Magical AF: What it will be if this design survives free/fair use.

Magical Af: Inspired by the fairy tale Snow White and the actress Edwige Fenech, this design is availible at the link below until the Mob of Mouse puts her down. 

https://www.redbubble.com/shop/ap/162818694?asc=u

 

The Ghost (1963) : The Look of Boo Steele

Margaret (Barbara Steele) is the unhappy wife of the crippled Dr. John Hitchcock.  He has spent years researching both natural and occult remedies for the affliction thaya confines him to a chair.  He is convinced a regimen of poison followed by antidote will help, but only Dr. Livingston is shady enough to administer it. He's also having an affair with  Margaret, and she's fed up with her invalid hubby. Encouraging her Doctor beau to off her hubby, he only administers the poison. However, when strange occourances rattle the murderous pair, they begin to wonder if Dr. Hitchcock has returned as a vengeful Ghost.

Return from Death a.k.a Frankenstein 2000 (1991) Joe D'Amato Brings Horror to Life

Despite the fact that the phrase an "average Joe" remains in the lexicon of colloquialisms, in the last thirty years the name Joe has taken a drastic drop in popularity. It seems that the average on "Joe" just isn't what it used to be. Speaking of Joes that'd defy the average, there's one that I like who frequently has highs and lows above a median line, and that is Joe D'Amato. Born Aristide Massaccesi, the Italian exploitation master, who hid out under a number of Nom de plumes apart from his adopted moniker,  made an incredible string of almost 200 films before he died in 1999 at the age of sixty-two. While most of them ranged from soft-core to hard-core to oh, my, is it okay to film that?, D'Amato is best known for his horror movies, specifically Antropohagus, Buio Omega, and Absurd, but there was one that has somehow flown under my radar. So join me as Joe takes us on a futuristic ride, which looks like the 80s despite being filmed in the 90s, this is Return from Death (Ritorno Dallas morte) a.k.a Frankenstein 2000. 

Don't Go in the Lightning Bug's Lair #2: Don't Torture a Duckling (1972)

While yesterdays duo of “Don’t”s had the most ubiquitous message when they assured, somewhat misleadingly, Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark.  Today’s film, coming in at Number 2 on the countdown, comes from Italian horror master Lucio Fulci, and, in the inverse, it has an impenetrable title which only viewing the film will explain. Popularly known as Don’t Torture a Duckling, the original Italian title, Non si sevizia un paperino, actually translates more literally as Don’t Torture Donald Duck, but even in an age where Escape from Tomorrow is a film that gets released, it is hard to imagine the litigious House of Mouse letting that kind of title fly. Coming off three solid thrillers, Lizard in a Woman’s Skin, One on Top of Another, and Beatrice Cenci, Don’t Torture a Duckling was the first of his films to really delve deep into a horror, albeit a human one. It also marks Fulci’s first real foray into gore while he was still at the top of his giallo game. Lucio reportedly named it as his favorite among his catalog, and I have to admit in advance that it ranks pretty high up there for me. I was actually surprised I had yet to review it as I've watched it a good half dozen times. So, I suppose do what you want to a calf, a kitten, a puppy, a chick, or a fawn, but whatever you do Don’t Torture a Duckling.

Why (ITALIAN GENRE FILM) Matters by Nigel Maskell of Italian Film Review

Italian genre film matters. For Italian audiences it mattered because it responds to the challenging  political and social  climate in postwar Italy and it did so with an authentic Italian voice.  When the voice of history is supposed to be that of its victors it is especially important that it is the voice of the liberated is not drowned out, no matter how unintentionally, by the voice of the liberator.  How, after all, could Hollywood have possibly helped Italians to understand the corrupting influence of the Mafia, the assassination of Aldo Moro, the Bologna massacre or the idiocy and ineptitude at the heart of the post-war political establishment?

Hey, Girl, Hauer You Doin'?: Dario Argento's Dracula 3D (2013)

As promised, all the most popular features of the LBL's storied five year history are coming back for this month, and I thought I'd kick it off with one that I always loved doing, the tribute to one of my favorite bad asses, Rutger Hauer. So, yes, it is once again time to ask the eternal question, Hey, Girl, Hauer You Doin'? In the light of today's film, it may be a most prescient question indeed. Once upon a time, the idea of Dario Argento making a version of Dracula with Rutger Hauer attached as Van Helsing would have made me giddy as a ballet school girl before her untimely and gruesome demise. That time was the first five minutes after I learned that such a film was in production. Directly after, internally, I began picking apart the virtual movie I had yet to see, and by the time I was done, what I came up with was worse than Giallo and The Card Player spliced together and run backwards. While that might be a slight improvement over either of those films, there's part of me that looks back at Argento's glory with a longing to see him do it again. Dracula was, after all, one of the most classic of horror stories, and Tod Browning and Bela Lugosi's version was the horror tale on which I had cut my teeth. I entered into the film willingly (and thankfully not in 3D which I loathe) and hoped for the best. By the best, I mean that I knew Rutger would show up sooner or later. 

Berberian Sound Studio (2012) Mi senti adesso? Mi senti adesso?

Modern cinema is the marriage of sound and vision. So is David Bowie if you ask him, but that's an entirely different story. However, it is not merely the advent of the spoken word that made film into such a transformative experience. It was also the click of a woman's heels, the whip of the wind through the trees, the score rising as an awful sound denotes the ripping of flesh. These atmospheric elements are happening all the time as we take in a movie, and often we don't even realize that these tiny moments are pushing our viewing experience, making it come alive. Today's selection, Berberian Sound Studio exists in the behind the scenes magic that makes these kind of cinematic moments possible. It also engenders something of the dangers when they become all too real and the experience too visceral. It almost comes as no surprise that the particular genre of film being made at the titular studio is an Italian giallo.

House of Clocks (1989) Lucio Fulci Knows What Time It Is

Back again with another slice of horror, and after tipping my hat to Dario yesterday, I thought it only fitting to talk about the other big name in Italian horror, Lucio Fulci.. The Godfather of Gore's career was winding down by the late 80s after a disastrous turn directing Zombi 3, and I expect he readily jumped at a job making a pair of Made for Italian TV films. He made two for the series, today's film House of Clocks (La casa nel tempo) and The Sweet House of Horrors. While late in his career, this is a Fulci trying to regain his game, and he did such a gory good job they wouldn't air the movies. So these went straight to a video release, which is a real shame because Fulci indeed did know what time it was. it was time for one last shot of adrenaline in a career that had hit many stumbles. So, Fulci took a moment to roll back the clocks to an earlier sharper flavor whole keeping plenty of murder, mayhem, and killer geriatrics in the 1989 film House of Clocks.

Paracinema, VTSS, and Other Places I'm Buggin' Out

It's occurred to me lately that I've actually been making appearances in many places outside of The Lair, and in case I haven't bothered you on Facebook or Twitter about all the wonderful places you can keep up with me, I thought I'd do a little round-up here. First up is my favorite genre magazine run by my favorite couple, Christine and Dylan, and I'm talking Paracinema Magazine.  

The new issue of Paracinema is up for pre-order now, and aside from the kick ass cover story on Ken Russell's The Devils, there's a piece on porn parodies, an article from The Lair's good pal Matt House of Chuck Norris Ate My Baby. and a little something from me (shameless bolding for my own ego stroking) about the Bob Dylan flick Masked and Anonymous. So pick up your copy today!

Devil Fish, Killer Crocodile, and The Great Alligator: Italian Film Takes a Bite out of Jaws

Just yesterday, June 20th, marked the 37th year since the release of Stephen Spielberg’s Jaws into the movie theaters, and so some might say I missed the anniversary. However, what I want to talk about is something that’s a bit off, or should I say took a bite off of, Jaws. Like so many trends in cinema, once the Italians got a hold of it, they took it to as many places as you could imagine. Today, I’m going to take a look at three of the many, many giant water based creature films that invaded Italian cinemas for two decades following Hollywood‘s most famous shark. Each is the effort of a different directors and features a different kind of creature, and with a wide margin of success and failure, all of them intended to imitate what the Spielberg had put on the screen. So join me as Sergio Martino, Lamberto Bava, and Fabrizio De Angelis take their shot at aquatic glory.

The Lonely Violent Beach (1971): Bikers, Beaches, and Not So Bloody Revenge

If you laid out brochures for a number of vacation destinations, many people would choose to go to Sandals or Atlantis. Some might pick an iconic locale like Muscle Beach or head off to Atlantic Beach for some gambling, and Bikini Beach Resort in Panama City, Florida might tempt a number of folks. The one brochure that would never be touched is for The Lonely Violent Beach. No matter how stunning the photographs of waves on the beach might be or how many assurances there were about the area being devoid of roving biker gangs, people simply wouldn’t want to go. There could be pictures of beautiful sunsets and wide open, deserted stretches of beach laid out under a legend claiming less rape this year than ever before, and I just don’t think anyone would be convinced. Unless, I suppose, you were a member of a roving, raping biker gang who didn’t buy into the hype.

Get Off on the Goldfoot: Kicking off Summer with Vincent Price

While the calendar might denote a specific day that summer begins astrologically, I think most of us will agree that when June arrives, summer is upon us. Here at the Lair, it’s no different. It’s the time of year I break out the Bermuda shorts, drag out the lawn chair, slather up with coconut oil, and start soaking in the rays. It also means that my heart turns to the lighter side of genre fare. From the blood soaked beaches to the dense tropic jungles, you’ll find me turning up the heat all summer long. To start it off, I wanted to bring in the king of cool in a pair of sizzling films. When you think about beaches, surf, and sand, the name Vincent Price surely springs to mind right away. Well, perhaps not right away, but I think today I can bring it  a little closer with two films featuring Price commanding a phalanx of two pieces.

Graveyard Disturbance (1986): Lamburto Bava Cracks a High Life with the Low Dead

I was a teenager once. I did lots of stupid things. However, if you base what teens like to do on what their movie counterparts take part in, then its logical to think that there's a point in every one's life where hanging out in a graveyard sounds like an incredible idea. There are so many films that start out with that premise, but I don't think even in an adolescent state any amount of booze, loose women, or desire to prove myself non-chicken would get me to hang out in a cemetery all night. I'm not saying I would expect anything to happen, but there's no reason to tempt fate. Almost as scary as a night in a graveyard is the idea of horror on television. While there have been a number of successes like Masters of Horror and American Horror Story, often horror feels de-fanged on the tube like the series Fear Itself. So when I heard that today's cemetery themed film by Lamburto Bava had been made for an Italian TV series called "Brivido giallo" (literally translated as "Thrilling Yellow"), I wasn't sure what to expect. What I got was a mixture of Bava's Demons, Scooby Doo, and, sadly, much of the reserve you would expect from a television terror.

Spirits of the Dead(1968):Fondas,Fellini,& a Fistful of Poe

While Poe adaptations in the 60's belonged to Roger Corman and Vincent Price, today's film found three European auteurs getting down and dirty with the works of Edgar Allan. Each of them present a singular and innovative look into the work of the macabre writer, and through the film was distributed in the states by American International Pictures, it has little in common with the content or tone of AIP's other Poe offerings. It should be noted that for the purposes of this review I watched the French language version entitled Histoires Extraordinaires. This title comes from the first volume of Poe's short stories translated for a French audience by the poet Baudelaire, but when it was released in the States, it was saddled with title Spirits of the Dead, a reference to an 1927 poem of the same title by Poe. Of the two I much prefer the French title as it speaks directly to the type of tales the movie contains, stories of the extraordinary. As this film is divided into three segments with no connecting device (the American version contains narration by Vincent Price between the stories), I'm going to tackle each one individually.

First up is the Germanically titled Metzengerstein. Jane Fonda stars as Contessa Frederique de Metzengerstein, a decadent woman given to throwing grand parties filled with debauchery and sex. Next door lives the austere Baron Wilhelm Berlifitzing (Peter Fonda) who is in all ways the opposite of the Contessa. Living a quiet life, hunting and riding his horses, the Baron takes no part in his neighbor's grand lifestyle. One day while roaming in the forest separating their property, the Contessa becomes caught in a bear trap, but is freed when the Baron happens across her. Instantly smitten, the Contessa pursues the Baron, but being a moral man, he sees no future in their pairing. Lashing out, the Contessa sets the Baron's stables, containing his prized horses, on fire, and her unrequited love perishes trying to save his animals. Only one horse survives, a large black stallion that no one can control. The Contessa believes she can tame the horse, but its strong spirit, perhaps that of the Baron, becomes her undoing.

Metzengerstein was first published in 1832 in the Saturday Courier magazine, and was included in the 1864 publication of Baudelaire's translations. However the story it contains is very different than the one shown on screen. Director Roger Vadim had just completed filming on Barbarella when he was tasked with the project, and he chose to gender swap the main character from Poe's story to continue working with his previous film's star, Jane Fonda. He also injected the unrequited love story (and thank goodness it wasn't requited as Vadim cast her younger brother Peter Fonda in the role) in the place of the family rivalry of Poe's original tale. At its core, the story remains virtually the same. Both the film and the story concern one man (or woman) and their cavalier attitude toward life. As with most Poe stories, the evil are punished and we are lead to believe that the deceased have something to do with it from beyond the grave. Vadim successfully creates tension on the screen, and Jane Fonda, looking radiant, grabs the viewer with her dynamic performance.

The second tale is an adaptation of Poe's story William Wilson. Alain Delon stars as the titular character and the doppelganger who troubles his life. As the story begins, William convinces a priest to take his confession despite the fact that he is not Catholic, and he begins his tale by describing his experience at boarding school. Young William Wilson is clearly a little tyrant terrorizing all of his schoolmates, but when a new boy arrives with his same name, same face, and same manner, William's position is threatened. in the dead of the night, he attempts to strangle the new William Wilson, and for his troubles, they are both kicked out of school. Over the years, the other William Wilson always seems to be there to stop William Wilson just as he intends to do something violent,perverse, or deceptive. Finally unable to stand any further interference, William stabs his double to death, but soon finds his life in mortal jeopardy.

Published in the United States in a 1939 issue of Burton's Gentlemen's Magazine, William Wilson was the first of Poe's stories to be translated into French, making it's debut over two installments in the Parisian magazine La Quotidienne. For the film, director Louie Malle chose to emphasize William Wilson's cruel streak making him party to torture and attempted murder. Strangely, the straw that makes Wilson resolve to kill his double is being called out as a card sharp and having his fun giving a lady (Brigitte Bardot) lashes from his riders crop. (The Bardot character was completely made up in order for Malle, who introduced the world to Bardot in And God Created Women, to sex up the story.) After Vadim's rather reserved period piece, Malle's use of graphic nudity and violence allows the film as a whole to ramp up a level. However, the segment feels phoned in with Le Circe Rouge's Deleon providing the only solid portion of the film. The direction seems hasty at times, and Malle even admitted that William Wilson was the least personal of all his works. He allowed many changes to be made to appeal to mass audience in hopes it would help raise funds for his next picture, 1971's Murmur of the Heart.

The final segment of Spirits of the Dead is the most challenging and, on the surface, the least horrific of all three. However, I believe it would be the one to most appeal to Poe's wicked sensibilities. Terrence Stamp plays the titular character Toby Dammit, a British Shakespearean actor fallen on hard times due to his love affair with the bottle. In exchange for a Ferrari, he agrees to go to Italy to appear in a Western based on the return of Jesus Christ. Enduring a strange awards ceremony, Toby continues to have visions of a devilish child who he helped get back her white ball. Veering deeper into alcoholic paranoia and genuine insanity, Toby makes off with his prized car and drives with wild abandon straight into his undoing.

Toby Dammit is the only of the three tales that didn't retain Poe's original title, but it is also the segment that departs most from the source material. Poe's tale, Never Bet The Devil Your Head, is a satirical screed against morality tales and transcendentalism and was first published in 1841 in Graham Magazine. However, in the hands of Federico Fellini, Poe's story is twisted into a tale of addiction, the falseness of the entertainment industry, and artist's internal battle with demons. So in other words, the same sort of ground that the director looked at in 8 1/2 and throughout his career. The whole segment is a fevered dream, and it floats effortlessly between the absurd (Toby having his picture taken with his blond, lanky, pale stunt double who proudly states that he also doubled Tomas Milian.) to the intensely visual (Toby's wild ride, the disturbing visuals of the satanic, yet innocent, child.). In the end, Poe and Fellini come to the same conclusion in their stories, a person must have their wits about them or they are prone to lose their head. Where Poe's tale comes off like a wan joke, Fellini's film hits like a hard right. I should also mention that this is Stamp at his best, wild eyed and perfectly pitched.

While all three segments have their charms, Fellini clearly outshone the other tales. Vadim's segment lack a visual element beyond the flat, matter-of-fact shots, and Malle crafted a decent tale though it lacked spirit. Fellini chose to take Poe's tale as a launching point and then catapult the story into cosmic, philosophical territory. It should come as no surprise that while the entire film is hard to find, the Fellini segment has been split off and restored, and, in recent years, it has been hailed as a lost classic. Taken as a whole, Spirits of the Dead succeeds in giving an alternative to the heavily Gothic, dark castle Poe films of Roger Corman. Instead, Spirits of the Dead weaves Poe's morbid sensibility into the fabric of modern life, in the case of Fellini's Toby Dammit, and into the well lit Romantic and Victorian settings of Vadim and Malle. While none of the three segments give a perfect portrait of the brooding Baltimorian's stories, taken as one, they rank among this writer's favorite cinematic translations of Edgar Allan's work.

Bugg Rating

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Ectovember: Ghosts of Sodom (1988) - Fulci Gets Spooked

Ever since I was a kid, I've been fascinated with ghosts. A head shrinker might tell you that has to do with my own fears of death, and they might be right. But that seems like a bummer doesn't it? I like to think it has more to do with what I can see. Vampires, Frankenstein monsters, zombies, and werewolves, while dangerous, are corporeal beings (or corpse-poreal as the case may be). They're solid, there's tried and true ways to kill them, and, most importantly, you have a chance to see them coming. A vengeful poltergeist, a malicious ghost, or a spiteful spirit person could be anywhere, and there's no telling what they might be getting up to. Ghosts are also the only movie monster one has a chance of running into on a day to day basis. The chances are I won't go anywhere (except a museum) and find out it's inhabited by Mummies, but anywhere could be a haunted place. After all, I live in America. This whole place is an ancient Indian burial ground, and anyone who has seen Poltergeist (or Poultrygeist) can tell you how well that works out. That's why I thought I'd take November, excuse me, Ectovember and look at a number of films featuring the ectoplasmic entities. The first on my list is Lucio Fulci's attempt at a film devoid of the usual slashers, hell gates, and zombies that typically inhabit his films. In their place, he decided the way to go was Nazi ghosts, and the De Sade inspired title, Il fantasma di Sodoma, The Ghosts of Sodom. 

Anyone who has seen a Nazi-spoitation movie can yell you that there's little that Nazi officers like more than a sadistic orgy of one sort of another. As Fulci's movie begins, one is in full swing, and the officers' Caligula-like orgy continued right up until Allied forces bombed the house killing everyone inside. Forty years later, a group of students studying in France are traveling through the countryside on their way back to Paris. Trying to get there before night, Marc (Joseph Allen Johnson) takes a "shortcut" which leads them right to an abandoned (yet maintained) mansion. Once inside things start out strangely. They find the abandoned house stocked with wine and food, but soon the group makes themselves at home. As events conspire to keep them in the house, first their car breaks down and then they find they're locked inside, the students soon discover they are not the only residents of the mansion. The spirits of the Nazi officers, headed by Willy (Robert Egon), still occupy the mansion, and they're ready to get their party started again.

There are many great things I can say about Lucio Fulci. I highly recommend everyone go back and look at other reviews I've done of his films to see those things because there's not going to be so much of that here.   The late 80's were not a high point in Fulci's career. Starting with 1984's Murder Rock, Lucio went into nearly a decade long slump that he didn't break until 1991's Cat in the Brain (which grafted the usable parts of several of his late decade films into one film.) Ghosts of Sodom was nestled right in this period.  Fulci penned the original story and collaborated on the screenplay with Carlo Alberto Alfieri (writer, Shanghai Joe). It's a mystery how Fulci alone, much less with help, could have penned such a laughable, predictable script. I mean seriously, lost kids end up at a haunted house where their car won't work, the phone goes out, and the doors lock them inside. Perhaps Fulci was looking to hearken back to haunted house films of the '50's and '60's, but did so by way of placing as many naked people as he could into the aforementioned stock context. Lucio knows how to do sleazy. Lizard in a Woman's Skin and Perversion Story are both sleazy films, but Ghosts of Sodom should top them both. With a title like that, drawn from the work of Marquis de Sade (which is where the connection to his work ends), and Nazis to boot, I expected a Salo, or The 120 Days in Sodom level of sick, debauched, perversion. However comparing Pasolini's film to Fulci is like comparing Se7en to Beverly Hills Cop. 

Along with lacking imagination, Ghosts of Sodom also lacks any charismatic actors to propel the story along. Fulci often worked with the same actors over and over, but none of them show up on the roll call for this flick. (Save for Al Cliver who appears briefly and uncredited.) In fact, most of the actors' résumés start and end at Ghost of Sodom. Only Joseph Alan Johnson, who plays the headstrong Marc, had any previous credits to speak of having appeared in Slumber Party Massacre and Hollywood Hot Tubs. In 1988, he would also write and star in the ski resort slasher Iced (which can't be as good as Shredder). Robert Egon, who played the strangely named Willy the Nazi, would go on to make a couple of brief appearances in bigger films playing "Perfect Young Italian" in the 1990 Captain America film and "Italian Street Boy" in My Own Private Idaho. It appears that if you had a vague Italian character, he was the go to guy of the moment. The film's high point may be the synth score by Carlo Mario Cordio, composer for Fulci's previous two films and later of the soundtrack for that best worst movie, Troll 2, which attempts to focus some mood on Fulci's wan film making.

Before I sign off, let me take a moment to talk about the ghosts of Ghosts of Sodom. First off, there's not nearly enough of them. Only Willy the Nazi shows up regularly to menace the students (though in one scene he has card playing co-horts), and his plans to scare and kill seem awfully convoluted. Taking a look at the film's spirits from a paranormal point of view, it seems logical that Nazis killed mid-drug and sex orgy might haunt the building in which they were killed. I don't think they'd try and lure people into Russian Roulette games as Fulci has Willy do in the film, but many paranormal researchers believe people that meet a violent and emotional end often stay here as spirits. This is exactly why if you're in the market for a French mansion you really need to check out who the previous owners were. Was it just a kindly old Madame who lightly used her home and only left for church on Sundays or was it inhabited by drug snorting Nazis with a predilection for sex parties?

That brings us to the end of the first installment of Ectovember, and I'll be back next Friday with another installment. Until then, join me back here Sunday for my thoughts on Megaforce, Monday will see my review of Jeff "Project:Valkyrie" Waltrowski's new film It Came From Yesterday, and then Wednesday will see another treat when once again  It Came from TCM. Stay tuned until then, and keep an eye out for ghosts. They're keeping two out for you!

Bugg Rating 

There's no dialog to this, which is probably for the best, but it does feature the score and one of the film's better effects shots. I would consider this a spoiler if it actually made sense in context, but it doesn't so no worries.

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Nude for Satan (1974): or, Buck Nekkid With Beelzebub

Right off the bat, let me say, Spoiler Alert. There are people in this film, basically all of them, who are completely nude and generally for Satan. To be honest, I don't know if I've ever seen so much nudity in a film that wasn't straight up porn, and it came as no surprise to me that the Dutch version is rated XXX with hardcore pornography inserts. Nude for Satan (Nuda per Satana) is the best known film of Italian director Luigi Batzella, who also directed the holier sounding spaghetti western God is My Colt .45. Debuting in the early '70's when Gothic horror was still en vogue, Batzella's film melds the Gothic with the straight up exploitative and then tosses on a sheen of Bava-lite trappings to top it off. It is not the kind of film to put on if you want to follow a terse, complex plot or even if you're expecting a mystery. Nude for Satan is more of a decent into madness and depravity, more concerned with mood (creepy or horny alternating) than with story.

Nude for Satan begins when Dr. Benson (Stelio Candelli, Planet of the Vampires, Demons) crashes his car on the side of the road. While getting out to inspect the damage, another car crashes behind him and Susan (Rita Calderoni, Delirium) spills out injured from her car. Collecting the young lady, Dr. Benson goes to a nearby house to ask for help. When no one answers the door, the doctor begins to poke around inside where he encounters a doppelganger of Susan, now calling herself Evelyn, and she believes him to be a man named Peter. The next morning, Susan, not looking like she spent the night passed out in a car, arrives at the mansion and is met by a mysterious green eyed man (James Harris). He invites her to stay, and after a bath, Susan meets Peter who looks like Dr. Benson and thinks she's Evelyn. If you didn't follow that, don't worry, the characters have a hard time keeping up too. Eventually the real Dr. Benson and Susan meet up, and between floggings, scenes of stocking fetishism, and one really horny paper-mache spider, they attempt to make their escape. They soon begin to suspect that their host is in fact The Devil, and they've been nude for him all along.

Despite the exploitation trapping, the fake spiders, and the Gothic overtones, Nude for Satan attempts to be an exploration into the depths of the human soul and psyche. Now it does it with an equal precision of The Devil in Miss Jones (1973) while trying to play like it's Ken Russell's The Devils, but it's armchair metaphysics are the glue that hold the film together. Well, that and an overabundance of boobs. Ladies will not find that the favor is reciprocated, and even when it is I can't imagine Stelio Candelli or James Harris being any one's idea of beefcake. In the end, whatever meaning Batzella might have been trying to shoehorn into his film was far overshadowed by the fact that it ends with a 10 minute slow motion lesbian makeup session which only gets weirder when The Devil summons a couple of NFL super fans in thongs to join the party. There is something a bit Rocky Horror about the whole film, as giving yourself over to absolute pleasure seems to be the name of the game. It also follows a couple of innocents as they delve into sexual perversion that culminates in a floor show. If only Satan's creepy butler had rebelled, we'd really have something.

None of the actors really stand out though Stelio Candelli does do an excellent job grounding the film. Rita Calderoni does a smashing job being nude throughout, and she has a few scenes that really work. James Harris, who had a brief and undistinguished career, is quite menacing as the man from the pits of Hades, and he really steals most of the movie away from the main menaced couple. Renato Lupi made for a great Devil's butler, and he reminded me a bit of Roland Topor in Werner Herzog's Nosferatu the Vampyre. Cinematographer Antonio Maccoppi had clearly been influenced by the early work of Mario Bava, and the sets are awash with colored gels. Nude for Satan also features a swinging score to go along with its literal swinging, and Alberto Baldan Bembo would go on to score the films The Gestapo's Last Orgy and Black Deep Throat (surprisingly not a porno, bu an exploitation film about an investigative reporter uncovering a cult.)

Nude for Satan is really a film that will only interest Italian movie junkies, exploitation hounds, or people for which being nude for Satan sounds enticing. While I found the film interesting and I found it hard to look away lest I miss something absurd, I highly doubt there's any re-watchability here. I can't see me on a weekend afternoon popping in Nude for Satan for a few laughs. However, if you're like me and you love to see what those nutty Italians put in their films, then this is a can't miss rental. Running at a light 87 minutes, Nude for Satan doesn't have time to mess about. It's got to get these people naked and start into messing with their minds and their bodies. If an idle mind is the devil's playground, then this idle film must be like an amusement park.

Bugg Rating 

Monday Bugg Zappers: The Bowie-lynx Cometh & Bringeth Links

Referring here to the manual, it says that the only thing better for a Monday than Bugg Zappers are links. Interesting, Bugg Zappers are links to some cool posts I read through the week. No wait, I read it wrong the only thing better are lynx. I can see it in a way, the crazy ears, the spots, and the wild mane. If David Bowie were an animal, I'd think him to be a lynx. That hasn't happened to my knowledge. We all know that circa 1974, Mr. Bowie was dog from the waist down, but that is completely unrelated. So no matter what this zoology manual says, Bugg Zappers are still cooler than  lynxes until The Thin White Duke becomes one. Want proof, read on....

Over at Day of the Woman, BJ-C might just have faced some karmic retribution : 

And God Said, Let The Be Twi-Hards

Over at Dfordoom's Cult Movie Reviews, my main man looks into Arizona Colt director Michele Lupo's the ominously titled peplum pic, Goliath and the Sins of Babylon

If you're like me and the words, Linnea Quigley's Murder Weapon sound like something incredibly deadly yet totally sexy, then you've got to check out The Bloody Pit of Horror for the review!

Johnny LaRue's Crane Shot got deep into Deathstaker and Deathstalker II, a guy after my own heart I tell you. 

Pierre, Pierre, where do you get those wonderful toys. Over at Frankensteinia: The Frankenstein Blog, this week Mr. Fournier featured a lovely post about the Frankenstein Re-release Program Book, Austria 1957

When I see that James from Behind the Couch is reviewing The House on Sorority Row, I'm clicking faster than someone trying to un-send one of those e-mails. The one's you write and then close. Imagine, if you will, the speed at which you would click everything trying to stop an accidental sending of said mail. Faster than that clicking (though less frantically, instead with a more the cool, decisive clicking of a hardened gunslinger), I checked it out, and so should you. 

That about wraps it up for today, so check those out, and maybe next week I can get a manual to work this thing. Or maybe I can get Emmanuel Lewis in to do this for me. Don't count on it, but I'll work on it behind the scenes. Anyhow, until next week, consider yourselves Zapped!

The Horrible Secret of Doctor Hichcock (on the Hump)

Hello all. This week in lieu of a regular Hitchcock post or a regular Guest Post I have something entirely irregular. Initially I had planned to review Dario Argento’s Do You Like Hitchcock? today, but with Dario’s cancellation as a guest for Horrorhound Weekend, I scrapped that idea. Instead I turned to one of the newly announced guests for a Hitchcock related post. I did not know if the film would have any connection to Hitch other than a similar last name being mentioned in the title of L'orribile segreto del Dr. Hitccock or The Horrible Secret of Dr. Hichcock. The real draw for me, past the novelty of the title, was the appearance of scream queen Barbara Steele in a top billed role. Barbara, the star of films as diverse as Black Sunday, Chained Heat, and Piranha, has long been a favorite of mine. I never thought I would get a chance to meet her though, but thanks to Horrorhound Weekend, I shall. Until then, I’ll have to make do with this twisted little thriller starring Ms. Steele.

Within minutes of the title sequence of the film, it is plain that Dr. Bernard Hichcock (Robert Flemyng) does have a horrible secret. The skilled 19th century physician has developed a new kind of anesthesia that, in large doses, can even put the body in a torpor that mimics death. For the good doctor, the anesthetic has more than just a practical application. He also liked to dose his wife Margherita with it and carry out his deepest necrophilia fantasies. That is until the Doc injected the missus with a bad batch and accidentally killed her. Pained with grief, Hichcock moved away for twelve years, and when he returns it is with a pretty young wife, Cynthia (Barbara Steele). Their newlywed bliss is brought to a grinding halt as soon as they move into his old home. Adorned with portraits of Margherita in nearly every room, the home feels very much like Bernard’s first wife is still in residence. As the Doctor’s affection for his new bride becomes more distant, Cynthia begins to believe that they are not alone in the house. Cynthia’s only hope is to uncover all of her husband’s secrets before they catch up with her.

My hope was different. It was one that longed for a connection deeper than a similar surname to connect the Master of Suspense to this film from director Riccardo Freda. I found it, kinda. There definitely seemed like a tad more hope when the Doctor’s first name turned out to be Bernard, as in regular Hitchcock composer Bernard Herrmann. Speaking of which, the score, by the Romanian composer with the evocative name Roman Vlad, is highly reminiscent of Herrmann’s work, filled with lush string arrangements and menacing brass. After more than two thirds of the film had gone by, I had given up hope of a direct nod to Hitchcock. Then suddenly Dr. Bernie poured his wife, who was feeling “ill” a glass of milk to help her sleep. A glass of milk from which she would not awake from her slumber. A similarly suspect glass of milk also appears in Hitchcock’s Suspicion (1941), again being passed from a husband to a wife. It seems that prolific Italian horror scribe Ernesto Gastaldi did throw more than a wink at the Master into the script. Gastaldi would become a master of terror in his own right penning the scripts for The Case of the Bloody Iris and All the Colors of the Dark, two of the greatest of the giallo boom.

With that secret uncovered, it was time to dive in and see what kind of other secrets the Horrrible Doctor Hichcock has in store. Riccardo Freda isn’t one of the big names in Italian horror, but he was a mainstay and workhorse of the genre. He even hired a young Mario Bava as his cinematographer on many films. This seems a bit ironic as there was more than one time where I felt Freda, here working with Raffaele Masciocchi behind the lens, exhibited some of the same camera work and gelled lighting that Bava himself would employ two years later in Blood and Black Lace. It would be interesting to look at Freda’s films before and after his involvement with Bava to see if there is a discernable difference or if he taught the Father of the Giallo a thing or two. There is also one sequence where Cynthia wakes to a nightmarish reality. I don’t know exactly how it was done, but it was as stunningly weird as anything out of Argento’s oeuvre. A last notable contributor is Ornella Micheli, who served as editor on Dr. Hichcock. He would go on to fill the same role in films such as Anthropophagus and Buio Omega as well as Don’t Torture a Duckling for Lucio Fulci.

While The Horrible Secret of Doctor Hichcock definitely has some of the hallmarks of an early giallo, the film has way more in common with the gothic horror mysteries popular at the time. The problem is that the film moves at a glacially slow pace with only the sequences featuring Ms. Steele making an impression. That’s not to say that her role is without major problems. Cynthia is supposed to be recovering from “shock” after the death of her father, but it takes almost nothing to make this girl faint. She keels over at least eight or nine times over the ninety minutes. See a skull in your bed, faint. Look through a keyhole and see your husband crafting a noose, faint. Now, come on, that is not a good time to be fainting. I don’t know if she hadn’t had lunch or if it was brought on from lack of sleep or if her corset was on too tight or something, but if Cynthia wants to escape a menace, either real or supernatural, she needed to get it together. While the role in Dr. Hichcock isn’t as meaty as Black Sunday or She Beast, Barbara looks simply radiant in late Victorian era fashions and there must have been careful planning put into her lighting and hairstyles.

Her co-star, the awkwardly named Robert Flemyng, may have been the title player, but he sucks the life right out of the picture at times with his staid performance. Perhaps since his character liked to get it on with the dead, Flemyng decided to give a performance with a similar tone, but whatever the case, I found him dreadful. Silvano Tranquilli barely registers an impression as the nosy young doctor with an eye for Dr. Hichcock’s wife. Silvano would later play a much bigger and better role in the giallo classic Black Belly of the Tarantula. Going nearly completely unnoticed is Harriet Medin as the creepy, disheveled maid, but she must have been noticed by someone. The next year she became a Mario Bava regular with appearances in Black Sabbath, The Whip and the Body, and Blood and Black Lace. She would also later appear in Death Race 2000 as the radical Thomasina Payne before settling into a string of minor character roles in movies and TV which found her more often than not billed as ‘Elderly Woman’.

The Horrible Secret of Doctor Hichcock nearly lives up completely to the promise of the title which brought the film to my attention in the first place. While it will most appeal to fans of Italian horror or Barbara Steele, anyone who likes to “get their gothic horror on” (which is a phrase I don’t hear nearly enough) will find something to like here. Today there’s only 15 days until Horrorhound weekend, but I can assure you that if anyone needs to find me as soon as I get registered and checked in, I can be located in line to meet Barbara Steele. While some may pooh-pooh the idea of meeting celebrities or paying for an autograph, twenty or thirty bucks are a small price to pay to get to spend a moment thanking a wonderful woman like Barbra Steele for her contribution to film. Would it be greater if I was just in some bar and bumped into Ms. Steele? It would, and if I knew that magical bar where all the people I’d like to meet hung out in, well, let’s just say that would be my horrible secret.

See everyone back here Friday for the triumphant return of You Don’t Know Shat!: Year Three!

Bugg Rating

Instant Terror Tuesday: Two Evil Eyes (1990): Seeing is Half Believing

Hello again my dear friends and welcome back to another Instant Terror Tuesday. It’s been a little while since I’ve had a chance to talk about any of the Italian directors, but seeing as I just booked my room for Horrorhound Weekend Indianapolis 2011 where the special guest will be the great Dario Argento, I thought that I would choose between the titles on Instant Watch that I hadn’t seen yet. What lead me to decide on Two Evil Eyes was the appearance of two of my favorite actors, Barbeau and Keitel, and the fact that it was a split effort between Italy’s master of horror, Argento, and America’s, George Romero. Originally the project was conceived as an Edgar Allan Poe inspired TV series with episodes set to be directed by Argento, Romero, Michele Sovai, and Richard Stanley. When that plan fell through, a new scheme was hatched to spin the project into a film with portions by Romero, Argento, John Carpenter, and Wes Craven. When that well through it was finally paired down two Dario and George, who are two of the most hit and miss horror directors out there.

Unfortunately for Two Evil Eyes, it contains one of each, a hit and a miss. The first tale out of the gate is The Strange Case of M. Valdemar directed by Romero. The tale stars Adrienne Barbeau as Jessica Valdemar, the trophy wife of a soon to be deceased millionaire. Conspiring with his doctor, the pair hypnotized the old man and coerces him to sign papers transferring his fortunes to Adrienne. When he passes away while being mesmerized, the illicit couple tries to hide his demise until the money transfers come through. Unfortunately for them, Mr. Valdemar might not be as dead as he appears.

Romero‘s portion of the film was the miss for me. Barbeau is the center of the film, but she really stumbles through, overacting and looking quite haggard. While there are a number of impressive shots in the film (no doubt because Romero was being influenced by his Italian friend), the majority imagery looks flat and dated. If I had not known that this film was made in the late ‘80’s and released in 1990, then I would have assumed it to have been a product of the Reagan era. It doesn’t help that Barbeau and co-star Ramy Zada look like they were pulled out of the pages of The Yuppie Handbook and plastered on the screen. The story itself is well delivered with sufficient chills and a wonderful respect for the source material though personally I still prefer the 1962 telling of the story from Corman’s Tales of Terror featuring Vincent Price and Basil Rathbone. As a final note, this first segment does end on a high note with Tom “Thrill Me” Atkins showing up as a police detective.

So as I said that the film contains a hit and a miss, you can probably surmise that the hit was Argento’s portion of the film. One of the most frequently adapted of Poe’s stories has to be The Black Cat. I can think of six versions of the story right off the top of my head beginning in 1934 with the version starring Bela Lugosi and (birthday boy today) Boris Karloff. Argento’s telling centers on crime scene photographer Rod Usher played by Harvey Keitel. When his girlfriend takes in a strange, menacing black cat, Usher soon finds the feline to be a devilish menace at every turn. Finally, being able to take no more, he strangles the cat to death while photographing the deed for use in a book of photography. As in Poe‘s story, this is not the end of the cat which comes to push Usher further into madness until he kills something considerably bigger than a cat.

Unlike Romero’s dated looking first entry, Argento’s segment appears to be crisp and modern looking without the flatness that impairs the Night of the Living Dead director’s story. Instead, the trademark Argento moments are there (the swirling cameras and use of a rich color palette and interesting angles), but on top of that Argento got great performances from his actors. Harvey Keitel (Reservoir Dogs, Mean Streets) delivers on all fronts here more than making up for any shaky acting in the film thus far. Even with a silly beret perched atop his head, I was still with his character all the way. Madeleine Potter turns in some solid work as Usher’s troubled girlfriend, and Sally Kirkland (Breakheart Pass, The Sting) impresses in a very short role as a bartender who brings that cat back into Usher’s life. Special effects master Tom Savini (who headed up that department for both segments) also appears very briefly as a Poe-like killer. It should also be said that both segments feature a score by Pino Donaggio that runs the spectrum from Goblin-esque prog to jazz and classical movements. Overall it doesn’t do that much for Romero’s film but perfectly matches Argento’s portion.

Two Evil Eyes is a film that was fraught with issues trying to come to life, and some of its TV roots still show though here and there. In the end, the Argento retelling of The Black Cat saves the picture. I’m sure a fair amount of viewers have shut it off during Romero’s plodding, dated tale never to see Argento’s lushly photographed psychological tale. I’m not going to say it is a must, but if you’re seeing it on instant watch, feel free to skip over George’s first hour and get to the good stuff. I know that’s something I’ll be likely to do many times in the future. Well, that wraps it up of Instant Terror Tuesday, but stay tuned the rest of the week for more goodies. Thanksgiving is in only two days, and that means it’ll be time for the main course of Thanksgiving with Jowderowky.

Bugg Rating