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)