Ratman

All my reviews will contain spoilers. Just so you know.

What do you get if you cross a monkey with a rat with a disability with failed careers with rubbish moviemakers? Well, quite apart from a review of something which sits half-finished in the TO DO folder whilst you spend a few months going on various holidays or sobbing over spreadsheets and a bursting Inbox, you get the inspired world of Giuliano Carnimeo (aka Anthony Ascot) and the infamous cack cinema classic, Ratman.

Initial Thoughts:

• Because forced bestiality in your shack is adored by all the best scientists. The dubbing is already as I would expect
• Much ketchup on the beach, amid doing “it for the money” in a really cheesy way.
• Peggy is heading home tomorrow and is really, really excited about it. Why don’t they just announce it is her last day on the job, she has wanted a baby for so long, and her joy for life has never been this strong so she will live each day like it is her last?
• Marilyn: “When I think about what I saw today I almost faint.” Reel it off, no pause for breath
• Mark is the worst photographer in the world. I am convinced he is bluffing his way to a private photo collection (did Mark inspire a certain character in Hatchet?)
• Keep running from the fat man stumbling miles behind, or run into some wardrobe and let him commit acts of brutality against your footwear? Decisions, decisions...
• David Warbeck looks really old and unsexy. Quite an achievement.
• Cat from a cannon?
• Random dead girls and corpse identifications. Happy days.

Moving On:

• Describing scenes we have not seen = the joy of low budget cinema
• Poor Mark fell and got a bit of paint on his forehead...which has disappeared...and reappeared...and...
• In a toilet? I do not know how or why he got in there
• Describing action sequences we have not seen, then flinging in a shower scene = the joy of low budget cinema
• Dead people, dead dialogue, dead delivery....some driving, some walking, some staring...
• How can a scientist be mad and yet so tedious? And by the way – Nobel prize?
• If they want to advertise their car hire services, they could at least act interested in the vehicles and customers. Anyway, this movie is sponsored by Budget (if the viewer didn’t catch it earlier)
• Are the two parts of the cast ever going to meet?

Final Moments:

• When a monster is on the loose (having escaped from your birdcage), always pack the essentials before reading. And by essentials, I mean every book you own
• Doctor Alman: “Maybe I should have done this sooner.” MAYBE?
• Why are the lights on again? Why are they off again?
• I do not know how he or why he got in there, but just kick him
• That terrifying monster cannot reach the door handle, you moron
• I do not know how or why he got in the fridge, but is anyone even remotely surprised that he was in there?
• The detective that could not see a corpse if it was laid out in front of him? He’s my hero.
• Terry: Well, it’s certainly not going to bring Marilyn back to life so I’d be grateful if we just forget it!” Fair point, curiously made
• And for the lady, I’ll buy this book with a drawing of a rat on the cover. That will make the perfect gift. I’m such a charmer it’s a shock to still be single, etc
• Good luck getting that through customs
• Wow. Customs were obviously slacking off
• Freeze frame, screams, credits. Jaw suitably dropped.

Aftermath:

Some suggested drinking games – a shot every time the monster appears from somewhere totally bizarre, or every time the viewer notices some free advertising being thrown into view (the latter is recommended for heavy drinkers only). Trying to get through this one on your own and / or sober misses most of the fun to be had. Really, the viewer needs to abandon all appreciation and expectation of artistry and logic to get into the spirit of this ill-conceived mess - though it is well worth doing so, since the result is an absolutely hysterical romp through clichés, amateur dramatics and continuity errors. And the pacing is all over the place; for example, characters want to act fast, so they book into a hotel and discuss their need to get moving whilst tanning themselves by the poolside. Narrative drive, be damned and all that. This means you have numerous opportunities to make a cup of tea, chat with friends, etc.

Anyway, the plot – such as it is – for this wonderful ride through high comedy involves a mad scientist creating an insane animal hybrid (Nelson de la Rosa) in the ever so slightly stupid hope of winning a Nobel Prize for it. It escapes from its bin and starts randomly travelling around a Caribbean island, killing people. A small, largely unseen bunch of not very glamorous women stop soaping themselves in the shower long enough to join their slimy photographer Mark (Werner Pochath – briefly in The Cat O’Nine Tails, and having fallen a long way from his career best for films with animals in the name since his role in The Iguana With The Tongue Of Fire) in starting to attract the unwanted attention of the monster, their dwindling numbers finding (stunningly poor) security at the home of the scientist.

Two people are involved in subplot all of their own, briefly appeared in one of the same locations as used by other members of the cast, long after having been thrown together whilst sharing a taxi to a morgue. This pair are the sister (Terry, played by Janet Agren – just about in her element with this trash) of Marilyn (Eva Grimaldi – the role seems to be named Marlis in some prints), one of the models, and a fellow who would appear to be the sort responsible for Murder She Wrote (Fred, played by David Warbeck). They appear in a travelogue / car hire company commercial, ostensibly whilst trying to investigate the murders and find little sis and her workmates (despite their missing status seemingly being all of thirty seconds old when the investigation starts). The models and scientists keep dying, Fred and Terry keep the free advertising going, and after a bit of stalk and claw, Fred and Terry fly back to America, airport security checks failing to identify an issue with their luggage...

And if all that sounds pretty bad, then please note that along the way there are some absolutely insane scenes of body parts on beaches and unplumbed toilets stuffed full of monster (the loo is just plonked in the middle of a room in a shack – no apparent reason for it). If the above suggests anything even remotely bearable to you – and I have been generous in my treatment of it, honest - please note that the timeline between the two stories is an absolute mess. It is impossible to keep track of events if running concurrently, hours apart, days apart, etc. I am making the plot sound a lot more complicated than it is; there is precious little story here (small group of people isolated with monster – yawn) but it is so terribly slapped together as to require notes in order to keep up.

The writers responsible were Dardano Sacchetti and Elisa Briganti. Sacchetti was the experienced and (previously) well respected man behind cunningly structured and deliberately paced twist-a-thon The Psychic and numerous fine Lucio Fulci films, as well as the Dario Argento film with pleasing character motivations, Cat O’Nine Tails. His work had started slumping around the time his name popped up in the credits for Demons (a fun film yes; but again, logic and a sense of time was not the greatest strength). Briganti also worked on some fine Fulci films, the apparently enchanting Hands Of Steel, and eighties giallo classic A Blade In The Dark (which, to my mind, remains an exceptionally clever work right up until the blood mania gets blamed on bouncing balls!). Both writers were capable of odd moments in otherwise great screenplays, but they must have been having a drunken weekend with this formulaic number. The story is unoriginal (bar the bizarre central concept), the script appalling, narrative flow is almost poetic in convoluted nature, any hidden meanings to all this become redundant in the resultant debris and the plot development goes on regular hiatus.

The Italian film industry was on its last legs at this point (the late eighties, although the film is so far removed from reality and so cheap that it times feels like a no-budget, late fifties American sci-fi with added sun and boobage). Somehow, Ratman still stands out as a particularly shoddy film of its time and kind; an ill-conceived, frequently illogical and completely artless puddle of exploitation from a director who had previously showed great promise with numerous westerns and when he helmed decent giallo The Case Of The Bloody Iris. Giuliano Carnimeo seems to have decided static shots of bad actors trying to remember their lines will usually suffice for action, which at least helps the audience focus on the frequently hilarious dialogue. The tame gore and OTT acting barely lift the murder scenes into anything notable.

The central storyline is what offers the majority of padded high points (or low points, depending on your taste), but the subplot ends up being an amusing mess all of its own. Having correctly identified two female corpses (one of them thrown into the events quite randomly) as not being remotely like Marilyn, Terry realises her sister not having called for a few hours (days, weeks, decades) might well mean she is still alive and well. She attempts to track her down not with support from anyone professional (Marilyn and Terry are daughters of a senator, which plays no significant impact on the story but always feels like it should), but Fred – a writer/journalist desperate enough for a story that he stalks women on their way to a morgue. Fred is convinced he is on to a winning story and Warbeck made the same mistake or was desperate for work at this point in his life, presumably due to a shortage of cheques marked for the attention of The Milk Tray Man.

Their placing in the story is a bizarre mishmash of ideas, suggestions, pointless facts and discussions with car rental companies. The result is an utterly unconvincing chase subplot that more than takes it’s time, even falling behind a central storyline which keeps stopping for another photo shoot or chat about events we have just seen. The not exceptionally fast paced, actually rather somnambulistic, The City of the Living Dead (which included within its cast– oh yes – Agren), installed more urgency into the pacing than this, the investigation being guesswork that uncovers nothing until they arrive at their destination too late to be of any use. It seems likely the subplot existed to add one last, unfortunately failed twist (and a hint at a sequel which was, sadly, not to be). Their work in the final minutes of the movie should provide several sniggers; the conclusion is a genuine contender not just for the most obvious drag of an ending in cinema history, but one of the least effectively realised too – an amusingly daft reimagining of the endings from Zombie Flesh Eaters (which this film makes numerous half-arsed references to) and Nightmare City.

Warbeck held a lot of promise as an actor yet, his patience at waiting for the role of James Bond having been rewarded with Timothy ‘Sextette’ Dalton stepping in, he found himself appearing in barely released rubbish for his last few years. He simply gave up trying to act for much of his last decade. Whilst there are moments here when he tries not to laugh, there are others where his frustration at how terrible the film obviously is takes over and the effort he puts into his performance takes a back seat. Sometimes, he does flicker into being the fine actor of his early career...sometimes. Pochath also disappoints – he’s bloody terrible in this!

Agren tries, but she was never much of an actress and the script calls for her to recover from anxiety and terror via a slight pause for breath. As such, she not only fails to find emotion for her few scenes where it is called for, she frequently looks like she has forgotten her lines instead. Grimaldi appears to have been cast to helpfully up the sleaze factor with a soapy shower (those breasts must have been awfully dirty!). Frankly, her monobrow held my attention more than her acting, but she does do a good line in pretending a tiny man is pushing the door open from the other side towards the end (and he can’t even reach the damn handle!). She really should have been recognised as the female lead, but Agren just about edges past as “least bad actress” to snatch it from her. In fairness, Grimaldi never really attempts to act in this, which probably helped her keep some self respect after the event.

Ultimately, a lot hinges on the monster itself – and Ratman is rather more likely to cause giggles or some cooing sympathy than screams and fearful panic. At 2' 4", de la Rosa was the world's smallest actor and he succeeded at acting feral, but seeing a very small man shuffle towards physically fit adult actors is hysterical, not terrifying. The squeaking noises do not help. The casting was good – the story and direction are not; few scares make for a pretty pathetic monster. Still, the big appearances from inside that toilet and inside a fridge make for some fantastic showpieces for him to work with and Carnimeo conjures up some vaguely threatening moments when Ratman spies on Peggy (Luisa Menon – this is her only credit on IMDB, bless her) before a not very exciting attack, or climbs some curtains. I know – if your monster is creepier when not killing people, you have a problem. If the creature from the shitter wishes to get his poisoned nails and teeth into you, either run (actually, a brisk walking style should be enough) or climb onto a table. You should survive that way. Actually, you can pretty much avoid the threat by not going back into the building when you know he is in there – something that proves beyond some of the characters in this one.

The film is perhaps easier to listen to than watch; the soundtrack has a certain giallo style charm. Created by Stefano Mainetti (apparently, also responsible for the fine soundtrack to Michelle Soavi’s directorial debut Stagefright), there is some genuine craft behind the dark beats and synth funk-outs. Sadly, the dialogue might not suit many tastes, and the voiceover work is terrible, even for an Italian horror movie – but such thins appeal to me. It’s just about on a par with what you can find in “traditional” martial arts flicks. The most effective use of sound comes towards the end of the film, with Marilyn barricaded into a room and surrounded by scuttling sounds. That actually works well.

I have to recommend this curiously compulsive disaster for the background of a house or Halloween party and for fans of everything sleazy and cheesy – the most dedicated fans of eighties and Italian horrors will find it meets their requirements. It is a remarkably stupid, terribly constructed piece of trash – and all the more pleasurable for it. Troll 2 had some competition all these years, and it is time for the fight between the two to really start kicking off in earnest (one with green vegetables, the other with venomous fingernails – picture the scene!).

Grade B- (Take The Time)

Excitement

There may - I repeat, may - be a couple of posts coming soon. I had totally forgotten about the blogs for about a month, then felt throughly ashamed of myself. Why, if I don't post anything here, some of you may stop emailing me (rather than posting under blog entries - I do look very lonely here). And if you stop disagreeing with my fairly generous feelings towards films and how much I hate people, then that means I have to use the Get Reading website to argue with people. And I do - and it sucks.

So, those reviews of Ratman and No Room At The Inn are coming soon(ish). And on Owt4Nowt, I might share some exciting news, just as soon as anything of note happens in Reading again.

The Night Of The Big Heat

All my reviews will contain spoilers. Just so you know.

Firstly, work and study rather took over my usual free time for a while, hence the long gap between postings here.

I had some vague, happy memories of this sixties film from my early teenage years, although I remembered the special effects for aliens being terrible, and the usually very engaging Christopher Lee being rather keen on shouting. The (short-lived) Planet Film Productions persuaded Terence Fisher, Peter Cushing and Lee to work on it, which must have given Hammer some concerns for awhile! Anyway, this film largely focuses on that most British of obsessions – the weather.

Initial Thoughts:

• Cheesy as hell freeze frame for the opener, but the soundtrack is killer good
• Fast lady in a fast car, dusty professor on dusty ground
• Victim number one, depending on what happened to the anonymous guy in the pre-credits sequence.
• Leering Englishmen? In a pub? Surely not?
• Whilst everyone rolls their sleeves up, Peter Cushing keeps his jacket on. What a trooper!
• Dirty, sweaty men. But still no topless shots of Christopher Lee. Grrrr...
• Swimsuit heaven with dirty girl Angela.
• Jeff: “You were no untouched virgin when we met...”
• Handy hint for those filmmakers on a low budget – when you can’t afford special effects, show plenty of shots of people peering behind the camera. It never, ever, looks really cheap and naff.

Moving On:

• Victim number two, unless we count the sheep. Or the anonymous guy in the pre-credits sequence. Who the hell was that?
• Frankie: “Jeff! Jeff!”
  Viewers: “Shut. Up.”
• Some day-for-night fun
• I simply can’t help thinking they didn’t mean for Jeff and Hanson to be such unbelievably aggressive idiots. Sod the heat – these guys are clearly arseholes whatever the weather
• Not many female characters got the chance to fight off male aggressors in genre films of this time. Perhaps the filmmakers realised audiences would like to see at least one of these men get slapped with an ashtray?
• Oh, why did they send Peter Cushing out alone? Run man – run!
• Grieving means a lot less when one of the male mourners is attempting to win a wet shirt competition (his bosoms are soaked)
• Frankie: “You knew her before, didn’t you?”
  Watch yourself Jeff- the missus is on to you.
• · Jeff: "She was a slut and I wanted her"!!
  Way to bail yourself out, you douche-nozzle.
• I’m think the torch might have been a mistake.
• Victim number six - and it’s the anonymous guy from the pre-credits sequence. Eh?

Final Moments:

• Hanson: “Has anyone got any better ideas?”
  Er, no – sadly
• Our first sighting of the aliens...is tragic
• One down, and only five to go
• NOOO! Not him – you bastards!
• The great British weather – beautiful

Aftermath:

The temperature, rising steadily on a rural island (whilst the rest of the UK is having typically wet and cold weather), drives locals to distraction, though they remain annoyed by conditions they would otherwise enjoy rather than fearful of the reasons behind this strange development. The mainland seems largely disinterested (curious, since I would have expected the number of holidaymakers flooding out there to total several thousand at this turn of events!). However, a mysterious, unsociable man named Godfrey Hanson (Christopher Lee) has arrived to investigate. Hanson stays at a pub run by a writer named Jeff Callum (Patrick Allen) and his wife Frankie (Sarah Lawson), where several locals go to while away the hours with attempted rape and sharing gossip when casually encouraged to do so by Doctor Stone (Peter Cushing). A woman named Angela Roberts (Jane Merrow) arrives to kick some drama into the lives of the Callums, but the developing love triangle she brings to proceedings soon becomes a matter of little importance – aliens are on the island, drawn there by a radar experiment designed to try to communicate messages into space (a shame it worked really!). These aliens both have a need to eat – and to generate – energy, which leads to their starting to burn people alive. A rapidly dwindling number of the isolated (English!) survivors start to figure out the danger, fight back and attempt to warn the mainland of the growing threat.

This film, adapted from a book, has several similarities to Island Of Terror – another Planet Film Productions movie involving Fisher and Cushing, and one which has some stunningly obvious ties to the earlier Fiend Without a Face. To my mind, this cheaper effort is far more entertaining. One of just three films that Planet Film Productions made, it shows that their little-island-in-terror formula deserved to find a bigger audience and become a better loved sub-genre.

The actors look sweaty and set to pass out from exhaustion even though faint appearances of their breath can be made out in a several scenes – the weather was obviously bloody cold, and it’s a credit to all involved that this fact is not only quite well disguised, but that the result is a film which made me feel like I was baking watching it. A shame, then, that Cushing obviously felt the chill and keeps his jacket on even when displaying a supposedly fevered brow as he dabs away at it! Along with the great atmosphere, the slow, deliberate pacing allows time for the threat to grow and our understanding to the depth to each character to develop, cranking up the terror as we and the islanders figure out what is going on, and letting relationships established by eventually minor events stream over into how the people try to escape from or end the invasion.

The script, whilst talky, keeps things ticking along without ever truly dragging. Night of the Big Heat also benefits from some excellent set design (the pub looks just like the sort of locations I dream of most nights!) and tight editing, along with the usual solid direction from Fisher and superb performances by most of the cast.

Ah, sweet Christopher Lee. Even as a grumpy professor, you still rock my world. He paces about, lecturing one and all, and is extraordinary as the unlikable but intelligent and lonely character Hanson. The character is so effective at controlling scientific situations and technology that he cannot seem to comprehend why people should not automatically follow his every command. But the disagreeable nature does not prevent the viewer rooting for him to save the day – his observations and curious behaviour gives the dwindling number of survivors something to work with, and he tips them off as to the threat in the first place. His death makes the desperation of the remaining characters escalate to near madness, and creates a genuine sense that all has been lost. It strikes me as a unique role within a fine acting career. Odd, then, that he does not seem to appreciate this fact now, expressing some discomfort not just with the film (which is better than most such efforts he appeared in) but an interesting role that gave him some room to show his range again.

Peter Cushing gets very little screen time – although he easily becomes the gentle focus of attention whenever he appears on screen - and it is shocking to an unsuspecting viewer to learn he barely make it two thirds of the way into the movie before his character starts waiting around to see what that creepy noise is. His death is the first to shatter the cast into obvious panic.

It is rather odd for both Cushing and Lee characters to die before the end of a film. I cannot think of another film where this has happened.

The rest of the cast are generally excellent, although Patrick Allen is unfortunate enough to be playing such a cranky and self-concerned hero that he does rather grate whenever he is on screen. Jane Merrow could very easily have let her character been a one note, eye candy providing bitch – but there is an emotion behind her eyes that makes her both vulnerable and determined, which means she more than holds her own against the other actors and actresses. Initially a predatory stalker, the character of Angela swiftly realises she is up against a very determined wife, that the object of their affections is too difficult to attract the attention of, and then suffers an attempted rape, the heat, and then the understanding that they are under attack from aliens. Small wonder she starts losing her mind – although she finds herself comforted in the arms of another man by the end of the film.

Basically, slutty Angela is one of the most entertaining characters in the history of film, and is well worth a look for straight male sci-fi nerds. Enjoy!

One more positive to mention – the bombastic soundtrack is wonderfully overblown, and a classic piece of work from the funky times in which it was created. I absolutely adore it and have had trouble getting it back out of my head again.

The film does have some flaws. A few quick observations about the plot; the meteorological office should be far more curious about developments than they are, Hanson could really use a back story to explain how he came to be involved in events, and the interesting character of a weepy sheep farmer might look like he could have an important role to play, but he just disappears from the films, never to return. Did the aliens mean to attack the island and kill the humans? These all suggest that something more was planned, but not filmed. Since this film was an adaptation, I am tempted to seek a copy of the book out to see what changes were made.

As with most of science fiction films of the sixties, a low budget was not used to justify restricting either the concept or the general craft of the film, but everything is slightly let down by the need for plenty of talk (however good the dialogue) to save money for what rarely, if ever, ends up being an impressive special effects climax. There is a brief action break whenever the audience could feel like they have been drowning in dialogue, but this rarely raises much above one character staring past camera, gawping, falling over and screaming. Even a woman burning alive is suggested by a distant shot of a static flame and an actress screaming on the soundtrack. The effect is rarely intrusive when watching the film – the dialogue is snappy and there is so much of it that even a weak break from it proves diverting – but even Fisher is unable to cover over all the cracks, and the low level of action in the first three quarters of the film feel like more of a disappointment after the film has ended.

The aliens seemingly cost a few pence and took a few minutes to make - they look like oversized Jelly Tots with a flashlight inside – so very cheaply made and so stupid in appearance as to be almost, but not quite, laughable. The film delays showing them for at least 90% of the running time though, for which we should all be rather thankful (given the terrified reactions of the earliest victims though, the eventual appearance of them is still rather unfortunate), The alien make a bass sound that just about, but not quite, sustains the element of fear even after the viewer sees them.

I think the strengths greatly outweigh the problems here, but I can understand how let down some viewers may be by the rather rushed feel of the ending, dispensing with all the great dramatic tension that been built up. Indeed, the biggest problem here is the abrupt and poorly thought out conclusion, where the pacing suddenly goes completely mental. Everything is roaring towards an unfortunate end to all the cast, desperation giving into a frustrated, screaming failure. Then things get stormy in a different way and everything is fine again. Hmmmm. Perhaps financial issues or overrun on the filming schedule led to this, but it rivals the similarly great Howl’s Moving Castle example for slapping everything together in a very “will this do?” manner for the last twenty or so seconds (I-was-he-all-along-will-you-marry-me-no-ok-never-mind-goodbye-moving-on-quick-hug-haha!-credits).

Personally, I find something quite darkly comic in the utterly out of the blue revelation as to how the aliens can be defeated, especially since (a) it suggests nothing the people were doing or could logically thought to do would have saved them from the aliens anyway and (b) the poor aliens landed close to a radar centre that happened to be located in one of the worst countries in the world for the aliens to visit. That said, the twist means more here than in the likes of the M. Night Shyamalan film Signs.

This is a film that genuinely deserves a big budget, traditional style of remake. I fear at least a hundred films less deserving of such attention are ahead of it on various production lists though. The Night of The Big Heat is corny, cheesy, largely talky, and slow and cheap – it is also one of the better sci-fi films from the period, and deserves far more recognition than it gets.

Grade C+ (Take The Time)

The Last Mistress

All my reviews will contain spoilers. Just so you know.

Art film, Asia Argento nude – worth a rent, I suspected (for the art film thing, obviously).

Initial Thoughts:

• Bitching and lies behind closed doors – could be another Dangerous Liaisons, could be Merchant Ivory slop. Hard to tell.
• This isn’t Merchant Ivory dross. And I finally knew this whilst realising Asia Argento cannot fake an orgasm to save her life.
• “The feelings you stirred in my heart at 20, she has revived in a heart of 30...” Hmmm – not the greatest way to end a quick afternoon bonk.
• Got to love period lipstick lesbianism, right?
• Time for a flashback, to where it all began.

Moving On:

• A terrible first date...a filthy laugh...a ludicrous duel...and we got love. Pity the old fellow – he deserved better.
• The Algerian years – had a daughter, she died, we bonked next to the funeral pyre, came home...the usual...Did they film this lot in one day?

Final Moments:

• Marriage, and settling down for a depressing life of sobbing on a windy coastline.
• “That way, at least someone will remember.”

Aftermath:

A wispy young man (looking like every male brit-fop guitarist of the nineties), known as something of a cad, is due to marry a pretty and naive young heiress with the blessing of several nosy, gossipy elderly associates of both youths. Alas, the man has a beautiful mistress whom he has known and loved or argued with for so long that he is ultimately unable to resist treating her better than his wife, a matter not made easier on the wife when the mistress so actively pursues the husband.

A piece of French Costume Drama meets seventies drama-porn piece of fluff, this is far less bitchy and snooty and ...well, French than I had expected: rather, it is about doomed marriage gliding through lost innocence, broken hearts and rediscovered love against the warnings of jaded, aging superiors. The liberal determination of sexuality and dominance in relationships is rather more daring than the film perhaps intended to present, but I am unfamiliar with the novel it is apparently based on and have no familiarity with the previous films of the director (Catherine Breillat), so I could be misjudging this. The flirting and voyeurism are indisputably familiar from the likes of Dangerous Liaisons, but the tone is rather different – the curious elders criticising or observing the experiences of youth and middle age in the same manner Maggie Smith manages so frustratingly, so often (not knocking her as an actress, but there does come a point her name puts me off seeing a film because I can predict the character will have me seething with frustration).

Fu'ad Ait Aattou, as the male lead, is a fairly classic case of dude looks like a lady – his feminine face barely masking masculine aggression. Clearly not an experienced actor, he nevertheless brings a wavering determination to the role that is in keeping with the requirements of portraying the character.

I struggle to understand the loathing some people show towards Asia Argento. She has, quite often, issues with talking in a foreign language and still portraying the words according to the needs of the character performance (hardly unusual), but she always uses those expressive eyes and mouth to fine effect. It’s not my being lusty here – she just knows how to convey inner turmoil better than most modern film actresses. Here, as the titular character, she captured the delicate treachery and denial, sardonic or frustrated and depressed moods of the character exquisitely. Only her nineties style porn actress attempts at faking climax fall short (hilariously so).

Together, the leads are superb, their need for each other and feeling of emptiness when apart shown with a finely disguised despair. Their relationship seems slightly less shocking in their behaviour in public (despite the reactions of others) than in private – these two seem to have a craving for each other’s blood that would not be out of place in a vampire film!). The performances of the older members of the cast are all superb – watching one of them become exhausted as the story of the previous decade is told was charming, and raised recognised love and heartache in a far lighter manner than I was expecting, without pushing the whole episode into comedy.

This is a very attractive, colourful (not over stylised) and watchable - if rarely all that enjoyable – film featuring many interesting conversations without the need for too many specifically important lines. It really would have benefitted had the details after the wedding been told in five or six minutes rather than around half an hour. Also, the film suffers from some budgetary constraints in the settings and shots (really, the scenes in Algeria could have been filmed over a few hours in any one of dozens of countries) and the climax, sad to say, is a pretty throwaway “have you heard..?” moment - rather than showing the audience what happened - which is pretty weak and lets the many positives about the film slightly harder to reflect upon immediately afterwards. But overall, this is pleasing eye candy and a familiar enough story told in a surprisingly interesting and engaging manner.

Grade C+ (Take The Time)

P2 (Parking Level 2)

All my reviews will contain spoilers. Just so you know.

This one was a DVD rental. I had heard mixed reviews of the film, with the majority of positive feedback coming from people who would not usually watch a thriller or slasher film. Still, Alexander Aja (director and writer for Switchblade Romance and The Hills Have Eyes remake, both impressive in their own ways) produced P2 and developed the story and script, so I had something approaching high hopes for it.

Initial Thoughts:

· How to ruin a Christmas classic: the track Santa Baby plays over shots of a grimy parking lot until an effective jump shock.
· Office politics, people going home for Christmas – why no office parties and half days?
· Nice doggy want a hug?
· Wes Bently has a really, really nice butt. I had not noticed this before.
· Door buzzer at hand, yet the dunce cannot figure out she can let the taxi driver in, hold the door and then leave. Am I missing something here or is the audience going to be expected to cheer on the thickest female lead in recent memory?

Moving On:

· For a romantic first date, don’t just say it with flowers – say it with shackles.
· If someone keeps you in bondage, do not swear at them or I lose all hope that I will grow to like and support your character.
· “Tom, this is really sweet of you...” Come again?
· She just swore at her captor again. Dumbarse.
· “Why are we going down, Tom?” Ah, the innuendo.
· The moral of the story is to be careful who you feel up – you never know who you might meet on the way down.
· Tom, Tom, Tom-Tom-Tom – enough with repeating the name! Wow. He thought so too. Call him shitface and see if that helps.
· When missing your internal organs, take a quick snooze. This sort of thing alone won’t kill you (apparently – Dario Argento thinks this too, the loon bucket).
· How do you hide from someone with access to cameras around the confined space you are trapped in? This is getting creepier again.
· Fact - Bag ladies live on the street because they such thoroughly hideous human beings. Honest.
· “I can stay here! In this parking lot! All by myself! 'Cause that's obviously what everybody wants!” Meh. Personally, I don’t think Angela cares either way.
· Fact - A single shock from a taser will knock you out for a few minutes. Honest.
· If I were the police, I would question the carols blaring out around an empty car park – it isn’t exactly normal behaviour.
· Worst. Search. Ever.

Final Moments:

· Wes Bentley is really rather something of a cheeky, hairy hunk. I would start riding it right about now, despite the mental illness, murders and injuries.
· Female drivers, tut-tut, etc.
· Yay – a vehicular face off!
· Yay – Fulci style eyeball violence!
· Never call a moody moo-cow a cunt.
· The Death Wish films have a better grip on real justice than this.

Basically, this is every sociopath of the week movie ever made – just set in a car park. A bit of Sliver here, a nod to Fatal Attraction there, but the setting and one of the lead performances do just about make this one that I should remember in a hazy way, many years from now. Underground car parks are always a little unsettling for their appearance and the sounds, and one of my favourite giallo scenes is set in one (a few fine minutes during What Have They Done to Your Daughters?).

Wes Bently is a revelation here, bar a screechingly hideous woe-is-me shouting fit at one point halfway through (one which I doubt anyone could have pulled off well). His performance is believable and complex, drawing out the well-defined anxiety and isolation of his character to suit the atmosphere of the location. Slowly realising how closely he has studied his captive is remarkably unsettling. The earliest, usually throwaway lines carry a certain hint of menace. The pleasure he takes from control – from isolating someone else – is terrifying to watch. In fact, a major flaw with the development of this inventive villain is that Thomas would feel totally wrong outside of the setting and the unlikely set of circumstances presented to him. I have no idea how he was not spotted as a less than suitable employee. Basically, the performance rings true whilst elements of the character and the narrative do not. Something more specific about his history or some identification of how he copes outside of work would have offered some more genuine depth, and then I think this would be the sort of fondly remembered character piece as Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction or Rebecca De Mornay in The Hand That Rocks The Cradle. Regardless, I have seen Bently in other films and cannot remember much about his performances in them (well, he wasn’t much cop in Soul Survivors). Here, he lifts the daft material into something worthwhile.

I used to work as a security guard in a office block, and whilst the vast majority of office workers were (sad to say) rude and ignorant towards myself and my co-workers, there were enough polite human beings to suggest the lonely head-case in this film could have picked a more obvious, interesting victim. Poor Rachel Nichols puts in a good effort as Angela, but why did some creepy guy single out and pursue such a seemingly cold, bland lady? Thomas was supposed to be desperate and lonely, yet I still have no idea why he singled out such an outwardly unlikable character to abduct. Angela has moments where she displays compassionate behaviour, but before Thomas goes crazy at her, these appear to be for the sake of business rather than genuine concern for others or herself. The audience knows she survives moments of abuse by just carrying on, but these are rarely shown as someone fighting back, just letting people take advantage. Her psycho stalker evens her warns her about it repeatedly!

I wanted someone else to finally help out since she spent so much time screwing up on helping herself. When Angela wins through as we all knew she would, she takes things a step too far in a manner which simply does not ring true, and that is a big problem for the movie. I barely cared what happened to her and disliked what the movie thought was worth celebrating about the transformation to her character. Killing a dog is usually employed to get an audience hate a character – even the similar Mark Wahlberg staring movie Fear got this right – but the filmmakers get it wrong here as, regardless of circumstance, the purpose of Angela killing one is set-up to show she is supposed to have started winning the fight she is stuck in. The attempts by the soundtrack at making her final revenge pleasurable are cringe worthy.

The two main characters have a dynamic that is, whilst flawed, interesting, but once the heroine starts to genuinely fight back (having taken her sweet time to do so – sorry to harp on but it really is annoying) the focus is back to her as an individual, and she becomes about 50% less interesting and he becomes 250% more entertaining. Thomas was the more interesting, and occasionally the more sympathetic, character.

The most obvious issue with the film is that, when a movie puts a character in so many tense situations, it’s difficult to get excited by the suspense if the end result of each step of her escape attempt means nothing more than someone else getting bumped off or passing by. One minor character seemingly gets it before Thomas even knows he can keep her captive. Literally every other character outside of the lead two is clearly going to be utterly disposable and clueless.

This movie takes no time to get going, yet then stumbles along, only keeping the momentum up with some unlikely twists and behaviour although, curiously, it was fairly simple to predict where things were going just because the farfetched moments ultimately occur to help reach an obvious point in the plot. Much daftness with a flooding lift totally lost my interest. Happily, most of the other consequences of actions here are finely delivered punchlines of bloodier than expected murder or injury, with unusually sadistic humour (including a mime to Blue Christmas) for a wide-audience thriller. There are several grisly scenes here, and the relish the leads (particularly Bently) bring to these is effective.

Ultimately, this unambitious but fun little movie ends up working as a result of the charismatic villain of the piece and the location, along with a couple of effective jump shocks and a malicious streak far wider than most recent big budget thrillers. It’s a shame that a few little flaws were not polished over properly. I doubt this would have scored the theatrical release it got without the atmosphere captured by such a spacious central environment becoming ever more claustrophobic and bleak. Frankly, it might have benefitted having Aja direct it too.

Grade C+ (Take The Time)

Africa Addio

All my reviews will contain spoilers. Just so you know.

I knew practically nothing about mondo movies and had never seen one all the way through before this one – there, I’ve said it. Huge exploitation fan, with a huge gap in his knowledge. Shame on me. To spend a morning attending a lecture about them, and then see this one in full, at the BFI recently sounded like a great way to start things off. Then I realised the film was not just likely to result in debate, but certain too. And that the film was showing to a film club for ethnic minorities, and Italian documentary filmmakers Jacopetti and Prosperi are generally considered to have been racist in their approach to showing African peoples, having tried to apologise for Africa Addio by following it up with Goodbye Uncle To; a movie which caused political unrest in some countries and pretty much finished off the careers of the filmmakers. And it suddenly all felt like a really, really bad way to start things off...

Long story short – audience didn’t like it, no-one could defend why it had been shown to that group, people don’t like crazy men who use a Q&A to invite people to cry for poor old misunderstood Mugabi, and I suspect Africa Addio will not be getting a release in this country again any time soon.

Initial Thoughts:

• If you have to justify yourself at the very start, you probably expect an argument.
• The Age of Compromise has begun.” With the worst garden party ever.
• “...just at the moment when it needs Europe the most.” Ready to justify those words? Er, apparently not.

Moving On:

• Riots, homelessness, hunting season for black people, slaughtered families, mutilated animals...
• “For sale...for sale...sold...”don’t forget to dig up the flowerbeds!
• Riots, homelessness, mutilated animals...
• Come to South Africa – home of religious conflict, religious hatred and – apparently – toothpaste commercials.
• Riots, abducted / murdered Germans, slaughtered towns of people...
• Siding with murderous mercenaries.

Final Moments:

• Shootings, gold, penguins.
• “This film, born without prejudices...”

Aftermath:

Maybe I’m not cynical enough, but I honestly thought this would be a less emotively charged, depressingly disingenuous and gruelling experience. The opening claim in the film - that the camera is completely objective and only reports what it sees - rather loses value with all the sneering, mocking moments within the first ten minutes, and is proven an outright lie by the end of this epic. The camera can report what has been staged, and if that includes the actual murder of people and animals, the camera belongs right up the filmmakers’ arses. For all the (admirable) artistic talent, here is no depth or intelligence at work in the film – just ignorance and a stunning lack of respect (one which, since I have now sat through the whole thing twice, I have to question myself as a viewer).

What was originally intended to be a documentary about the wondrous wildlife of Africa turned into a series of short pieces of footage of animal cruelty, human executions, gunfights and chuckling at the posh whitey / goofy darky style of comedy. It’s not outright deliberate, more unintentionally offensive / painful, so much so that it will likely not mean that much to me after a couple of months recovery time, but the pain I felt at watching this for the first time a couple of weeks back has been increased by trying to sit through it all again on the internet. I know the filmmakers were not deliberately making a racist documentary – they appear to hate everyone they show on screen, regardless of colour. I know they dedicated years of their lives travelling a continent and putting themselves in the middle of political conflicts spilling out into bloodshed, keen to capture the events and help show the world these problems were of our making and that we should help end them. But the animal killings (horrific, shown in close up, from multiple angles, seemingly endlessly at some points) end up being tastelessly interlinked with a throwaway commentary on the “new” Africa (one that was not best pleased at having spent so many years with those daft European racists introducing slavery and taking over the land, thanks-ever-so) in such a way that it is bizarre nobody involved in the release of this didn’t just turn around and give Jacopetti and Prosperi a bloody great slap each. A section dedicated to white people losing their homes is shown with such misplaced, yet also suspect, sympathy – denied anyone losing their lives in the film – that it makes me want to scream.

What also makes me depressed about the film is that current TV news doesn’t show much has changed – but when the camera cuts away from slaughtered white people (out of respect) yet zooms right in there for genocide footage in African countries, at least it is for a few seconds at a time. Watching extreme such work over the course of two hours, in one go, just makes me feel like taking a long hot bath, downing a bottle of JD and going to bed for a cry.

The worst thing about this is, oddly and confusingly, the incredibly good soundtrack by Riz Ortolani. The timing of just about every track manages to be outrageously offensive. I don’t know – and have not found anyone who can tell me – if the soundtrack was a beautiful work that then had the film edited to fit with it, or if Mr Ortolani created a soundtrack that frequently might as well have also had a laugh track (with added whoopee cushions for the more violent scenes). I hope it is the former; otherwise, he has gone from being one of my most admired composers to being someone I believe should never have worked again after this film.

The content is all over the place, slapping this particular viewer into wondering, on first viewing, if I had dozed off or if it was edited in such a way that subjects change in the blink of an eye (seeing it again, I can say that the latter is true). The filmmakers clearly could not decide what they wanted this all to be about, the personal values they show are infuriating, and the treatment of natives is beyond contempt. Everything drags on and on and on. The dubbing is sometimes amusing, mostly just clumsy – it’s hard to think of a film where dialogue has been so obviously, carelessly dubbed. But a more beautifully shot film I doubt I will ever see. That soundtrack is wonderful, if listened to away from the movie. And the impact of watching this trash has clearly left me thinking the content through harder than I have after most films. So chalk me up as a regretful, cautious probable mondo movie fan in the making. Just don’t go near this if animal cruelty is not your thing, if you have clinical depression or if showing respect towards you fellow man turns your stomach (the PC brigade would not do well watching this one on a gentle, quiet Sunday afternoon, trust me on this one). Hmph.

Grade C- (Don’t Bother)

Peeping Tom

I do not write my reviews specifically to avoid spoilers. Just so you know.

Bill, from the Outside The Cinema podcast, wondered what my opinions of this film would be. Happily, their review of the film led to my finding I did not already own a copy, so I popped out down the shops to buy a special edition of it, and sat back down to re-watch it for the first time in a few years. Upon initial release, this film was vilified as misogynistic and violent trash. Nowadays, of course, we can see it for what it truly is – a film that hates ginger people.

Initial Thoughts:

• Is that a camera in your jacket or are you just pleased to creep me? Already we can the victims react to the camera lens (us), not to the cameraman.
• Mr. Peters: “Which magazine sells the most copies?”
Mark: “Those with girls on the front covers and no front covers on the girls.”
• Would sir like some free newspapers with his porn?
• My word – Mark is far too good at getting the facial expressions he wants from his models.
• When Helen asks about Mark’s father, she asks “what was he?” rather than “who was we?” Spot on.
• Watching you, watching me.... Helen enjoys seeing the look of fear (on the killers face, no less); perhaps watching some of his films would be a suitable birthday gift after all?
• Filming her fear at watching his childhood trauma gives a “by proxy element” to his strategy here, which might explain why Mark comes to favour Helen – that, or the fact she isn’t as slutty as he thinks most of his victims are. Probably both, actually.

Moving On:

• You say “mem-oh,” I say “mee-mo.”
• He’s a bad un, that Baden.
• “I stand to lose nothing.” Regardless of if he gets caught or not, nothing is going to change how Mark feels inside. Eek!
• Mark: “Imagine someone coming towards you who wants to kill you, regardless of the consequences. “
Vivian: “A madman?“
Mark: “Yes but he knows it - and you don't.”
• Mother: “I don't trust a man who walks quietly.”
Helen: “He is shy.“
Mother: “His footsteps aren't. They're stealthy.”
• Her choice of theme for the book – is it irony or poor plotting? I can never decide. Anyway – “There are some things I photograph for nothing.” Best not put them in a book for children though Mark, right?
• “The silly bitch has fainted in the wrong scene!” That line is soon followed by “I don’t want to spoil anyone’s fun, but we do have a maniac on our hands.” Two moments of wonderful black humour.
• Most murderers would be able to overcome their fear of locks to prevent anyone finding out what they have been up to – but no, not this one!
• “Take me to your cinema.” Why, it’s all over your face already, mother dear.
• Cinema rarely gets this unsettling. But then, “Instinct is a wonderful thing, isn't it Mark? A pity it can't be photographed.”
• Now that the “cure” seems like too much hard work, I think we can all agree she should have spent the night with one of her many other “gentlemen.”
• A sign on the shop door reads “You Can’t Beat Pains.” Mark looks at this, and the pictures of numerous ladies in bikinis, and smiles...he is a lot less sympathetic now.

Final Moments:

• We know Mark has been in the house for some time – and the time between his arrival and his appearance behind Helen is hugely uncomfortable. Should we assume her mother has not had the greatest night in? Regardless, the suspense in waiting for him to appear on screen again is unbeatable.
• Mark: “You will be safe as long as I can’t see you are frightened.” Is he talking to Helen, or to the viewer?
• Mark: “Aged five...aged seven...all the rooms were wired for sound...they still are...” Helen starts to realise how Mark came to understand the residents so well.
• Mark: “Do you know what the most frightening thing in the world is? It’s fear. So I did something very simple...very simple.”
• Mark: “I have timed it so often...” The timer suddenly makes sense.
• Young Mark: “Goodnight daddy...hold my hand...”

Aftermath:

The plot of Peeping Tom is fairly simple. A loner (Mark) works at a movie studio and as a ‘glamour' photographer – and he also murders several young women. This voyeuristic killer – disturbed by a childhood spent with a mentally abusive father - uses a camera to film the women (none of whom suspect his actual motive for doing so), attaches a mirror so that they can see their facial expressions, than reveals a blade at the end of one tripod leg, murdering them whilst they look at their fear. He finds a degree of comfort with a girl (Helen) who lives downstairs – but not from her disapproving mother or friends. Eventually, trying to talk himself out of murdering Helen, (now aware Mark is a murderer) and realising he is about to be arrested and punished for his crimes, Mark films his suicide, witnessing his own fearful reaction as he dies. Helen lies next to his corpse, distraught, and is eventually helped away by a policeman.

Endlessly quotable (you, er, may have noticed?), this remains a terrifying, if flawed, thriller that almost totally finished off the career of director Michael Powell (previously responsible for numerous melodramatic classics of cinema, such as A Matter of Life and Death), the best known of which were his collaborations with Emeric Pressburger. To say Powell made the wrong move to go it alone would largely be unfair - although his decision to make Peeping Tom must, despite the way it has generally gone on to be seen as one of the most effective thrillers of all time, have been something he felt was something of a misjudgement soon after the time of the original release of the film. At the film's completion, Powell seemed to believe he had made his best film – something time and current opinion suggests is the case. Critical and popular opinion in the early sixties vehemently disagreed. Whilst Hitchcock was saving himself from the damage caused to his career by the critical reaction to Psycho (helped by the film finding a decent sized audience amongst the public), Powell struggled after Peeping Tom failed to find an audience (it lasted less than a week at UK cinemas in 1960, the distributor desperate to separate themselves from the negative reaction). Powell promptly disappeared to Australia and found himself limited in future output.

Of interest – to me anyway – was Powell using one of his sons and their home in the film, not least since his home would appear to be the location which formed the central location for the madness and his son played the abused child. Nice touch. Someone call social services.

The key reason for the effectiveness of this film –which led to early audiences for it being so very appalled – is the direction. There are several memorable scenes: one involving falling stationery (of which, more in a moment), the home movies showing a traumatic childhood, an unfortunate dance performance which establishes far too much audience interest in a woman we know is not likely to be long for this world, the reveal shot of a facial disfigurement, Helen taking far too long to run when she realises what some of Mark’s films mean, and the projection of murderous scenes in front of Helen’s blind mother. The camera frequently positions the viewer directly behind Mark so that we become “as one” – not a comforting position to be in when Mark is the killer. This trick has become more popular in thrillers and horror films –the POV shots in Halloween and most of fellow Slasher brethren, the video playback sequence in Henry... – but in 1960, being “as one” with a demented mind pursuing murderous intentions was rather new, and not what an unsuspecting audience would likely enjoy.

The narrative and dialogue provides ample opportunities for us to feel sympathy for Mark, which fuels the discomfort of “being” him so often. Siding with a killer is always frustrating, occasionally exhilarating, to an audience. Hitchcock used the idea to great effect in several films – most notably, I would argue, in Frenzy, which has several close ties to Peeping Tom. Powell employs it well here, and there is a fantastic scene where Mark almost gives himself away whilst spying on police investigating one of the murder scenes. For just a few seconds, we find ourselves hoping Mark gets away with it – then we find ourselves annoyed and despairing when he escapes, undiscovered, having had us hope that we this killer would do so. His social ineptitude and sexual confusion are results of his being a tormented child, and his knowledge that his actions are wrong keeps being pushed back by his desire to find a resolution to his feelings. He does not just want to see the look of fear on his victim’s faces, but their knowledge of this expression –he has had to witness his fearful reactions during childhood, so what makes these women any different? But his actions do not bring Mark the peace he desires – to his, and our, upset - although he clearly finds a certain comfort in seeing the reaction on the face of a buxom model that had pursued her own control and analysis of him.

The abuse of women – and achievement of showing their pain back to them – was seriously nasty content for the time too. It remains hard to watch at times. In Mark, the apparent misogyny (all of his victims are women) seems to come from the way in which his father married a second wife and left Mark to play with (uh oh!) a camera whilst he went on honeymoon. The result should have been a hatred of his father and relief at this woman causing a few days of peace – but the movie doesn’t explain why Mark chooses to murder women rather than men. Perhaps his work just makes them the more obvious victims? Does he see himself as feminine?

Anyway, the treatment of poor Vivian – a minor character briefly offered the opportunity to literally take the lead female role in order that she be dispatched – is particularly difficult to deal with. Murdered on a quiet stage, her corpse is tucked away into one of the props (“at greatly reduced prices” reads a sign in the setting). I doubt she would have been so willing to be the centre of attention under quite those circumstances!

The jazz soundtrack is a beauty, matching the atmosphere and locations with a mixture of harsh blows, comical undertones and a variety of fast changing or consistent beats. All of the key performances are excellent, although Carl Bohm is the standout. As Mark, his faint German accent (which side was daddy on 15 years beforehand, hmm?) adds to the outsider, slightly off-kilter value of his character in the film environment. Mark is portrayed as a frightened man capable of slight of-hand violence, an insecure person with the ability to control others without their knowing. The contrivances around his character could feel nonsensical whilst watching the film, but his performance makes them seem almost entirely plausible.

The problems I have with this film are mostly with the final third – although, it has to be said, the weapon used by Mark is one of the clumsiest imaginable. Characters sprawled out beneath it might just about be justified in struggling to avoid the blade, but Vivian has absolutely no such excuse. The concept might underpin the excellence of the film in leading the audience, but the end result would be a laughably daft idea in practice, and it looks ridiculous when we see it being prepared from third person viewpoints. Also, why do the victims not shut their eyes when they are about to be murdered?

The sloppiness of the police and the effort Mark has gone to in order to prepare for his suicide (not having gone through with it when it would have been a more plausible action) ultimately make the conclusion even less satisfying, though it is certainly tense (almost unbearably so).

By the end, Helen – whilst interesting – is a character that offers neither the genuine support Mark needs nor the suspicions that could have ended his murderous activities. Perhaps her faith in so obvious a disturbed individual is a result of having been raised by an unhinged mother? The result is that Helen ends up being a bit of a waste of space, despite the depth offered to her character. She ends up joining for Mark for dinner, asking him to help provide pictures for the most stupid sounding book for children ever (I cannot bring myself to repeat it here – it really is bloody awful and was clearly conceived in the hope of providing a hilarious link to Mark’s activities), and then she (briefly) plays a damsel in distress as punishment for continually displaying the same sort of altruistic attraction that killed the cat (and Mark). She is as obsessed with watching, with spying and misinterpreting, as Mark – albeit with less fatalistic and interesting consequences.

Ultimately, Helen is too sorely lacking in judgement, strength and a clear purpose within the events of the film to count for much as an early attempt at a “final girl.” Her mother is a more interesting – if frustratingly elitist and moody – character, yet her role is limited to offering advice to protect Mark and her daughter (it doesn’t work, neither pay as much attention to her wittering as they perhaps should) and she is almost entirely absent from the end of the film. A recording suggests she might be drunk in another room, but it is entirely possible that Mark is playing back from an earlier recording, and has already paid the old dear a visit. For several minutes, he was certainly doing something unseen by the viewers and there is also a throwaway comment by another lodger suggesting she might have been involved in some sort of struggle. Disappointingly, we will never know and I suspect Powell presumed it would be of no interest, rather than wanting to keep us guessing.

These flaws prevent me from having as high a regard for this film as many others obviously hold for it, but as an alternative to period Hitchcock, an early influence on many of my favourite films from the seventies, and I suppose in its own right, this is a dark and effective little shocker that deserves the recognition history eventually offered it.

This weekend, I will post a brief review of equally awful things captured on film, and a longer lasting reaction of mass contempt from critics and the public alike. Joy.

Grade B (Take The Time)

Resident Evil: Degeneration

I do not write my reviews specifically to avoid spoilers. Just so you know.

This was a rental. I love the games, though I have missed those not released on the Playstation consoles and have not yet played part 5. I even quite enjoyed the three live action movies. This one should be a safe bet – famous last words, since I used them for Scar 3D...

Initial Thoughts:

• A quick run through the key points in the history of the series, and some zombie masks for a fun shot hinting at what is to come. So far, so good.
• Unless that lady is driving the car back into the airport lounge, that is not a terribly useful idea.
• Much creepiness on the plane. This is pretty promising.
• Oh good - an Englishman in a horror movie. Well, I’m sure he is going to be really very nice. Who could the villain of the piece possibly be?
• One camera crew and a presenter is not what most of us would call “a circus.”
• Worst. Disguise. Ever.
• Slamming into the action, fast and furious – I’m enjoying this trash more by the minute.
• They got the text on the TV broadcast pretty quickly.
• Is Curtis really that much more interesting than playing Where’s Rani?
• No fuel in the tanks? Did the pilot crash deliberately. or just let some zombies into the cockpit? I don’t think the filmmakers know…this is getting ominous. Some logic to the plot leaps would help, as this is getting a bit too silly. Good action sequences though.

Moving On:

• At least check for ID.
• The film just skipped at least one promising big scene (the escape and hiding at the airport) and replaced it with a couple of lines of dialogue.
• It would be too risky to send in loads of trained soldiers. Just let three people climb in through the roof. Yeah – sounds like a plan. A crappy plan, but a plan nevertheless
• This woman is far too trusting. The gey faced man on the floor is not groaning to show he is in good health.
• Where did all of the zombies come from in such a small space? The office is heaving with them in the space of a couple of seconds.
• Shoot them in the head.
• I get tired of shouting this out aloud at these kinds of film, but please someone listen to him and shoot them in the head.
• Loving the Umbrella gag. Good work.
• The Senator is such an enormous douche nozzle that it’s hurting the movie.
• For the love of…JUST SHOOT THEM IN THE HEAD ALREADY!
• Thinks he is safe, so he lets his guard down again immediately – big shock what happens next. Sloppy.
• He had at least an hour left, but yeah – let him go ahead and sacrifice his life needlessly.
• Using a child as a distraction worked better in a great scene during the second film in the Blind Dead series. Still, always fun to see it used again.
• Fantastic slap – worth the wait. The Senator needs to chuck in a reference to keeping the town open for holiday season, and every cliché to this kind of character will have been used.
• Did her auntie have a name by the way? I forget…
• “All our fault.” How? No don’t explain it, there’s really no need…this is all a bit silly if the filmmakers cannot explain some of the decisions and beliefs been made her.
• And – cue weepy computer game music. Yuck.
• Why is the (obviously not villainous) Englishman explaining the building? What possible good could it do either of them?
• Did they forget about Rani completely? She isn’t allowed to be with her no-name aunt, but everyone else she has gotten to know just upped and moved on!
• Performing tests with human subjects yet again. Protecting rats simply has not worked.
• As if Curtis meant to blow himself up. This is all a bit obvious.
• Security wasn’t tight enough to keep them out then…
• That Leon is such a flirt.
• So did all the staff die?
• Yes but your brother is a doofus dear.
• Uh, all these T-virus infected staff – how and why?
• It would be odd if one of them did try to get killed.

Final Moments:

• I thought the countdown part would come later in the movie, but fair enough.
• No fair – the countdown speeded up?
• Breeding tool? Ewww!
• So Leon sees her as a breeding tool as well?
• That’s the thing with these state of the art security systems – they never work on the main characters or biggest monsters.
• I thought that little phrase would vomit up again.
• It still isn't dead
• Time for the big reveal yet? Yep...
• How did they know where to find him parked up? Anybody know?
• What an awful, awful dress.
• Yes – her brother was indeed a tool.
• CGI wind blows different CGI characters’ CGI hair in different ways. Classy.
• With the exception of little miss Laura Ashley, the entire cast could really use a change of clothes now.
• Is he dead? Hurray!

Aftermath:

Firstly, this isn’t following the path of such cinematic dross as Wing Commander or Street Fighter. Nobody responsible for this film deserves a spanking. Nor does this follow the example of Uwe Boll excrement like House of The Dead (at least amusing) or Alone In The Dark (at best an affront to directors that spend time on their filmmaking rather than on boxing people who work at their craft) in that this follows the game history and development faithfully, which is more than some of the RE games apparently have. I suspect the film happens after the vents of Resident Evil 4, which makes it curious that the developments of parasites from that game are neither mentioned nor of consequence to a film that nods back most directly to the events of the first game, despite references to the outcomes of the second and third.

The voice acting is limp and the dialogue wretched – neither of which is exactly helped by the awful English language dubbing. Huge jumps of plot-logic are required, with absent scenes meaning the viewer frequently has to make up parts of the film for themselves. The character development consists entirely of two dullards falling in love over a weepy back-story, a sulky widower placing his faith in the kind of people he has been dedicating his life to punishing, and a selfish man not being as malicious or as devious as a British tea drinker. The majority of the second act is lots of talk about not very much. But so much of this film delivers above expectations that tit feels nasty to dwell on the failings.

The action set pieces are admittedly superb. Both Leon and Claire are well established with millions of people as being fantastic action heroes. Who cares if the characters actually have all the charisma and depth of a few thousand shiny pixels? Since when has depth of character mattered in an action movie? I can overlook personality vacuums when a setting sucks itself into vacuums in several stages (for no reason other than to let survivors bounce around bits of the location).

I thought this was a fair, amusingly cliché riddled film, just with the problems obvious in the cut scenes from the games continuing here. There are the usual far-fetched circumstances of who survives explosions and when certain wounds are deadly or lead to the heroes developing a slight limp.

The plot is standard for a video game – big drama, get time to breathe and figure out most of what is going on, series of unfortunate events, ticking clock against the biggest monster, figure out obvious twist, save day, hint at more to come, kiss and clap and hug and cheer, some nastiness continues, cue credits. None of this should count as spoilers – a film based on a video game varies from these tracks only when the games are wilfully bizarre (I’m thinking Silent Hill) or the films actively hurt an audience (Super Mario Bros, the Mortal Kombat films, Uwe Boll Uwe Boll we hate your continued employment Uwe Boll). These narrative issues are a lot more entertaining when the viewer is placed as an active participant, but they are still cheesy fun to watch. A few more key characters – and fewer throwaways just disappearing at the midway point – are desirable in a film like this, but it’s all so disposable that the action book ending the film holds the flabby second act in place. Patience rewards and all that.

For every predictable step forward, the staging within the excellent CGI environments provides fine eye candy and some clever framing for effective jump shocks all the same. What greatly impressed me was the accuracy of the “survival horror” portrayal these angles and locations present – dark and oppressive, eerily claustrophobic atmosphere abounds. The chaos at the brightly lit start, and the creepy emptiness to some rooms in limited light, are thrilling to watch.

The biggest failing in my view is that those unfamiliar with the games will get lost figuring out what the makers want viewers to assume and what actually makes sense to the fans. Those viewers who do know the games will, I suspect, likely get annoyed by the frequent bursts of back-story and terms (for example, the types of virus developed by Umbrella). The film gets lost between pleasing either type of viewer, and doesn’t ultimately work towards the wants of either. Eloquence was clearly not a concern for the filmmakers.

Still – trashy fun is what I expected, and trashy fun is what I got. But this should – and, with a little more focus and greater resources, would – have been a classic genre film. And dear me - what an awful, awful dress...

Grade C+ (Take The Time)

Scar 3D

All my reviews will contain spoilers. Just so you know.

I borrowed this on DVD from a friend – a friend aware of my new found interest in 3D films, curiosity as to what Angela Betiss does next and passion for all kinds of slasher flicks (crappy or smart). This one looked a safe bet.

Initial Thoughts:

• Betiss looks embarrassed rather than scared. Not a good sign.
• I wonder if anything will happen to that piercing?
• I wonder if anything will happen to that new piercing?
• Nothing says party like a bimbo bleeding from her belly.
• What a, like, totally rocking party of people standing in lines in the cold.
• Creepy guy – early red herring or obvious killer?
• Feel free to ask before you take. Rude girl, limited dialogue - dead yet?
• “The ethnic minorities – thick and vapid or thick and bitchy? Let’s use both!”
• Unless someone covers for creepy guy, the red herrings have yet to show up.

Moving On:

• Feel free to hold the chloroform over your face for him.
• The body popped up at that point in time - because…?
• If the lake is full of rusty metal, why did they encourage all their kids to dive in?
• We all enjoy wearing medals around the home of an evening at my family home too.
• “I couldn’t think of anyone else, so I called my creepy not-boyfriend in for a hug.”
• That beret just keeps making me chuckle. Funny torture-porn? God, but this movie isn’t getting any better yet.
• Worst. Vomit. Ever. Half a mouth full of mint sauce?
• Flat-Top looks hot, so why are we not getting more of his red-herring character? I flick back thirty seconds to watch those eyes again. More please.
• Or you could have called for help when you found the corpse.
• Nobody saw him run in front of their cars. Really?
• Interviewing the suspect on your own? I have gone off you and your landing pad hairdo now.
• Oh Betis – why did you agree to be in this?
• So it is going to be the most obvious suspect killing them then. Thought there could be a surprise. Wait up. Reverse. He basically just admitted he was the killer – how can she not know?
• Bald spot cam – now in 3D.
• Did she threaten them with the gun before she ran off or did no-one notice her go?
• I have had enough of the old fashioned green / red 3D, and go back to the main menu to watch the rest in 2D. Perhaps, without the eyestrain, this will all be a lot less painful? Nope.
• No one else thought to look there. Really?
• OK – that was a great flashback scene. Movie nearly back on track.

Final Moments:

• Now call for help.
• Don’t go for a run – call for help.
• You know where she is likely to be now – call for help.
• Call for help, dimwit.
• Not too late – call for help before I start routing for him to kill you.
• OK – just watch your back for any geeky teens then.
• Most obvious suspect, etc. It’s usually the slow kid. No mystery here.
• This film is rubbish again. Did not take long.
• So the motive was that he wanted to reel off a crap speech?
• Blaming Iraq and his dad seem a little ill conceived. Torture the writers. This is mildly offensive stuff, but I think they expected the gore to be what got the viewer going, not his motivations.
• Oh Betiss – you had a career going for a while.
• The piercing hurt her more going in.
• Ha ha – a supermarket aisle gag. It’s funny because…well…lord…
• He is not dead, so just watch your back for any geeky teens.
• Uh, yeah that did the job on him. Good. Roll credits now please?
• All really well lit and cheery – got to be a dream sequence. Just roll credits.
• I knew it. And “It never stops”…sadly. Please roll credits.
• Credits. Eventually.
• Hideous song over end credits.

Aftermath:

This was drab, artless, poorly made and uninspiring stuff. I got angry with some of the shortcomings, particularly the empty shots that might have been of interest in big screen 3D yet look thoughtless on the small screen. Mostly, I just sat and waited for The End.

Dull and dumb characters mean there is less reason to care than a general outline of the film would suggest. There were depths to the two lead female characters but they never come out properly in the finished film. The roles are played by bored actors – some of those I have not seen before might be quite good in another film, since Betis has been magnificent in the likes of May. But who can tell? They all sleepwalk through an almost entirely generic slasher script - with added, of the moment (and soon to be amusingly dated), torture-porn nonsense in a few brief flashbacks and final few minutes. I have no admiration for the likes of the tiresome and stroppy Hostel and the Saw films but, as much as it pains me to admit this, such content should have featured more heavily here. It feels as if everyone involved bottled out of wanting to make an impact beyond using their central gimmick. My Bloody Valentine 3D may have been daft and sloppy, but at least there was a genuine effort to keep the audience engaged with that and a lot of action to keep things going. Not so here.

Not gory enough for it’s (severely limited) ambitions and never scary, there were passable enough scenes of violence – just like 99% of slashers – but these were brief. Less than a minute - for two murder scenes – just for a bit of “creative death” fun? This was never going to be enough of a reason to watch the movie. Without the 3D, there was no reason for this to get a theatrical release. At home, with the 3D reduced to crappy old school, Quality Street specs 3D, there was no reason for a DVD release.

Grade D- (Burn Baby Burn!)