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Thursday, October 22, 2009

Retro Review: House on the Edge of the Park (1980)

I'm always thrilled to come across a '70s/early '80s exploitation horror flick with which I was totally unfamiliar. This was one of them, until it was brought to my attention by the delightful Vault dweller Marilyn Merlot--who, like me, shares an admiration for the work of one David Hess.

My first reaction when reading about the film was, how the heck had I gone so long without ever seeing or hearing of this? That thought was further magnified after actually seeing it. This is a film that is entirely of its time. No film like this could ever be made today, for a variety of reasons. And although I have some issues with it, more thematically than artistically, I can't deny its effectiveness.

There's something about films of this era that will always draw me in. It is my favorite era for motion pictures, horror or otherwise, with the 1930s being a close second. There's a rawness to movies like House by the Edge of the Park that is unmatched in horror of any other era.

So let's talk about this gem of an exploitation picture. This was the film that Ruggero Deodato made right before shooting the infamous Cannibal Holocaust--even though it was officially released in Italy nine months after Cannibal Holocaust. And perhaps it's the close proximity to that quintessentially controversial movie that causes House by the Edge of the Park to get a bit overlooked when it comes to amazingly offensive cinema.

Make no mistake, this is not a movie for everyone. Much like CH, it took a full five years for it to be released in the U.S. Banned in Singapore, Finland, the U.K., Canada and Norway; denied ratings classification in Australia and also released unrated in America. One of Britain's notorious "video nasties". Chock full of rape, torture and sadism.

I cannot deny that this movie enthralled me. I found it distasteful at times, but nevertheless I was fascinated by it, and also cannot deny that it is a fine little piece of filmmaking, for what it is. But there can be no question that it was designed to titillate, and to do so using some very questionable means. More than most of the movies today that get labeled "torture porn", this is a movie I would certainly classify as such.

The main problem I have with it is in the depiction of rape. This is the kind of story in which the rape victims actually start to "enjoy" themselves and give in willingly to their rapists. In other words, at times it feels like some guy's warped sexual fantasy, and I found it pretty damn uncomfortable in parts. There's a certain hypocrisy here, in much the same way that Deodato does it in CH--on the surface he's condemning the callousness of these characters, but truth be told, he wants you to get off on watching what they do.

It walks a dangerous moral line, that's for sure. And yet, I'd rather have a horror flick like this which challenges me and makes me uncomfortable than most of the cookie-cutter, soul-numbing drek we get spoonfed these days.

I'm going on the record that I love David Hess. Loved him in Last House on the Left, and love him here. I'll be honest--there isn't much difference between Krug and his character here. It might as well be the same exact character, in fact. But there's something about Hess' acting style that makes me want to keep my eyes on him any time he's on screen.

It's a broad style of acting, with overdone emotions and histrionics, almost like something out of the hammy method-influenced generation of actors of the 1950s and early '60s. He feels like an anachronism, an actor plucked out of an earlier era, which is ironic given the intense and graphic nature of the material he appears in. He's funny and terrifying at the same time.

The story is a straight-up home invasion nightmare that makes The Strangers look like What About Bob. With a script from Gianfranco Clerici and Vincenzo Mannino--the men responsible for CH, in addition to Lucio Fulci's Don't Torture a Duckling and The New York Ripper--you'd better believe this is some raw and unflinching stuff.

And yet just as with CH, we get a jarringly contrasting score from Riz Ortolani that on the surface feels like it in no way belongs with a film like this, but which actually makes it that much more disturbing. I'm thinking specifically of the sing-songy, nursery rhyme-style "Cindy" theme. It takes a twisted mind to pair up this music with this movie. That said, I could've done without "Much More", Ortolani's cheesy attempt at disco. I mean really, I expect more from the guy who composed the Oscar-nominated standard "More" for Mondo Cane...

While I'm not sure what it says about me, I admittedly eat stuff like this up. Maybe it's because it disturbs me--maybe I find it somehow cathartic to deal with material like this in a relatively safe way. It definitely disturbed the hell out of the Mrs., who, even though she only caught bits and pieces of it, found herself questioning why I would even take an interest in watching. It's the kind of movie that definitely provokes strong emotion.

Stepping back from it, I can certainly see how people would have problems with it. Much of the movie is simply one tense, gut-wrenching rape or near-rape after another. And when you watch a rape scene in which the supposed victim begins to "get into it", there's no denying it leaves a bad taste in your mouth. And yet, I somehow relish the power the movie has to provoke strong emotion, even if that emotion is disgust. Maybe it's the wrestling background in me, but I'm much more impressed by a movie that can stir up strong feelings than one which leaves me completely apathetic.

House by the Edge of the Park is typical of the nihilistic grindhouse cinema of its time, in which brutal violence is met with brutal violence, sex and brutality are merged, and in the end we're just left with an overall sense of hopelessness in humanity. If that's your bag, check it out. But don't say I didn't warn you!

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Vic Mizzy 1916-2009



The composer of this, one of the most recognizable TV theme songs of all time, passed away on Saturday. God love these old-school songwriters. We're really missing something without them...

Monday, October 19, 2009

Visceral Visionaries: The Cloisters

Detail from an Italian credenza, c.1440.

I always knew that the Middle Ages produced some of the gnarliest, most nightmarish art ever known to man. After all, this was the era of the Black Plague, a constant state of Braveheart-style warfare, fire-and-brimstone style Christianity, and a generally lower prioritization of value for human life.

But knowing it, and coming face-to-face with it are two different things. I happen to be a big fan of European medieval art, but most of what I had seen had been in the collection of New York's Metropolitan Museum. But earlier this month, I had an opportunity to visit The Cloisters Museum, a satellite of the Met, for the very first time.

Located at the northernmost tip of Manhattan--I'm not kidding, it's practically in the water--is a unique museum first established in 1938. Built from the remnants of five actual French monasteries, it is the perfect setting for a literally unparalleled collection of painting, sculpture and architecture ranging from roughly the 9th through the 15th centuries. And it is downright amazing.

I was lucky enough to have had the foresight to bring a camera along, and so I'd like to share with you some of the awe-inspiring imagery I encountered. Why here, you ask? Simply because this is some of the most creepy and downright horrifying art I've ever been in the presence of...

The torture of souls in Hell. Stained glass, Germany, 1532. Part of the series "The Temptation of St. Anthony".

The Lamentation. Florence, Italy, c.1340. By the Master of the Codex of St. George (gotta love that name). Tempera and gold leaf on wood. Note the rivulets of blood at the foot of the cross.

Arm reliquary. South Netherlands, c.1230. Was purported to have once contained the actual arm bones of a saint, long since gone.

Illustration from The Cloisters Apocalypse. Normandy, France, c.1300. Death rides on his pale horse, as the souls of sinners burn in Hell. You can't really tell here, but some of those souls are dressed as priests and bishops. Some things never change.

Detail from the Vesperbild Pieta. Bohemia, c.1400. Limestone.

Detail from the sepulchral monument of Count Ermengol VII. Spanish, limestone, c.1300. I think this is supposed to be a lion.

Some other sarcophagi that I can't identify from memory. It would be nice if the Cloisters website updated their holdings catalogue at some point since 2001.

Christ frees Adam and Eve from the mouth of Hell itself. I always loved the Harrowing of Hell and Jesus-as-Rambo. Gotta love those post-Gospel revisionists for trying to make J.C. into a more virile, manly hero.

Joab Murdering Abner. Stained glass, Netherlands, c.1200. Joab, King David's general, killed Abner as revenge for the killing of his brother. Another lovely Old Testament tale, from the second book of Samuel.

Detail from The Unicorn Defends Itself. Tapestry, South Netherlands, c. 1500. The Cloisters has an amazing collection of the famous unicorn tapestries, and in this detail, a hunting dog meets his fate at the end of the creature's horn. Striking in its depiction of the unicorn committing violence.

Pieta. Germany, c.1375. Wood and plaster.

Fountainhead from the Cuxa Cloister. Either French or Spanish, c.1150.

TRAILER TRASH: Jack the Ripper Edition!











Sunday, October 18, 2009

Random Ramblings from the Vault...

  • Going to see Where the Wild Things are this afternoon. Not sure who's more excited, my kids or me. It's pretty close.
  • I've been on a major Lovecraft reading tear lately. The season, I guess. He clearly was the 20th century Edgar Allan Poe. I also never realized how much his writing had unconsciously influenced my own.
  • Is it just me, or have there been a lot more horror movies shown on TV in recent years around October than there used to be? Halloween is becoming the new Christmas, isn't it?
  • To the Betsy Palmer geek stalker in the audience for last week's Friday the 13th screening in Stamford: Betsy didn't do Polident commercials in the '80s. You're thinking of Martha Raye. Embarrassing.
  • I'm excited about the idea of remaking Interview with the Vampire. The original film was woefully miscast. Not sure who I would cast though, let me think about that one...
  • Went to the Cloisters medieval art museum in NYC last week and couldn't believe how much of the stuff created in that era in Europe contained such horrifying images. Good thing I brought my camera. There will be a photo essay post coming very soon...
  • Rumor has it the Saw series has been greenlit through a sixth picture. I wonder if the filmmakers ever regret killing off Jigsaw in the third one.
  • I often also wonder who would win in a fight: Chucky or Leprechaun? Thoughts?
  • I worked really hard making up some spiffy new graphics for the "Best of the Vault" section of the right-hand sidebar, so check it out. You wouldn't want me to have wasted all that time, would you?
  • Just a reminder that Drag Me to Hell is now out on DVD. If you haven't already, make sure you watch and see Sam Raimi back doing what he does like no one else.
  • I'm going on the record as predicting that this Nightmare on Elm Street remake is going to be pretty damn good. Still unnecessary, but pretty damn good. Way better than the F13, TCM and Halloween remakes, anyway.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

One of Jigsaw's Lesser Known Traps...



This hilarious Saw spoof was brought to my attention by Katiebabs of Babbling About Books. I hope it made you literally LOL, as it did me.

The Many Faces of Peter Lorre










Friday, October 16, 2009

New Constantine Graphic Novel One Hell of a Bore

Ian Rankin and Werther Dell'Edera's Dark Entries is the first piece of John Constantine fiction I have ever read. Maybe that might have something to do with how unimpressed with it I was, I don't know. I'm sure previous Constantine stuff would have to be much better, or else there would never have been a whole franchise built around the character. All I know is that DC Vertigo's latest hardcover release is nothing to write home about whatsoever.

It started out with a promising premise, about Constantine being recruited to investigate a reality series set in a supposedly haunted house. See, the producers are upset because it looks like the place may actually be haunted, and they can no longer control the show. Of course, it turns out to be far worse than that, and Constantine finds himself once again contending face-to-face with the minions of Satan.

It's all told in a very hard-boiled crime fiction style, courtesy of Rankin, a Scottish mystery novelist best known for his Inspector Rebus series. However, whereas it should have been taut and crisp, it fell completely flat for me--a series of boring interactions amongs the decidedly uninteresting contestants on the show, leading up to a tacked-on climax involving one of Constantine's previously damned adversaries returning for revenge.

Rankin has been writing for almost 25 years, but this is his first graphic novel, and I think that may be the whole problem. Whereas other crime novelists like Brad Meltzer have been known to take to the medium like fish to water, I don't think Rankin is one of them. Perhaps down the road he will learn the nuances of style and pacing in this very different format, but for now, Dark Entries stands as an initial, less-than-successful experiment.

Speaking of less than successful, I wish that I could say that the art of Italian penciler/inker Werther Dell'Edera saves the day, but it really doesn't. Though competent, Dell'Edera's work is far from engaging, and he comes off as just another Klaus Janson wannabe. If only the interior work could've been handled by the excellent Lee Bermejo, the long-time Hellblazer cover artist who also did the excellent cover here.

To be perfectly honest, Dark Entries was a bit of a chore to get through, but I soldiered through it in order to bring you this review. Aren't you grateful? Anyway, I would suggest avoiding it, unless you're a die-hard Constantine fan who must have some kind of insight that I apparently don't have.

Retro Review: Friday the 13th


This week brings a very special Retro Review, as I had the distinct honor and privilege tonight of watching the original Friday the 13th with the lovely Pamela Voorhees herself, Ms. Betsy Palmer. It all went down at the Avon Theatre in Stamford, Connecticut, and it's not an evening I'm soon to forgot. It was freezing cold tonight in CT, complete with unseasonable sleet and driving wind. Yet so completely worth that 18-mile drive down I-95...

Betsy was completely disarming, glowing at age 82 in her Japanese blouse (which, she admitted, was a poor replacement for her classic cable-knit sweater). She was exceedingly patient with her adoring fans, and took the time out to provide us all with great insights and opinions on her part in horror movie history.

She informed us, for instance, that she thought Victor Miller's script was "a piece of shit" (sorry Victor!), but agreed to do the film because the $10,000 paycheck was exactly the price of the new car she wanted to buy. Horror movies have never been her cup of tea, and she has never even seen any of the myriad F13 sequels. And yet she remains humbled and pleased by the tremendous success the movie has enjoyed (although as she also informed us, it has not brought her dime one in residuals).

But by far, Ms. Palmer's most fascinating insight involved her telling us all, in great detail, of the involved backstory she created for Pamela Voorhees in preparation to play the character. The audience sat in rapt attention as she told us of Jason's mom, as she pictured her: A pregnant teenager in the 1940s, disowned by her family, rejected by her deadbeat boyfriend, forced to live in a home for unwed mothers, who eventually comes to Camp Crystal Lake as a way to make some money over the summer and provide a safe, happy environment for her young, troubled son.

What happens to the boy at that camp, she explained, gives Pamela all the justification she needs to do such horrible things. She never wants what happened to her to happen to another young mother and child. And even though Ms. Voorhees clearly has "a few screws loose", as Betsy explained, she felt the need to give her all this "justification" in order to do the role justice.

And honestly, it all shows on the screen. I have to say, I never imagined it, but I found myself getting emotional during that one moment when Ms. Voorhees flashes back to her handicapped son drowning in the lake as he calls out to her. Pretty crazy. And yet Betsy is that good in the movie, in what is admittedly a smaller role than I remembered. She literally brings the movie to another level when she sppears on screen, and is head and shoulders above the rest of the cast.

That's not to say the rest are no good. In fact, far from it; even though Halloween is a far superior film, it's not from an acting point of view. This crew of young people outshines the porno-level acting of most of the young cast in John Carpenter's movie.

Although I will say that one thing that bothers me is what often bothers me about a lot of slashers--the sloppy characterizations. I know it might be a bit pretentious of me to look for character development in slasher flicks, but sometimes the writing can be frustrating. Why, for example, introduce the concept of Steve and Alice's prior relationship, and how Steve is trying to win her back, if it will never be referenced again, nor pay off in any way? Why do we learn about Brenda's bizarre childhood dream, and get to know her and Jack as a couple, only for them to be killed off in the next scene with no rhyme or reason?

Sometimes this stuff can feel like filler, leading up to the "good stuff". But hey, maybe I'm asking too much. This will never be a film on the level of Halloween or A Nightmare on Elm Street, as far as I'm concerned, but it is a damn fine little slasher flick. And certainly far better than any of the crap that followed it in the series. In fact, watching this movie again makes me wish that big guy in the hockey mask never existed. This is Friday the 13th as it should be remembered, and yet this is probably the most overshadowed original movie of any franchise in existence.

The movie manages to both build real suspense, and deliver on the gore--a balance rarely seen in '80s slashers. Tom Savini, fresh off Dawn of the Dead, is at the height of his powers, giving us opened throats, axes to the face, and of course the very famous arrow through Kevin Bacon's neck. Then there's that amazing beheading of Ms. Voorhess in slow motion--complete with the grasping hands of the headless corpse as it collapses to the ground. Nice touch.

And yet Sean Cunnungham does seem to know how to create some serious tension. In particular, the scene in which Adrienne King is making coffee alone in the cabin, not realizing she is the only survivor left. It's an understated, taut little moment unlike anything we'd get in any of the hamfisted sequels.

Plus, a large amount of the tension can also be attributed to one hell of a score by Harry Manfredini, one which doesn't get nearly enough credit beyond the whole "ch-ch-ch-ha-ha-ha" thing. There's a strong influence of the Bernard Hermann Psycho score here, almost bordering on rip-off, but it works.

It was great fun watching this movie on a big screen with a live audience. Listening to the screams at all the right moments. There was a surprising amount of people who had never seen this movie before, and I think they were a little surprised at what they saw. It certainly has one of the most unconventional killers of any movie of its kind. The fight at the end, in particular, is very physical, and very real.

Ironically, it's reality that sets this movie apart from most of its successors. There is no unstoppable killing machine here. And when Ms. Voorhees struggles to kill Alice at the end, it's down and dirty stuff. For the most part, this movie is actually plausible--this all could happen. Betsy Palmer is so believable, in her infamous blue sweater (worn, she explained, to make her look more bulky so her feats of strength would be more believable), creepily intoning those words, "Kill her mommy..."

I got to hear Betsy utter those exact words to a live audience tonight. That alone made it worth the drive through all that sleet and wind. I also got to be in the audience with her as she watched it for only the fourth time. And she came away for the first time realizing what a truly scary movie it is. I'm glad I could be a part of that. Thank you, Betsy Palmer.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

B-Sol's RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD Commentary! It's the Vault's 2nd Anniversary!

Two years ago today, I sat in a cubicle at a dreary former job and decided to write about stuff that I actually enjoy. Thus was born The Vault of Horror, and now, to celebrate the second anniversary, I've recorded my first-ever solo "DVD commentary", on the movie that started it all for me as a horror fanatic--Dan O'Bannon's The Return of the Living Dead.

I hope you enjoy listening, whether below, on the Vaultcast site, or via download. I also hope you've enjoyed the past two years, as I've tried my best to make the Vault the best damn horror blog out there. Here's to many more years!






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