How Low Can You Giallo?- Black Belly of the Tarantula (1971)

 The year was 1971 and everyone was following in Argento’s footsteps with their animal entitled gialli. Paula Cavara was one of the directors of Mondo Cane and several other similar features released in its wake. After making a couple of war themed films, the stars aligned for the director, and with a story by Marcello Danon, who would later pen the script for La cage aux folles, a bevy of beautiful ladies, and a score by Ennio Morricone, Cavara was on target as he jumped genres again and delivered a stunning giallo.

When a film opens up to Barbara Bouchet nude on a table getting a massage from a blind masseur, then you know you’re in business. Bouchet is Maria Zani, a woman of loose moral standards who’s being blackmailed, but we hardly get to know her before a killer sticks a needle in her neck, paralyzes her, and cuts her open. Inspector Tellini (Gincarlo Giannini) is called in, and his prime suspect quickly becomes the victim’s jealous ex-husband. That line of inquiry is quickly closed as the husband is dispatched in the same fashion, and Tellini’s other leads follow much the same path. The unsure Inspector finds himself grasping at straws as the killer strikes at will, and the murderous path he’s carving might even find its way into Tellini’s home.

While the women of the film were quite ravishing, and the cinematography and score sublime, what really caught my attention was Gincarlo Giannini’s starring role as Inspector Tellini. We are lead to believe that he is a newly appointed inspector, and he’s very unsure of his suitability for the job. Sure, it’s a redemptive story arc that’s come up in films time and time again, but as the hero of a gialli, it seemed a fresh take for the typically baffled male lead. Tellini’s character is also enhanced greatly with scenes of his home life, and Stefania Sandrelli gives a solid performance as the inspector’s worried wife. Giannini was a veteran of several films before Black Belly, and he has worked steadily ever since. As if this film didn’t have enough Bond-ian connections, Giannini appeared as Mathis in 2006’s Casino Royale.

Speaking of Casino Royale, that gives me a good angle to get back to the beautiful ladies of the film. The briefly seen and quickly murdered Barbara Bouchet appeared in the spoofy 1967 version of Casino Royale, but there’s so many of James’ dates in this film. If you read yesterdays post on Barbara Bach, you may have noticed an omission. I neglected to say anything about her role as Anya Amasova in The Spy Who Loved Me. Well, I had to save it for today; after all, Bach’s Bond girl is often credited as being the first to break from the traditional archtype. Of course, the fact that she’s even more ravishing in the 007 film than either Fishmen or Black Belly surely also serves remembering. The last of the Black Belly Bond Babes (say that five times fast) is Claudine Auger who appeared in Thunderball as Domino. All three provide with more than eye candy turning in fine performances, although in the case of Bouchet that generally meant getting gutted.

What really makes Black Belly work is the mixture of violent kills, a tense mystery, a great action sequences. There’s a rooftop chase in this film that is worth the price of admission by itself, and then it gets capped off with a great shot of a falling dummy. These action scenes really kept the film’s pace up where some other gialli become mired in endless fretting. Again this is where the Tellini character really works, while we’ve seen him at home playing the part of the put upon schlub, there’s something about him that makes him a believable action hero. It doesn’t hurt that the scenes, like the whole film, are enhanced by the frenetic score by Ennio Morricone. I know I’ve raved about his work before many times and no one needs me to tell them how good Morricone is, but I’m going to anyway. The score to this film was both memorable and played perfectly with the artful direction of Cavara and Marcello Gatti’s amazing cinematography.

Great gialli always have their own sense of style, and Black Belly of the Tarantula is no exception. Where other films revel in the high life, Cavara’s film almost feels like a urban film. The clothes for the most part understated, though some of the women wear stunning couture on occasion. Still the setting feels very much removed from the cosmopolitan digs that usually dominate these kinds of films. On the whole the Rome seen in the film has much more in common with the polizia than the stylized locales from a Bava or Argento film. It adds to the great chemistry this film has. Cavara somehow brought a perfect balance to the screen and delivered a film that looks, sounds, and feels like its own entity.

To add the icing on the cake of this film, the ending is by far one of my favorite conclusions to a gialli. It’s surprising and to make it even better, it even makes sense. I know, who could ask for much more? Not this Bugg, I’ll tell you that. Black Belly of the Tarantula was a great way to round out this month long celebration of Italian thrills, and I hope everyone enjoyed it. Next month, they’ll be no new feature because the whole month of October is going to be devoted to silent Russian dramas of the 1920’s and 1930’s.

Seriously.

Ok, maybe not seriously. How about a whole month of horror movies capped off with the return of the Halloween Top 13? Sounds better, huh? Well stay tuned for more details in the next couple of days on how you can be a part of Halloween Top 13: The Sequel. Until then, this is the ever lovin’ Bugg, signing off, putting on his black trench coat, donning some yellow gloves, and exiting in the night with a pocket full of straight razors and piano wire. See you folks real soon.

Bugg Rating

How Low Can You Giallo?- Tenebre (1982)

Dario Argento and I don’t always get along. In fact, for a while, I thought the best gift he had given to the world of film was his smoking hot daughter, Asia. Not to diminish that contribution, I have finally started to get into Argento’s film. While Opera and The Card Player (so dreadful I could not bring myself to review it) have certainly let me down, watching films such as Susperia, The Bird with the Crystal Plumage, or tonight’s feature, Tenebre, has finally allowed me to see what all the fuss is about. Argento will probably never become one of the indispensable directors to me, but when it comes to making quality gialli, his name must be on the shortlist of revered masters.

Argento began his directing career in 1970 with the aforementioned film The Bird with the Crystal Plumage. This first film, a giallo of great skill, popularized the style that Mario Bava had begun in the 1970’s with films such as Blood and Black Lace and The Girl Who Knew Too Much. As I reviewed that film back in March, I won’t say much more about it other than it was an excellent debut. Argento went on to make several more gialli before reaching a peak with 1975’s Deep Red. He went on to make several films with a similar feeling, but beginning with Susperia many of his films took on more supernatural overtones. Then in 1982, some years after the giallo craze had ended, Argento chose to revisit the form with his film Tenebre.

Inspired by his own experience with a crazed fan, Argento’s film focuses on writer Peter Neal (Anthony Franciosa) who specializes in macabre thrillers often labeled as misogynist and sexually abhorrent. He travels to Italy to promote his newest book, Tenebrae, but as soon as he arrives, murders begin to plague Rome, murders that have taken their inspiration from Neal’s work. As the bodies begin to stack up, Detective Germani’s (Giuliano Gemma) investigation draws the writer deeper into the mystery, but Neal does not know if he is merely the inspiration or the final target of the straight razor wielding killer.

Before I get any further into discussing this film, I want to say that I am going to try to avoid spoilers, but it would almost be impossible to discuss this film deeply without spoiling parts of the plot. So, if the synopsis or my continued discussion of the film seems elusive at points, it’s because I feel very strongly that Argento crafted a script for this film that relied on the suspense and surprise of the mystery. Unlike many of his other films, Argento wrote the script on his own, and it shows, as the character of Peter Neal is essentially a stand in for the criticisms that had been leveled at Argento in the past. The pacing of the sequences as well as the twists and turns of the mystery make this film one of the best examples of the genre.

Tenebre was made with the American market in mind, and primarily the cast spoke English while filming. Although in the traditional Italian style, the sound was put on after the filming was completed. While Argento made the film hoping for success in the U.S., the film was heavily edited when it was finally released in 1984 under the title Unsane. This cut version excised some of the gore, but it also took out chunks of that narrative. Reviews of this version were not favorable, but at least it was released. In Germany, the censorship board has never approved the film, and it was one of the films slapped onto the U.K’s Video Nasties list.

Unlike many other films that made that list, Tenebre deserves the distinction. If you want a film that is full of the old red stuff, then this is the film for you. Throats get cut, arms get lopped off, and there is more than one instance of axes to the head. I loved every minute of that, and especially the arm being lopped off. The victim flails around with blood spraying up and down a white wall, and I could not help but wonder if Tarantino took some inspiration for this scene for his arm severing in Kill Bill Pt. 1.

Of the Argento films I have seen, this is the bloodiest, and it stands in stark contrast to the well-lit locales where the violence takes place. Gone is the colored lighting of Susperia, and in its place Argento wanted "...a modern style of photography, deliberately breaking with the legacy of German Expressionism. Today's light is the light of neon, headlights, and omnipresent flashes...Caring about shadows seemed ridiculous to me and, more than that, reassuring.” Argento was interested in portraying the events that occur in the film with a hand in realism. I wonder if his own brush with a real life maniac out for his blood made the experience seem more real to him.

The film is full of some really good performances, but almost as if Argento was taunting his critics, the females in the film are objects of desire, sadistic nightmares, or fodder for the killer’s blade. Instead, the film keeps its focus on two men, Anthony Franciosa as writer Peter Neal, John Saxon as his agent Bullmer. Franciosa does a magnificent job as the terrorized writer, and the layers of his character would surely be even more impressive on a repeated viewing. Saxon also puts in a great performance as the slimy agent. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Saxon play such a likeable sleaze before, and I relished every moment he had on screen. The only other notable performance was Eva Robin’s turn as “Girl on Beach” in the mysterious flashbacks that pepper the film. I have to admit I found her quite attractive, so when I dissevered that she was a transgendered actress; I was more than a bit shocked. I feel certain that Argento put her in that role for just that reason. He lures you into being titillated, and then in a sly turn of events, it’s not what you expect.

That may well sum up Tenebre quite well. It is not exactly what you expect. Sure, the giallo conventions are on display. There are boobs a plenty, there are black gloves, and the blood, no worries there. Tenebre surprised me at every turn from the violence on display to the ending that brimmed with surprise. Every time I thought I knew how the next scene would unfold, I quickly found out how wrong I was. This film is going to get a score on par with Susperia, which many consider Argento’s masterpiece, and I think it deserves to be held up there right with that film. While it does not revel in the style of Susperia, Tenebre finds its strength by being a classic example of the giallo form and updating it for the age.

Bugg Rating

I feel remiss at not mentioning the incredible prog rock score by Goblin for Tenebre. While I often have problems with the music Argento picks for his films, I had no such issue here. Check out this video that plays several of the tracks from the film.

How Low Can You Giallo? - All the Colors of the Dark (1972)

When I decided to tackle Gialli for my monthly feature, I knew I had to include a film from one of my favorite directors, Sergio Martino. About every time I talk about Sergio I bemoan the fact that he doesn’t get the respect that he deserves for the massive amount of great films he produced. I mean how can you not love a man who gave us At the Mountain of the Cannibal God, Hands of Steel, Giovanna Long Thigh, and The Violent Professionals? Then when you add to that the wonderful gialli that Martino directed, Your Vice is a Locked Room and Only I Have The Key, Torso, Case of the Scorpion’s Tail, The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh, and tonight’s flick All the Colors of the Dark [Italian:Tutti i colori del buio] (1972), you have a director who’s output definitely deserves more attention than he gets.

All the Colors of the Dark stars the beautiful Edwige Fenech as Jane Harrison, a young woman troubled by nightmares that started after she lost a baby in a car accident. She becomes extremely distraught and finds her only relief in the vitamins that her pharmaceutical salesman boyfriend Richard Steele (George Hilton) gives her. At the advice of her sister, Barbara (Nieves Navarro), she seeks help from a psychologist, but even though he assures her that she can overcome her problems, she still feels sure that there is a man with ice blue eyes following her. Rushing into her apartment to escape the man, she is befriended by Mary (Marina Malfatti) who suggests that she has some friends involved in black magic who could help Jane overcome her fears. Jane agrees to take part in the ritual, but soon finds herself indoctrinated into their cult and is forced to commit murder.

Roman Polanski’s 1968 film Rosemary’s Baby gave Martino the kernel of an idea for a gialli with occult theme, and he approached Santiago Moncada, who also penned 1970’s Hatchet for the Honeymoon, to write a treatment for the film. Then the screenplay was written by frequent Martino collaborators Ernesto Gastaldi and Sauro Scavolini. While it eschews many of the typical giallo elements, there is very little blood spilled and no mysterious gloved killer here, the strength of the film comes from the tautness of the mystery. Until the reveal happened, I had no idea who was trying to set Jane up to become a member of the satanic cult or why. There are a few red herrings, but the film doesn’t get around to them until late in the third act. I think this was quite clever as each time I thought there was a reveal, I found out I was wrong.

Of course the film gains much strength from the powerhouse performers included in this film. I have to start off talking about Edwige Fenech. What can I really say about her that hasn’t been said a million times? Probably nothing, but that’s not going to stop me from saying it again. Edwige is very beautiful in this film, as usual, and although the film lacks blood and black gloves, it sure makes up for it with nudity. In the opening moments of the film you get Ms. Fenech taking a shower, and needless to say, it is quite an enticing scene, but Edwige is more than just a pretty face or a beautiful body. I always enjoy her acting, but I think she really shines when she is the terrorized center of a thrilling story. She is able to look very realistically panicked and distraught, and do all that while being clad in the finest in early ’70’s Italian styles. This would be the second of eleven collaborations between the director and Ms. Fenech, and their films together are all high points in their respective careers.

George Hilton and Ivan Rassimov are two more names that should be familiar to fans of Italian genre cinema. Uruguayan George Hilton began his career in South American cinema in the early sixties, but in 1964 he moved to Europe to pursue his career further. He found plenty of work in westerns throughout the decade even starring in a few of the “Django” titles. As the seventies began and tastes began to change, he moved into working on gialli and starred in several Martino films. In All the Colors of the Dark, he is mostly a secondary character whose screen time is very limited, but Hilton gives a fine performance when he is on screen.

Taking a bit more of the screen time is Ivan Rassimov, who appears as the man with the icy blue eyes that is stalking Jane. Rassimov is a very creepy guy to begin with, and while I don’t know what they did to make his eyes look like that, it sure put the icing on the cake. Rassimov’s character has very few lines, but his menacing presence was enough to make quite an impact on the film. Like Hilton and Fenech, Rassimov was also a frequent star in Sergio Martino’s films, and he would go on to great turns in Bava’s Shock, Deodato’s Jungle Holocaust, and Lenzi’s Rome Armed to the Teeth.

One of the most striking elements of All the Colors of the Dark is the amazing cinematography. The camera practically drinks in the beauty of the London setting, and through a series of interesting camera angles, smooth tracking shots, and striking close-ups, the camera does as much as the script for keeping the film suspenseful. The film also starts off with a really creepy dream sequence which sets the unsettling tone for the film quite perfectly. All the Colors of the Dark featured two cinematographers, Miguel F. Mila and Giancarlo Ferrando. While Mila has credits like Ossario’s Attack of the Blind Dead and Naschy’s A Dragonfly for Each Corpse to his name, Ferrando is perhaps more infamous for being he director of photography on the cult classic Troll 2.

All the Colors of the Dark may be far from the traditional mold of a giallo, but that’s what really makes this film work. By bringing in the occult elements to the script, Martino’s film gives the viewer the feeling that anything might happen. It keeps you guessing for its entire running time whether men are to blame or if the devil himself has come for Ms. Fenech. I highly recommend this one to anyone who loves a good thrill ride Italian style, and fans or Martino or Edwige should surely not miss out on this one.

Bugg Rating

The Original Rise of Cobra (1986)

Beverly Hills Cop is undoubtedly a classic film. Eddie Murphy in his prime and the movie is one of the funniest comedies of the eighties. Much of the credit has to go to the great script by The Big Easy screenwriter Daniel Petrie Jr., but it almost was a completely different film. Originally, Beverly Hills Cop was supposed to be a vehicle for Sylvester Stallone. Sly did some work on the script, but he backed out of the project when he was told the over the top action scenes would be too expensive for the budget of the film. Instead, he channeled all those ideas into the script for one of the greatest action films in Stallone’s oeuvre. Of course, I’m talking about Cobra, one of my favorite action films ever.

Stallone stars as Cobra, a member (and perhaps the only member) of LA’s “Zombie Squad”, so called because if you become their target you might as well be the living dead. Cobra has been relegated to the squad due to his reckless techniques and bad attitude, but when a job needs to be done, like dispatching a crazed gunman in a supermarket, he’s the man you call. The City of Angels has been terrorized by the Night Slasher killings, a series of murders being committed seemingly at random. When the beautiful model Ingrid, Brigitte Nielsen, escapes their clutches, Cobra makes it his mission to protect her. He tries to get her out of town, but a traitor within the force gives up their location leading to a massive shootout at a motel.

If the synopsis doesn’t make much sense, well, then it fits in nicely with the film I’m speaking of. Cobra is not a flick to watch if you’re interested in things like character development or a comprehensible plot, but if you want balls to the wall action, then this is the flick for you. The opening set piece of the film, the supermarket showdown, is perhaps my favorite opening sequence of any flick. It establishes Cobra as a badass cop with a badass car, but more than that, a man who could give Bond or Arnie a run for their money in the one-liner department. To prove my point I want to give you my top three lines from Cobra.

1. You’re the disease. I’m the cure.

2. This is where the law stops and I start, sucker.

3. Cobra (to thug smoking a cigarette): That’s bad for your health.

Thug: What?

Cobra: Me.

Those barely scratch the surface of the level of dialog that you’re looking at in Cobra. Plus, you’ve got a hero with a name like Cobra which is awesome, but you know what’s even better, that his name is really Marion Cobretti. This revelation leads to another classic interchange:

Cobra: I always wanted to have kinda a little tougher name.

Ingird: Like What?

Cobra: Alice.

Speaking of Ingrid. Who doesn’t miss early eighties Brigitte Nielsen? When I do, I know it’s time to check out Red Sonja or Cobra again. Sure, in Cobra, she’s not the redheaded vision in a chain mail bikini, but she does show off those fabulous legs in a montage joined by killings and random robots. As far as Brigitte’s performance, it could have really been anyone, but the future paramour of Flava Flav proves herself to have been respectable eye candy at the time.

Dirty Harry veteran Andrew Robinson shows up on the right side of the law in this flick. Robinson was the Scorpio Killer in the Eastwood classic, and horror fans will surely recognize him as Larry from Hellraiser. Robinson is very entertaining as the “by the book” cop that gets under Cobretti’s skin, and it was quite satisfying when Stallone clocks him. For some reason no matter what part he’s playing I just want to punch him in the face. Over and over. I really hope I never meet him anywhere as there’s no telling what I might do.

It’s not that Sly is bad so much as, well, he’s Sly. Cobra is the film that most typifies the Stallone that impressionists have a field day with. He acts strange, wears some of the highest waisted jeans ever seen, and mumbles through his dialog. He tries to give Cobretti all these little quirks with dramatic removals of his aviator sunglasses or when cuts part of the pizza off with scissors. He wears leather, drives an old Mercury, and one of his cop buddies calls him a “reject from the ‘50’s”, but Cobra is all about the ‘80’s. You know in a Stray Cats kind of way.

One of the other highlights of the film is Brian Thompson as the big bad known as the Night Slasher. With his Flea Market style spiked knife and imposing physique, he makes for quite a good foil for Stallone. Thompson is one of those actors who has an face that you know you’ve seen but you don’t know quite where. For me it turned out that I was reconciling him for being The Master’s Number 2, Luke, on Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 1. Thompson is still working, and continues to pop up in film and TV every now and then. If you’re a casting director looking for an abnormally large creep, then he’s the fellow you should call.

Cobra was directed by quite an underrated fellow, George P. Cosmatos. Not only did he direct this fine film he also helmed my favorite modern western Tombstone, and if they don’t make him my huckleberry, then I don’t know what would. Cobra was well shot with the action sequences and fighting done in some nice midrange shots. It’s always nice to look back at directors who knew how to shoot action. I prefer this style so much to the tightly shot, frenetically cut mush that passes for fight scenes these days.

There’s not much else to say about this epic except that you just have to see it. Everyone I’ve ever shown it to has had a good time, and that includes quite a few folks who don’t care for action in general or Sly in specific. It’s just one of those films that you’re just going to have a smile on your face by the end because of the sheer stupidity of the last ninety minutes. So check it out. Boredom is a disease, and Cobra it’s the cure.

Bugg Rating

Whatcha Craven?: The People Under the Stairs (1991)

Wes Craven loves to take the innocents that exist in this world, like Nancy in Nightmare, Sidney in Scream, and the Carter family in The Hills Have Eyes, and throw them into a situation well beyond the normal parameters of their lives. With his 1991 film The People Under the Stairs, Wes went younger with his protagonist than he ever had before. It’s a dangerous road to go down working with a child actor, and it could be what makes or breaks your film. Sometimes they can draw you in, making you feel like you did when you were their age, but there’s also the chance they won’t be up to the task presented to them.

The People Under the Stairs follows Poindexter “Fool” Williams (Brandon Quentin Adams), a 13 year old boy who shares an apartment in the ghetto with his sister, her children, and their mother who is sick with cancer. When they miss their rent and are about to be evicted, “Fool” is desperate to find a way to help. So when family friend Leroy (Ving Rhames) approaches him with a plan to rob a cache of gold from their landlords, “Fool” reluctantly agrees. When they break in, they soon find themselves trapped in the house, and the landlords turn out to be creepy, cannibalistic kidnappers. “Fool” must find a way to escape with the money and their abused daughter before he becomes their prisoner as well.

The young man who plays “Fool” Williams is perhaps the highlight of the film. This is a child actor who was quite up to the task before him, but sadly, the task itself was a deeply flawed one. Brandon Quentin Adams had quite a pedigree coming into this film. After all, he got his start as Zeke “Baby Bad” in Michael Jackson’s Moonwalker. From there he took roles in films such as The Mighty Ducks and The Sandlot, and as of late he has provided the voice of Raijin in the Kingdom Hearts video games. Personally, I thought Adams was very strong in The People Under the Stairs, and his reactions all mirror those that a 13 year old boy might have when put in the same situation.

The problem is that the situation itself has quite a bit of issues. Once trapped in the house he is confronted by stairs that turn into slides, secret passages, an unstoppable Rottweiler, and the “Mom” and “Dad” who seem like crazier versions of Baby Jane and Bob from the Church of the Sub-Genius. The film starts to become Home Alone in reverse. Instead of the kid fending off the bad robbers, we have the kid robbing the place and fending off the baddies that are after him. As the film goes on it devolves more and more into slapstick type violence which is punctuated by a few shots of gore. Without the gore, and 2 uses of the F-word, then I would say this film was geared toward kids around the main character’s age. I’m sure if I had seen this when I was 12 or 13 I would have loved it, but as an adult, I found it did not deliver on the tension necessary to make the situation dire or enough laughs for me to consider this a dark comedy.

That’s not to say it wasn’t an enjoyable film to watch. I found it quite entertaining mostly due to the performances of Adams and his costars. Ving Rhames provides a small but solid part, but as I’ve said before about him (in my review of Entrapment), I find he generally plays the same character in every film with this being no exception. Everett McGill and Wendy Robie are perfectly creepy as the “Mom” and “Dad” characters, and fans of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks will recognize them as Big Ed and Nadine Hurley. Essentially they play broader versions of the creeps that they portrayed in Lynch’s series, but by the time McGill’s “Dad” is dressed like the gimp while chasing the boy around the house, he loses any real ability to be scary. Instead the two antagonists devolve over the film to become cartoonish caricatures, and it’s too bad. If the film had taken a darker bent then the two of them would have made excellent baddies.

There are a couple of parts of the film that I did really like. Seventeen year old A.J. Langer may have been way too old to be playing “Mom” and “Dad”’s captive 12 year old daughter Alice, but along with Brandon Quentin Adams she turned in a fine performance. On an interesting side note, Langer grew up and married a British Lord which is a hell of a long way from her supporting role in Craven’s flick.

The other thing I really liked in the film were all the scenes featuring the titular People, a group of kidnapped boys kept in the basement. With one exception, you don’t get a good look at any of them until the end of the film, and it makes them a eerie presence throughout. The one you do get to meet, Roach, is played by Sean Whalen, and his is probably the most memorable character in the film. His tongue having been cut out by “Mom” and “Dad” he has escaped into the walls where he has developed a friendship with Alice. I really liked the exuberant insanity he brought to the screen like he was a maniacal member of Peter Pan’s lost boys. Whalen is still at work today and has appeared in Charlie’s Angels (2000), The Hebrew Hammer (2003), and Employee of the Month (2006).

The People Under the Stairs does feature some really well constructed shots, and it is some of the best film making that Craven has displayed since the original Nightmare. Cinematographer Sandi Sissel had a background in documentary film, and I think it really shows. The opening images of “Fool”’s home are strikingly filmed, and the adventures he has in the walls of the house look great. I love the way the light is captured coming through cracks, and sometimes bullet holes, in the walls. Again, I have to go back to my wish that the film had been given a darker tone. I don’t think a thing would have had to be done to the camera work as it is noticeably more moody than the tone of the film.

I don’t have that much else to say about the film except that is was quite a disappointment. This is one some friends of mine had hyped up as being very good, but I was just let down. It really seemed like Craven wanted to make a kids horror film, but he made it for a mature audience. While I am no big fan of remakes, I would love to see this one redone with more emphasis on the darker side of the story.

Bugg Rating

Whatcha Craven?: The Serpent and The Rainbow (1988)

There are certain things that you could not pay me enough money to mess with. Gypsies, Ventriloquist Dummies, and Hairless Cats spring to mind, but there is one thing that looms larger above all of these, Voodoo. The rituals, the chanting, the trances, it all freaks me out. As a fervent non-believer of practically everything, it may seem kind of strange that a religion would freak me out so much, but it’s movies like tonight’s film (and the book it was based on) that convinced me that it was not to be trifled with.

The Serpent and The Rainbow (1988) recounts Dennis Alan’s (Bill Pullman) investigation into the secrets of Haitian voodoo. He has been sent there by a major American drug manufacturer who is interested in the process of zombification, and Dennis soon finds himself embroiled in a world that he can barely understand or explain. As he goes in pursuit of the powder used to make zombies, each layer he peels back finds him deeper and deeper until he finds himself six feet deep and still alive.

When Wes Craven set out to make this film, he was in the middle of a creative drought. The success of 1984’s Nightmare on Elm Street had translated to big box office, but not to better films. The 1985 made for TV film Chiller and the lackluster sequel to The Hills Have Eyes had failed to impress audiences. Wes then moved on to the film Deadly Friend which is about as divisive as they come. It’s been many years since I’ve seen it, but I remember the film fondly although it was not without a certain clunkyness.

Based on Wade Davis’ book about his experiences in Haiti, The Serpent and the Rainbow was the film that reinvigorated Craven and began a new era of his creativity. The film was perfectly suited for Craven’s voice. It contained elements of the supernatural invading everyday life. I think it is no coincidence that the Haitian revolution plays a part in the film. Putting this everyday struggle in the background of this heavily supernatural film gives the setting a very real feeling, and it makes the events that unfold before out eyes sparkle with veracity. One of Craven’s greatest strengths in his films has always been to bring the plausible into situations no one could believe. This is why the first Nightmare on Elm Street will always be the best, and why The Serpent and the Rainbow is such a chilling film.

While the story is plenty freaky enough on its own, the effects shots that Craven captured were what really sold the film. The evil voodoo priest Dargent Peytraud (Zakes Mokae) can enter and affect the dream world, and being no stranger to baddies in your nightmares, Craven handles these sequences effortlessly. As Pullman’s investigator is drawn into the Voodoo priest’s world, he confronts actual zombies, skeletal brides, and being trapped in a coffin filling with blood. Each of these scenes unfolds expertly, and as they get progressively worse, the nightmarish visions intersect with the real world in the end sequences.

If there is a weakness to the film, it does come from lead actor Bill Pullman. Pullman, who is probably most known as the President in Independence Day, has never been one of my favorite actors (although I do make an exception for Spaceballs). I can’t quite put my finger on what I feel is wrong with his performance, but it often seems like he’s holding back when the film is not calling for him to summon terror to his visage. I will have to give it up for him in those scenes. Whether he’s about to be buried alive or have a nail put through his scrotum, Pullman can look plenty scared.

There are a couple very fine performances in the film. Paul Winfield (Trouble Man, Star Trek: The Wrath of Kahn, Damnation Alley) turns in a heck of a performance as the good voodoo priest Lucien Celine while Zakes Mokae (Dust Devil, Cry Freedom, Outbreak) is terrifying as Celine’s nemesis. However, if I were going to name one actor who really impressed me it would be Brent Jennings as Louis Mozart, the man with the zombie powder. Jennings made appearances in Witness (1985) and Alone in the Dark (1982) before going into a career of small roles in television. As Louis Mozart, he is Dennis Alan’s key to the secrets, and he gives an inspired wide-eyed performance that will stick in my memory long after the freaky effects are forgotten.

When Wade Davis, the author of the book The Serpent and The Rainbow, saw Wes Craven’s picture, he deemed it the “one of the worst Hollywood movies in history.” It sounds very much like sour grapes from a man whose work had been primarily discredited. I read the book some years back and found it very thrilling and interesting, but it did not contain some of the broader scenes that Craven envisioned. There’s nothing wrong with Hollywood taking a little license to make the film more exciting, but there is something wrong Davis taking the facts a little liberally to begin with. The “zombie powder” he brought back with him has been disputed among researchers for years, and many believe that Davis sensationalized the affair to move copies of his tome.

Whatever the truth may be, it holds little sway over the quality of film delivered by Wes Craven. I have known very few people I could mention this film to without them commenting on how it had scared them. I can’t say that I blame them. Very few things give me the creeps, but this convincing tale of actual zombies does the trick every time. If this one has passed you by, then by all means check it out, and I’ll see you back next week with the next Craven film, a personal favorite of mine that doesn’t get near the attention it deserves.

Bugg Rating