artsy

Les Démoniaques (1974)

The film opens with a brief description of the wreckers, a group of pirates who, instead of cruising the seas to plunder, light fires on the beaches to lead passing ships into the rocks and then loot the wreckage. This particular group of wreckers is led by The Captain (John Rico) and is a particularly nasty and bloodthirsty bunch. While they are looting a wreck one night, two survivors (Lieva Lone and Patricia Hermenier) are washed ashore. Upon discovering them, the wreckers proceed to rape and assault the girls then leave them for dead. The two girls make their way to an abandoned cathedral where a swarthy demon is kept prisoner by a clown (Mireille Dargent) and a hippie. They make a deal with the demon in order to get their revenge on the wreckers.

Jean Rollin (Requiem for a Vampire, Grapes Of Death) directs this very weird yet visually stunning tale of pirates, a demon, the undead, psychic powers, and a clown. The soundtrack is composed of jazz and what sounds like stock horror movie music. Jean-Jacques Renon’s cinematography is gorgeous and he makes excellent use of the haunting locations. The already modest pacing of the film is hindered by some softcore sex moments but never slows to a crawl like some of Rollin’s artier efforts.

Joëlle Coeur (Seven Women for Satan) is awesome and extremely sexy as Tina, the most psychotic and violent of the wreckers. Tina’s pursuit of the two girls is unrelenting and when she screams “I’ll bring you back their heads!” well, I’m perfectly convinced she would have, if given the chance. John Rico is great as the Captain, a man who is haunted by his past misdeeds. Paul Bisciglia (Grapes Of Death) is very cool as Paul, the drunkard of the group, whose bloody (albeit highly unlikely) fate is perfectly ironic.

The two beautiful actresses, Lieva Lone and Patricia Hermenier, play their parts mute for whatever reason. According to the film these two demoniacs lose their ability to speak after getting their powers from the demon which is funny because in most of Rollin’s films, the heroines are almost always completely silent anyway. Either way, it’s kind of silly and a shame that these two actresses didn’t do more horror films. Their performances are haunting and very well played.

Les Démoniaques is an incredible film but I have to warn viewers not accustomed to Jean Rollin to put on their patience pants. Although this is certainly easier to jump into than say Rape of the Vampire or The Shiver Of the Vampires. A better Rollin starting point for casual horror fans may be found in Grapes Of Death or The Living Dead Girl. The dreamlike quality of this one may be too much for folks looking for splatter. However, what Les Démoniaques lacks in arterial spray and squewered intestines, it delivers with frightening brutality and disturbing rape scenes. There’s also gratuitous clown makeup and a disco fab “demon” man. So, if you’re looking for some trashy Eurohorror delivered with style and an unforgettable ending, then check this one out, people.

The Howl

The Howl AKA L’urlo (1970)

Berto (Nino Segurini) shows up to a shabby-looking prison to spring his fiancé Anita (Tina Aumont). She was arrested during a student protest and has been tortured mercilessly at the hands of her keepers. At their wedding, Anita runs off with Coso (Gigi Proietti) to escape the tedious existence that marriage to Berto will bring about. Her choice is not an easy one and the road that lies ahead of the two rebellious souls is fraught with everything from warring armies to a cannibal shaman. And naked hippies! Don’t forget them dang naked hippies!

Wait a second, let me check and see if I still can’t stand artsy movies. Yep, I still can’t stand them but there is hope for me yet. My first encounter with one of Tinto Brass’s art assaults did not go so well. Nerosubianco really put me out so I wasn’t exactly psyched about checking out The Howl. What I liked about his other effort, the insane editing and the wild imagery, didn’t make up for what I hated about it, the gibberish dialogue and the sluggish pace. Thankfully, The Howl has a wild energy to it and a sense of purpose that Nerosubianco does not.

This flick is one anarchic, comedic and dirty art movie. War, sex, government, police, marriage, and organized religion are sneered at, skewered, and then gleefully kicked in their collective nuts. There are a couple of dips in the energy here and there but overall this is a fantastic experience for the adventurous viewer. This film is violently absurd and gruesomely grim in its mad take on the world.

Composer Fiorenzo Carpi gives The Howl an unpredictable feel with some circus-like and outlandish pieces of music. The editing (by the director himself) is fast and furious with a mix of color and black and white footage flying by with some stock footage bits thrown in sporadically for good measure. There is even a clip from Deadly Sweet, Tinto Brass’s pop giallo, mixed in and sped up for some reason.

Tina Aumont (of Sergio Martino’s classic giallo Torso) rocks my pants off with her performance. She is utterly fearless and wildly sexy in every way. When Anita approaches the podium in one scene and gives a powerful vehement anti-war protest speech, Aumont’s face twists into mad expressions of rage that are just captivating to behold. Gigi Proietti is also excellent as her goofy companion through all kinds of insane adventures. Nino Segurini (of Amuck! and Nerosubianco) is stupendously bland (not a flaw) as the man Anita left at the altar but who is quite persistent in his attempts to get her back and/or destroy her.

The Howl is about as punk rock as a film can be. It’s very, very angry and chock full of ghastly surrealism, bizarre sexual imagery and ironic moments that are sometimes funny but usually just sad. If art flicks aren’t your thing then you may want to pass on this one but I found more than enough beauty (some accidental, some intentional) to get me through this relentlessly weird film. And just so you know I am NOT a PATIENT and OPEN-MINDED person who can appreciate CHALLENGING films that make me THINK. Okay?

“Why should I give a damn about the war if I continue to have difficulty reaching the climax?”

Organ

Organ (1996)

Numata and his partner Tosaka go undercover to catch a ring of black market organ dealers. Things go wrong and Numata is forced to abandon Tosaka who is taken hostage by Jun, the doctor who performed the organ removals. Numata is thrown off the police force but continues to search for his partner even though he is believed to be dead. Shinji, Tosaka’s brother, is also unconvinced of his brother’s demise and searches on his own.

Meanwhile, Jun has returned to his day job of a science teacher in a high school. He has cut off all of Tosaka’s limbs and keeps him in a closet in his office. Yoko (Kei Fujiwara), Jun’s sister and leader of the organ stealing ring, brings her brother drugs to help him ease the pain of a horrible infection growing on his stomach. As Numata and Shinji get closer to finding Jun and Yoko, things begin to go wrong for everyone. The yakuza want control over the organ stealing ring and Yoko will fight to the death to protect her and her brother’s interests. Everything comes to a head when Shinji runs afoul with the yakuza and Yoko while Numata finds where Jun has been hiding.

This weird and often confusing film is bloodier, gorier, and funkier than even its title suggests. Kei Fujiwara (who played the woman in Tetsuo – The Iron Man) directs and stars in a film soaked with putrescence and populated with sleazy and violent characters. The dominant theme of Organ is the obsession and repulsion with the physical form and it is explored thoroughly. There’s even room for a not so subtle addiction motif.

The performances are mixed but most of the cast serves the weirdness of the film quite well. Some characters wander around like zombies while others are one-sided seedy caricatures. Fujiwara is great as the one-eyed, organ stealing, and yakuza slaying, Yoko, who unfortunately, doesn’t get nearly enough screentime. Unfortunately, the pace of Organ is frustratingly slow in places resting too much on its artsy laurels. Not that the film isn’t effectively moody or tense but the slow spots are many. It’s hard not to imagine how much this would benefit from tighter editing. Another problem is that the film introduces too many characters and it’s easy to get confused.

The effects are gruesome and squirm inducing. The rotting flesh and the pus should be enough to keep any gorehound happy throughout the running time. There are also some insanely bloody moments guaranteed to please. The scene where Yoko is blinded in one eye and Jun is nearly castrated by their psychotic mother is particularly brutal, especially since the characters are children when this takes place. Organ will not be every viewer’s cup of tea. Even fans of extreme Asian cinema may be put out by the slow pace and the artiness of the proceedings. However, this is a prime example of oozing, dripping, and pus-soaked Japanese horror with absolutely no light at the end of the tunnel.

The Rape of the Vampire

rapeofthevampire

The Rape of the Vampire (1968)

A group of women who believe they are vampires are living in an old house on the outskirts of a small village. Three young people show up in order to prove to the ignorant villagers that these women are not vampires at all and their fears are unfounded. But things go very wrong when they actually turn out to be vampires and a bloody altercation with the villagers occurs. The queen of the vampires shows up and resurrects the slain vampires and attempts to have them join her fanged army bent on world domination.

The Rape of the Vampire is the first feature length film from Jean Rollin (The Demoniacs, Lips of Blood) and it isn’t exactly light viewing. My first encounter with this film was a total disaster and I barely managed to watch the entire thing. The fact that the film was originally a short film with the second half blatantly tacked on afterwards to make its feature length didn’t help matters much. Now that I have given many of the director’s other films a chance, coming back to The Rape of the Vampire was a much more pleasant, though somewhat problematic experience.

The first thing I noticed was the camerawork. It’s kind of shaky and clumsy at times but always hungry for beauty and able to capture the minutest details. The black and white compositions are simply breathtaking. After I got over drooling over the visual elements, the music tugged at my ear. The film’s score is a combination of free jazz, library music, and doomsayer organ pieces that perfectly accentuate this moody film.

While the film looses steam in the second half, it is hard for me to really slam it. This is an independent art horror film from the late 60s, what the hell was I expecting? Oh yeah, and it’s from France! The seams really start to show during some of the film’s violent moments as the actors come off as clunky and un-choreographed. There are a couple of fencing and sword fighting scenes that are pretty embarrassing to watch. How seriously all of this is meant to be taken is anybody’s guess. I found a lot of comedy hidden in here that takes some of the edge off all the pretension.

I’m glad I returned to this Rollin film after having such a negative reaction to it the first time around. I still get antsy during the second half but the poetic ending saves the day. If you’re a horror fan curious about getting into Jean Rollin then this is absolutely the last film you should start with. For that, try my favorites The Grapes of Death or The Living Dead Girl. If you’ve got a thing for artsy vampire films that emphasize mood and revel in experimentation then you’ll pretty much flip the fuck out for The Rape of the Vampire.

“Crazy people always have a nasty effect on me.”