THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT (Denmark/Sweden/France/Germany - 2018) Written and directed by Lars von Trier. Cast: Matt Dillon, Bruno Ganz, Uma Thurman, Siobhan Fallon Hogan, Sofie Grabol, Riley Keough, Jeremy Davies, Ed Speleers, Emil Thorstrup, Marijana Jankovic, Carina Skenhede, Rocco Day, Cohen Day, Osy Ikhile, Yu Ji-tae, David Bailie. (R, 151 mins) When an ill-advised joke about "understanding" and "sympathizing with" Hitler understandably failed to land, professional provocateur and arthouse troll Lars von Trier was kicked out of the Cannes Film Festival in 2011 with his MELANCHOLIA in competition. His triumphant return to the festival earlier this year with the serial killer thriller THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT led to harumphing outrage and at least 100 walkouts. In other words, Mission Accomplished. IFC Films released von Trier's unrated, uncensored, 155-minute version for a one-night theatrical run in late November prior to the VOD rollout of the R-rated cut, shortened by four minutes. I don't really see why an edited version is necessary if it's mainly going to be seen on VOD anyway, and you can tell where the cuts are--the brutal murders of two children being a key point of repulsion at Cannes, along with one graphic scene of a woman's breasts being mutilated and sliced off. But even if you could see these few bits at full strength in the cut version, THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT isn't exactly the second coming of HENRY: PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL KILLER. It is a tour-de-force for an all-in Matt Dillon as Jack, an odd, antisocial, obsessive-compulsive architect-turned-serial killer based in the rural outskirts of the Pacific Northwest, recounting five random murders over a 12-year period to an initially unseen man named Verge (Bruno Ganz). Verge scoffs at Jack's boasts and claims, sardonically taunting him with "Don't believe you're going to tell me something I haven't heard before." But by the end, Verge's snide dismissals and mocking tone will give way to legitimate horror and disgust, to the point where he finally deems Jack an "Antichrist."
Jack's murderous ways seem to have started as a spur-of-the-moment impulse decision. In "Incident 1," he happens upon a woman (Uma Thurman) stranded on the side of the road with a flat tire and a broken jack (sly foreshadowing?). She's pushy and abrasive, demanding more and more of Jack's time and telling him he "looks like a serial killer." That is, until she walks it back and says he looks like too much of a wimp to be a murderer, to which Jack's knee-jerk response is to bash her head in with the jack. Independently wealthy from an inheritance, Jack owns an empty warehouse space with a massive walk-in freezer, which he puts to use by storing her corpse. Jack's first attempt at premeditated murder comes in "Incident 2," where he awkwardly and unconvincingly tries to talk his way into home of a cop's widow (Siobhan Fallon Hogan), first by pretending to be a detective ("I'd like to see a police badge," she says. "So would I," replies Jack), and then only gaining entrance by playing on her greed by saying he's there to talk about a possible increase in her late husband's pension. After killing her, he's nearly caught by a passing cop (Ed Speleers) when his OCD and his obsessive cleanliness repeatedly force him to go back into the house and double/triple/quadruple-check to make sure he didn't miss a spot of blood, repeatedly scrubbing the floors and walls over and over again ("A murderer with OCD and to top it off, a cleaning compulsion?" needles Verge). In "Incident 3," Jack is a gun nut in a red hat taking a single mom (Sofie Grabol) and her two young sons, George (Cohen Day) and Grumpy (Rocco Day), to a vacant shooting range with predictably horrific results, including a macabre picnic where he forces her to feed bites of apple pie to her two dead boys ("This has been a good day," Jack beams with pride after this "family" outing). By this point, Jack has grown more confident in his abilities as a chameleon-like killer and begins sending murder photos to the press, calling himself "Mr. Sophistication," likely a reference to the grimly sardonic emcee at Ben Gazzara's seedy burlesque club in the 1976 John Cassavetes cult classic THE KILLING OF A CHINESE BOOKIE). In "Incident 4," Jack is in full-on "bad boy" mode, manipulating and psychologically abusing Jacqueline (Riley Keough) by giving her the nickname "Simple" and boasting that he's killed 60 people and "in a couple of minutes, it'll be 61." "Incident 5" has Jack abducting five random people and taking them to his freezer--now filled with years' worth of collected victims--and lining them up for a full metal jacket to rip through all of their heads with one shot, only to be stalled by the fact that the guy at the gun shop (Jeremy Davies, twitchy as ever) sold him mislabeled ammo.
Amidst the horrors on display, there's quite a bit of dark, absurdist humor throughout, like Jack leaving one victim's severed breast under the windshield wiper of the cop who earlier issued him a parking ticket, and then using the other breast to make a wallet. And almost everything out of Verge's mouth is gold, with Ganz deploying a tone so incredulously mocking of Jack that you can't help but laugh (their conversations are reminiscent of Charlotte Gainsbourg and Stellan Skarsgard's framing sequences in NYMPHOMANIAC). But the film really loses its way after the fifth incident, and when we finally see Verge onscreen near the end, the magic of Ganz's vocal performance is lost thanks to von Trier's decision to turn him into a Chuck Palahniuk plot construct. Of course, the film was never meant to exist in reality, as Jack is the most unreliable of narrators (it's even possible that "Incident 1" isn't even his first murder, since he seems so testy and preoccupied from the start), and he gets away with his acts much too easily, but at some point, THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT stops being shocking and provocative and just becomes repetitive and exhausting, with a bloated running time that borders on loitering.
A walking embodiment of the DSM-5, Jack believes that his murders constitute "art," a sentiment stemming from his disputing the differences between "architect" and "engineer" when describing his profession. This leads to endless debates with Verge about art, iconography, and the nature of "masterpieces" that play over shots of revered paintings, museum pieces, newsreel footage of Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin, Idi Amin, various massacres and genocides, and, eventually, in a grating bit of masturbatory self-adulation, a highlight reel of clips from past von Trier films. There's some political and social commentary to be mined from this (there's no slogan on Jack's red hat in "Incident 3," but the implication is obvious), and Jack very often comes off like a pathetic incel with some major issues with women (note how it's being called a "wimp" that initially sets him off). Dillon dives into this role with fearless abandon, and von Trier crafts some undoubtedly effective and haunting images, whether it's the positioning of the victims in "Incident 3," the taxidermy method in which he preserves Grumpy's body, or something like Jack's thumb and the tip of his index finger cleaning off a single blood-drenched blade of grass, and finally, the ultimate construction of his "house." But less could've been more with THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT, and von Trier is, as usual, so self-indulgently preoccupied with poking people with sticks to get a reaction that he disappears up his own ass. Few filmmakers are more divisive than Lars von Trier, and there's moments of greatness even in his lesser films. But his need to shock and provoke for a reaction too often feels like the work of an enfant terrible making a name for himself rather than a 62-year-old who's in his fourth decade of filmmaking.
BACKTRACE (US/UK - 2018) Directed by Brian A. Miller. Written by Mike Maples. Cast: Ryan Guzman, Sylvester Stallone, Matthew Modine, Meadow Williams, Christopher McDonald, Colin Egglesfield, Lydia Hull, Tyler Jon Olson, Sergio Rizzuto, Swen Temmel, Joe Gelchion, Jenna Willis, Baylee Curran, Yan Dron, Carl Nespoli, Geoff Reeves. (R, 87 mins) Though it's not part of Lionsgate's landmark "Bruce Willis Phones In His Performance From His Hotel Room" series, BACKTRACE certainly upholds the grand tradition: it's directed by frequent Willis VOD helmer Brian A. Miller (VICE, THE PRINCE, REPRISAL); it deals with a robbery gone south; has 50 credited producers; it's shot in Georgia, one of the big states (along with Louisiana and Ohio) known for generous film production tax breaks; and it boasts the star power of second-billed Sylvester Stallone, who hopefully wondered aloud at some point, "Who the fuck is Ryan Guzman and why is he billed over me?" Stallone is clearly pulling Willis duty here, probably working 4-5 days tops, with most of his scenes keeping him confined to his desk at a police precinct, glowering at a wall of maps and mug shots in what appears to be the only case he's been working on for seven years. It was seven years ago that Donovan MacDonald (Matthew Modine) and two accomplices made off with $20 million from a Savannah, GA bank and tried to keep more than the agreed 50% share from their silent partners, offering them a mere $5 million. A shootout ensued, killing MacDonald's two cohorts and leaving him comatose with a bullet in his head. Seven years later, he wakes up in a hospital with a debilitating case of retrograde amnesia, unable to remember anything and prone to migraines and nightmares. Robbery/homicide detective Sykes (Stallone) has been monitoring the case all this time, but is repeatedly told by MacDonald's doctor (Lydia Hull) that his mind is a blank slate and there's nothing there.
But buried somewhere in the nether regions of MacDonald's memories is the location of the stashed $15 million that he and his partners kept for themselves. Enter Lucas (Guzman, of two STEP UP sequels, HEROES REBORN, and currently on 9-1-1), who's in the psych unit for a voluntary 72-hour evaluation. He seems to know all about MacDonald, and is in cahoots with hot-tempered guard Farren (Tyler Jon Olson) and nurse Erin (Meadow Williams) to bust the amnesiac perp out and use an experimental medication on him to jog his memories and hopefully reveal the location of the money. Meanwhile, Sykes has to contend with FBI agent Franks (Christopher McDonald, cast radically against type as "Christopher McDonald") trying to take over the case (don't the Feds have jurisdiction on bank robberies anyway?), followed by the inevitable ridiculous third-act plot twist and assorted double crosses.
Would you be surprised to learn that BACKTRACE offers a climactic shootout at an abandoned factory? Or that at least one major character isn't who they claim to be? Or that at one point, a sneering Franks informs Sykes and his captain (Joe Gelchion) that "I'll expect your department's full cooperation?" The slightly sci-fi angle of the experimental serum injected into MacDonald's spine, allowing him to "see" his memories come to life, sounds like something that might exist on the bottom of Christopher Nolan's slush pile, but its almost-lofty ambitions end there. As far as Brian A. Miller movies go, this is better than expected, but that's not quite cause for celebration. The biggest surprise is that Modine is essentially the star. He has the most compelling character and the most screen time, and like a veteran pro, he invests much more effort into a forgettable VOD time-killer than was really necessary. Despite his inexplicable top billing, Guzman is strictly a supporting actor with no more to do than Williams and Olson (his image isn't even on the poster). And with CREED II still in theaters, Stallone finds himself back on the road to VOD/DTV oblivion a few months after headlining the execrable ESCAPE PLAN 2, with the simultaneously shot ESCAPE PLAN 3 due out next year. Sly at least handles his extended cameo with a reasonable degree of professionalism by actually showing up and sticking around for his scenes. That's more than Miller would've gotten from another cynical walk-through from Willis, who would've done his close-ups in a day and let an unconvincing double fill in the blanks. BACKTRACE has a slightly more ambitious approach to its formulaic, generic heist-gone-awry scenario, and its big-name action star is actually awake, but it's MVP Modine busting his ass and going above and beyond that almost single-handedly makes it maybe worth a look on a slow night.
MAUSOLEUM (US - 1983) Directed by Michael Dugan. Written by Robert Barich and Robert Madero. Cast: Marjoe Gortner, Bobbie Bresee, Norman Burton, LaWanda Page, Maurice Sherbanee, Laura Hippe, Sheri Mann, Julie Christy Murray, Chu Chu Malave, Gene Edwards, Di Ann Monaco, Joel Kramer, Bill Vail. (R, 97 mins) "There's some strange shit goin' on in this house!" One of the great garbage horror movies of the 1980s now resurrected in an uncut, pristine Blu-ray restoration by Vinegar Syndrome (because physical media is dead), MAUSOLEUM is a ludicrously tacky demonic possession outing notable for a game performance by Bobbie Bresee as a woman transformed by a family curse into a nymphomaniacal succubus, with even her breasts turning into growling, chomping miniature Cuatos. Already in her mid 30s by this time with numerous TV guest spots to her credit, Bresee had a very short-lived run as a C-grade '80s scream queen, following her work here with roles in Empire's GHOULIES, Troma's SURF NAZIS MUST DIE, and a trio of Fred Olen Ray joints with ARMED RESPONSE, STAR SLAMMER, and EVIL SPAWN. But it's most definitely MAUSOLEUM that's cemented her place in exploitation history. Bresee stars as Susan Farrell, a 30-year-old woman who's been traumatized since childhood by the death of her mother. Raised by her aunt Cora Nomed (Laura Hippe) and under the care of fatherly psychiatrist Dr. Simon Andrews (Norman Burton), Susan lives a life of privilege as the wife of successful businessman Oliver (Marjoe Gortner!), but a family curse has come to stake its claim, taking possession of her as she succumbs to her carnal urges, her eyes glowing green as she kills Aunt Cora, and seduces and slaughters the lecherous gardener (Maurice Sherbanee) and a dopey delivery boy (future Andy Sidaris regular Chu Chu Malave). She also scares the shit out of Elsie (LaWanda "Aunt Esther from SANFORD AND SON" Page!), her put-upon, comic relief stereotype of a housekeeper, who flees the house in arm-flailing terror to the tune of her own wacky theme and stopping just short of exclaiming "Feets don't fail me now!"
Dr. Andrews is well aware of what's wrong with Susan: it's a curse on all first-born women in the Nomed family, which shouldn't surprise anyone who's ever seen a vampire movie with a character named "Alucard." The Nomed curse stems from a demonic spirit housed in a mausoleum at the cemetery where Susan's mother is buried. Susan's demonic histrionics are effectively conveyed John Carl Buechler--who would soon go on to be Empire's go-to mechanical FX guy on gems like THE DUNGEONMASTER, TRANCERS, TROLL, TERRORVISION, FROM BEYOND, and DOLLS among others--and once seen, Susan's possessed breasts cannot be unseen. Released by Motion Picture Marketing, a company known for picking up gory Euro imports like Lucio Fulci's CITY OF THE LIVING DEAD (which they retitled THE GATES OF HELL) and Bruno Mattei's HELL OF THE LIVING DEAD (retitled NIGHT OF THE ZOMBIES) and run by future convicted mobster-turned-Christian motivational speaker Michael Franzese, MAUSOLEUM was co-written and co-produced by one-and-done Robert Barich, and it even opens with the credit "A Robert Barich Film" even though Michael Dugan is the credited director (in a new interview on the Blu-ray, Buechler says that Dugan was on the set and "learning," but Barich was calling all the shots). The Blu-ray finally allows some impressive technical aspects to take center stage, as the film is revealed to demonstrate a nice use of garish color schemes that vaguely recall Mario Bava and Dario Argento, and there's a Euro batshit vibe to the whole thing, but don't think Barich is going for high art: it's all largely on the cheesy and often sexploitative side.
There is one legitimately creepy moment when Oliver wakes up in the middle of the night and sees Susan, in her demonic state, slowly rocking in a creaking chair in the corner of the room, but it's ruined by Gortner's underplaying the response in the way Oliver calmly walks out of the room and...calls Dr. Andrews? Wouldn't you just get the fuck out of the house? It makes even less sense when he's acting like nothing happened the next day and his wife wasn't sitting there looking like a creature spawned from the bowels of Hell. It's also amazing how nonchalant Oblivious Ollie is about the missing Aunt Cora, the missing gardener, and blood all over the kitchen from Susan killing the delivery boy. There's also a memorable sequence in a shopping mall and some spirited splatter throughout, capped off by a nonsensical, fourth-wall-breaking ending. In short, MAUSOLEUM is a bad movie, but it's an absolutely wonderful bad movie
THE CHILDREN (US - 1980) Directed by Max Kalmanowicz. Written by Carlton J. Albright and Edward Terry. Cast: Martin Shakar, Gil Rogers, Gale Garnett, Shannon Bolin, Tracy Griswold, Joy Glaccum, Edward Terry, Peter Maloney, Michelle LeMothe, Suzanne Barnes, Rita Montone, John Codiglia, Clara Evans, Jeptha Evans, Julie Carrier, Sarah Albright, Nathanael Albright, Jessie Abrams, June Berry, Martin Brennan. (R, 93 mins) In heavy cable rotation in the early '80s and its Vestron Video VHS a fixture in every video store back in the day, 1980's THE CHILDREN remains enjoyably goofy and, in retrospect, looks reasonably professional relative to most regional horror offerings of its era. Shot in Massachusetts on a shoestring budget, the film managed to nab some personnel that had past associations with real movies and other legit gigs: top-billed Martin Shakar, in his only big-screen lead, had a key supporting role in the 1977 smash hit SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER as John Travolta's sympathetic older brother, who usurps his black sheep role by leaving the priesthood and encouraging him, against the wishes of their parents, to pursue dancing; Gil Rogers was a visible presence as a kindly grandfather in a series of Grape-Nuts TV commercials during this period; Gale Garnett was a singer best known for her Grammy-winning 1964 hit "We'll Sing in the Sunshine;" and while Shannon Bolin never had much of a big-screen career, she did recreate her acclaimed Broadway role as Meg in the popular 1958 big-screen version of DAMN YANKEES, co-starring with Tab Hunter and Gwen Verdon. THE CHILDREN also been inextricably linked to the same year's earlier hit FRIDAY THE 13TH, mainly as a lesser-known, distant relative, as it shared a few crew members, including cinematographer Barry Abrams but most notably composer Harry Manfredini, whose score here virtually recycles nearly every cue from the influential slasher hit with the exception of the iconic "ki ki ki, ma ma ma."
The brainchild of producer Carlton J. Albright and his writing partner Edward Terry, who would later team on the grungy 1989 cult classic LUTHER THE GEEK (with Terry in the title role), THE CHILDREN was set to be directed by Terry, who was battling alcoholism issues at the time, prompting Albright to go with Max Kalmanowicz, who logged time as a production assistant and sound guy on several projects (like Larry Cohen's THE PRIVATE FILES OF J. EDGAR HOOVER). Kalmanowicz got the job largely because he had enough industry contacts to put together a professional behind-the-scenes crew faster than Albright could. The story, inspired by the then-current near-meltdown at Three Mile Island, is set in the tiny New England town of Ravensback, where a school bus drives through a cloud of green, radioactive mist after a leak at a nearby nuclear power plant (Umberto Lenzi's NIGHTMARE CITY did something similar around the same time, but with a plane). Sheriff Billy Hart (Rogers) happens upon the abandoned bus while on patrol and can't find the driver or any of the kids. They soon start appearing, with pale faces, blackened fingernails, and arms outstretched, turned into radioactive zombies whose lethal hugs incinerate beyond recognition. After being met with general apathy by most parents-turned-victims (including bizarre and unexplored bits like one kid's dazed, codeine-popping lesbian mom and her bitchy doctor lover, the latter aggressively hostile to Hart for no discernible reason at all, and another who lounges by the pool smoking weed while her oiled-up boy toy pumps iron), and finding his deputy (Tracy Griswold) one of the victims of the children's scorching hugging spree, Hart teams up with local resident John Freemont (Shakar), whose daughter was on the bus and has the day free anyway since his car keeps breaking down, his wife Cathy (Garnett) is about to give birth, and their son Clarkie (Jessie Abrams) stayed home from school sick.
Just out on Blu-ray from Vinegar Syndrome (because physical media is dead), THE CHILDREN manages to conjure up a few decent creepy images, like a third-act John Carpenter-esque siege scenario accentuated by shots of the children roaming around the yard waiting them out and looking like a grade-school re-enactment of NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD (the children were played by the kids of Abrams, Albright, and other crew members, plus the son of one of Albright's neighbors, all helpful in circumventing union and child labor laws). But most of the film's enjoyment is of the unintentional yuks variety, whether it's the discovery that the only way to stop the children is by hacking off their hands, the numerous extraneous plot developments appear at random and are quickly abandoned, how thoroughly unlikable both Cathy (who smokes while pregnant) and John (who's always snapping at Cathy) are, and the amateur-night acting of most of the supporting cast, including Martin Brennan as an obnoxious asshole named "Sanford Butler-Jones," with Albright admitting in the Blu-ray bonus features that he's only in the movie because he was hanging around in an unofficial capacity as the production's coke dealer. Albright also says he and Terry took Kevin McCarthy to lunch at the Russian Tea Room in order to woo him into starring (presumably in what became Rogers' role), but were turned down, followed by a near-agreement from veteran character actor and Broadway Tony-winner John Cullum until he was talked out of it by his wife. As a result, Shakar, Garnett (who has a third-string Brooke Adams thing going on here), and Bolin (who plays the doomed owner of the local general store) were the closest THE CHILDREN got to having big names, but it gets the job done as terrific trash cinema without a Kevin McCarthy or a John Cullum having to come in and class it up.
THE CHILDREN opening in
Toledo, OH on 8/15/1980
Proof that a double feature of THE CHILDREN
and THE VISITOR played at a mall.
NAKED VENGEANCE (US/Philippines - 1985) Directed by Cirio H. Santiago. Written by Reilly Askew. Cast: Deborah Tranelli, Kaz Garas, Bill McLaughlin, Ed Crick, Terence O'Hara, Carmen Argenziano, Steve Roderick, David Light, Don Gordon Bell, Nick Nicholson, Phil Morrell, Joseph Zucchero, Helen McNeely, Doc McCoy, Henry Strzalkowski, Bill Kipp. (Unrated, 97 mins) Filipino exploitation auteur Cirio H. Santiago took a break the '80s cycle of Namsploitation and post-nuke ripoffs to helm 1985's NAKED VENGEANCE, an I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE-inspired contribution to the rape/revenge subgenre. An early release of Roger Corman's Concorde Pictures, NAKED VENGEANCE's Lightning Video VHS was in every video store in America back in the '80s, but it was available in two vastly different editions: a 77-minute R-rated version, and a 97-minute (!) unrated version, the latter represented on Scream Factory's new Blu-ray double feature set with the women-in-prison thriller VENDETTA, because physical media is dead. Much of those 20 additional minutes are related to character development, but in its uncut form, NAKED VENGEANCE is maybe the most ridiculously violent movie Santiago ever made. Flash-in-the-pan actress and SoCal trophy wife Carla Harris (Deborah Tranelli, then in the middle of a decade-long run as Phyllis Wapner, Bobby Ewing's secretary, on DALLAS) finds her world shattered when her husband Mark (Terence O'Hara) is shot and killed while heroically intervening in a sexual assault in the parking lot of a swanky restaurant where they were celebrating their fifth wedding anniversary. When the detective (Carmen Argenziano, whose two brief appearances are likely Hollywood-shot inserts by someone at Corman's lumberyard headquarters) tells her there's no leads and the rape victim isn't cooperating, Carla decides to get away and visit her parents in her childhood town of Silver Lake. Once there, she's ogled, leered at, harassed, and hit on by every guy in town, some of whom knew her in high school and resent that she ran off to Hollywood. When she resists the forceful advances of seemingly affable supermarket--or the closest approximation of a California supermarket that Santiago can throw together in a what looks like a vacant Manila gas station--butcher Fletch (Kaz Garas), tensions explode and when Carla's parents take an overnight trip to visit relatives, Fletch and his sub-literate buddies barge into the house and gang-rape Carla. Of course, her parents decide to return early, and they're shotgunned to death as Fletch also kills Timmy (Steve Roderick), the town's "slow" kid who tagged along, framing him for the massacre.
A catatonic Carla is hospitalized, but escapes nightly to exact revenge on the men in a variety of horrific ways, from setting one ablaze to crushing another under a car to the old rape/revenge standby of castration. As the body count rises, useless sheriff (Bill McLaughlin)--who shruggingly told Carla to "just keep your curtains closed" and "relax a little" when she reported Timmy peeping through her window--takes an inordinate amount of time to realize that all of the victims are Fletch's asshole bros, and he has to keep Fletch from forming a posse to go after Carla. Similar to what he'd do with FUTURE HUNTERS, Santiago rips off multiple films over the course of NAKED VENGEANCE: it goes from I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE to a DEATH WISH-style vigilante thriller, then it turns into FIRST BLOOD when they pursue Carla through town and into the surrounding woods, and finally STRAW DOGS when she barricades herself in her parents' house as Fletch and what's left of his crew lay siege. As evidenced by the grocery store and an equally unconvincing gym, NAKED VENGEANCE is laughably cheap. Even the sheriff's office has a laminated "Sheriff's Office" sign taped to a door in what's obviously not a police station.
While a few early scenes were actually shot in California, the bulk of the film has Manila passing itself off as suburban L.A. with occasional bits that almost look convincing (there's also the presence of Santiago's usual Philippines-based stock company members like Nick Nicholson, Henry Strzalkowski, and Ed Crick). An epilogue with Carla back in L.A. cluelessly makes use of stock footage of NYC before Tranelli is back in L.A., made apparent by a cameo appearance from Walter Hill's favorite bar, Torchy's. Tranelli isn't a great actress, and her TV career went nowhere after DALLAS (she left the business after a 1995 guest spot on LAW & ORDER). While she's good enough for NAKED VENGEANCE, it says a lot about the opportunities she was getting outside of DALLAS that she'd resort to something this grimy and nasty to land a lead role in a feature film (she's also a singer, and Santiago letting her belt out the overplayed but undeniably catchy Laura Branigan-esque power ballad theme song "Still Got a Love" might've sweetened the deal). It's repugnant and graphically violent, but make no mistake: for those genre fans so inclined, the absolutely insane NAKED VENGEANCE is a buried treasure of VHS glory days trashsploitation just waiting to be rediscovered.
VENDETTA (US - 1986) Directed by Bruce Logan. Written by L.J. Cavastani, Emil Farkas, Simon Maskell and John Adams. Cast: Karen Chase, Sandy Martin, Kin Shriner, Roberta Collins, Michelle Newkirk, Marshall Teague, Greg Bradford, Mark Von Zech, Hoke Howell, Eugene Robert Glazer, Marta Kober, Lisa Hullana, Durga McBroom, Will Hare, Jack Kosslyn, Bruce Logan. (R, 90 mins) Paired with NAKED VENGEANCE on the new Scream Factory Blu-ray double feature set is VENDETTA, a Concorde pickup that made the regional rounds in the fall of 1986. Originally titled ANGELS BEHIND BARS, it joined Cannon's THE NAKED CAGE and New World's spoofy REFORM SCHOOL GIRLS as belated stragglers in the '80s women-in-prison revival that was highlighted by the likes of 1982's THE CONCRETE JUNGLE and 1983's CHAINED HEAT. VENDETTA was designed as a starring vehicle for stuntwoman Karen Chase, cast radically against type as Laurie Collins, a tough-as-nails Hollywood stuntwoman whose little sister Bonnie (Michelle Newkirk) is raped and gets tossed in prison on a manslaughter charge after shooting her attacker with his own gun. In the joint, Bonnie runs afoul of bitchy, ruthless cell block queen Kay (Sandy Martin), who has her crew beat the shit out of her, shoot her up with junk, and throw her over a railing in what corrupt prison officials and a shady coroner write off as a suicide. Laurie isn't convinced and devises a plan to get sent to the same prison--by stealing the judge's car and going on a drunken, reckless driving spree, and being sentenced by the same judge, which is in no way a conflict of interest--where she tries to figure out who killed her beloved baby sister.
VENDETTA is moderately entertaining trash that's pretty much par for the course as far as these kinds of movies go, except for a climax involving a Prince impersonator, which is admittedly not something you see every day. Chase's Laurie demonstrates some more fighting skills than the usual naive innocent protagonist you'd normally find, and it's of interest in retrospect to see Martin--later to find notoriety as Grandma in NAPOLEON DYNAMITE, as Mac's mom on IT'S ALWAYS SUNNY IN PHILADELPHIA, and as disgraced deputy Sam Rockwell's mom in THREE BILLBOARDS OUTSIDE EBBING, MISSOURI--letting it all hang out and acting like an unhinged psychopath as Kay. Fans of the post-Roger Waters era of Pink Floyd will be surprised to see the band's soon-to-be fan-favorite backing vocalist Durga McBroom as an ass-kicking inmate named "Willow." There's also '70s drive-in starlet Roberta Collins (DEATH RACE 2000's Matilda the Hun) in her final film appearance as the one sympathetic prison official (she retired from acting and died in 2008); longtime daytime soap vet Kin Shriner, who's spent most of the last 41 years as Scott Baldwin on GENERAL HOSPITAL, as a horndog guard ("C'mon, I've already serviced three girls today and my wife's waitin' for me...it's our anniversary!"); Marshall Teague (best known as ROAD HOUSE dipshit Jimmy Reno) as Laurie's boyfriend; and a brawl outside Pacino's, then a well-known Covina, CA restaurant owned by Sal Pacino, who unsurprisingly couldn't talk his son Al into stopping by to say hello. VENDETTA was the directing debut of Bruce Logan, a cinematographer on '70s Roger Corman productions like BIG BAD MAMA, CRAZY MAMA, and JACKSON COUNTY JAIL who also worked on the special effects crew of STAR WARS, STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE, and FIREFOX among others. He served as the cinematographer for the groundbreaking TRON before going into the world of music videos, where his biggest credit was producing the Mary Lambert-directed video for Madonna's hit "Borderline," from her self-titled 1983 debut.
VENDETTA opening in Toledo, OH on 12/12/1986 as a
"First Run Exclusive" at a nearly abandoned mall's
second-run two-screen that would be closed seven months later.
Note SONG OF THE SOUTH hitting another second-run
at the end of what would be its final--to date-- theatrical re-release.
THE BLACK WINDMILL (US - 1974) Directed by Don Siegel. Written by Leigh Vance. Cast: Michael Caine, Donald Pleasence, Delphine Seyrig, Clive Revill, Janet Suzman, John Vernon, Joss Ackland, Catherine Schell, Joseph O'Conor, Denis Quilley, Derek Newark, Edward Hardwicke, Maureen Pryor, Molly Urquhart, Hermione Baddeley, Paul Moss, John Rhys-Davies. (PG, 106 mins) "If there are things about me that you hate, Alex...be grateful for them now." After setting up shop at Universal in the early 1970s, the producing team of Richard D. Zanuck and David Brown immediately knocked it out of the park by shepherding the Oscar-winning 1973 hit THE STING. The same year, they also produced the cult horror film SSSSSSS, and in 1974, gave the green light to Steven Spielberg's big-screen directing debut THE SUGARLAND EXPRESS. Impressed with the young director, they also produced his next film, JAWS, which set new standards for nationwide release strategies and defined the concept of the "summer blockbuster." In the midst of all this massive success for the Zanuck/Brown duo was 1974's THE BLACK WINDMILL, a kidnapping thriller that completely bombed with critics and audiences. Directed by the great Don Siegel (best known for the original 1956 version of INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS and 1971's DIRTY HARRY), THE BLACK WINDMILL was based on Clive Egleton's 1973 novel Seven Days to a Killing, and was adapted by Leigh Vance, a veteran TV writer and producer whose credits included THE SAINT, MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE, MANNIX, CANNON, BARETTA, FANTASY ISLAND, and HART TO HART.
An American production shot in the UK and France, THE BLACK WINDMILL stars Michael Caine in GET CARTER mode as John Tarrant, a British intelligence agent working undercover to nail a crew of arms smugglers selling weapons to the IRA. Led by McKee (John Vernon) and Ceil (Delphine Seyrig), the smugglers seem to be on to Tarrant, since they kidnap his young son David (Paul Moss) and hold him for a specific ransom of $500,000 in uncut diamonds, which just happens to be the exact amount procured by Tarrant's boss Cedric Harper (Donald Pleasence) to fund a different covert mercenary operation. Suspicious about the timing and the ransom amount, Harper orders around-the-clock surveillance on Tarrant, who's having some financial problems in the wake of a pending divorce from his estranged wife Alex (Janet Suzman), even having Scotland Yard inspector Alf Chestermann (Clive Revill) bug his apartment at the request of MI-6 head Sir Edward Julyan (Joseph O'Conor). Harper, convinced Tarrant is secretly working with the arms smugglers and staged his son's kidnapping, refuses to authorize the ransom, while Tarrant can clearly see someone among his colleagues is setting him up to take a fall for their own purposes. Of course, this can only mean one thing: Tarrant disobeys his bosses and goes rogue, stealing Harper's stash of diamonds and chasing McKee and Ceil to France in an effort find his son.
Just out on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber (because physical media is dead), the fairly obscure THE BLACK WINDMILL sets up the pieces for a crackerjack thriller that would seem upon a cursory glance to be a 1970s TAKEN (there's also a really good action sequence with a foot chase through the London Underground), and while it moves fairly briskly and has a fine cast in support of a quietly enraged Caine, it never quite comes together like it should. Perhaps Siegel is just out of his element with an international thriller (though he did fine with 1977's TELEFON), but he can't seem to settle on a tone. Indeed, not all of the actors appear to be on the same page when it comes to exactly what kind of movie they're in. Caine is all steely gravitas, as one might expect (except in one inspired bit where he does an amazing impression of Pleasence that has to be seen to be believed), and while he loves his son, Tarrant displays a detached, matter-of-fact coldness with Alex over the very real possibility that David is already dead, which serves as a reminder about why she hates his job and how it's driven them apart. Likewise, Vernon plays it straight as the chief villain, but Pleasence seems to be acting like he's in a spy spoof, breaking out every nervous tic in his repertoire to play a clueless oaf of a boss who has no business overseeing secret government operations and heading something called "The Department of Subversive Warfare," which itself sounds like something out of DR. STRANGELOVE. Pleasence is an undeniable hoot throughout--whether his Harper is getting mocked by his superiors for mistakenly referring to an agent named "Sean Kelly" as "Sean Connery," dismissing Tarrant's story about his kidnapped son when he's giddily distracted by a Q-like gadget man demonstrating an exploding duffel bag, refusing to put a phone all the way up to his ear, or constantly tugging on his mustache--but he seems to have wandered in from a completely different movie.
I suppose it's feasible that Siegel is using Pleasence's character to make some kind of commentary on inept and unqualified idiots falling upwards in life (a common refrain in DIRTY HARRY and its sequels, where Clint Eastwood is constantly disgusted with his incompetent superiors and bureaucratic pencil-pushers), but Pleasence is playing it far too broadly. Revill, too, seems to think he's in something more comedic with the way he works a simmering slow burn as events unfold. There's a terrific ensemble here and they're all good, but their clashing approaches and wildly divergent acting styles, and the erratic tone in the context of the film make THE BLACK WINDMILL seem like a quirky JANUARY MAN of its day, and "quirky" is not a word you'd imagine using to describe an ostensibly gritty early 1970s kidnapping thriller directed by Don Siegel and starring Michael Caine. It's not difficult to see why it tanked and is largely forgotten today, and while it's a minor footnote in the storied careers of Siegel, Caine, and Zanuck/Brown, it has its moments and is worth seeing for completists. And if you're a Donald Pleasence fan, well, you've definitely been deprived of something special with his work here.
THE LAST MOVIE (US - 1971) Directed by Dennis Hopper. Written by Stewart Stern. Cast: Dennis Hopper, Julie Adams, Daniel Ades, Stella Garcia, Don Gordon, Tomas Milian, John Alderman, Michael Anderson, Jr., Donna Baccala, Toni Basil, Rod Cameron, Severn Darden, Roy Engel, Warren Finnerty, Peter Fonda, Fritz Ford, Samuel Fuller, Henry Jaglom, Clint Kimbrough, Kris Kristofferson, John Phillip Law, Ted Markland, Sylvia Miles, Jim Mitchum, Michelle Phillips, Dean Stockwell, Russ Tamblyn, Chuck Bail, Tom Baker, Michael Greene, Toni Stern. (R, 108 mins) The kind of film that can only result from everyone involved tripping balls, 1971's THE LAST MOVIE almost became a self-fulfilling prophecy for Dennis Hopper, completely quashing the momentum he had going from 1969's landmark EASY RIDER and effectively killing his career for the better part of the next decade and a half. Sure, there were high points during that time--Wim Wenders' THE AMERICAN FRIEND in 1977, Francis Ford Coppola's APOCALYPSE NOW in 1979, and OUT OF THE BLUE in 1980, a low-budget film Hopper was co-starring in and took over directing early in production--but THE LAST MOVIE began a downward personal and professional spiral for Hopper, who would continue to be mired in alcoholism and substance abuse and would soon be working almost exclusively in low-budget European productions after being deemed an unemployable pariah in Hollywood. Hopper would occasionally find work in a bonkers cult movie like the 1976 Australian adventure saga MAD DOG MORGAN, or he'd temporarily behave himself enough to get a respectable gig like Coppola's RUMBLE FISH or Sam Peckinpah's final film THE OSTERMAN WEEKEND (both 1983), but much of his work from these lost years (BLOODBATH, REBORN, LET IT ROCK) has fallen into obscurity or was never even released in the US. He hit bottom when he was fired from the trashy 1984 West German/Mexican-produced fashion models-in-prison potboiler JUNGLE WARRIORS when, coked out of his mind in Mexico, he wandered naked into a village 20 miles from the set, ranting about people trying to kill him, and was promptly put by the producers on a flight back to Los Angeles, where he had to be restrained after freaking out and trying to open the plane's emergency exit. It was his meltdown on JUNGLE WARRIORS that finally served as a wake-up call to Hopper to get his shit together and get clean and sober, and within a couple of years, he was the Comeback Kid with the likes of BLUE VELVET and HOOSIERS, finally exorcising his demons and shaking the career self-immolation that began 15 years earlier with THE LAST MOVIE.
EASY RIDER was part of the post-BONNIE AND CLYDE "New Hollywood" movement, and Hopper found himself in the bizarre position of being both a counterculture hero and an unlikely toast of the town. As a result of the film's success, studios began giving the green light to artistic, auteur-driven projects to capture the youth market. Paramount backed Haskell Wexler's politically-charged, X-rated MEDIUM COOL and MGM brought trailblazing Italian director Michelangelo Antonioni to America for ZABRISKIE POINT, but Universal went all-in, giving a handful of notable independent filmmakers carte blanche to make whatever they wanted to make with no studio interference, most notably Monte Hellman with TWO-LANE BLACKTOP and John Cassavetes with MINNIE AND MOSKOWITZ. THE LAST MOVIE was part of this push by Universal, and the primary reason why the studio's enthusiasm for the avant-garde indie craze ended almost immediately after it began. Hopper spent almost all of 1970 on location in Peru going over budget on THE LAST MOVIE, a project he conceived with screenwriter Stewart Stern, best known for scripting 1955's REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE, which was also Hopper's film debut. He brought an entourage of friends from the movie and music industry with him and shot over 40 hours of footage that he spent nearly a year in holed up in his New Mexico home trying to corral into a releasable, two-hour film. He even scrapped an initial, relatively mainstream-ish cut completely when he showed it to EL TOPO director Alejandro Jodorowsky, who derisively mocked it and advised Hopper to rearrange the story in a non-linear and more experimental fashion. THE LAST MOVIE found significant acclaim at the Venice Film Festival, where Hopper took home the Critics Prize, but Universal execs were much less impressed, especially since his final cut was several months overdue (they wanted it by the end of 1970 and he kept working until April 1971), and the end result was impenetrable and unsellable. It ended up opening in the fall of 1971 to largely blistering reviews from American critics, and it was soon yanked from distribution, never coming close to the zeitgeist-capturing success of EASY RIDER. Without Hopper's involvement, THE LAST MOVIE was re-released on the drive-in circuit a few years later in a shortened, recut version rechristened CHINCHERO (which was actually Hopper's original title), but beyond that, it was extremely difficult to see for many years, even with a 1989 VHS release from the exploitation outfit United American Video, likely to capitalize on Hopper's major career resurgence in the late '80s and into the 1990s.
Dennis Hopper (1936-2010)
Its relative obscurity did much to bolster its reputation as a "lost" classic, and Hopper would frequently do Q&As at screenings once he reacquired the rights to the film in 2006. But Hopper died in 2010, before he was ever able to oversee a DVD/Blu-ray release, though thanks to others, THE LAST MOVIE finally made the restoration rounds in 2017 and 2018. It's now out on Blu-ray and is widely accessible again after 47 years (because physical media is dead), but minus L.M. Kit Carson and Lawrence Schiller's THE AMERICAN DREAMER, a 1971 documentary chronicling the making and editing of THE LAST MOVIE and serving as its own BURDEN OF DREAMS and HEARTS OF DARKNESS. When something is out of circulation as long as THE LAST MOVIE has been, there's always a tendency among cineastes to mythologize it, as if its long absence is a sign of neglect or unacknowledged greatness. It's interesting that its Blu-ray debut has virtually coincided with the Netflix release of Orson Welles' THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WIND (in which a LAST MOVIE-era Hopper has a small role), another much-ballyhooed film whose legend stems primarily from it being unfinished and unseen for over 40 years. Like WIND, THE LAST MOVIE is now a curio at best, a disjointed, largely improvised, self-indulgent misfire in which Hopper doesn't capitalize on EASY RIDER as much as he buys into the hype surrounding him.
The nominal plot has Hopper, looking a lot like he would as a pre-Matt Damon incarnation of Tom Ripley six years later in THE AMERICAN FRIEND, as Kansas, a disillusioned stuntman and horse wrangler working on a Hollywood western being shot in a small Peruvian village outside of Chinchero. It appears to be a formulaic bit of moviemaking, with an old-school, cigar-chomping director (Samuel Fuller), and starring an aging, John Wayne-esque cowboy actor (Rod Cameron) as Pat Garrett and a young up-and-comer (Dean Stockwell) as Billy the Kid. Once shooting wraps (other cast members in the film-within-a-film include familiar faces and Hopper buddies like Peter Fonda, John Phillip Law, Kris Kristofferson, Henry Jaglom, Severn Darden, and Russ Tamblyn), and the cast and crew head back to Hollywood, Kansas stays behind and shacks up with Chinchero local Maria (Stella Garcia) and is in no hurry to return home. His idyllic getaway, where he spends his days lounging about and having waterfall sex with Maria, is interrupted by the village priest (Tomas Milian), who informs him that the locals, led by "director" Thomas (Daniel Ades), are re-enacting the production of the movie and imitating what they witnessed--even constructing film "equipment" like cameras and cranes out of wood and sticks--and are so taken with their Hollywood experience that they can no longer differentiate fantasy from reality. Kansas also gets involved in role-playing sex games with Mrs. Anderson (Julie Adams), the horny socialite wife of an Peru-based American businessman (Roy Engel), and goes off on a hunt for gold with skeezy American expat Neville Robey (Don Gordon). That's before he's coerced back on the still-standing movie set by Thomas and the villagers and forced to re-enact his stunt work all over again in what seems to be shaping up as a proto-WICKER MAN but, like the rest of THE LAST MOVIE, goes nowhere.
There's some shallow statements about the artifice of cinema and the way Hollywood cynicism poisons a heretofore peaceful village populated by largely isolated people--note the way they production just packs up and leaves, leaving its large set of old-west building facades behind for the locals to deal with--but it's all much too muddled and meandering. It's beautifully shot by the great Laszlo Kovacs, Hopper gets a surprising performance out of Adams (THE CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON), and the themes he explores have some merit, but THE LAST MOVIE is awfully pretentious and full of itself, from the random intentional placement of "Scene Missing" cards, to the credit "A Film by Dennis Hopper" appearing 11 minutes in and followed a full 15 (!) minutes later by the title card, to Hopper paying homage to himself with a climactic restaging of the EASY RIDER campfire scene with Kansas and Neville. As the film grows increasingly abstract in its off-the-rails last half hour, Hopper simply loses the thread and gets lost up his own ass, as a long sequence with a drunk Kansas in a bar brawl is interrupted by cutaways to Hopper in a makeup chair stating "I never jerked off a horse before, ya know?" and another shot of Hopper lying down and a close-up of a lactating breast squirting milk into his face. Its chaos continues as Hopper breaks the fourth wall by smiling at the camera near the end as a LAST MOVIE clapboard is left in the shot. I suppose it's something do to about the blurring of film vs. life or illusion vs. reality, but the whole meta deconstruction/destruction of cinema thing was done much more succinctly with the unforgettable last shot of TWO-LANE BLACKTOP (also of note is that both films feature Kris Kristofferson's own version of his oft-recorded "Me and Bobby McGee"). THE LAST MOVIE is an insufferable mess, though it does have historical value as a document of its era and perhaps as "New Hollywood" taking a wrong turn prior to the age of the blockbuster ushered in by JAWS in 1975. It's certainly required viewing for fans of Dennis Hopper, but mileage may vary. It's either a hellraising artist's ultimate masterpiece and a defiant "Fuck you!" to the industry or a textbook example of the dangers of being handed too much money and too much freedom when your ego's running amok and you're high AF. In the years after he was in rehab, Aerosmith frontman Steven Tyler often quipped that in their hedonistic heyday, the band "probably snorted up all of Peru." Well, yeah, perhaps...or at least whatever was left after Dennis Hopper and his cast and crew were finished with THE LAST MOVIE.
