The Eye Behind The Wall (1977)

Dir: Giuliano Petrelli

Oddball rare giallo in which a wheelchair-bound man (Fernando Rey) and his partner (Olga Bisera) get more than they bargained for when they start spying on their introverted tenant (John Phillip Law). It's a little bit "Rear Window" and I'm a sucker for that kind of story but "Eye Behind The Wall" takes matters way further down the spiral of morbid sexuality. Every character has some kind of massive perversion and this makes for a fascinatingly sordid story once the whole grim affair has unfolded. There's a creepy atmosphere throughout and a nice twist, but the script's structure is awkward, badly paced and overladen with dead end subplots that go nowhere. At times, its darkness feels a lot like some kind of cry for help from writer/director Petrelli (who's never made another film or been heard from again). He's clearly trying to make a more serious film than perhaps he was asked to. Sadly, his sombre dialogue jars with things like the hilarious naked disco scene and further adds to the film's imbalance. There's real talent and passion here, certainly, but it's a shame Petrelli was never able to develop it further and fulfil the promises hinted at in this flawed effort. **1/2

Howl of the Devil (1987)

Dir: Paul Naschy

Paul Naschy (who also writes, produces and directs this) plays a pair of brothers, Alex and Hector Doriani. Alex is a B-Movie horror actor. Hector is a serious thespian. They hate each other but when Alex dies, his son Adrian (played by Naschy's own son) is placed into Hector's care. Hector beats the boy, abuses the servants and has a habit of abducting and drugging prostitutes for his weird sex games, so Adrian (understandably) retreats into a world of fantasy based on the characters played by his late father. This turbo-paced movie plays a little like an overheated, X-rated Spanish soap opera on fast-forward but with the mind-boggling bonus of Paul Naschy playing no fewer than 12 roles. Besides Alex and Hector, he is also Rasputin, Quasimodo, Bluebeard, Frankenstein's Monster, Fu Manchu, The Phantom of the Opera, Mr Hyde, his own wolfman creation Waldermar Daninsky (in one of the film's rare moments of poignancy), a mummy/zombie and, ultimately, Satan. On one hand "Howl of the Devil" is a glorious mess; a feverish kaleidoscope of misogynistic shouting, gratuitous nudity and ever-increasing absurdity. On the other, taken as part of Naschy's oeuvre, it's a heartfelt love letter to the artform he mastered and a furious lashing-out at the audience who rejected his genius. There's even political allegory in there; a disparaging of both tyrannical government (bear in mind Naschy's career began under General Franco's regime) and the Catholic church. What's weirdest is that, if you take out the fact that no one would/could ever behave like any of these characters do, the story - within its own universe - actually makes sense and has a really good twist. This kind of intensely personal cinema is rarely so entertaining as it is here and "Howl of the Devil" has the added bonus of watching Naschy - for perhaps the only time - completely off leash and wildly indulging every B-Movie fantasy he's ever had. For those who appreciate his genius, this is stuff that will really raise the goosebumps. Why this has never had a proper DVD release is beyond me. ***1/2

The Killer Reserved Nine Seats (1974)

Dir: Giuseppe Bennati

Incomprehensible giallo which tries to blend as many subgenres as possible in order to achieve an optimum level of confusion for the viewer. It starts out as a kind of drawing room mystery. Ten rich assholes who hate each other congregrate in a theatre that's been abandoned for a hundred years after a series of unsolved murders. They're picked off one by one by a black-gloved killer in what appears to be a Harpo Marx mask (!) but there's also a gothic element in play here; hidden doors in the wall, family curses, candlelit corridors and torrid melodrama (even a little incest!). To cap things off, they start hearing voices that can't be recorded on tape and seeing a strange man who materialises (and disappears as quickly) in random places to spout nonsense. This all leads to a bizarre, almost Fulci-esque conclusion in a hidden labyrinth beneath the theatre. The sets are great, there's one particularly shocking death scene and it's all peppered with copious nudity but Bennati's offbeat direction is too scattershot to pull it all together. Ultimately, the slipshod way in which the film tosses aside even its own internal logic in favour of twisting the meagre plot further towards obscurity wrecks what could've been a far better movie. File under "obscure and interesting curio" instead. **

Bloodsucker Leads The Dance (1975)

Dir: Alfredo Rizzo

This naff gothic potboiler finds a troupe of buxom actresses and their downtrodden assistant invited to the castle of a mysterious Count. The Count's family has suffered a convoluted "curse". Both his father and grandfather beheaded their wives with a special knife then jumped into the sea. His own wife has mysteriously disappeared so he's looking for a new one amongst the actresses. They seem to find nothing at all wrong with this situation. Mass decapitation and copious nudity ensues. Despite a reasonable first fifteen minutes setting things up, Bloodsucker quickly descends into tedium. The first half plays like a topless soap opera and the second like the dullest Sherlock Holmes story ever. It's cheap beyond belief; there's only one (daytime) exterior shot of the castle and it's repeated even when it's supposed to be night time. Colour stock footage of the surrounding sea wasn't affordable so they just use B&W. You get the idea. I guess someone somewhere tried their best with this and it has a sort of naive, hopeless charm to it but honestly? This is poor. *

Black Magic Rites (1974)

Dir: Renato Polselli

(aka The Reincarnation of Isabel)

I'm not even sure where to begin with trying to explain this. There's a witch/vampire called Isabella who gets burnt at the stake in some nebulous past where everyone wears funny hats. 500 years later, a cult of old dudes in red morphsuits try to ressurect her by killing naked virgins in a castle. Maybe? It's hard to tell because half of the actors play multiple roles and, thanks to fit-inducing editing, no shot lasts for more than a second or two. There's constant fire, psychedelic lighting, whips, chains and abundant nudity from some pretty ladies, yet somehow the total lack of coherence and technical ineptitude makes this near-unwatchable. The denouement includes 3-way sex with a podgy vampire who can't stop blinking, two naked girls prodded by pensioners with sticks for what seems like forever, a hunchbacked Donald Pleasance lookalike thrown into a snake pit with only two snakes in it, and a peculiar vision of Hell that's all red lycra and girls chained to stepladders. This film was lost for decades and, watching it now, it's not hard to see why. It is like staring directly into the mind of a complete lunatic. EL BOMBA!

Alucarda (1978)

Dir: Juan López Moctezuma

Batshit crazy Mexican horror that had me muttering "they don't make 'em like this any more" at the screen more than just about anything else I've ever seen. An innocent orphan named Justine (of COURSE she's named Justine!), who looks a bit like a young Carol Vorderman only more naked, enters a bizarre convent that seems to have been built inside a cave. It's covered in dangling Christ statues and candles, the nuns all dress in bloodied bandages and flagellate frequently, so it's really no surprise when fanaticism leads to lesbianism leads to Satanism leads to the dark side, etc... It is, however, a surprise when you throw in a bunch of vampirism, zombie nuns, blood rain, nuns on fire and goat-faced demons. Words can't describe how hysterical much of Alucarda is. It finally delivers on the promise of so many "all sizzle, no steak" nunsploitation films of its era. The truly insane gypsy black mass sequence alone wipes the floor with much of the subgenre. If you like 70s occult/psychedelic imagery, you'll find very little that will quell the hunger like this one. A lost classic. Just don't expect it to actually make sense (the film's only real flaw) and you'll love it! ***1/2

The Iguana With The Tongue of Fire (1975)

Dir: Ricardo Freda

Obscure giallo that's every bit as baffling as its title, this one finds the ubiquitous black-gloved killer throwing acid in people's faces then slitting their throats (because, y'know, just the one simply wouldn't be enough). Unusually, the killer's at large in Dublin which, while it does make an interesting change of pace, means that everything looks a little grey and chilly compared with the bright, hot, colourful Roman climes typical of the genre. The mystery here is pretty dismal with the final reveal being more of a "huh? who?" than an "ahhh! them!" but there are one or two nice touches. The detective's batty mother - a half-deaf, half-blind Miss Marple type - is great and has all the best lines but there's also some decent gore and nudity to pass the time while the parade of red herrings are wheeled out ad infinitum. Still, I'd say it's only really worth bothering with if you're a hopeless giallo completist who just can't help themselves. That'd be me then. **

The Baby (1973)

Dir: Ted Post

An obscure 70s movie that's garnered cult classic status over time, I remember reading about this some twenty years ago and yet I've only now got round to watching it. I have to admit that it was a disappointment. Once you get over the shock of the unpleasant premise, it's really quite a boring film. A grown man with the apparent mental capacity of a small infant is treated like one by his mother and two older sisters. They keep him in a crib, call him only "Baby" and punish him with cattle prods when he does anything that might suggest he's growing up. There's a social worker trying to save "Baby" but it's clear from the start that she may have her own ulterior motives and dark secrets too... Some of the special 70s touches - the hair, the lighting, the costumes, the dancing, Suzanne Zenor - are enjoyable but these can't save the drab, lifeless TV-movie-like script/direction and the fact that it's just a little bit offensive. It deals with heavy subject matter like mental illness and child abuse in a way that's neither sensitive and well-informed, nor intentionally, gleefully tasteless. Instead it's just a bit misguided and leaves an aftertaste somewhere between a yuck and a yawn. *

Buio Omega (1980)

Dir: Joe D'amato

(aka Beyond The Darkness, The Final Darkness, Buried Alive)

Millionaire playboy Frank (an unforgettable turn by Kieran Kanter) is consumed by grief and decides to keep his beautiful girlfriend (Cinzia Monreale) around after she dies. He steals her corpse, embalms it and keeps it in bed with him at his isolated villa, convinced that nothing could possibly go wrong with this plan... and how could it, right? "Buio Omega" is a wild original. A film so unutterably barmy that it plays almost like an extreme Horace Walpole novel, blending high camp soap plotting and gothic melodrama with genuinely disgusting, graphic gore and sex. It's hard to take the latter elements seriously when the story hits its most absurd highs and yet still somehow the combination of gorgeous location photography, a fantastic Goblin score (one of their best ever) and the sheer grimness of the ideas leaves an unsettling feeling behind. It's illogical, uneven and ludicrous but you'll never see another film like it and for that it's kind of brilliant. ***1/2

Splatter Beach (2007)

Dir: John Polonia / Mark Polonia

El Cheapo Z-Movie from the guys who brought you "Splatter Farm". This one is a fairly bland "Humanoids From The Deep" rip-off that, to my immense disappointment, contains little splatter and barely even a beach. Shot at perhaps the greyest, most miserable looking lakeside I've ever seen, this mercifully short (70 minutes) no-brainer manages to have a double-figure body count and yet not one real special effect. Instead, a guy in a $2 Halloween suit glues some twigs to his back and runs around shaking people by the shoulders until they dribble red paint all down their tops. Sometimes, they superimpose extra versions of the suited dude into the shot so it looks like there are three or four of him. I guess it's meant as a homage to the early straight-to-video shockers and some of the dialogue is endearingly goofball but really... this is bad and (even worse) boring stuff. There's a surf-punk band, a beach party and Misty Mundae - some of my favourite things - and it's still all about as dull as the scenery. EL BOMBA!

Bloodrayne (2005)

Dir: Uwe Boll

This wildly lavish costume horror from the scrambled brain of Uwe Boll is allegedly set in 18th century Romania, although any historical or geographical accuracy is ignored with gleeful abandon. The story centres on Rayne (Kristanna Loken), a half-human/half-vampire girl who seeks vengeance upon her evil undead father (Ben Kingsley, who here resembles the Pilsbury dough boy playing a kung-fu Marquis de Sade). He, meanwhile, is after some kind of magical talisman (aren't they always?) and it all leads to one big ol' swordfight. Somehow, Boll got a budget for this nonsense. The screenplay is written by Guinevere Turner ("American Psycho", "The Notorious Betty Page"), although this doesn't stop it from being riddled with ludicrous, anachronistic trumpery. The cast is full of 'name' actors (Michelle Rodriguez, Billy Zane, Udo Kier; even Meat Loaf pops up to grope Romanian prostitutes and get his ear bitten off!) but they seem to deliver their lines on auto-pilot and often with incomprehensible accents that sound like Cockney market sellers with Downs Syndrome (a symptom of the faux-period dialogue perhaps?). In spite of all this, the film somehow managed to entertain me and I found it hard to truly dislike. It's fast-paced, full of nudity and cartoon gore by the bucketload, and it's completely without shame. It's a big colorful whirlwind of trash and it's rare nowadays to see such Z-Grade exploitation on a dangerously high budget. They even replay ALL the gore at the end in slo-mo for maximum exploitation points. As if this wasn't enough, they gave Boll regular Will Sanderson a mohawk, a horse and his own private army. This can only be a good thing. ***

Crawlspace (1986)

Dir: David Schmoeller

Empire Pictures funded nonsense with Klaus Kinski as a mad Nazi landlord who spends his time crawling through the air vents of his building, spying on female residents, beheading rats, applying lady make-up, watching Hitler rallies on a projector, playing Russian roulette and killing people indiscriminately. In fairness, Kinski is a blast in this and his creepiness carries the otherwise abysmal movie single-handedly. The screenplay is total balls, although I did learn a lot about women from it. Did you know that, when alone, women will cut peepholes out of their bras in front of the mirrors and perform studio quality renditions of bad 80s ballads on the piano? Or that, when in groups, women will hold slumber parties in which they all drink tequila milkshakes, giggle about boys and jump up onto tables shrieking when they see a rat on the floor? Educational value aside though, the film bites. A lot of it feels improvised and even at 80 minutes, it's one Hell of a slog. Although it's almost redeemed by a lunatic scene in which the sexagenerian Kinski, dressed in an old man's jumper and full face make-up, finds a metal sheet on wheels and propels himself through the air vents as though bodyboarding, for what seems like about 10 minutes. A wonderfully inventive and unintentionally hilarious moment. EL BOMBA!

Crimson (1973)

Dir: Juan Fortny

Some movies, especially nowadays, go out of their way to be weird or outlandish. Others, without even trying, are just genuinely weird. This old Paul Naschy turkey (recently re-released on budget DVD under the name, "The Man With The Severed Head") definitely falls into the latter category. The omnipresent hombre lobo plays a criminal who gets shot in the head by police when escaping from a heist gone wrong. The only way for his loyal gang members to save him is to blackmail a mad scientist into performing an experimental brain transplant with a rival gang leader called 'The Sadist' (whom they dispose of by shooting, before decapitating him under a train and stealing his head!). What makes "Crimson" REALLY weird though is the multitude of inappropriately surreal interludes (the 'vulcan ballet' scene in particular), the campy Russ Meyer style dialogue, the hysterically awful dubbing (everyone sounds squeaky and out of breath) and the incoherent final reel, which involves Naschy running around the countryside with what appears to be a giant nappy on his head, grunting and touching up fully clothed girls. Hilariously awful stuff and, unsurprisingly, one of Quentin Tarantino's favourite movies. EL BOMBA!

Shadow: Dead Riot (2005)

Dir: Derek Wan

When the body count hits double-figures before the credits have rolled, you have every right to expect a splat-tastic time. "Shadow: Dead Riot" delivers one of these in spades. Tony Todd stars as Shadow, an eeevil serial killer and voodoo priest who gets executed on death row. 20 years on and the penitentiary is now a correctional facility for women (with wardens called Elsa Thorne and Franco which, if you get the joke, tells you exactly what kind of facility we're talking about here!). Upon the arrival of a kung-fu tough cookie called Solitaire (Carla Greene), weird things start to happen and, next thing you know, Shadow and an army of zombies are within the walls and hungry for fresh flesh! Yeah, it's a bit of a leap of faith but when you consider how tricky it is to marry up the Women In Prison, Martial Arts and Zombie genres, I think they did a great job. Wall-to-wall tits, epic fist-fighting and squishy, spurty grue'n'spew abound. It's so loaded with testosterone, I think I sprouted an extra set of nuts just from watching it. I admit the overdone photography and lighting irritated a little and they could've easily ditched all the digital post-production effects, but the enthusiastic performances, killer soundtrack and boundlessly imaginative screenplay recompense for any enjoyment lost. This is really the perfect offering for anyone who yearns for the lively, BBFC-baiting gorefests of the late 80s. I loved it. ***1/2

Hell of the Living Dead (1980)

Dir: Bruno Mattei (as 'Vincent Dawn')

"Hell of the Living Dead" is the notorious uncut print of "Zombie Creeping Flesh", a shameless "Dawn of the Dead" cash-in from the gloriously inept Mattei. Its story involves an ill-explained government project called 'Operation: Sweet Death' (umm!) that goes catastrophically wrong and causes the dead to rise. An eco-terrorist is gunned down in the opening scenes and proclaims to the world, "you will all die! You will die and be eaten! First they will kill you! Then eat you!" which sums things up nicely. Production values are zilch, with about half an hour of wildlife-show stock footage inserted to pad out the running time and ensure we're convinced that the characters really are in Africa and not just some Italian back yard. Yet despite the nonsensical screenplay, the abundance of giant afros and some exploitative footage of starving natives eating maggots, "Hell of the Living Dead" miraculously works. There are some outrageous gore setpieces (the eyeball violence here rivals Fulci's "Zombie"), the most hilarious excuse to remove a girl's top that I've ever seen (breasts courtesy of the delightful Margrit Newman) and a lunatic mix of improv humour (a SWAT guy who likes wearing tu-tus and humming showtunes, I ask you!?) and furious zombie mayhem that you can't helped be somehow charmed. Even with all the strange and angry phrases that somehow made it into the English dub ("Shit your asses!", "Screw off!", "Anydamn, anyhow!"). Plus, there's a very sinister child zombie, one truly horrifying scene involving a cat leaping out of the womb of an old zombie cat-lady and a strangely unexpected ending, so it can't be all bad. **1/2

Don't Look in the Basement (1973)

Dir: S.F. Brownrigg

No-budget exploitation from a particularly quirky corner of the grindhouse, set entirely within a private 'sanitarium' (blatantly just some guy's house). It's run by a doctor who believes that his patients, in order to be cured, should have more-or-less free reign within the walls of the institution. A cute but rubbish nurse (obligatory Playboy playmate Rosie Holitik) shows up for a job and soon finds that the good doctor's methods are, err, somewhat ineffectual. Much like the screenplay for this movie. There are some very dark ideas here and a couple of creepy moments (all livened up by inventive camerawork) but the severe lack of continuity and, ultimately, clarity just wrecks it. Somehow this film ended up on the UK Video Nasties list in the early 80s which, considering it's relatively low on nudity and gore, suggests the title alone was too suggestive for us poor, delicate islanders. Who knows? Had it not been banned, it may well have discouraged a whole generation of kids from making use of perfectly good underground storage space. Viva progress. *1/2

I Drink Your Blood (1970)

Dir: David Durston

Enduring trash classic that anyone interested in exploitation/horror really should consider an essential part of their collection. A nude hippie called Horace Bones proclaims that "Satan is an acidhead" in the first thirty seconds of the movie and it's all downhill from there. Bones and his Manson-esque family of Devil-lovin' misfits roll into a nondescript small town and proceed to assault a local girl and her granddad, even going as far as to dope the old dude up with LSD. As revenge for this, the girl's kid brother injects the hippies' meat pies with rabies which, when coupled with all the acid in their bloodstream, has "unthinkable consequences". These involve foaming at the mouth, nymphomania, a desire to shout "arrrr!" like a pirate and to dismember everybody in sight. Dragging dead goats along the street is also a side-effect. Needless to say, half the town soon gets infected with the virus and all Hell really breaks loose. The production values are low (take a swig when you see a boom in the shot) but this is more than compensated for by some trippy-ass dialogue, enthusiastic performances, gore galore and a sick, imaginative audacity that places the film somewhere between absurd and strangely rather gripping. Either way, this is Grade "A" entertainment on a Grade "Z" budget and highly recommended. Lynn Lowry cameos as a cute mute who wields a mean electric carving knife, just to make this all even better. What are you waiting for? ***1/2

The House That Screamed (1968)

Dir: Chicho Ibáñez-Serrador

Obscure old gothic horror from Spain that takes place at an ominous old boarding school somewhere in the French countryside. On top of the obligatory drawbacks of the institution (ie: nazi-style headmistress and her peeping tom son, weirdo janitor lurking in the woods, fearsome lesbian prefect squad, etc), we also have a shadowy killer prowling the hallways at night and slashing up the pupils. The movie has dated badly and the pace lags in parts but with some artful camerawork and a delightfully creaky set full of cobwebs and candlesticks (not to mention the ever-lovely Cristina Galbo and Mary Maude as its female leads), it's very easy on the eye and pleasant enough to get through. The grisly twist ending is also quite the shocker - unexpected, unforgettable and actually worth waiting for throughout endless of shots of candle-toting girls in their nighties stumbling around darkened corridors. **1/2

2019 : After the Fall of New York (1983)

Dir: Sergio Martino

I should start by warning you outright that this is NOT A GOOD FILM. Perhaps you have to, at one point, have been a teenage boy to fully appreciate this low-budget Italian hybrid of "Planet of the Apes", "Mad Max 2" and "Escape From New York". The world has been nuked by evil governments and our improbably named hero, Parcifal (trash star Michael Sopkiw trying so hard to be Kurt Russell), is a race-car driver journeying into the jagged remains of New York City to rescue the last fertile woman on Earth and repopulate the planet. This ludicrous screenplay is almost too stupid to bear but, on the other hand, you can't fault its boundless imagination. Throughout the quest, Parcifal encounters a foxy and hopelessly stupid blonde in a short-skirt, a cave full of midgets, a tribe of sewer-dwelling rat eaters, a slew of radiation victims who vomit green goo, a race of talking monkeys who dress like gay buccaneers, a crazy mutant that knows kung-fu, a band of mediaeval style conquistadores on white horses, some PVC-clad cyber-nazis (who actually use the line "ve have vays of making you talk"!), a gratuitous dragstrip race (with onboard missiles!) and some killer cyborgs. If that's not enough, the cartoony post-apocalyptic nihilism of the dialogue peps things up ("if love had any meaning in this world, you'd be the one I love" is the most romantic line in the movie). I feel guilty for enjoying such a mindless ride so much, but it tries so hard to please, you can't help but fall for it. The most astounding achievement is after only a scant 90 minutes, you feel you've reached the end of an epic journey - and I mean that in the nicest way. ***

The Antichrist (1974)

Dir: Alberto Martino

Laughable Italian possession story in which Carla Gravina plays a paralysed woman who curses God and winds up possessed by Satan Himself. Satan, here, talks with a ridiculous accent and in the third person, which makes him sound like a cross between a bad James Bond villain and Jar Jar Binks. He also makes Gravina spew up copious amounts of spinach soup on the maid, her family, several priests and some weird old voodoo guy who threatens her with sausages. It's possibly even more ludicrous than it sounds though distinctly less enjoyable. Snail-paced and illogical beyond belief (especially the talky scenes, in which the priests try to convince us that it's a well-established scientific fact how sexual frustration leads to demonic possession), "The Antichrist" has very little to recommend about it. Even "the notorious goat orgy" promised on the back cover of the DVD is merely a bunch of naked hippies bouncing around in a field with a goat. Avoid. EL BOMBA!