’s just say that it works well to lead you to believe one thing throughout the movie and then it takes a U-turn in the final scene that I didn’t see coming first time around. In the beginning, each victim found a teddy bear somewhere before they were murdered, a neat and macabre touch (I love killer calling cards) that mysteriously evaded the rest of the movie. The attractive females and obnoxious males managed to whisk up a few giggles with their joint cheesiness and eighties talk is always fun to hear – (they were raving about Iron Maiden here!) To top it all off there’s a fantastic score from Claudio Simonetti that creates the excitement by itself in some parts.
This is a lot better than most of the Friday rip-offs that were made circa 1986. It’s nicely paced, never becomes boring and it offers cheese and slasher trash by the bucket load. I recommend Bodycount as an entertaining alternative to fans that have seen Friday the 13th too many times. It doesn’t break new ground or even make anything outstanding from the old, but it’s a whole heap of fun. If you fancy a weekend of Italian slashers, get this, Nightmare Beach and Stagefright and you’re guaranteed a good time… Enjoy!
Final Girl √√