Sumner of Sam

Straw Dogs (Sam Peckinpah. 1971)

From cowboys to cowboy builders! One might have thought American director Sam Peckipah, a film maker synonymous with violenct westerns, would have taken a change in direction with Straw Dogs (1971), considering it being his first feature outside of the genre. The psychological thriller set in an idyllic part off the Cornish coast in the Southwest of England, would be even more problematic than his ultra violent The Wild Bunch (1969). Peckinpah's shocking and cumbersome depiction of rape would forever mire the film with controversy. As a result, Straw Dogs would be banned in the UK during the mid Eighties, despite some cuts. Time to revisit the grand daddy of home invasion films.

American mathematician David Sumner (Dustin Hoffman) and his young, English wife Amy (Susan George) have moved to the latter's family home in Cornwall. The reason why is somewhat vague in the film, although it's hinted that David felt disillusioned or possibly scared over America's social climate during that time. Consequentially, the fight or flight theme would develop into an invaluable proponent to David's development as a character. Similarly, it would also highlight a very clear divide between him and Amy.

From the opening scenes, Straw Dogs depicts the Sumners in a marital struggle. A mismatched couple: he, a cowardly individual devoted to his work; Amy, the young and beautiful trophy wife, desperate for affection. Their relationship appears strained. Locating to the village where Amy was born and raised, is a last ditch effort for the Sumners to get things working again. Subsequentially, this proves to be a mistake, with Amy's old flame Charlie Venner (Del Henney) is around and still harbouring feelings for her. Venner's complete lack of respect for their marriage being unashamedly on display from the offset. Foolishly, Charlie is hired to help speed up the urgent work needed at the Sumner's farm. A leering Norman Scutter (Ken Hutchison), who also lusts for Amy, and odious rat catcher Chris Cawsey (Jim Norton) have taken too long to finish repairing the farm roof at the Sumner's residence.

A very clear cut of yin and yang can be seen with the characters Tom Heddon (Peter Vaughan) and Major John Scott (T.P. McKenna). Heddon, being the drunken and oafish bully, while the Major being the closes thing to the local sheriff. In some ways, Straw Dogs is a Western; albeit being set in the South West of England. The disdain between these two characters is obvious on-screen. The pleasantries are short, abrupt and insincere. The equilibrium destroyed in the third act, leading to the siege on the Sumner's home.

Peckinpah was battling some serious demons during the film's production. Various interviews with cast and crew mention how the director was drinking heavily and seriously in ill health, one person describing it as"walking pneumonia". Actor, Ken Hutchison reflects on the time when Peckinpah would tell him to come drinking with him at 3:00am in Land's End. During filming, Peckinpah would swap his coffee thermos with one containing scotch. The producers were concerned enough to order a replacement director to lurk on the film set should Peckinpah be unable to continue with the production. It's a miracle Peckipah managed to complete the film, in all seriousness.

This explains how the controversial double rape scene was handled. According to Susan George, a relative unknown at the time, she felt understandably worried about shooting the controversial scene. Intimacy co-ordinators didn't exist in the Seventies, and Peckinpah's withholding what he required from her, resulted with George threatening to quit from the film. What unfolds on film is a deeply unpleasant watching experience; then again such a traumatising experience always is. The sexual assault upon her by Venner is portrayed as being ambiguous, making it problematic. Amy's appears to be enjoying it in some instances. The scene is intercut with a pathetic looking David alone and abandoned at the hunt engineered by Venner to separate the couple. What's less of a grey area is the brutal second rape by Scutter, with Venner pinning Amy down during the horrific process.

Ironically, it's not the rape of his wife which turns the timid David Sumner into a shotgun wielding protector (he's unaware of it, after all), it's his deep seated urge to protect an unknown he's taken into his care after hitting him with his car. The stranger in question being local weirdo and possible nonce Henry Niles (David Warner, uncredited) fleeing from the scene after accidentally killing Heddon's daughter. When the whereabouts of Niles are revealed, Heddon and his drunken vigilante mob, consisting of the very same yokels who've wrought hell upon the Sumners, descend upon the Sumner's home. The result is a violent and drunken siege, which almost comes across as surreal at times, with David no longer running away, "This is where I live. This is me. I will not allow violence against this house." It also reveals just how different David and Amy really, along with the extent of the deterioration of their marriage. In one instance, when Scutter invades Amy's bedroom, she yells for both David and Charlie to help her.

Adapted from Gordon Williams's 1969 book The Siege of Trencher's Farm, Peckinpah made some major changes (e.g. the omission of the couple's daughter from the film adaptation), which angered the author. Amusingly, Peckinpah considered the book as "drowning in your own vomit" and went on record with saying, "I thinks Mr. Williams has a penchant for his own work. I don't." Furthermore, Peckinpah continued to explore his trademark themes centred around masculinity and violence. Hence, what would make such a timid and diminutive intellectual like David Sumner finally snap and smash a man's brains in with an iron poker while Scottish bagpipes are blaring in the background? This isn't a scenario that manifests spontaneously, and that's the beauty of Straw Dogs. The intense violence is built up thanks to a variety of nuanced verbal exchanges before they become physical. Which makes Straw Dogs an incredible ticking time bomb of a film, even after half a century.

Peckinpah's direction creates a sense of nihilism throughout, tainting the idyllic beauty of the Cornish locale. With the exception of possibly the Major, there aren't any real good guys within the film. Everyone appears to be portrayed as either deeply vile or completely damaged goods; including the Sumners. This makes Straw Dogs a pessimistic film, but a deeply engrossing one, however. Essentially, a film which requires a certain frame of mind, and not something to watch on the whim.

Ironically, Peckinpah wasn't the only American auteur to brings plenty of film controversy to the Great Britain that year, Stanley Kubrick would unleash a bit of the old ultra violence with his dystopian film A Clockwork Orange (1971). The two films would often draw comparisons, and were both subsequentially banned. However, given just how much Peckipah was always obsessed with the male machismo, I personally find Ted Kotcheff's seminal Australian thriller Wake in Fright (1971) a more fitting partner to Straw Dogs. They would also make for a suitable film double-bill. Can't comment on the Straw Dogs (2011) remake, as I never bothered with it.

Classic British thriller.

Picks of 2005

The mid point of the Noughties was when we said hello to YouTube, goodbye to Ronnie Barker, and hello again to The Doctor.

A few film picks I enjoyed from 2005, or grown on me since then:

Batman Begins (Christopher Nolan)

Corpse Bride (Mike Johnson, Tim Burton)

The Descent (Neil Marshall)

A History of Violence (David Cronenberg)

Hostel (Eli Roth)

House of Wax (Jaume Collet-Serra)

Lady Vengeance (Park Chan-wook)

Land of the Dead (George A. Romero)

Lord of War (Andrew Niccol)

Sin City (Frank Miller, Robert Rodriguez)

S.P.I: Kill Zone (Wilson Yip)

Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith (George Lucas)

Transporter 2 (Louis Letterier)

V for Vendetta (James McTeigue)

Wolf Creek (Gregg McLean)

Glaring Blindspots: 

Noroi: The Curse (Kōji Shiraishi), A Bittersweet Life (Kim Jee-woon), Jarhead (Sam Mendes), Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (Shane Black), The Proposition (John Hilcoat).

Dada Debaser Notes:

• Critics list Michael Haneke's Caché as one of the greatest films from 2005 - and of the decade, for that matter. It's too insufferably middle class and uppity for me to ever watch again in one sitting and nowhere near as good as watching Paris Hilton's death in the House of Wax remake.
• Comic book movies were already oversaturated by this year; well before Disney's MCU came along. However, film adaptations of alternative comic books (History of Violence, Sin City [peak era Rosario Dawson and Jessica Alba!!!] and V for Vendetta) were a refreshing change and examples of not everything needing to be based on recognisable superheroes.
• The Servants' Cells would feature in both Sin City's trailer and in a scene from The Transporter 2. Fortunately, they're both of the instrumental version and not the one with the horrible singing.
• The passage of time has made me more accepting of Eli Roth's very early work. Additionally, film critic David Edelstein would first coin the term torture porn when referring to Hostel in a New York Magazine article the following year.
• Count me in as one of the few persons on the planet who thinks Land of the Dead is George A. Romero's last great film. Great soundtrack, too:

Reinhold Heil & Johnny Klimek - To Canada

Land of the Dead (OST) | 2005

 

PACO DC · To Canada

What an Excellent Day for an Iconoclasm

The Demon (Brunello Rondi, 1963)

Alarm bells tend to ring for me whenever a film is labelled as neorealism. There's nothing remotely real about them for me. Hence, going into Brunello Rondi's The Demon (AKA Il Demonio, 1963) came with a degree of hesitation. Thankfully, the frequent Federico Fellini (AKA Tinto Brass without all the smut) collaborator managed to bypass my defences with a compelling and virtual documentary like film set in the peasant confines of Lucania, Southern Italy. The Demon distinguishes itself from the cut and paste Bava-esque gothic horrors from this era by drawing a series of damning parallels between peasant superstitions to that of the Catholic church. The film would subsequently be banned by the Italian censors. A huge shame, as it's an excellent film from the Italian horror canon of the 1960s.

Allegedly based on a "recent, tragic true story" The Demon tells the tale of Purificazione (Daliah Lahvi), Purif for short, a beautiful peasant woman who is driven to madness and obsession after being given the push from her lover Antonio (Frank Wolff). Antonio is something of a player, as he's been seeing Purif on the side whilst engaged to another woman (a monumental downgrade in the looks department). The rejected woman's behaviour results with her becoming increasingly ostracised by both her superstitious family and Lucania's townsfolk. One example has her throwing a dead cat outside Antonio's home, making everyone think she is might be a witch or possibly possessed by the Devil. 

What's engrossing about The Demon is witnessing how the bizarre and superstitious customs of the townspeople are being equally as disturbing as Purif's actions. Before even getting to consecrate their marriage, Antonio and his bride are made to wait outside their bedroom while the elders prepare the room. A scythe is placed under the newly wed's bed ("to cut Death's legs."), while dried raisins are scattered in the form of a cross over the sheets to absorb any evil. Another scene involves Purif and other folk carrying heavy rocks to the town centre to metaphorically unload their sins. Each individual confessing their sin; from stealing a chicken, to having incestuous desires with their children. What a messed up town.

With such a restrictive and highly superstitious belief system, this makes Purif a sympathetic character in The Demon to a degree, as she is constantly treated cruelly by others for being perceived as evil. This is strikingly similar to Florinda Balkon's tragic witch lady from Lucio Fulci's Don't Torture a Duckling (1972). At one point, Purif is accused of straying the soul of a sick boy from drinking water leading to his death. She is beaten by her father. In another instance she is hog-tied and raped by a shepherd. A revered, local shaman is equally as bad as he sexually assaults her while masquerading in attempting to rid her demonic possession. These terrible events culminate to an unforgettable scene where Purif is desperately given the exorcism treatment by a Catholic priest in a church. Lavi's dancing experience pays off, as she spider walks for what is perhaps the most disturbing point in the film. Possibly inspiring the infamous deleted scene from William Friedkin's horror masterpiece in The Exorcist (1973).

Daliah Lavi's exotic looks and powerhouse performance are an irrevocable eye opener. Her role in Mario Bava's beautifully gothic and supernatural S&M The Whip and the Body (1963) was a real standout amongst her obviously-there-as-eye-candy roles elsewhere. Numerous camp '60s films such as James Bond cash-in O.G. Casino Royale (1967) and James Bond clone Some Girls Do (1969) are perfect examples of her talents being wasted, in all honesty. The Israeli soldier turned actress was essentially seen as the Gal Gadot of her era, sadly. In The Demon, however, she at least flexes some real acting prowess, fortunately. Lavi is mesmerising in her role. According to the late actress, this was her favourite role in her film career and understandably so.

Other than Daliah Lavi, American actor, Frank Wolff is the only other actor with the most screen time, as he is both the catalyst and antagonist in the film. Considering how insane Purif is, to the point that the townsfolk believe she is possessed, it's hard to be sympathetic to his character whilst he is taking advantage of her during her worsening state. Wolff appeared in countless Italian films; particularly spaghetti westerns. Perhaps his most recognisable role is his moustachioed Brett McBain, in a harrowing scene where he and his family are massacred by Henry Fonda's gang in Sergio Leone's all-time classic Once Upon a Time in the West (1968). Personally, I'm even more traumatised from the scene where he's turned on by Nieves Navarro seductively eating grilled fish in Luciano Ercoli's giallo Death Walks on High Heels (1971). (I'm totally aware the grammar of that film title is wrong. Blame the film makers!)

Carlo Bellero's lush black and white cinematography in The Demon manages to capture the ambience of Italian gothic horror while his documentary style footage of various religious traditions and customs appear like they're lifted from a vintage mondo film. That would explain why this formerly obscure Italian folk horror is sometimes tagged as neorealism, in some respect. A far more successful blending of two filmic treatments in comparison to Luigi Bazzoni and Franco Rossellini's convoluted, rustic giallo The Possessed (1965), which is obviously inspired by the look of Michelangelo Antonioni's films.

Didn't have any major gripes with The Demon, but I did find the whole convent scene before the climax of the film a tad trivial. Purif's previous run-ins with the clergy were effectively realised prior, so her brief time with the fearful nuns felt like unnecessary padding. Still, Purif's run-in with the nuns does result in some breathtaking scenery outside of the convent. The scene where Purif walks through a barb wire fence around a sacred tree being obviously symbolic.

As a staunch defender of exploitation films in general, it's somewhat disappointing Rondi went that direction. Any director who delivers a thought-provoking, subversive and beautifully crafted film like The Demon and to later helm sexploitation films like Sex Life in a Women's Prison (1974) and Black Emanuelle, White Emanuelle (1976) kind of missed their chance at being a world class director, to be honest.

Another gem from Severin's legendary All the Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium of Folk Horror Vol. 1; a box set that's still too expensive for me. However, I have managed to cover some great films from the collection which I eventually discovered down the line: Alison's Birthday (1981) Eyes of Fire (1983) and Celia (1989). The Demon is objectively the best film I've watched so far, which makes the set even more desirable than before. It's also another fine example why physical media is so important, since The Demon is rescued from relative obscurity and readily available for today's film aficionados with a penchant for world cinema and folk horror.

Viewings: February 2025

The predictable winter doldrum and real life commitments took their stranglehold this month. Still, two oldies, but new to me films, earned my appreciation during this period. Kiyoshi Kurosawa's fantastic, psychological thriller Cure and Joseph H. Lewis's noir trendsetter Gun Crazy were my personal highlights.

I also reviewed Dellamorte Dellamore and Singapore Sling; two avant garde European flicks from the '90s that no self respecting genre movie fan should overlook.

Also managed to fit the entirety of the final season of Cobra Kai over the course of a weekend. A fitting farewell to Johnny Lawrence and a show which expertly appealed to generations old and new.

 

Film:

Gun Crazy (Joseph H. Lewis, 1950)*

Streetwalkin' (Joan Freeman, 1985)

Singapore Sling (Nikos Nikolaidis, 1990)

Dellamorte Dellamore AKA Cemetery Man (Michele Soavi, 1994)

Cure (Kiyoshi Kurosawa, 1997)*

Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes (Junta Yamaguchi, 2020)*

Underwater (William Eubanks, 2020)

The Brutalist (Brady Corbet, 2024/2025)*

Companion (Drew Hancock, 2025)*

The Gorge (Scott Derrickson, 2025)*

 

Television:

The Avengers ‘The Positive Negative Man’ (Robert Day, 1967)*

Cobra Kai: Season 6 (Various, 2024/2025)*

 

*First time viewings.

 

Dada Debaser Notes:

• As entertaining as Streetwalkin' is, it pales in comparison to Vice Squad (1982), an even sleazier and more outrageous crime thriller, with Wings Hauser as the unforgettable Ramrod, the psycho pimp.
• Despite its flaws, I really like Underwater a lot. Sea monsters and K. Stew channelling Sigourney Weaver in her underwear, make this a very enjoyable ninety minute B-movie.
• Speaking of Sigourney Weaver, The Gorge attempts a mishmash of genres and winds up being a mess. Whose idea was it to shove a heavy romance plot in a sci-fi/horror plot and release it for Valentine's Day, I'll never know, but I did enjoy Anya Taylor Joy's Ramones look and sniping to Blitzkrieg Bop.
• Sophie Thatcher might be a rising star, but tedious millennial writing make Companion the most eye rolling and inferior entry in the recent spate of killer, lady droid films. Much prefer the M3GAN Fox one, to be honest.
• The Droste effect featured in Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes is great conceptually, but the gimmick runs dry after multiple repetitions. Despite its short time, the film still manages to lose its steam.
• Brady Corbet's shameless Oscar bait, The Brutalist, is a three and a half hour slog I never want to revisit ever again. I wonder if the title meant Adrian Brody's architectural style, or Guy Pearce assaulting Brody's buttress, though. 

On a final note: R.I.P. to screen legend Gene Hackman!

You're All Right, Lawrence

Cobra Kai (Josh Heald, Jon Hurwitz & Hayden Shlossberg, 2018-2025)

Intentionally waited for the last part of the sixth and final season to be available before binging my way through all fifteen episodes. Whose idea was it to split the entire season into three parts and stagger it over nearly a year? Netflix pulled a similar stunt with the second season of Squid Game (2024) and it left many folk feeling short changed as it was nothing more than a glorified half season, than a proper one. But I digress, Cobra Kai Season Six is composed of fifteen episodes of teen drama and action that mostly delivers on its ridiculous premise, and most importantly, is a fitting send off to an Eighties intellectual property which succeeded in going forward where many of its peers failed.

It's not all perfect, however. There were a bunch of filler episodes in the final season; particularly most of Part One. Ideally, the whole season could have been streamlined into the previous one, but it's hard to hate on it when the other parts picked up the slack so well.

Season Six's most noteworthy moments (spoilers ahead):

• The Cobra Kai jungle cave reminding me of the Dagobah scene from The Empire Strikes Back (1980).
• William Zabka's performance during the Johnny and Kreese making up scene.
• Hawk's stars and stripes mohawk. 
• Kenny shitting himself in front of everyone.
• Surprised Hilary Swank's Julie Pierce from The Next Karate Kid (1994) didn't appear considering practically everyone else from the movies was in Cobra Kai at some point, including Darryl Vidal.
• Danny LaRusso being kidnapped and put in a dog cage in Barcelona. Genuinely thought this was going to wind up like the Hostel films. 
• The awful CGI Mr. Miyagi during Danny LaRusso's dream sequence with the skeletons. So unnecessary.
• John Kreese putting a final end to Terry Silver's villainous shenanigans and his final redemption on the yacht. Those final words "No!" and "Mercy!" So cartoonish, yet so satisfying.
• The other karate schools in the Sekai Taikai tournament. Namely, Iron Dragons, Furia de Pantera and Dublin Thunder.
• The epic brawl hilariously not being pulled from live television for nearly quarter of an hour, even after Kwan's death.
• Kim Da-eun murdering her evil Pai Mei looking grandfather.
• The cheap-as-chips Rocky training montage.
  
• Johnny Lawrence and Sensei Wolf's beef kicking off over steak at a food buffet.
• Dimitri and Hawk creating an ultra realistic, virtual fight simulation with some ancient Alienware PC for Robby's training.
• Iron Dragons' Axel Kovačević essentially being a Poundland Ivan Drago and Zara Malik being an obnoxious Instagram influencer.
• Tory, Miguel and Johnny bowling into the Sekai Taikai wearing Cobra Kai Gis again with AC/DC's Thunderstruck in the background.
• The expectation of Johnny Lawrence performing Danny LaRusso's trademark Crane Kick, but he sweeps the leg instead.

Truth be told, with so many characters in the show, it was always going to be hard to see each of them getting a truly satifying final moment from them. However, Cobra Kai did achieve some satisfying resolutions for its core characters. Obviously stoked with Johnny Lawrence finally getting an ending that he deserved, along with his first student Miguel getting to shine in those last remaining episodes. Even supporting characters like Dimitri and Hawk being like nerds again was satisfying. 

Make no mistake, Cobra Kai was never meant to be on the same level as top tier TV shows like The Sopranos (1999-2007). It totally embraced its cheesy Eighties factor unapologetically, entertaining me for the majority of its six season run. For that reason, Cobra Kai has been one of the most fun shows I've watched in recent years.

Guns Don't Kill People, Cowgirls Do

Gun Crazy (Joseph H. Lewis, 1950)

Went into Joseph H. Lewis's crime thriller largely oblivious to its prestigious film noir reputation. A status posthumously given long after its initial flop. Gun Crazy (AKA Deadly is the Female, 1950), a B-movie from gambling siblings turned film producers the King Brothers, would eventually be discovered by cinephiles as a subversive indie film that was ahead of its time. I honestly thought it was going to be more of an exploitation offering, along the lines of The Violent Years (1956), to be perfectly honest.

Preceding with the young, formative years of one Barton "Bart" Tare, Gun Crazy depicts various instances where the young lad has a more than keen obsession with guns. This unhealthy interest leads to him smashing the window of a gun store to steal a hand gun. Caught by the law, he's placed on trial. Both his sister and friends recollect moments where young Bart had an aversion for killing. From feeling repulsed with himself after shooting a chick with a bb gun, to refusing to kill a mountain lion caught in his sights at the behest of his friends. Nevertheless, the kid is sent to a reform school and subsequently joins the military teaching marksmanship.

Now an adult, Bart (John Dall) meets up with his old friends and they visit a travelling carnival. It's there where he meets trickshot cowgirl Annie Laurie Starr (Peggy Cummins). It's an instant attraction between the two. The sexual chemistry between the pair as they show off their gun skills, putting each other's lives at dangerous risk, is off the hook. For anyone with an above room temperature IQ, it's plainly obvious Annie is a nutcase and in the Danger Zone. Nevertheless, Bart briefly winds up working at the same carnival to be with Annie and to earn a dollar. It's there where the sideshow clown, Bluey Bluey, lays the most profound pearls of wisdom which go unnoticed by Bart:

Bluey Bluey: It's just that some guys are born smart about women and some guys are born dumb.

Bart Tare: Some guys are born clowns.

Bluey Bluey: You were born dumb. 

 

After the gun loving lovebirds quit the carnival life and get hitched, it's not long where Annie’s expensive tastes leave them hungry and broke. And thus, a series of robberies and heists turns the newlyweds into America's most wanted outlaws.

Adapted from MacKinlay Kantor's short story of the same name, the screen play would be given the script doctor treatment by the black listed communist Dalton Trumbo (credited as Millard Kaufman). Trumbo would turn Kantor's story into a Bonnie and Clyde style tale, laden with sexual symbolism and plenty of gun toting violence. What's also noteworthy about the film's writing is how it differentiates the two characters' codas despite their obvious love for firearms. Bart may be an expert crack shot, but is awkwardly uncomfortable in committing any potential harm to anyone throughout the story. Meanwhile, Annie lacks any real kind of moral compass to keep her head straight; killing anyone who might piss her off or obstruct her. Not only a femme fatale, but an actual psychopath. This obviously results in a destructive path for the pair. Utimately leading to a thrilling and surreal finale set around a misty swamp, which had me thinking the pair were in Heaven for a split second.

Other than its sexually suggestive content, which must have drawn some controversy for its time, what makes Gun Crazy so revolutionary are some of its innovative filming techniques. The most obvious being the incredible long take shot in the back seat of our protagonists' car, before and after a bank robbery. The scene was shot with a camera mounted on a horse saddle and moved on a greased plank of wood. A makeshift steady cam. The viewer becoming an unwitting accomplice to the off-screen robbery. This ingenious scene was a result of not having the budget nor the time to film inside a bank setting. A great example of the humble B-movie creating cinematic gold.

Perhaps an overly familiar crime saga seventy-five years later, but it did pave the way for other outlaw couples in film. Breathless (1960) by the French New Wave ponce Jean Luc Goddard is a notable example. Both films feature doomed love stories and film making innovations. I wonder if Peggy Cummins's beret was what sealed the deal for the overrated auteur. Jim McBride's superior 1983 remake would reference Gun Crazy by having its two lovebirds hide from the law inside a cinema screening the film noir.

Always feel compelled in rooting for the underdog in most films. In the case of Gun Crazy, it's not only applicable for its outlaw couple running from the law and their thrilling and tension filled heists, but it's also for its incredibly modern film making style. It definitely deserves its reputation for being ahead of its time. Therefore, Gun Crazy earns the Dada Debaser seal of approval.

Murder in Mind

Cure (Kiyoshi Kurosawa, 1997)

The success of Jonathan Demme's The Silence of the Lambs (1991) set off a particular wave of psychological crime thrillers in the Nineties. The protagonists were often characterised with a mental hang up, such as a crippling trauma which needed to be overcome in order to finally take down the film's monstrous antagonist. These films were less action orientated and more adjacent to the horror genre. A major selling point was the killer's twisted methodology and his grotesque crimes. Kiyoshi Kurosawa's slow burner Cure (1997) is a stellar entry in this scene. The selling point being the killer supplanting  murder into the mind of others via his power of suggestion.

Tokyo detective Kenichi Takabe (Kōji Hashimoto) is tasked with investigating a string of murders which have plagued the city. The crimes are perpetrated by seemingly random people, who subsequently slash the carotid arteries, leaving a carved ‘X' on the victims’ necks. These actions are barely remembered by their assailants after they're caught. With the aid of Shin Sakuma (Tsuyoshi Ujiki), a hospital psychiatrist, the investigative pair make some headway discovering the random killings are brought upon by a hypnotist. The cool and calm Takabe also has to deal with his wife Fumie (Anna Nagakawa) succumbing to a deteriorating mental disorder. Both the case and his wife's illness are taking an immense toll on the detective.

As for Cure's heinous antagonist, Kunio Mamiya (Hasato Hagiwara), the dishevelled and mousy looking individual is introduced early in the film. A lost man on the beach, appearing to be suffering from amnesia when meeting his latest victim. With the aid of his lighter or spilt water, the drop out psychology student manages to hypnotise his prey before moving on. Thus, turning these random individuals who have had the misfortune in conversing with him into unwitting killers.

Despite some bloody scenes, Cure doesn't focus too long on the killings. Instead, it's the disturbing and uneasy build-up to these crimes which Kurosawa excels in capturing on film. One scene in particular, set outside a police box, shows the chilling act of a police officer gunning down his colleague so matter of factly. This is all filmed in daylight with one fixed point of view from a medium distance. The affect of which makes the whole scenario all the more disturbing, as it looks so mundane.

Cure possesses heaps of foreboding atmosphere thanks to an excellent combination of Tokushô Kikumura's gloomy and distant cinematography and a sound department able to make the drone of a tumble dryer sound oppressively frightening. Although preceding the J-horror boom by a couple of years, Cure's palpable atmosphere and pallid colour palette are arguably influential to the scene. The dark and flat visuals are pitch perfect with its subject matter. The production design of the various interior locations range from squalid, to urban hellholes. Thus, Cure shares some obvious common elements with David Fincher's Se7en (1995) not only with its premise.

Kurosawa has a great handle on showcasing Mamiya's power over others, not just with his hypnotic powers. The diminutive amnesiac can command a room with his sheer presence. A great example is the power struggle between him and Takabe in a darkly lit hospital room. During their scene, the antagonist manages to turn the tables as to has the greatest stature and command of the room. The camera composition frames the detective as the sick patient, while Mamiya slyly becomes the authoritarian figure.

Kind of shocked that Kiyoshi Kurosawa, a director associated with churning out low budget V-Cinema (Japan's straight-to-video) films like Door III (1996), managed to craft a gem of a cinematic thriller somewhere in between. Cure would be his belated break out success in international circles. The director would subsequently deliver the acclaimed, apocalyptic J-horror Pulse (2001), containing a similar look and under your skin vibe to Cure. A good film, but it's not one that I rate as highly compared to Cure; malevolent spirts from the internet don't exactly have the same impact for me as a serial killer Kenny Craig supplanting murderous thoughts into people's minds.

Embarrassed to admit that Cure is a new discovery for me. It's the type of psychological thriller that develops in a rich and intelligent fashion, without unfolding like some hackneyed police procedural which is so common today. A slow burn shocker that's so palpable, that it lingers on well after the closing credits; especially after that final scene. If you've seen it, then you know what I'm referring to. 

Highly recommended.

All the Little Devils Are Proud of Umbrella Entertainment

Wake in Fright | Official Restoration Trailer

Tedd Kotcheff  | 1971

 

With the exception of Kino Lorber's forthcoming release of the notorious Ilsa films on 4K UHD, the most sought after home release this year has to be Ted Kotcheff's classic, Aussie nightmare Wake in Fright (1971).

It's been a long wait, but one that seems to be worth it with just how superb Umbrella Entertainment's restoration seems to look so far. A significant contrast to the yellow colour grading of the film when it was released on Blu-ray in 2009. And to think, I always thought it looked that way to emphasise the scorching heat and all that beer in the film.

Hopefully, a more local distribution label will release this restoration around my neck of the woods, as I honestly can't justify paying a small fortune for any film, no matter how great it is, to be shipped from the other side of the world.

The Slinging Detective

Singapore Sling (Nikos Nikolaidis, 1990)

Preceding the Greek Weird Wave movement, which rose to prominence in the late 2000s, Nikos Nikolaidis's thoroughly depraved Singapore Sling (1990) can be considered as ahead of its time. Ought to add, I've largely found Greek Weird Wave (which turned Yorgos Lanthimos into a popular name amongst the kino massive) a pretentious and farcical movement, thanks to its trademark stilted deliveries and awkward hipster humour. Singapore Sling happens to be something of an outlier in this regard, as it manages to have its own idiosyncratic charm and identity without it being eye-rollingly trying too hard. As a result, it happens to be a rewatchable entry in extreme cinema rather than a one time endurance test.

Singapore Sling, or to use the literal English translation of its original title - The Man Who Loved A Corpse, takes obvious inspiration from Otto Preminger's celebrated noir Laura (1944). Preminger's film has  Dana Andrews's private dick searching for the killer of Gene Tierney's character, before a big twist surfaces later in the movie. Nikolaidis has Singapore Sling, the eponymous, Greek detective searching for his lover Laura. The sleuth stumbles upon a bizarre mother and daughter disposing of a body during a torrential downpour, who might know something about Laura's whereabouts.

Many familiar tropes and cliches associated with film noir are prominent in the film. The most obvious is the titular character being the detective investigating the disappearance of his sweetheart. From the harsh black and white contrast lighting, to Sling's first person narration (albeit in Greek), there's a level of technical understanding for the genre's craft. Without the odd giveaway, such as a very obvious '80s looking turntable, you would be forgiven for mistaking the film as being from a much earlier era. That is of course if depraved movies of the Forties and Fifties were on par with this back then. It's what makes Singapore Sling so anachronistically abstract.

Be warned; Singapore Sling definitely falls under the extreme cinema umbrella. This is a film which isn't shy in showing numerous acts of sexual depravity like BDSM and various bodily fluids. There are wince inducing moments of vomiting during a greedy feast scene, but perhaps the film's piece de resistance is the scene involving a kiwi fruit. Without delving into any graphic detail, you'll never see the fuzzy fruit in the same way again. Ever.

What's intriguing about the film, for me at least, is the relationship between Daughter AKA Laura (Meredyth Herold) and Mother (Michele Valley). Given how intentionally unreliable and contradictory facts and details are presented, you aren't certain if the characters are related, or if it's all role play. This does add another layer to the film, which sends the mind racing into overtime attempting to make sense of the characters.

Performance wise, both Herold and Valley are superbly animated and quirky as the psycho mother and daughter. They are what makes this such a watchable film. Thanassoulis plays it lifelessly deadpan, but there's more to his character as the film progresses. He's plainly not a third wheel in the film's plot. To be fair, Singapore Sling's group psychopathy has a lot in common with Freddie Francis's absolutely stellar Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny & Girly (1970), another film that I adore involving a role playing dysfunctional family.

Definitely not for everyone and obviously one for the sickos. A technically stylish and well crafted film considering how depraved it is from the jump. It's oddly strange how various tropes and cliches associated with film noir are grafted into such a perverse art-house film. This make it all the more audacious. A  transgressive film, and one that's grown on me even more over the years.

Amazingly, Singapore Sling is available to watch for free and uncut on Nikos Nikolaidis's YouTube channel. How it hasn't been taken down by Google, I'll never know. However, I do welcome it being there for any inquisitive film fanatics daring enough to check it out. More recently, Singapore Sling got the lavish boutique Blu-Ray treatment, courtesy of Vinegar Syndrome, which I ended up purchasing for my own film library.

Of Death, of Love

Dellamorte Dellamore (Michele Soavi, 1994)

Largely considered as the last great Italian Horror by film critics and genre enthusiasts, Michele Soavi's darkly comic Dellamorte Delllamore (AKA Cemetery Man, 1994), is both a surreal and unconventional offering bound to frustrate and confuse anyone mistaken into thinking this would be another gory, flesh eating, Italian zombie flick in the vein of Zombi 2 (1979) or Burial Ground: The Nights of Terror (1981). While commonly described as an existential zombie film, it's only partially accurate, as the zombies, or "returners" as called by the film's protagonist, are only prominent in the first half of the film. The remainder is a descent into madness, where the living are the bigger focus of the story. Culminating with an ambiguous ending, that's open to all sorts of interpretation.

Gianni Romni's screenplay is an adaptation of the novel of the same name, penned by author and comic book writer Tiziano Sclavi. The book was a prequel to Dylan Dog, a cult Italian comic storied around an English, paranormal investigator. Artist and co-creator, Angelo Stano based his on the titular character on the English thespian Rupert Everett, after seeing him in the drama Another Country (1984). Flattered by the use of his image and the general premise of Dellamorte Dellamore, Everett's eagerness and involvement in the film's pre-production came very early on.

On the outskirts of Buffalora, a rustic town in northern Italy, the chronically depressed Francesco Dellamorte is the caretaker of the nearby cemetery, which is besieged with the select undead who rise from their graves seven days after their burial. The thirty-something protagonist, who has more in common with an emo teenager, is accompanied by an almost mute (the only thing he utters is, "Gna!" and in typical Lassie fashion, its meaning is understood by Dellamorte), spherically-shaped manchild known as Gnaghi (François Hadji-Lazaro). Together, they deal with the returners like a humorous odd couple burdened with the most mundane of tasks. Interestingly, Dellamorte is a bit of a pretentious prat with his depressed poetic drivel and confessing to only reading the telephone book. His cellar dwelling companion, however, likes nothing more than consuming plates of spaghetti with bread and watching war footage on his beloved TV.

Their dynamic changes with the introductions of She (the stone cold, Finnish Italian fox Anna Falchi). The buxom bombshell plays three different, but identical looking women (technically four if you count her returner form). The first is a beautiful, young widow with a penchant for the ossuary. The second is the second mayor's secretary with a fear of male genitalia. The final version of She is a college student who turns out to be a prostitute. All three of these incarnations have a profound effect on Francesco Dellamorte's mental state. Ultimately, turning him into a man who no longer kills the dead, but the living. As shown when the Grim Reaper appears and tells Dellamorte, "Stop killing the dead. They're mine. If you don't want the dead coming back to life, why don't you just kill the living, shoot them in the head? Are you listening to me?" Indeed he does, as he eventually drives into town and goes on a killing spree; shooting the local youths who mocked him for supposedly being impotent.

Structurally, Dellamorte Dellamore is top heavy (not a pun on Falchi's fantastic topless scenes*) as the first incarnation of She consumes the first hour of the film. The other versions of the alluring femme and their impact in the film, run far shorter. They're all pivotal, however, as they're key triggers to the decline of Dellamorte's deteriorating mental state. There is of course Gnagi's sideplot, where he falls for the career obsessed mayor's daughter. Dead or alive; she's still only fourteen years old, regardless of Gnagi believing he is also a child. Back on topic, the film does manage to work really well, despite its absurdity. It's largely due to its uniqueness and its surreal, dreamlike quality; everything feels and behaves so out-of-wack, that any flaw might come across as intentional by Michele Soavi. A notable reason why Dellamorte Dellamore is given the clichéd description as being Lynchian. Although, Italain horror has always had its own eccentricities and general weirdness well before the term was ever coined.

In terms of the film's visual style, it's a veritable mix of vintage Sam Raimi and early Peter Jackson; particularly many of the nocturnal graveyard scenes. Mauro Marchetti's stunning cinematography easily elevates the film above most other '90s horror films, let alone the barely functioning Italian horror industry at the time. Soavi, a fan of classic fine art and recreating them in his films, creates a homage to one during the ossuary scene, where Dellamorte has his head wrapped in a scarf, passionately kissing a veiled She; an obvious reference to Rene Magritte's The Lovers II. Other films also get the referential treatmentl  the most blatant being the snow globe from Orson Welles's Citizen Kane (1941). A totally obscure one, is Dellamorte constantly mistaken for an engineer; a reference to David Hemming's character in Dario Argento's Deep Red (1975). Of course, Soavi was no stranger to referencing grand pieces of art with his directorial debut, the Euro-slasher Stagefright (1987); a classic horror in its own right.

Perhaps the film's greatest achievement is Rupert Everett being in it, playing it thoroughly emo, yet defying the odds and being the superb lead. Easily his best film. Witnessing him shoot dumdum bullets into the undead while acting thoroughly morose is how I would imagine Ash J. William would be if he was a poncey English bloke. Everett is also the common element that keeps the film flowing and compelling, regardless of its incoherent plot. He bridges all the on-screen insanity from one scene to the next, from his comedic scenes with Hadji-Lazaro's Gnagi, to his doomed romances with Falchi's multiples of She; it's thoroughly entertaining.

Bottom line - Dellamorte Dellamore is a classic, yet sadly perfect swan song as the last great Italian horror. It's also tragic Soavi never helmed any other theatrical films afterwards and retreated into TV work, as he stepped out of the shadow of being Dario Argento's protégé and proved to possess his own unique style and talent. The Italian film industry was in dire straits at the time, and all the great directors were well past their primes, which makes Soavi an important name in the canon of Italian horror for being responsible for its last great entry.

*Can't link any of the multiple screenshots I took of Anna Falchi's topless scenes as Imgur deleted them. The philistines.