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.

Viewings: January 2025

Started off the year focusing on rewatching a bunch of titles. Still managed to fit some new-to-me films, however.

Major highlights were Leslie Stevens's surreal, folk horror Incubus and Robert Eggers's remake of Nosferatu.

 

Film:

Phantom Lady (Robert Siodmak, 1944)*

Where the Sidewalk Ends (Otto Preminger, 1950)*

At Midnight I’ll Take Your Soul (José Mojica Marins, 1964)

Incubus (Leslie Stevens, 1966)*

Up the Chastity Belt (Bob Kellett, 1971)

The Devil (Andrzej Żuławski, 1972)*

The Night of the Devils (Giorgio Ferroni, 1972)

Scream… and Die! AKA The House That Vanished (José Ramón Larraz, 1973)*

Vampyres (José Ramón Larraz, 1974)

The Silent Partner (Daryl Duke, 1978)

Dressed to Kill (Brian De Palma, 1980)

Roadgames (Richard Franklin, 1981)

Knife Under the Throat (Claude Mulot, 1986)*

Juice (Ernest R. Dickerson, 1992)

Naked (Mike Leigh, 1993)*

To Die For (Gus Van Sant, 1995)

The Lives of Others (Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, 2006)*

Polytechnique (Denis Villeneuve, 2009)*

YellowBrickRoad (Jesse Holland, Andy Mitton, 2010)*

A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night (Ana Lily Amirpour, 2014)

Train to Busan (Yeon Sang-ho, 2016)

Godzilla Minus One (Takashi Yamazaki, 2023)

Nosferatu (Robert Eggers, 2024/2025)*

Television:

Elvis Presley: '68 Comeback Special (Steve Binder, 1968)*

Doomwatch - Season 1: Episodes 1 & 4 (Kit Pedler, Gerry Davis, 1970)*

Top of the Pops - Episode #34.3 (Anne Gilchrist, 1997)

*First time viewings.

Dada Debaser Notes:

• Highlights of Siodmak's film noir Phantom Lady were the striking scenes exemplifying his German Expressionistic roots, Ella Raines as the besotted secretary turned amateur sleuth, and an erotically charged drum solo. Overall, a decent film.
  
• Preminger's Where the Sidewalk Ends can be casually summed up as a proto-Bad Lieutenant. Dana Andrews plays the rogue cop with a penchant for roughing up thugs, because he doesn't want to be like his no-good old man. Gene Tierney is the enchanting smokeshow, who realistically ought to have ditched Andrews for his actions. Enjoyable, but I really wish it ended on a darker note to fit better.
  
• Everyone harps on about Żuławski's Possession (1981), and rightfully so, but rarely do I hear much about his other films. Found The Devil, a period drama/horror set during the Prussian invasion of Poland, a real slog to sit through, regrettably. Film wound up being banned by the Communist government; wouldn't be surprised it was because of it being so boring than politically subversive.
• It might not have aged as well as Deep Cover (1992) but Juice works as a perfect time capsule of music and fashions from the early '90s under the guise of a crime drama. Don't think I ever noticed some of the brief rap cameos like Special Ed before.
  
• Both The Lives of Others and Polytechnique deal with dark chapters in the '80s. Something else they have in common in their dark subject matter, is clichéd, Hollywood style character writing; turning them into almost derivative dramas, virtually sucking away their respective impact.
  
• Flabbergasted by all the praise for Leigh's poverty p0rn drama Naked. A deluge of tediously, long pseudo-intellectual monologues, conspiracy theories and misanthropic rants delivered by David Thewlis (looking a lot like Catweazle, I might add) become incredibly exhausting after a while. The rest of the cast play unbelievably moronic characters, but you do get Ewen Bremner as a foul mouthed, homeless Scot which is genuinely funny.
  
• Florence Guérin and Brigitte Lahaie are completely wasted in the misogynistic and sleazy French giallo (shouldn't it be jaune?) Knife Under the Throat. It's a thoroughly inept thriller in every sense. Both actresses would appear again the following year with the superior Faceless (1987). Watch that instead!

On a final note:

Eraserhead | 'In Heaven' scene

David Lynch | 1977

 

Schreck the Third

Nosferatu (Robert Eggers, 2024/2025)

You need balls of steel to remake a film property which has been engrained in popular culture for over a century. For Robert Eggers, Nosferatu (2024) has always been a passion project. It took fifty years for Werner Herzog to craft Nosferatu the Vampyre, his own personal take on F.W. Murnau's German Expressionist masterpiece Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror, and now, it's been almost as long since then for Eggers.

Eggers's The Witch (2015) was one of the greatest film debuts from the last decade and was a classic in its own right in the folk horror canon. He defied the dreaded sophomore slump with the Lovecraftian follow-up The Lighthouse (2019). While journos turned on The Northman (2022) with culture war think pieces, the Viking revenge saga ended up as your host's best film of 2022. All in all, these films cemented Eggers as an important auteur. Therefore, his revision of Nosferatu made it an eagerly anticipated title for many cinephiles. Now that it's out, the all important question rears its head: is it any good? Yes, but it's not without some serious flaws, however.

Arguably Eggers's greatest strength is his obsessive ability to bring verisimilitude to all his films. His history as a production designer explains this and shines through with his latest film. Nosferatu is without a shadow of a doubt a stunningly detailed film. From the costumes, sets and props, the film is visually sumptuous and mesmerising. The sequence where a horse-drawn carriage travels to Orlok's castle is like a mental sequence playing out in the mind of every gothic horror aficionado brought to life.

Eggers's Nosferatu has a distinctively different atmosphere from its predecessors. Whereas the previous two, which were inherently European in style, or to be more accurate, German, Eggers's version has the look and feel of a Hollywood production. That's not a slight at Jarin Blaschke's beautiful and almost monotone cinematography, but it does signify this is a more conventional beast. Delving deeper, both Murnau's and Herzog's films look far more natural, despite various camera and effects trickery (e.g. the use of slow motion and negative photography) Eggers's film, while gorgeous is stylised, controlled and artificial in contrast. It's far closer to what Francis Coppola attempted with his film Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992).

The most unique aspect of this updated Nosferatu, which separates it from previous versions, is the shift in making Lily Rose Depp's character, Ellen, the central protagonist. The emotional and psychological depth of the film, chiefly stems from her. The prologue shows her summoning an entity to rescue her from despair and loneliness. No surprise who answers her crying pleas from the darkness. The result is her sleepwalking and sharing a psychic bond with the film's monstrous villain.

Fast forward a few years and Ellen is newly wed to junior realtor Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult), which ultimate triggers the familiar plot of the film. Nosferatu is essentially a love triangle. There's a complexity to Ellen's character which demands a lot from Depp. A young woman both attracted and reviled by the undead antagonist. A sexual woman repressed by the conservative standards of the nineteenth century.  Depp claims she was inspired by Isabelle Adjani's performance in Possession (1981), who coincidentally played the heroine in Herzog's remake. It's a disturbing performance by the young actress, as you alarmingly witness her convulsing or being possessed. Thus, it results with the film being more sexually explicit than before.

However, the focus on Ellen does have some adverse affects on the rest of the film. Plot points, particularly those in the second act, feel neglected to a certain degree. Thomas's eventual escape from the castle and his journey home are both rushed, while the introduction of the film's Van Helsing figure, Prof. Albin Eberhart Von Franz (Willem Dafoe) comes too late into the film, although his eccentric levity is most welcome in the film. The Hardings, friends of the Hutters are flat characters; particularly Aaron Taylor-Johnson's pantomime acting as Freidrich, while their two children Clara and Louise (possibly referencing silent era stars Clara Bow and Louise Brooks) are there to foreshadow a particular scene later in the film. If you're at all familiar with the two previous versions of the film, then you're aware of how devastating the plague is upon the fictional German city of Wisburg. Here, it's surprisingly fleeting.

As a result of these issues, the pacing does very much drag at times. And so, as beautifully lavish as Nosferatu is, it does have a touch of the by-the-numbers-Jane-Austen-costume-drama spirit about it at times. Thankfully, Willem Dafoe's performance, along with Simon McBurney's utterly insane Herr Knock manage to keep it entertaining and interesting.

Bill Skarsgård's Orlok is distinctively different to the fairy tale monster played by Max Schreck and the existentially sullen Klaus Kinski. This is a different beast altogether, with a more muscular build and a deeply guttural masculine voice. While Skarsgård's Orlok did look like how I would imagine a zombie version of Jim Carrey's Dr. Robotnik would be, I did get use to him over the course of the film. Also, I wasn't too bothered by the moustache, as Bram Stoker's novel has always described Dracula as sporting one. Really liked Orlok's attire in the film. He definitely looked like he was dressed from an even older era than the rest of the cast members in their corsets and carrick coats. Interestingly, Skarsgård's Orlok behaves far differently to Schreck's and Kinki's portrayals. The revised Orlok is best described as the mentally abusive ex, as evident in this choice bit of dialogue:

Count Orlok: So you wish me to prove my enmity as well? I will leave you three nights. Tonight was the first. Tonight you denied yourself, and thereby, you suffer me to vanish up the lives of those you love.

Ellen Hutter: Denied myself? You revel in my torture.

Count Orlok: Upon the third night, you will submit, or he you call your husband shall perish by my hand.

Ellen Hutter: No!

Count Orlok: Till you bid me come shall you watch the world become as naught.

Despite its faults, Nosferatu makes amends with an enjoyable hunt for Count Orlok where the pace drastically picks up, with an excellent theme from composer Robin Carolan that reflects it. Of course, there's the incredible final moments of the film with a closing shot that before the closing credits that won't leave the memory anytime soon. Ultimately, Nosferatu ends on a positively high note.

According to Eggers, an extend cut of the film will be released when it becomes available on Blu-Ray and 4K UHD. Not sure how the additional material would benefit, considering the issues in the second act, but it will be interesting to see how different this version will be from the theatrical release. Perhaps this new cut might add further development to the various subplots.

If this was made by any other director not named Robert Eggers, I doubt I would be this critical. His three previous films were in a different tier, in my opinion. Regardless, I still found Nosferatu overall enjoyable.

The Wish List: Part 8

I've struck it lucky a few times with these wish lists; even predicting distribution labels correctly.

Here are five more films which desperately need some well earned Blu-Ray or 4K UHD love.

The Creeping Flesh (Freddie Francis, 1973)

For a Tigon production, The Creeping Flesh has all the hallmarks of a Hammer horror film: the gothic Victorian setting; veterans of the legendary film company making up a significant portion of the cast and crew (Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee being the obvious examples), and of course a blood curdling monster which puts an entertaining spin on Charles Darwin's theories on evolution.

As far as Blu-Ray availability goes, The Creeping Flesh was released in 2017 as part of a three-pack by Mill Creek, which included Torture Garden (1967) and The Brotherhood of Satan (1971). The film quality is hardly exceptional, however. The other two films have been blessed since then with their own releases in superior picture quality and bonus features. This makes The Creeping Flesh even more wanting of some special high definition treatment.

The House with Laughing Windows (Pupi Avati, 1976)

Technically speaking, Pupi Avati's rural, slow burner has more in common with folk horror than it does with the sterotypical giallo. The House with Laughing Windows focuses on Lino Capolicchio's character being tasked with the restoration of a church fresco painting done by an insane artist. The film is laced with plenty of tension and dread throughout, culminating with a shockingly unforgettable ending. Which makes the film one of the more noteworthy films from the post-golden era of the giallo, not helmed by Dario Argento or Lucio Fulci.

As far as I'm aware, The House with Laughing Windows never received the Blu-Ray treatment anywhere in the world and it's definitely overdue for it. It's also one of the few remaining DVDs that I still own, since I haven't been able to replace it with a better version.

Cheerleader Camp AKA Bloody Pom Poms (John Quinn, 1988)

Another one of those '80s slashers that just as well falls into the giallo whodunnit formula as it does with the masked maniac on the loose. Cheerleader Camp is ludicrous with its premise of a summer camp for cheerleaders, which makes it difficult to take remotely seriously. However, its unapologetically low brow goofiness makes this quintessential late night viewing after you've had a few drinks. There's an abundance of T&A to compliment the blood spilled, which makes this somewhat precious considering the MPAA's crackdown on gore in horror films during this era. Lucinda Dickey better known as the possessed fitness instructor from Cannon's Ninja III: The Domination (1984) and the Breakin' movies (both of which from 1984), is one of the highlights in the film, the other is the numerous Playboy and Penthouse models being in it. However, what takes the bloody baton is the legendary B-movie actor Buck Flower not playing another hobo as usual.

Apart from a bootleg, there isn't a Blu-Ray of the film, which is crying shame as it's far more entertaining than some of the other late '80s slashers I've seen which have already received the boutique Blu-Ray treatment. This has Vinegar Syndrome written all over it.

5150 Elm's Way (Éric Tessier, 2009)

A French-Canadian psychological horror about an innocent young lad held captive by a psychotic chess master and his family. His only chance of freedom is to beat his captor in a chess game. And so a lot of chess games ensue. Without spoiling the film, it leads to an unexpected outcome and one that I found rather unique. 

Being an end of the noughties film, 5150 Elm's Way is a classic example of those underrated films which fell through the cracks when DVD was gradually being replaced with Blu-Ray, so it never received the hi-def upgrade. Fingers crossed this gets picked up by a label like Radiance films or Second Sight.

No One Will Save You (Brian Duffield, 2023)

A virtually dialogue free alien invasion film. Hardly a new concept with the A Quiet Place franchise being so popular in recent years, but I'll gladly take the Pepsi Challenge and pick Brian Duffield's sci-fi gem over any of those other films. That's largely due to No One Will Save You reminding me of the classic The Twilight Zone's episode Invaders, along with an incredible performance from Kaitlyn Dever.

It's an absolute crime that the best film I watched in 2023 is still not available to buy on physical home media. Instead, you have be subscribed to HULU just to watch it. Still, some films from the company such as the mediocre Prey (2022) managed to get a physical release, and for this reason I'm cautiously optimistic it'll happen to a far more deserving film like this.

Curse of Tongues

Incubus (Leslie Stevens, 1966)

Leslie Stevens' folk horror Incubus (1966) is far too much of a strange oddity to simply sum up in a few mere words. Once considered a lost film, this black and white tale pits good against evil with the fate of a pre-James T. Kirk, William Shatner's soul hanging in the balance. Elevating the film into bizarre territory is the dialogue being spoken is the artificial language of Esperanto. Stranger still, are the various misfortunes and fatal tragedies linked to this diabolical production. Incubus became a cursed film.

Borne from Stevens' decision to write and direct an independent film after his television series, the science-fiction anthology The Outer Limits (1963-1965), was cancelled. Daystar Productions, the studio responsible for the show, would aid in realising Incubus. Much of the film would be shot around California's Big Sur. The picturesque coastal region would contribute a great deal to the film's primal theme of good versus evil. Additionally, the setting was beneficial for an independent horror film with a low budget.

Set in the village known as Nomen Tuum, famed for a deer well able to heal and give beauty to those who drink its water, the region is a hub for the corrupted. The demonic succubus Kia (Leslie Stevens' wife, Allyson Ames) seduces these corrupted individuals; luring them to the sea, where she drowns them. The wretched souls sent to her God of Darkness. The beautiful succubus finds the task far too easy. She tell her demonic sister Amael (Eloise Hardt) that she yearns for a greater challenge; the corruption of a pure soul. Avoiding her older sister's warning to give up this endeavour as it's too dangerous, Kia begins searching for this potential victim.

Trekking (no pun intended) through the countryside, Kia spies upon three suspicious monks. Each of them exemplifying the corruption abound in Nomen Tuum. The first one holds a toad while creepily eating a hard boiled egg; the next buries a mysterious object in the soil; whilst the last monk mocks prayer to a holy crucifix, subsequently turning it over. It's after this strange scene where Kia spots her prey.

Whilst on a pilgrimage with his sister Arndis (Ann Atmar), the hobbling, war hero Marco (William Shatner) becomes Kia's objekto de deziro. The soldier drinks from the well and finds it tasting sweet. He is cured and able to walk again, longer requiring his stick. This is in stark contrast to Kia's previous victim who found the well's waters salty, foreshadowing his drowning under the succubus's foot. Kia follows the siblings to their home from afar. Once again, Amael interjects and warns Kia, but to no avail.

Kia introduces herself to Marc pretending to be a lost and weary labourer searching for a field. Marc instantly falls in love (the simp!) with the succubus. An eclipse occurs in the heavens above (symbolism, innit?). Arndis is blinded by the celestial event. She's also left alone, as Marc, like a lovesick puppy, escorts Kia to the fields she's meant to be working in.

Kia's brief time spent with Marc has put a damper on her objective. Her powers of seduction fail to work on the war hero. Marc turns down the offer of sex on the beach (and the consequential condemnation of his soul) with her. It leads to this choice bit of dialogue from the film:

Marc: I want you Kia. You know I want you. But there is more to it than lying naked in the sun. I want your body and I want to give you mine. But our bodies mean very little unless we also give our souls to love.”

Kia: I don’t have a soul.

A passionate kiss is enough for the succubus to faint and leave her out cold. Thus, Marc carries Kia to a nearby monastery where he thinks she'll be safe. Meanwhile, the blinded Arndis is guided to their location with the aid of Amael. The scene inside the monastery, where Kia is awoken by a ringing church bell and sent to absolute distress by being on consecrated ground, and being surrounded by all the religious objects inside the monastery, sends the demoness into a panic where she storms out crying.

When Amael catches up with her sobbing, demonic sister, she enquires what could have possibly happened to leave her this way:

Amael: Sister, what did he do to you?

Kia: He carried me...inside...to the altar.

Amael: He has defiled you, Kia...befouled you with love!

Kia: Yes, he said he loved me.

Amael: He has violated you! Sister you must revenge this holy rape!

The course of action leads to the titular incubus being summoned. In what's perhaps the best scene in the film, the two succubi pray to a demonic, winged creature that is standing over wooden, execution gallows. It's beautifully lit, with eerie smoke everywhere, and reminiscent of something you might spot in a German Expressionist film. The soil nearby is disturbed by the incubus (Miloš Milošević - credited as Milos Milos) rising out of the ground. It's from this point onwards the film goes in a surprisingly shocking direction.

Depending on various sources, the jury seems to be out whether the use of Esperanto was incorporated as a marketing gimmick by Leslie Stevens, or genuinely meant for international art house audiences. Fluent Esperantists who had watched Incubus (the second feature film to use the language) found the folk horror unintentionally laughable, as the actors were constantly mispronouncing the dialogue. It sounds like a mixture of Italian and Portuguese; two languages I don't know. I have no idea how laughably bad the actors were speaking any of the dialogue. Therefore, it's impossible to slate it like the Esperantists.

Incubus would fail to find distribution - with the exception of France. According to William Shatner's film commentary, "The French love this film, because they can’t understand it. And the French speak, when they speak French, they’re very difficult to understand each other." I'm not even sure if the Shat is making the slightest bit of sense with his rambling, or just having a go at the French, but we ought to be thankful to our Gallic, cineaste brethren as a rare surviving print of the film was discovered in the Nineties at the Cinémathèque Française in Paris. Incubus had been a lost film for decades until then.

Of course, Incubus's notoriety stems from its cursed film label. The Serbian actor and Alain Delon stand in Milos Milos was in a relationship with Mickey Rooney's estranged fifth wife, Carolyn Mitchell (AKA, Barbara Ann Thompson). On the 31st January 1966, Milos, fearful of his lover reconciling with her husband, would take Mickey's chrome-plated .38 calibre revolver and murder Carolyn right before taking his own life. Mere weeks before the Incubus premiere at the San Francisco Film Festival, Ann Arter would commit suicide. She was only twenty-seven years old. The film's failure that very same year would lead to Leslie Stevens and Allyson Ames' marriage falling apart, resulting in their divorce. The curse would strike again as the body of Eloise Hardt's seventeen year old daughter was found brutally murdered after her abduction on the 1st January 1969. Although linked to one of Charles Manson's crimes, her murder remains unsolved to this day. Coincidentally, a tenuous link to the film's curse involves Sharon Tate having attended the film's premier with her husband Roman Polanski. We don't need to go any further with that story.

In 1968, producer Anthony M. Taylor decided to give Incubus another go with finding US distribution; albeit releasing a risqué version of the film. According to Video Watchdog (#53), nude colour inserts were intended to be edited into the existing film. Not an uncommon trend at the time, but having one of its original actors returning, Robert Fortier as Kia's first victim, Olin, was certainly unusual. This new and nude footage would be filmed by none other than exploitation auteur (and Eminem lookalike) Ray Dennis Steckler. Too many contradictory sources to ascertain if this version actually exists, or not.

Incubus appears to be inspired by Ingmar Bergman's films. The coastal scenes alone give obvious The Seventh Seal (1957) vibes. Yet, despite the cast speaking in Esperanto, it still has the identifiable air of being an American production; a low budget one at that. Given its remarkably short running time, along with the various players being salvaged from The Outer Limits, Incubus does come across as some bizarre, melodramatic, American teleplay rather than a pretentious, European art house film. There's obvious padding with characters slowly walking from one location to the next, typical of many TV serials, but it's not so bothersome given the film's appealing visuals and unique atmosphere.

Conrad L. Hall's stunning black and white cinematography is irrevocably the film's greatest asset. Light and dark is contrasted in perfect opposition; symbolic of the good versus evil theme. Ironically, Hall abruptly left the film before it was finished, and was replaced with an uncredited William A. Fraker to complete the work. According to Shatner, Hall's departure was due to a series of misfortunes which befell him during the shoot; said to be by an enraged hippie putting a hex on the production after he being told to clear off by the film crew. Another reason to hate hippies.

Composer Dominic Frontiere reuses his music from The Outer Limits in Incubus. Angelic harps compliment Hall's stunning cinematography and add another level to the undefinable time period of the film. A further layer to the dreamlike atmosphere of Incubus.

Last, but not least, there's the inimitable William Shatner and the quality of his performance. Regardless of your opinion on his acting, his reputation for over-performing is unavoidable. Despite spewing nonsensical gobbledygook like the rest of the cast, Shatner is rather good here. Quite nuanced at times, except for the fight with the incubus; which is almost as silly as Kirk fighting the Gorn from Star Trek. Admittedly, when it comes to over-acting, Milos is the major culprit in the film, and he's only in the film in the last third of the film. As for the rest of the cast, Allyson Aymes was impressive as the seductive, succubus Kia. I also found Ann Atmer's Arndis the most sympathetic and likeable character in the entire film. That might unconsciously be because of her real life tragedy, but she was still good in it.

To sum up Incubus, it's nowhere near the bad movie it's reputed to be. I consider it very good. It's certainly flawed, like the mispronounced Esperanto, and punches above its weight at times, but I wound up admiring it, and never found it in the least bit boring. With the exception of Roger Corman's The Intruder (1962), Incubus contains one of Shatner's best film performances, in my opinion. Various sources cite Incubus as being ahead of its time in terms of the occult and folk horror boom in 1968 with films like Rosemary's Baby and Witchfinder General. Although, I don't entirely agree since John Llewellyn Moxey's The City of the Dead (1960) and Mario Bava's Black Sunday (1960) immediately come to mind; preceding Stevens' film by several years. It is, however, a fascinating oddity from the past, one that appeals to me in a similar way to John Parker's Dementia (1955) one of my favourite film discoveries from last year. This instantly makes Incubus a major film highlight for me this month. 

Well worth watching.

Anora to Anorak

Sean Baker's Anora was arguably one of the best films of 2024. Therefore, it shouldn't be a surprise how much cinephiles are looking forward to its home format release. Criterion's artwork for the forthcoming Blu-Ray/4K UHD is a winner for film nerds, as it supports the theory of Baker's films being as much in exploitation territory as they are in neorealism. The cover art is an obvious homage to the iconic pose of the stunning Soledad Miranda in Jesús Franco's The Devil Came from Akasava (1971).

The famous photo has also been used as artwork for other films helmed by Uncle Jess which feature the actress; notably Vampyros Lesbos (1971). The Criterion artwork is also about as close as we'll get to seeing Franco or Miranda receiving any sort of love from the elitist label. However, considering how much the tide has turned more favourably for Franco's films in recent years, you never know.

Picks of 2015

Movie picks from the year when we bid farewell to Sir Christopher Lee, Wes Craven and Cilla Black.

Two of the best releases of the decade were from this specific year. (In case you were wondering - Mad Max: Fury Road and The Witch)

Bone Tomahawk (S. Craig Zahler)

Cop Car (Jon Watts)

Crimson Peak (Guillermo del Toro)

Deathgasm (Jason Lei Howden)

Ex Machina (Alex Garland)

The Hallow (Corin Hardy)

Hardcore Henry (Illya Naishuller)

The Invitation (Karyn Kusama)

Mad Max: Fury Road (George Miller)

Night of the Rat (David R.L)

Sicario (Denis Villeneuve)

The Witch (Robert Eggers)

Films I liked at the time, but never revisited:

Ip Man 3 (Wilson Yip); Scouts Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse (Christopher Landon); Howl (Paul Hyett); Southbound (Matt Bettinelli-Olpin, David Bruckner, Tyler Gillett, Patrick Horvath, Roxanne Benjamin, Justin Martinez, Chad Villella); A Christmas Horror Story (Steven Hoban, Grant Harvey, Brett Sullivan); The Blackcoat's Daughter (Osgood Perkins); Turbo Kid (François Simard, Anouk Whissell, Yoann-Karl Whissell); Green Room (Jeremy Saulnier); The Lobster (Yorgos Lanthimos); Ava's Possessions (Jordan Galland); Welcome to Leith (Michael Beach Nichols, Christopher K. Walker); The Hateful Eight (Quentin Tarantino); The Revenant (Alejandro González Iñárritu); The Gift (Joel Edgerton). 

Also my opinions went 360 degrees with the seventh instalments in the Star Wars, Rocky and Fast & Furious franchises. Call it falling victim to hype-nosis.

Yet to see Can Evrenol's Baskin, which is perhaps the biggest blindspot from 2015.

2015 was also the year that introduced to me, and I'm sure many others out there, the actress Ana de Armas in an English language film; Eli Roth's Knock, Knock. A remake of the psychological thriller Death Game (1977).

Lust for a Vampyre

Vampyres (José Ramón Larraz, 1974)

Rather than moan about not having the opportunity to check out Robert Eggers' Nosferatu (2024/2025) yet, I'm doing what every other film blogger who hasn't seen it is currently doing; kicking off the new year by reviewing some other vampire film. Presenting José Ramón Larraz's cult erotic horror movie Vampyres (1974), AKA Daughters of Darkness (not to be confused with Harry Kümel's 1971 film of the same name, which also features lesbian vampires). Vampyres would wind up as the most salacious and bloody entry in the sapphic vampire films of its time. An era which gave us Jesús Franco's Vampyros Lesbos (1971), Vicente Aranda's The Blood Spattered Bride (1972), Hammer's Karnstein series and Kümel's aforementioned film.

Larraz, a Spanish comic book artist turned director was no stranger to shooting in the UK. His debut, Whirlpool (1970), was the first shot on British soil. In the same year as his sapphic vampire masterpiece, he also delivered Symptoms (1974), a slow-burn, psychosexual horror starring Angela Pleasence, which took some inspiration from Roman Polanski's Repulsion (1968). Various elements from Symptoms, e.g. its lesbian theme and a remote house of horrors in the English countryside setting, would also find their way into his very next film Vampyres.

The premise of Vampyres is simple yet effective: a pair of beautiful vampires, the buxom brunette Fran (Marianne Morris) and blonde bombshell Miriam (Anulka Dziubinska), traipse through the English countryside and lure motorists to their secluded, dilapidated manor (a personal favourite film location -Oakley Court) under the assumption of it being their lucky night. The more than willing hapless men are gruesomely murdered and feasted on by the sexy pair. These seductive temptresses are just as savage in their blood lust as they are in their carnal actions. Resulting in Vampyres being equally as much a disturbing horror film as it is seventies softcore erotica. Vampyres is arguably a primal film.

Beginning with a cold open scene where Fran and Miriam are both in bed naked and sensually kissing each another, the pair are brutally gunned down by a mysterious intruder. Cut to the title sequence of flying vampire bats and James Kenelm Clarke's psyche rock theme to set the tone of the film. It's followed by the introduction of brown tweed suited Ted (Murray Brown), the film’s male protagonist, arriving in a hotel reception wanting to book a room for the night. The elderly hotel manager seems to recognise Ted. "The gentleman is an old client. We haven't seen you down here for years. Years have gone by since then. Do you remember me?" A mildly annoyed Ted denies knowing him. Which is the first clue in the film that there's something more to Ted than we might think.

Following on, the next two supporting characters are introduced. Caravanners John (Brian Deacon) and Harriet (Sally Faulkner) spot the two femme fatales looking suspicious along the roadside. The young couple decide to spend the night near the grounds of what they assume is the abandoned building featured in the prologue. Harriet is still concerned by the two women she spotted earlier, while hubby John is completely nonchalant about the whole thing. Call it female intuition, but Harriet is the only one grossly worried about the mysterious women. During the middle of the night, Harriet sees both Fran and Miriam in her dream, only for her to be suddenly awoken by a man's scream outside. It's followed by a bloody hand thudding against her window. Totally freaked out, Harriet does what any married woman always does, and wakes her fella up to go outside and investigate in the pissing rain. Soaked to the bone, John finds no signs of anything outside. Returning to the caravan, John tells Harriet that she was only dreaming.

The following morning, a dead naked man is found inside a wrecked Mini Cooper by the police. At this point John spends much of his day fishing by the nearby lake, while Harriet paints the seemingly abandoned building on her canvas. Coincidentally, Ted is back on the scene and picks up Fran looking for a lift back home. Instantly attracted to the mysterious hitch hiker (and who wouldn't?), Ted tells her, "You remind me very much of someone I knew a long time ago. Yes, very much indeed." Echoing what the hotel manager said to Ted earlier.

Despite the obvious suggestions that Ted possesses a past history with the lustful femme fatales, the character really does serve as the every man in this tale. What would you do if you picked up a hot hitch hiker and drove her home? It's the typical thirst trap. Ted telling Fran,"You arouse me more than any woman I've met for a long time." after she's went AWOL on him during the day, spells how deep in the hole he is in without realising it. The trouble is, it's so hard wired in most men's brains, they'll risk their ultimate doom if it means they have a shot with beautiful women like Fran and Miriam. Therefore, Ted is physically and mentally trapped by the vampires (much like Jonathan Harker). As our protagonist goes without food, consuming only booze and a pack of Rothman's for three days, whilst being completely drained (figuratively and literally!) by the lustful vampire wenches, is a sympathetic, yet comical doom for many a poor randy bloke.

It's worth noting that although the sex and violence are high off the lesbian vampire equivalent of the Richter scale, Vampyres is blessed by an incredible atmosphere throughout. This in turn stops the film feeling repetitive whenever new potential male victims are lured to their doom. The cluttered, cobwebbed decor of colonial bric-a-brac around the neglected manor lend to the gloomy feel of the home. Which in turn adds to how much these men will forego any obvious red flags if it means they manage to score with the blood-sucking babes. Hence, more dead naked men being found along in their crashed vehicles. There's also the fantastically eerie drone sound emanating from the wine cellar beneath the manor, where Fran and Miriam sleep during the day. The cellar is surrounded by old bottles of wine and decayed cadavers.

A hidden layer that might be overlooked upon the first viewing is how time passes in the film; most specially, inside the antagonists' home. Ted discovers his watch has stopped while there. The morning after his night with Fran (spent, hungover and with a nasty gash on his arm...what a night!!!), who's left him alone in the manor, Ted spies a grandfather clock is not working either. Additionally, when the pair lure a playboy wine expert (Michael Byrne - perhaps the most recognisable cast member in the film) to their cellar, his watch too has stopped.

Vampyres is impeccably well shot, thanks to Harry Waxman, the director of photography for genuine classics The Nanny (1965), Twisted Nerve (1968) and The Wicker Man (1973). Which is definitely advantageous for Vampyres, as its budget was only around £42,000 at that time, and yet it looks superb. The scenes of Fran and Miriam wondering around a graveyard could have easily been lifted from a gothic Hammer production, or one of Rollin's early films. Sun rays piercing through the morning mist and tree branches are reminiscent of Larraz's autumnal look in Symptoms. At its core, Vampyres definitely has more to offer than the sleaze horror it's labelled as. 

Considering Marianne Morris and Anulka Dziubinska were inexperienced actresses and only got their roles for being attractive women willing to appear in the buff on film, they're still rather good as performers. Their lack of acting experience doesn't seem to affect the film much. An anecdote shared by Dziubinska was a chance meeting of the esteemed actor John Mills at a party, where she asked him for any tips for her fledgling acting career. His answer was to accept any role she was offered. This was the first film which landed on her lap. Thank you very much, John Mills. In an interview with Morris, she admitted to needing a few drinks to loosen her inhibitions during her shower scene with Dziubinska, but it’s very erotically charged, regardless.

Sadly, Vampyres doesn't get the love it deserves as one of the superb British horror films from the seventies, nor does it get the recognition of it being the best of the lesbian vampire movies out there, in my humble opinion. It's not compelled to dwell on some poetic existentialism you might come across in Rollin and Franco's erotic horror films. Vampyres is an unadulterated and unapologetic primal savagery, and it's why I rank it above the rest.

Larraz's later films don't hit in the same way as Vampyres (of the ones I've managed to watch at least). The satanic themed Black Candles (1982) is noteworthy for its outrageousness, but nowhere near as engrossing as his earlier films. He would also helm a bunch of forgettable slashers like Edge of the Axe (1988) which further highlighted his decline in quality as a director for me. Regardless of his descent, it's Larraz's early films which are most appealing, and Vampyres is undoubtedly his best, in my opinion. Some words of warning: avoid the atrocious 2015 remake!