Orgasmo (1969)

Those who may only know him from his terribly cheesy ‘80s outings like NIGHTMARE CITY and GHOSTHOUSE or his violent cannibal jungle adventures, should know that director Umberto Lenzi also directed a number of crime, Eurospy, and giallo films that are considered to be very respectable and accomplished. What I like best are his giallo films from the late ‘60s and early ’70s, and so, if you thought the cannibal movies were too distasteful or that NIGHTMARE CITY was ultra-sucky (not me) and crime films just aren’t your thing, then perhaps what you may’ve been missing all along are some of his terrific gialli, like SEVEN BLOOD STAINED ORCHIDS, KNIFE OF ICE, SPASMO or one I recently enjoyed for the first time, ORGASMO, which sadly, unlike SPASMO, doesn’t include paranoid cries of the enigmatic movie title in its trailer. It was actually released as PARANOIA in America, which adds a good deal of confusion because following the success of the film in America, Lenzi made another movie called PARANOIA in Italy that was released as A QUIET PLACE TO KILL in the US, resulting in two movies called PARANOIA made roughly around the same time. Adding further confusion is the fact that both films star the flamboyant sex icon Carroll Baker as the leading actress. Ah, title confusion… What better way to nerd out on films?

  

Recently widowed and wealthy Kathryn West (Carroll Baker) has moved from America to a lonely villa in Italy. Detached from her past and looking to live a quiet life of peace and isolation, her only form of contact and company now is her lawyer, a stern housemaid, and a deaf gardener. Kathryn finds herself attracted to a young stranger whose motor happens to breakdown in front of her house one day and is seduced and charmed into letting the young man and his sister stay with her. Once she is hooked in, both brother and sister, and surely some other outside influence, mess with her sanity in cruel and evil ways that drive her mad.

   

So, she was alright as a witch in BABA YAGA and a distressed dame in SO SWEET… SO PERVERSE, she displayed fairly interesting acting in KNIFE OF ICE without delivering any lines on account of playing a mute character, and she had an Academy Award nominated role in BABY DOLL, but for a while now I’ve usually wondered: what’s so great about Carroll Baker? Well, read on to find out.

The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave (1971)

Even with the gory movie poster and the seductively macabre title, movie theaters thought this film could use a little extra hype during its premiere, by serving red popcorn, otherwise known as bloodcorn. Moviegoers were then probably expecting a gratuitously bloody show of a female zombie getting vengeance with some of the craziest and most terrifying scenes of which the world had never seen before on the big screen. What they got instead was a slow burning mystery and a lot of time spent with a mentally ill mind. Oh how they must’ve been disappointed….   

Similar to Emilio Miraglia’s own THE RED QUEEN KILLS 7 TIMES, THE NIGHT EVELYN CAME OUT OF THE GRAVE establishes itself as a giallo just as much as it does a modern Gothic horror piece. It contains all of the conventional trappings of Gothic horror, such as the creepy mansion, supernatural themes, a séance, and a promise that something will rise from the grave, a promise that the movie admirably keeps. But, it also has a fair share of that addictive ‘70s modern look; with the European nightclubs, swinging parties, sexy divas, and a brutal faceless killer, giving it an undeniable giallo feel. Fans of both genres that haven’t checked this out yet, really should, and anyone that has already seen it, should take the coming analysis as an attempt to make you want to watch this again.   

Experiencing grief for the loss of his deceased wife, Evelyn, formerly institutionalized nobleman, Lord Alan Cunningham (Anthony Steffen), finds solace by frequenting the London night scene, in search of something or someone new. However, there is an added facet to his inner-torment and that is the reoccurring and haunting memories of when his once precious Evelyn was disloyal to him. 

All the Colors of the Dark (1972)

In this delirious piece by director Sergio Martino, viewers are granted the pleasure to spend, literally, the entire movie with actress Edwige Fenech, as Jane. 

Childhood trauma and a miscarriage, as a result of a car accident one year ago, has resulted in Jane’s mental instability. She lately seems to be spending a lot of time at home now, smoking and drinking while waiting around for her lover, Richard (George Hilton), who’s out working most of the time. Our introduction to Jane in the movie sees her waking up from a bewitchingly filmed nightmare, full of symbolic hints to her troubles, and in a daze, she walks into the shower while still in her nightgown. 

Is this a symbolic and desperate attempt for Jane to wash away what is grieving her, or is it just a chance for Fenech to get wet? I’d say definitely both, which is part of what makes ALL THE COLORS OF THE DARK so pleasurable. It is not just an empty ploy for mindless sex and violence, you see, but the film is just as sexy as it is intelligent, head spinning, macabre, and psychedelic. 

Fenech is sort of the main attraction, whose pleasing looks, vulnerability, and pleasant company carries the proceedings rather well, but the movie is also packed with notable Euro-genre actors who contribute to the show, also, such as the frequent Fenech co-stars George Hilton and Ivan Rassimov, and giallo divas Marinna Malfatti and Nieves Navarro, the latter being a fantastic and groundbreaking lead herself in DEATH WALKS AT MIDNIGHT. 

Messiah of Evil (1973)

MESSIAH OF EVIL is an unusual and artistic low-budget American horror film with a fanciful script that results in a surreal and nightmarish sensibility that feels more like ‘70s Euro-horror, causing it to be either fondly remembered or easily forgotten, depending on the viewer’s taste. Willard Huyck and Gloria Katz’s (the couple that brought us HOWARD THE DUCK and scripted AMERICAN GRAFFITI) ode to madness is probably not everyone’s cup of tea, but with its odd nature and unique horror sequences, the easy to find, but still relatively unknown or unloved, MESSIAH OF EVIL just begs to be blogged about. 

The start almost feels like some sort of one minute film project tacked on at the beginning. The scene of a man running from something unexplained and into a homicidal little girl with a razor blade seemed misleading and unnecessary and ends up being completely forgotten later on since it really has no connection to anything. Things get more interesting quickly, after a short sub-credit sequence, with a shot of a blurry asylum hallway and a woman’s obscure figure walking towards us, slowly, as if she is sleep walking. A woman’s unstable voice, no-doubt crazy from what we are in for, openly narrates a coming threat, calmly at first and slowly builds up to a maddening crescendo. Whether she is talking to herself or narrating to the viewers is unclear, but much like the film, this part is open to interpretation and starts things off beautifully, unlike the tacky throat slashing that occurred before. 

After that terrific intro, we move to Arletty, played by Marianna Hill, driving to the seaside town of Pointe Dune where her father resides. She is concerned about his recent silence and increasingly drastic letters. When she arrives, her father is missing and she is left to ponder the strange situation with journal entries and letters left behind by her father in his bizarre and necrotic house by the sea. 

The Nude Vampire (1970)

THE NUDE VAMPIRE has a lot going for it and is just as enjoyable as other early efforts from Jean Rollin (THE SHIVER OF THE VAMPIRES and REQUIEM FOR A VAMPIRE) and is a masterpiece that I can’t help thinking ends up not getting the love it deserves on account of its low production and bizarre ‘out there’ feel; although it is getting a Blu-ray release this January along with a few other Rollin favorites. 

A mysterious woman, Caroline Cartier, is stalked in the middle of the night by strange pursuers with animal masks. She runs into a well-dressed young gentleman, Pierre, played by Olivier Rollin (Rollin’s half-brother), who senses she is in danger and attempts to help her out but with no such luck, as she is eventually shot by her masked pursuers and carried away to a clubhouse that happens to belong to Pierre's father, Radamante, Maurice Lemaitre, where nicely dressed people seem to aggregate. Concerned, the young man attempts to enter, but he is refused by a gatekeeper who doesn’t let him in without an invitation. 

The appearance of the stalkers in animal masks are an early sign of the ‘no-budget’ feel of the film, but they still manage to be eerily intriguing, and the particular sequence is so visually unique that it is hard not to be interested. During this sequence, the dissonant and screeching violin and a delirious sounding saxophone that can be heard blend into a cacophony at times. The music succeeds in setting an unusual mood that is just as weird as the movie. The violin will sometimes shriek out, resulting in a feeling that is like a slap to the senses. 

When Pierre manages to gain entry to the nocturnal meetings, he finds that what might have been an exclusive private party at his father’s clubhouse turns out to be a meeting ground for a cult that worships the mysterious and alluring woman he met and saw shot on the streets.

Queens of Evil (1970)

David, Ray Lovelock, is riding free with the wind in his hair and the beautiful ocean in the background. He is an eloper of society looking for freedom in a new world. What he ends up finding is more or less an exaggeration of what his free spirit has always desired in this rarely seen but marvelous film. 

Following the music-video-like intro-credits, night falls and a shot of the lead character riding down a pitch black foggy highway in the middle of nowhere gives off a dark and uneasy feeling as he stops to help a stranded older looking gentleman, Gianni Santuccio, with a flat tire. A conversation of conflicting beliefs ensues, and while still expressing appreciation for the help, this older man lights a cigar and takes no time to criticize David’s long hair, hippie clothes, and free-love ideals (Remind you of a similar moment with lovelock in THE LIVING DEAD AT MANCHESTER MORGUE?), which are a strong contrast to the older man’s short grey hair, suit-and-tie, and enthusiasm for matrimony. 

Nonetheless, David holds onto his pride while the well kempt man, who hasn’t given his name (he’s known as L’uomo/Il diavolo on the IMDB which is Italian for Man/The Devil), attempts to provoke him to ‘betray his ideals’ by making suggestions that are a forecast to a very provocative situation that David later finds himself in. The old man’s drawn-out advice feels too premeditated to not raise the suspicion that he may’ve been planning on meeting David all along. It doesn’t help that he stuck a nail in David’s
motorcycle tire while he was working either.  

Beyond the Darkness: buio omega (1979)

In a dream, someone once told me that nostalgia is the mind’s inability to cope with change. 

The desire to make things the way they once were, when times were happier, can be overwhelming, but we must find comfort in believing that things can be better and that new warmer days will be on the horizon. Some find the ability to carry on by fondly remembering the past in the form of keepsakes and mementos, and accept the fact that there is nothing that can be done other than to move on with strength and a resolve for a better tomorrow, while others prefer to do things a bit differently. This is definitely the case for the loathsome and childish lead character in Joe D’Amato’s BUIO OMEGA. 

Orphaned Frank (Kieran Canter) is a taxidermist with a large inheritance who has just suffered the loss of the love of his life, Anna (Cinzia Monreale of THE BEYOND). Stricken by grief, Frank commits a highly objectionable act of exhuming his recently deceased girlfriend’s corpse before preserving and making a doll out of her in order to still be close to her, to still be able to talk to her, sleep with her, and express his never ending love while still being able to look into her eyes. And woe unto any who would interfere… 

Though it may seem out of place to some, the progressive rock soundtrack in this movie from GOBLIN is bitchin’ and gives me an impulse to air-bass-guitar. It lends to BUIO OMEGA a flavor that is less horror and more sleaze, violence, and rock ‘n’ roll. Nonetheless, horror mainstays are all here such as a giant mansion, a graveyard, gore, and a knife wielding PSYCHO-esque housekeeper (Norman Bates’ sister, perhaps?). Yet, it is not the music or the story of a young man’s yearning for his love so cruelly taken from him that causes BUIO OMEGA to be an astonishing achievement, but it is the way that D’amato pushes the boundaries of ‘nasty’ through the roof and way beyond anything that would already be considered unwholesome and just plain wrong, which causes BUIO OMEGA to really stand out and be forever remembered as one of the crazier and most screwed up forays into dementia that exploitation cinema has to offer. 

Night of the Seagulls (1976)

The Templar zombies in the Blind Dead films are a good example of a simple idea that really hits the mark. They’ve been fondly remembered for decades by fans and still have an onscreen impact that is just as powerful today as it was in the 70s. Their iconic doom-laden theme music by Antón Garcia Abril enhances the believability of the creeping-death that is Amando De Ossorio’s blind dead. 

The opening to NIGHT OF THE SEAGULLS of a woman being brutally sacrificed by the not-yet-undead Knights Templar is effective but not surprising to those already familiar with Ossorio’s films. During the sacrifice ritual while these evil men stand around observing the terrible act, I found myself shouting aloud “don’t you guys have anything better to do than torment, stab, and eat this poor young lady?!”. It truly is a disgusting scene that was still very well done. Afterwards, the poor mangled and severed body is left to the crabs in a chilling sequence that I primarily remember this film for. 

The shock and unpleasant feeling from the opening is shifted to a more melancholic vibe when the story transitions to present day while a mood setting synthesizer plays over the introduction of the two main characters, Dr. Henry Stein and his wife Joan Stein, played by Victor Petit and the always welcome Spanish horror regular Maria Kosty. The seaside village they’ve arrived at doesn’t feel like present day, in fact the film feels like an era piece, but Joan’s mall fashion wardrobe as well as the car they arrive in serves as a reminder that we are still in modern day Spain, just in a village that time forgot.