Face/Off

Faceless (Jesús Franco, 1987)

This eighties take on Georges Franju's classic French horror film, Eyes Without a Face (1960) would hardly be the choice Jess Franco selection for any discerning "true film" blog, but I consider it amongst his most accomplished and entertaining films, in all honesty. Faceless isn't Franco's first attempt at redoing Franju's fiendish surgical nightmare either, as he helmed The Awful Dr. Orloff (1962) decades earlier. It's possibly because it's a film where Franco is actually provided with a decent budget for once, along with dropping all artistic pretentions, perhaps at the behest of his producers, one of which being Rene Chateau, who was also a co-writer for the film.

Helmut Berger plays a debonair plastic surgeon with a secretive sinister side. Along with his accomplice lover, Brigitte Lahaie, they fiendishly attempt to reconstruct Berger's disfigured sister, after she becomes an unfortunate victim in an acid attack. Their efforts result in a series of decapitated women being found all over Paris. Further spicing up the plot, Telly Savalas hires Chris Mitchum's private dick to track down his spoilt, fashion model daughter, played by Caroline Munro, after being abducted while being high as a kite during her fashion shoot. It all sounds fairly formulaic, doesn't it? But, what really makes this such an unusual film is that it's mostly focused on the villains. Both Mitcham and Munro have very minimal screen time in comparison to Berger and Lahaie and that weird looking bloke who plays Gordon, the mute psychopath without any eyebrows. It becomes even more apparent later on with the introduction of Anton Diffring, aka that German actor who was always typecasted as a nazi in his films. Incidentally, Diffring adds a touch of class to what's otherwise an incredibly gruesome and sleazy effort - even by eighties movie standards. It's bad enough having faceless women on the operating table, but it's even worse seeing them getting decapitated with a chainsaw in graphic bloody detail. Other supporting cast members worth mentioning are Claude Chabrol's ex, Stéphane Audran, getting the old eye injection treatment a la Dead & Buried (1981), and the rather fit Florence Guérin playing herself (either that, or her character is also called Florence Guérin). Franco regulars Lina Romay and Howard Vernon also have bit parts. Both Munro and Guérin would later appear together in Luigi Cozzi's utterly dull unofficial third film to Dario Argento's The Three Mothers trilogy, The Black Cat (1990).

Given that Faceless is very much an amalgamation of various subgenres; includuding various tropes and cliches synonymous with the slasher, detective mystery and erotic thriller, you would expect the film to feel unbalanced or fall apart in places. This is not the case, fortunately. As already mentioned, this might be because Franco's directorial debut, The Awful Dr. Orloff is a spiritual precursor to this film, and it might also be because Franco was a film maker with an obscene amount of films under his belt which usually blended horror with erotica. You could say the diminutive Spanish film maker had been experienced enough after churning out multiple flicks per year. In any case, the film feels way more professional incomparison to some of his more popular earlier efforts, in my humble opinion. There are none of the indulgent zoom shots, nor the annoying lingering shots which were more jarringly awkward rather than utilised for atmospheric and emotional emphasis.

Considering the eighties was the decade of the yuppie era, Faceless is blessed with a european vantage point of the cultural zeitgeist. You've got a sharp suited Berger and Lahaie in a luxurious mink coat as his escort, hitting up the trendy Parisian bars and clubs, ordering champagne, picking up hot broads and luring them to their lair. It's all very decadent and wouldn't go amiss in an episode of Dynasty if it wasn't for all the gore and hints of incest. Putting it simply, I enjoy the eighties style, and if this didn't low key inspire Brett Easton Ellis when he was writing American Psycho at the time, along with the obvious De Palma movies, then I would be shaking my head in disbelief

This might be considered a spoiler to those who haven't seen the film, but considering it's a thirty-five year old film, it's worth discussing its finale. The point of contention is whether Mitchum and Munro made it out alive? Considering they were locked in a padded cell, which was walled up as well for a period of a week until Savalas gets to hear Mitchum's all important voice message, there is no way they survived, since they would have run out of air. A shocker of a downbeat ending, but a great one, I believe. One of those film endings that has me feeling some kind of way like Sergio Corbucci's The Great Silence (1968). Obviously, Faceless is nowhere the calibre of Corbucci's spaghetti western masterpiece, but for a horror fan like myself, familiar with the cliched downer horror movie climaxes this is definitely one of those great ones, which was also changed like Corbucci's film.

In summary, this is not only one of Jess Franco's best films, but a bonafide great horror movie thriller, in my opinion. It might not be on par with the class of '87, but it's certainly worthy of an honourable mention at the very least.

Faceless getting the 4K UHD treatment in 2022. What a time to be alive.

Dada Debaser Bonus:

Vincent Thoma - Faceless 

(Les Prédateurs De La Nuit 7" Single, 1988)

 

"Destination: nowhere
A half a mile to paradise
Tell me what you find there
Beyond the sea of golden skies
Three dimensional rainbows right before your eyes
Draw the shades down and watch this world unwind
And see right through those confindential phone calls
A distant wine in Saint-Tropez"
- Vincent Thoma, Faceless

The greatest George Michael song George Michael never sang is Faceless, aka Les Prédateurs De La Nuit by its original French name. Other than sounding like it could have been the sombre B-side to Club Tropicana, it's also blessed with the most puzzling and nonsensical lyrics I've yet to hear in a song. There are avant-garde experi(mental) rappers and growling death metal singers who might make more sense than whatever Vincent Thoma might be singing about. Would happily play this perplexing musical gem repeatedly just like in the film on some poncey winebar's jukebox all day, everyday.

Caroline Munro's Greatest Parts

In an era where dedicated film channels like Film4 appear to have given up on catering to the kino massive and vintage trash hounds alike, it's a blessing that a freeview channel like Talking Pictures TV exists. A refreshing place of solace where you can cotch and watch obscurities like The Soldier (1982); from a time when film buffs weren't treated like they were on Ritalin. The highlight of Talking Pictures TV is undoubtely Cellar Club with Caroline Munro; a short introduction series presented by the proclaimed first lady of fantasy. Not quite Alex Cox's educational stints presenting Moviedrome, nor the cartoonish antics of Elvira's Midnight Madness, but a more chilled read from a teleprompter type of deal à la The Horror Channel's Emily Booth. In any case, it's a good excuse to chat about some of Caroline's best films:

Dracula A.D 1972 (Alan Gibson, 1972)

Considering how much complaining the late great Christopher Lee had done with Hammer's Dracula films, it's amazing to know he still starred in seven of them. This, his penultimate appearance for Hammer, as Transylvania's famous blood-sucker was Dracula A.D 1972; a contempory setting this time around as it's set in swanky, seventies Chelsea. It's the one that cemented The Count as a world class super pimp, for me. The major highlights are Caroline Munro in garms that might just be the one redeeming example from the hippie era and of course, Johnny Alucard's summoning of the Prince of Darkness. Wound up getting sent to bed because of that scene, when I was little.

The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (Gordon Hessler, 1973)

Nothing screams rain-soaked bank holiday television like this quintessential Ray Harryhausen stop motion FX bonanza. The only notable film that Gordon Hessler directed, imo. A film where British actors like the G.O.A.T Doctor Who can go in the make-up department and pass off as of Middle Eastern origin. Of course, it helps if you have peak era Caroline Munro replete with an oiled up cleavage that's so mesmerising, it's forever hard-wired into your brain for the remainder of your life. The greatest Caroline Munro highlight, for this humble blogger. 

Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter (Brian Clemens, 1974)

What with Chrirstopher Lee hanging up the cape and Hammer striving for relevancy, this late game entry from the studio is something of a notable curiosity on numerous levels: firstly, its protagonist takes the form of a young comic book style swashbuckling hero to battle the vampires; secondly, a major change in established vampire folklore, like the use of frogs and shit; and of course Caroline Munro as a hot peasant girl put in the stocks for dancing on a Sunday. 

 At the Earth's Core (Kevin Connor, 1976)

If ever a film cemented Caroline's moniker as the first lady of fantasy, then this Edgar Rice Burroughs adaptation is arguably the one. Mauled by the critics, but a firm favourite here, since it's lit like a Mario Bava classic, a bewildered looking Doug McClure and Peter Cushing reprising his eccentric persona session from his two previous Doctor Who films. Follow that up with shite looking foam rubber dinosaur costumes, noncey-looking pig men, psychic pterodactyls and a sweaty Caroline Munro, and you have a winning formula. If only A.I.P. and Amicus hired the gawd Ray Harryhausen for all the creature features, because At the Earth's Core would have have been on par with the likes of The Golden Voyage of Sinbad.

The Spy Who Loved Me (Lewis Gilbert, 1977)

Perhaps the best James Bond film Sean Connery stans refuse to admit to liking, to be honest; while millennial Daniel Craig contrarians never bothered seeing any of them, since any Bond film before the 21st century is completely irrelevant to them. Their loss; since this has it all: a Lotus submarine car (used to have the toy of it as a kid), a bizarre looking underwater base, a super tanker that eats nuclear subs, the best henchman ever, and of course two of the best Bond girls - Barbara Bach as Agent XXX and Caroline Munro as the helicopter hottie Naomi. Her playful wink while she chases Bond through the coastal roads in Sardinia, Italy, is the reason why she's one of the coolest evil babes in the franchise.

 

Starcrash (Luigi Cozzi, 1978)

Make no mistake, Starcrash is a spectacularly terrible Italian rip-off cashing in on the whole Star Wars (1977) boom. David Hasselhoff wielding a lightsabre; there's no point going any further. None of that is important. What is though, is Caroline prancing about in a black pvc bikini and thigh boots in this film as Stellar Star. That's way more palatable than suffering through Zardoz (1974) and having to endure Sean Connery's disturbing red mankini ever again. She's so smokin' hot in it, she even makes Nadia Cassini look like how Amanda Seyfried did next to Megan Fox in Jennifer's Body (2009).

Maniac (William Lustig, 1980)

"You know, you're the most beautiful woman I've seen since my mom." It's beyond far fetched that fat and greasy serial killer Frank Zito could land a date with Caroline Munro, and even more bonkers that she took that cringeworthy line as a compliment. With the slasher craze in full swing, Maniac is amongst the scuzziest and disturbing offerings from that era. Perhaps Munro's most recognised film, other than her Bond movie outing. Not the first, nor the last movie that both Munro and Joe Spinnell worked together on, but it's undoubtely their best film.

Slaughter High (George Dugdale, Mark Ezra & Peter Mackenzie Litten, 1986)

Producer, Dick Randall made a bunch of exploitation gems back in the day, with a habit of being all in the video like Puffy. Amongst one of his notable releases, is the fake American slasher Slaughter High. A tale of bullies getting a taste of their own medicine at their school reunion. The fact that Caroline Munro would turn up in a baggy jump suit that would even make Anneka Rice wince, is one thing, but the fact that she could still look good in it, is a complete miracle. Anyhow, don't let multiple names in the director credits fool you into thinking it's going to be utter shite, as it's fun from start to finish. Slaughter High is a personal favourite slasher; blessed with some of Dada Debaser's favourite kills.

Vampirella (Never Made)

If ever there was a role Munro was born to play it would be Hammer's adaptation of the comic book heroine, Vampirella. Producer, Michael Carreras had Barbara Leigh from Terminal Island (1973) in mind as the titular heroine, but Munro's name was also considered, during the long drawn out pre-production that helped doom the legendary film company. Ironically, it would be decades later, that another Bond girl, Licensed to Kill's Talisa Soto who would eventually be cast as Vampirella in a forgettable straight to video adaptation. Still, since then, Munro has always been seen by many fans as the Vampirella that could have been. In any case, I would like to think that there's an alternate dimension out there where the film did get made, and Caroline Munro had got to play the part she was made for.

Dada Debaser Bonus:

Caroline Munro had tried her hand at having a pop music career. It didn't seem to get very far, even with the likes of Eric Clapton and Gary Numan helping her out in the past. She may have looked like an angel, but alas, none of her music sounded too angelic for me, sadly. On a more positive note, her brief cameo singing Warrior of Love in another of Dick Randall's slashers, Don't Open Till Christmas (1984), was one of the best scenes in that gloriously terrible picture. Her best music related highlight was when she appeared in Adam Ant's Goody Two Shoes video, as the hot reporter with the blonde streaks she rocked in The Last Horror Film (1982); which I didn't include in her greatest parts, as I've only seen it once and didn't think much of it:

Adam Ant - Goody Two Shoes 

Friend Or Foe (1982)