Two Real Crime Film Reviews: House on the Hill; My Name is A, By Anonymous

Text © Richard Gary / Indie Horror Films, 2015
Images from the Internet

The reason I have put these two reviews together is because they both deal with infamous crimes from unlikely killers, one the slovenly serial murder Leonard Lake, and the teenage child murderer, Alyssa Bustamante. They also take different perspectives of the crime, but mix either real or aped images of the criminals involved.

House on the Hill

Directed by Jeffrey Frentzen
itn distribution / North 40 Productions / Options Entertainment / MVD Visual
83 minutes, 2012 / 2014
www.mvdvisual.com

The story this film is based on is well known and documented. In essence, during a year or so in the mid-1980s, shlubby, bearded and balding 40 year old Leonard Lake and his “soul mate,” also chubby and rumpled Chinese national Charles Ng lived in a rural and deserted area outside San Francisco.



The real Charles and Leonard

In their compound, they built a cell to hold women and a torture chamber attached to the house to, well… It’s estimated by the amount of bones found on the property that they had killed and buried approximately 15 to 25 people, both men and women, straight and gay. This included some entire families. Usually the men and at least two infants were done away with right off, and for the women, it took a lot longer.

 

Though quite obviously effective, poor Lenny and Chuck never had the pop sensation cool factor of, say, Ed Gein, Jeffrey Dahmer, or John Wayne Gacy. These guys were unattractive inside and out.

Now, nearly everything I’ve learned about Lake and Ng (L and N) is found online on Wikipedia and sites like that (yes, I read them before seeing the film). Apparently, every victim in this film is either given another name as they aren’t included in the list of known victims, are multiple stories concatenated into single people, or are the conjecture of the filmmakers. This includes the two women who are the main focus of the story: first, there is Sonia (Naidra Dawn Thomson), the only victim who lives to tell the tale (indicated early on in the film, as the main action is told in flashback), and Karianna (Shannon Leade), both of whom are drugged at a party and awaken in the bad place. They are kept around by L and N for cleaning, frequent rapes and other physical abuse, and for Sonia to videotape all the mistreatments and demises.

Yes, we get to see quite a bit of brutality, very little sex, and even less nudity, which confused me. Anyway, people are stabbed, drowned, beaten to death, etc. in sort of a parade fashion. We are introduced to a character with a photo of the actresses’ face and a name / date who they supposedly play went missing. Then comes the abuse, with lots of talking in between, threatening, demanding of money, and then death. Why Sonia and Karianna are left to live so long while others are dropped around – make that in front of – them, is not really explained.



Stephen AF Day as Leonard

Actually, there are a few issues I have with director Fretzen’s first time out in a feature. For one thing, he can’t seem to make up his mind if this is a roughie or an art project, as sometimes the camera will just stay on the subject, and other times, we get the odd angles, the filtered lighting, and the switch between color and black and white depending on the time period. For example, there is some artistic albeit sledgehammer symbolism, such as a dripping faucet being a metaphor for a life slipping away.

 

The actors who play Leonard (Saskatoon-born Stephen A.F. Day) and Charles (Sam Leung) play their roles excellently, but they are, quite frankly, too good looking for the roles. Rather than roly-poly dorks who look harmless, Day and Leung look intense, with Day appearing too young for the role and ruggedly handsome, and Leung seems kind of like a dashing “badboy” hoodlum from a TV show like Buffy. The real killers are much creepier because of the unassuming way they looked.



Sam Leung as Charles (with Erin M. Young)

There are also little anachronistic things like the camcorder that is used is more modern than the correct time period. In 1985, when L and C were captured, I bought my own camcorder that was then top of the line, which was $700 and weighed 7 pounds that rested heavily on the shoulder. The one in the film, if I’m not wrong, is a much smaller s-VHS that was introduced in 1987 (man, I love the Internet!). Also out of sync is that Sonia’s (Thompson’s) back is full of tattoos, and that certainly didn’t become mainstream before 1985.

 

What drove me most crazy was mixing the history up, such as how they got caught, which is mostly right, but a key point is off (i.e., they were not in the same place). That isn’t that bad by itself, I admit, but it seems to be an issue through a lot of the actual events, rather than the conjecture of the killings we see; as Ng was found guilty of seven deaths because the other bones were not identified, there is more we don’t know about victims than we do, giving the writers ample room to stretch that part to fit the film. Again, I don’t have an issue with that, but dicking around the known parts is what I find…off-putting.

One of the things I really liked about the project is that interspersed through the film is actual footage of Lake, videotaping himself admitting about building the cell room, what he expects from his women / slaves, and this gives us an insight to the real twisted thoughts of this unkempt killer.

While I know I’ve been hard on the film, I would also like to point out, again, this is the director’s first time at the helm. Sure, he and much of the crew and cast have been involved in serial killer films before, such as the Frentzen produced Killer Pickton (2006) and Black Dahlia (2006), but that’s not the same as being in control of the product. It’s good that he has found a niche in the serial killer subgenre, and I look forward to his growth in bringing us more mayhem.

 

My Name is A, By Anonymous

Written and directed by Shane Ryan
Mad Sin Cinema/ Rainy Day Parade Productions
Wild Eye Releasing
90 Minutes, 2012 / 2014
www.wildeyereleasing.com
www.mvdvisual.com

I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die.

–        Johnny Cash, “Folsom Prison Blues”

This is certainly not the first film about real life teen thrill killers, nor is it the first to use an artistic frame for it. For example, there was Hitchcock’s Rope (1948), a fictionalized version of the teen Leopold and Loeb murderers, and Peter Jackson’s Heavenly Creatures (1994). This is also not the first movie to use a pseudo-documentary (i.e., handheld cameras) to give a realistic feel to the film. However, that also does not mean this film is either repetitive or derivative.



Kate Marsh as Alyssa

The true story is about Alyssa Bustamante (Katie Marsh), a bored 15-year-old girl from a rough background who viciously murdered a 9-year-old girl, Elizabeth (Kaliya Skye). Her story made the headlines around the world in 2009 for two reasons: first, of course, is the shocking brutality of the assault of a young life, and second, that in a technological world, so much of her life over the previous year had been recorded on the ever present cell phones.

 

If you look up Alyssa on YouTube, you can see a lot of that footage, from which some of the film is based upon (i.e., copied), such as the touching of an electrified cow fence wire (a safeguard system much more intense, I might add, than one for constraining horses), or donning Alice Cooper inspired make-up and pointing a finger-gun to her own head while sticking out her tongue. In a 24-hour televised news world, the original selfies were played on major outlets repeatedly for weeks as her trial was followed as intensely as was Andrea Yates, who drowned her five kids in Texas and found not guilty by insanity, or Casey Anthony, found not guilty of murdering her toddler daughter.

We see the incessant relying on the need to film oneself to make oneself real, whose reality is a mixture of David Cronenberg’s Videodrome (1983: “Television is reality, and reality is less than television”) and Gus Van Sant’s To Die For (1995: “You aren’t really anybody in America if you’re not on TV”). This film also gives breath to a feeling of ennui of its characters: no matter what is happening or how hard life is treating them, there is a feeling of Other that permeates the day-to-day narcissistic filming. These are life issues and possibly cultural mental illnesses that Bustamante had in common with Leonard Lake and Charles Ng, though the body count differed substantially.

There is an interesting mix of self-shot filming (i.e., supposedly shot by the characters of each other) and other times recorded by an unidentified “third person,” mostly likely just meant to be cover shots of both of the main teen actresses, although the hand-held shakiness remains the same.



The real Alyssa

The film follows three concurrent storylines, as it were. The first is Bustamante and The Sidekick (Demi Baumann), and occasionally Alyssa’s brother, as they ramble through their lives, Bustamante bullying her friends and relations in small ways that would eventually explode into self-destruction through the annihilation of another. We don’t realize we can see the state of her mind, as in real life, she came from a family of poverty, violence and substance abuse.

 

A second story follows The Performer (Teona Donikova), a sad teen who imagines herself in the limelight as a highly stylized singer (we are shown an entire imaginary music video from her mind), rather than the suggested abusive relationship with her dad (no moms are seen in this film). The third follows The Angst (Alex Damiano), who is full of anger both towards the world and herself. We are shown that through her bulimia, her self-derisive selfie-videos (vidfies?), and a monolog aimed at God. We also see in bitter detail the sexually violent relationship she has with her dad.

Of course, all these stories come together at an important story intersection. Hints of the level of personal destruction are shown throughout, and realized in the third act (titled “The Final Chapter”). I have to say, I figured out where the director was going with the ending about 10 minutes before the answer, which is probably around the time the viewer is expected to have that aha moment.

Both these films and all four stories here deal with an either an ideal or a nadir of one, expressed through the ego machine of a cell phone camera and small cameras, as characters perform for themselves and for others. It’s personalities that are more performativity than “real,” often without the participant even realizing how shallow their vision of the world becomes, full of ego and the Self. Running through all is also a banality of evil, instilled by the overwhelming technological desire for both information input and output (feeling the almost addictive need for selfies is an example of both).

As with House on the Hill (see above), there is some speculation and changing of the story to fit the film; it should also be noted that this is “Inspired by the true crime.” During the end credits, Director Shane Ryan does acknowledge that people were blended and liberties were taken. For a piece of cinema that was filmed in four days on $300, and was largely shot by the cast, it does have both a chilling aspect to it (especially the abusive scenes, be it inter- or intrapersonal), mixed with an almost facile feel to the everydayness of some of the actions between the characters. It’s the contrast, in part, that makes this so compelling, and for me more so on a second viewing.

Extras abound on this DVD, running nearly twice as long as the film itself. Along with a deleted scene and some alternative scenes, there are trailers for it and a bunch of other films, such as Portrait of a Milk Carton Girl and Abducted Girl: An American Sex Slave. The highlights though are two different version of the piece, including a 20-minute early cut from 2011 that is mostly without dialog called “The Columbine Effect” (under the directorial pseudonym of Bone Shin) that is mostly confusing if you haven’t seen the full feature, and an hour form of it as well called “Me, Myself and Us.” It’s a completely different cut and order of events (except the ending chronology), and while it’s decent, it’s not up to the full feature, and is rightfully and thankfully in the extras section.

Then there are two earlier short films directed by Ryan. One is the nearly 5-minute effective tribute to Japanese gore from 2011 called “Oni-Gokko” (translated as “Tag”), which could be seen as a tribute to Japanese director Takashi Miike, or possibly the “Guinea Pig” series, with just enough gore and artistic merit to raise some eyebrows. The other short is the 16-minute “Isolation” from 2001. It’s a moody piece mostly in black and white about poor 16 year old Billy (played by Shane Ryan in his directorial debut; I’m guessing a student film). Missing his mom who was murdered when he was younger to the point of depression, we follow him and his thoughts as he walks through a desolate town, possibly bleaker because of his emotional state. You can see a lot of a theme going here if you compare the short with the feature.

Ryan seems to specialize in Kids (1995; I’m certainly not the only one who had this connection as I have since found many reviews comparing them) style films dealing with teens in trouble, including pedophilia, the sex trade and other forms of teensploitation – honestly, none of which I’ve seen, so I won’t comment on them directly – but here he has found a niche of teen murders that works well. This has a very ordinary-everyday Creep Creepersin feel to it (he is thanked in the credits), and is all the more scary for both the actions and lack thereof, and especially for the viewers’ reaction to the mixture of the two.

 

 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zSTyvCk7zvU

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Review: The Changing of Ben Moore

Text © Richard Gary / Indie Horror Films, 2015
Images from the Internet

The Changing of Ben Moore

Written and directed by Jason Mills
Sector 5 Films / Chemical Burn Entertainment /
Reality Entertainment / Gravitas Ventures / Mills Pictures
World Wide Multi Media
85 minutes, 2015
www.chemicalburn.org
www.reality-entertainment.com
www.Sector5films.net

Recently, I had the opportunity to review director Jason Mills’ other full lengther called They Came from the Attic (2009; aka Above Us Lives Evil). Similarly, this new one takes place in Delta, an area south of Vancouver. As I write this, I’m just across the bay on the Saanich Peninsula, British Columbia, but I digress…

Using the time-worn found footage sub-subgenre, we are introduced to a group of mid-20-year-olds who don’t really seem to have much employment or income, though one works overnight hours every other day so perhaps he’s employed at a Mac’s or something; for those who don’t know, Mac’s is similar to 7-Eleven in Canada.  There are three-and-a-half main characters, so working my way up: the obnoxious smart ass who helps out on camera duty occasionally named John (Bruce Novakowski); Derick (Corey Beaulieu) is the foul mouthed but caring best friend whose aunt adopted Ben, and has come up with the whole idea of the filming; the girlfriend is Sara (Shannon Ostrom aka Shannen Melissa), and; the focus of the film, the titular Ben (Umberto Celisano), who generally comes across as a caring, congenial guy who is befuddled about what is happening to him. Everyone else in the cast who parties with them is surprisingly not necessarily fodder for once. But more on that later.

The reason for the filming is to create a record of the strange goings on of Ben, who was adopted after the death of his parents, and now at 24 years of age, lives in what was the house of his adopted aunt, Derik’s mom. Perhaps an insurance claim left Ben enough money to be able not to have to have a real job? Part of the problem of (not with) this story is that we know just about nothing about them, other than that they died, not even how it happened). Now, it seems Ben hasn’t been sleeping, has not been hungry in days yet remains fit, and has the occasional blackout in his memory.

Caught on camera at night by Derik, Sara or John, Ben seems dazed, has killed a pet or two, and his pupils are turning pale blue. He also seems a bit dazed, hostile, and inarticulate other than a roar or two. Oh, and as they mention in all the film’s official summaries, people have started to disappear in part or in whole. Personally, I believe the trailer gives too much away, and I’m glad I didn’t watch it first, though it is quite effective.

Borrowing a small bit from The Beast Within (1982), we don’t really know about Ben’s lineage, and what is happening is not explained because it is obviously not understood even by its participants, but my guess is something innate and primal.

I must say, generally, I’m done with found footage (ff); usually same old, same old. However, this film is actually one of the better indies I’ve seen use it. Most ff takes way too long setting up the back-story, or has too much superfluous nonsense supposedly to throw us off the track (e.g., the first 10-20 minutes of Cloverfield or everything except the last 10 minutes of The Blair Witch Project). Here, yes there is an introduction of the characters, but it’s balanced out well with the action and there is some character development even without much build-up of the actual histories of anyone. Part of the reason for this is the top-quality acting that Mills has found to voice his thoughts. Novakowski’s John is a bit over the top, but personally, I have friends who are like that naturally. Beaulieu’s passive-aggressive friendship, again, comes across as natural, and I can name some acquaintances of mine like that, as well. Ostrom comes across as the appropriate level of concern, affection and anger, without playing it off the scale. She’s attractive without being unrealistically model-ish (I promise you, that’s a high compliment), which makes the compassion factor for her that much higher.

Ben Moore mid-way through his changing

Of course, the film hinges on Celisano’s Ben. Having experience in both high drama and low comedy – heck, he played a hell of a young Capone recently – helps him be believable both as his “day person” and whatever it is he becomes at night, even when they jump-cut from one to another.

As for the rest of the cast, which is mostly seen in a party sequence and the after-effects, the body count is pretty low, but quite effective, especially as the story builds to its gruesome conclusion.

It’s easy to tell this film didn’t cost too much to make, other than a few minor CGI moments here and there. But it definitely kept me wanting more, which is rare for a “Hello!? I’m walking through the dark house with just the camera light on! Is there anyone or thing waiting to jump out at me around the corner?!?” film. It’s effectively done to keep the creepy factor on high. Sure, I would have run to the authorities of some sort (other than the one weak-willed priest they show) as soon as I saw the blue/white eyes the first time to try and seek help for my friend, but hey, that’s (a) not how these genres works, and (b) wouldn’t help advance the story much. Just think of The Exorcist (1973), and how much the parts of Reagan going to see the doctors during the second act slowed down the story flow, even if it was what would really have happened).

Considering how much I groaned at the prospect of seeing another ff flick, I sure am glad I stuck it out, because it really was fun, with very little drag to it, even with all the open questions. Perhaps this will lead to a sequel? Yeah, I’d watch that, as this is the rare film I saw and thought, hmm, I wonder what happened after the film concluded. Nice work.

Review: Bite School

Text © Richard Gary / Indie Horror Films, 2015
Images from the Internet

Bite School                         

Written, produced, directed and edited (among others) by James Balsamo
Acid Bath Productions
94 minutes, 2015
www.acidbathproductions.org
www.facebook.com/biteschoolmovie
https://vimeo.com/ondemand/biteschool

In a world where indie filmmakers are trying to be the new Spielberg or Scorsese, or possibly even a Craven or Carpenter, James Balsamo seems to be aiming at best towards Landis’ The Kentucky Fried Movie (1977), though it would probably be more accurate to say Abbott and Costello or the Three Stooges, with him playing all the key parts, and usually in tight black tee-shirts to show off the “guns.”

Now, there’s two ways to read that paragraph, and if you’re not reading it in the complimentary way, well, you’re mistaken. Balsamo’s films are rude, crude, and full of pulchritude. In other words, they’re fun. Now, there are some A-listers who follow the rude-to-be-rude-to-be-cool rule, such as Seth Rogan and his ilk; personally, I find Balsamo’s stuff way more enjoyable because although it’s pretty obvious he (and the cast) is having fun, it’s not just working hard to reaching goofiness to be goofy, Balsamo’s films are just, well, goofy.

While he’s definitely an auteur and has his own “signatures,” each film has a unique idea at the base of it, and as it follows that thread, everyone and everything is jumping into the fray. One way to look at it is that he leans more to the School of It Don’t Matter (writing, acting, etc.); it’s more about the whole ride.

After a fun animated credits with a really off-key Robert Palmer homage called “Addicted to Blood,” we are introduced to Tony Canoni by Judy Tenuda and her “reality show,” Lifestyles of the Rich and Obnoxious. He’s a narcissistic rich twit (think Hiltons or Kardashians) who cares only about weed, sex, and, well, that’s about it. His girlfriend, Cookie (Sarah Martin), is an obnoxious golddigger twit.

James Balsamo and HG Lewis

After one misdeed too many, Tony’s grandfather (a stumbling Hershell Gordon Lewis, the Mass Market Maven of Florida, who is better known for single-handedly inventing the gore genre by directing the likes of Blood Feast [1963] and Two Thousand Maniacs [1964] ) cuts him out of the family’s fortune unless he gets an edu-ma-cation in the form of a GED. This leads to Cookie leaving him (no loss), being kicked out of his mansion, and asking a number of cameo metal musicians – and Ron Jeremy – for a mere $100,000 to help him get by.

After saving a man from being killed by the Lesbian Mafia (no comment from me) due to his owning them $30K, he talks the troubled and stereotypical gay guy, George (Paul Fears) into letting him stay on his couch in exchange for paying off his debt when he earns his degree and is reunited with his fortune. The apartment is shared by George’s father, the angry and also stereotypical Asian Mr. Woo (Vincent Leong). Tony and George both sign up for the GED class, led by Mr. Fleck (a very wooden, yet humorous Roy Frumkes; he wrote the classic 1987 flesh-melting Street Trash), who gets to spout lines like: “Let me assure you George, a GED is your best weapon against militant lesbians.”

Mandy Cat Kitana

Meanwhile, there is a concurrent double story about a nasty vampire, Gregor (Billy Walsh, who played the main villain in Balsamo’s I Spill Your Guts in 2012) biting assorted people (yeah, mostly women, just like in the Hammer days), and a very diminutive (4’11”) yet sexy and busty vampire princess named Vicky (Mandy Cat Kitana), who hangs out in front of the telley smoking weed with a Teddy-like vampire bat puppet named Spat who talks in a high-squeaky voice (Balsamo?). She’s bored after all these years and so also signs into a night (of course) GED class. The same one as…yep, you guessed it.

As time goes on, the stories continue to collide more and more until the meld into one very confusing but enjoyable mish-mash. Vampires be coming outta da yin-yang by the end, some of them showing ample cleavage – especially high priestess Elizabeth (played by Veronica Freeman) – others resembling classic Romero zombies but with fangs. Then when Elizabeth turns into a two headed vampire bat creature with boobs and a serpent’s tail puppet that, well, a brief description doesn’t – er – bite into it.

There are three constants in a Balsamo film, and I’m grateful for all of them. First, there is the homage to other films, such as a very nice nod to Roddy Piper, especially as this was filmed about the time he passed away. There’s also a bits from Rodriguez’s Desperado (1995) and the great kung fu classic The Flying Guillotine (1976; aka Du bi quan wang da po xue di zi). Of course, he also tips the hat toward many other directors and styles, such as the aforementioned zombie vampires, and even himself, as he has Spat watching a television promo for his own as yet non-existing sequel, I Spill Your Guts 2, as well as some wacky other ads and fake TV clips.

Frank "Fuckin'" Mullen

Second, there are the cameos. It’s kind of a blink-of-the-eye-and-miss-it kind of thing, or many times it’s a matter of who’s that now? For me, it’s especially true of the death metal musicians, as it’s not a genre that speaks to me. There’s also a bunch of indie film actors relatively known, famous, and infamous, such as those mentioned before, Roberto Lombardi who is making a nice niche in fan films with himself as an effective Freddy Kruger, scream queen Genoveva Rossi, genre collector turned actor John Link, John Dugan (the grandpa in the original Texas Chain Saw Massacre in 1974), porn star Jasmin St. Claire, off-beat Other musician David Peel, and many others. As I’ve said before, Balsamo goes to a lot of horror and music cons across the country, and films little clips with the actors and finds a way to include it in the story: Butch Patrick – wearing a Herman Munster tee – is a perfect example here. Then there is always Carmine Capobianco, who has great comedy timing, and especially Frank Mullen; I’m a fan of the guy, as I’ve said before. He should be in the cable series version of The Wolf of Wall Street.

Last of this list is the humor, mostly of the lower kind, but there are so many gems included that it pays to listen as some of them zing by. A good example of this kind of wit is when after someone demeans Tony, he says, “Do you know who I am?!” The guy responds with a derisive, “This is New York. No one gives a fuck who you are.” Another great and easily missed one is an acquaintance running into Tony stating, “I haven’t seen you since you took that tropical vacation to Vancouver!”

Gore appears often, albeit cartoonish (that’s okay, the whole film is a cartoon, in a way), there’s lots of flesh (wouldn’t complain about more, though), and many of the effects are laughable to the point where you’d almost expect them to be in a Japanese television program. My one complaint, though, is the sound is uneven and sometimes over-modulated to the point of fuzzy. Still, I’ll take it as part of the whole.

So, here’s a true, digressive story: I had to stop watching the film about half way through because of various reasons (not that I wanted to, just life), and planned to finish it the next day. That night I dreamed that I was hanging out with Balsamo (as himself, though I have never actually met him in person), and we were sitting on a couch talking about indie horror films and the Ramones. There are lots of shots of him sitting on a sofa in his films, so it’s no wonder. I don’t do weed, drink much or listen to metal, but as obnoxious as his characters tend to be, this dream shows that he still comes across as someone likeable on a deeper level. That says a lot to me, considering I wouldn’t want to get near any of his characters.

Go watch this film, and have a laugh; whether with it or at it, it’s all good.

 

Why I’m a Fan:

Review: Jack Hill's Pit Stop

Text © Richard Gary / Indie Horror Films, 2015
Images from the Internet

Pit Stop

Directed by Jack Hill
Arrow Video
MVD Visual
92 minutes, filmed in 1967, released in 1969 / this release is 2015
www.mvdvisual.com

I know I saw this film in the theater when I was a kid but all I remember is the race car driving. While I was never into car culture, such as NASCAR or whatever it was called back then, seeing all the crashes was fun. I don’t recall any part of the actual story, so here was my opportunity to revisit this classic B-film.

Car racing has been both a mainstream and indie genre for quite a while, sometimes goofy like The Great Race (1965) or Viva Las Vegas (1964), to the more gritty and serious films such as Gran Prix (1966), Winning (1969; the reason why the name of this film was changed from The Winner), Le Mans (1971) or Little Fauss and Big Halsey (1970). Of course, this would lead to the likes of off road chases like one of Ron Howard’s early directorial efforts, Grand Theft Auto (1977), or even Smoky and the Bandit (1977). And don’t get me started on The Blues Brothers (1980). The latest interpretations could be seen as The Fast and the Furious and Transporter franchises, which are essentially races to the death.

 



Brian Dunlevy, Beverly Washburn,
 Sid Haig, Dick Davalos

With this early indie low-budget classic, we are introduced to Rick Bowman (Dick Davalos, whose Bronx accent occasionally comes through), a tough-as-nails street racer in California who is taken under wing by eye-on-the-buck industrialist and different kind of rat, Grant Willard (the last film of character actor Brian Dunlevy, d. 1972). Willard owns racing cars and a majority share of the local track where stock car drivers race the “Figure 8,” a stupid and dangerous trial by smash-up, and he brings Rick into the fold by psychologically squaring him off against the ridiculously named Hawk Sidney (Jack Hill regular, Sid Haig), who is the one to beat.

 

Two of the main characters are wholly driven by ego, in two different ways: Rick is a sullen, burning fire of anger, and Hawk is an extroverted loudmouth with a streak towards violence and revenge. Both of them dream of the big time, in the pro races (not a sport I follow, so please excuse the ignorance; for me, while I occasionally drive too fast – or too slow – cars are something for someone I pay to fix). Representing that level is professional race driver and ally Ed McLeod (George Washburn) and the “other side” is Sonny Simpson (Ted Duncan). Stragedy (as Bugs Bunny would say) plays a key part in the roles each character takes in the rise to the top or vice versa in this story of multiple double-crosses, the result of them, and what it takes to go all the way.



Ellen McRae (Burstyn) and George Washburn

With his sullen good looks and bad-boy demeanor (not to mention hair that is so greased it literally reflects light), Rick is a heartthrob to the ladies. There are two here (and the only two significant female roles in the entire film, as race car is a man’s sport; where’s Danica Patrick when ya need her?). The first love interest is Jolene (Beverly Washburn, sister of co-star George; she was also powerful in Hill’s 1967 Spider Baby). She sports short hair, drinks and chews a lot of gum, and while gruff is extremely sympathetic. The other is Ed’s wife and car expert, Ellen McCloud (Ellen McRae, who would soon change her last name to Burstyn and win an Academy Award in in 1974 as the title character in Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore; though my favorite film of hers is 1980’s Resurrection). When we meet Ellen, she is wearing a similar hair style and one-piece jumpsuit as Raquel Welsh in Fantastic Voyage (1966). There is an immediate attraction between the two, which is obvious.

 

This black and white release is a pretty dark story (some use the word “gritty”), with the Rick character sort of being the race car version Stephen Boyd’s Frank Fane in The Oscar (1966). Davalos does a good job as the sullen and hungry Rick, in an overaged JD sort of way. He doesn’t talk often, but when he does, his words boomerang rather than hang. If you can picture a yin and yang symbol with both sides being the same color, that would be Hawk. One is a quiet, smoldering time bomb at 11:58 o’clock; the other is a bombastic ass who thrives on attention. As usual, Haig does an excellent job at both manic and depressive, and as always, his eyes tell you he’s in the moment; a great and underrated actor who famously uses the method acting style.

Among the cast are quite a few contemporary racing stars from the circuit playing themselves, which certainly must have helped the box office the Deep South, where race cars are king. There are quite a few then-new technologies shown as the torques is checked, wheels are reinforced, and engines are often revving. Oh, and lots and lots of cars in motion, filmed during six live races. Of course, what we see is mostly the crashes more than the actual events.

The look of the film is dark and, yes, gritty, but thanks to restoration from one of the original prints (aka minus-1 generation from the negative), the contrasts are pretty sharp, which is explained in one of the many extras (such as the original trailer) included on this new edition, the 4-minute “Restoring Pit Stop.” They show before and after images, and well as side-by-side, and it’s quite the difference for the better. It’s still a bit muddy here and there, but much cleaner than it was.

In an 11-1/2 minute featurette, “Roger Corman and the Genesis of Pit Stop,” Corman explains how he was involved with the production, but of course, it’s more about Corman than Pit Stop, but I really don’t have a problem with that. The man is just interesting, and he knows how to tell a story.

“Drive Hard: Sid Haig Remembers Pit Stop” is a 17-minute short interspersed with clips of the film. Haig is a well-spoken man who plays dangerous characters. He talks about motivation, the crew, and a bit about Tarantino. It went by quick and remained entertaining. He’s also a good storyteller. Director Jack Hill gets his own shot with the 15-1/2 minute “Crash and Burn: Jack Hill on the Making of Pit Stop,” with some tales of Pit Stop, though lots of his memories are also in the commentary.

For the full-length commentary, Hill discusses the picture and his entire career in the ‘60s and ‘70s with British film historian Calum Waddell, who literally wrote the book about him, Jack Hill: The Exploitation and Blaxploitation Master, Film by Film (2008); Calum also directed much of the extras here, which explains the British uses of spelling in the captions (such as replacing the “z” with “s”). While some of the same material is re-discussed as in the Jack Hill interview short, as I said above, there is so much more here that gets covered, and Hill comes across as a very honest and affable guy, who is willing to talk about anything about his filmmaking, from successes to failures; an example he gives of the latter is his Me, a Groupie, from 1970.

Now, here is a weird point: oddly enough we do not see a single pit stop in the film. But of course, taking in a writ large way, Figure 8 racing could be seen as a pit stop in Rick’s career. Or am I over-analyzing? Either way, this was an enjoyable ride, but you may want to wear a helmet when viewing.

 

Review: The Fappening - The Director's Cut

Text © Richard Gary / Indie Horror Films, 2015
Images from the Internet

The Fappening: The Director's Cut

Directed by Sean Weathers
Full Circle Filmworks
75 minutes, 2015
www.fullcirclefilmworks.com
www.facebook.com/seanweathers 

Brooklynite and urban cool guy Sean Weathers has finally returned to the horror genre with his take on the 2014 events of the cell phone hacking and mass distribution of nude celebrity pictures. Some have given the event the name “The Fappening.” For those who don’t know, the word “Fapping” is to – er – take oneself in hand while looking at said type pictures. Me? I’m old enough where my first thoughts were of the Supremes.

The trouble starts in this story when lothario director and actor Alan Smithee (Sean Weathers), who not only has a problem with what Kinky Friedman used to call Peruvian marching powder, i.e., coke, he sleeps with many women, which gets him into  deep doggy doo-doo when his personal sex selfies are among those distributed by the Fappening.



Seybelle Silverphoenix and Sean Weathers

As usual, Sean plays some fantasy version of himself; for those who don’t know, Alan Smithee is a pseudonym often used by directors who want to keep their real name anonymous for whatever reason. Smithee’s discussions about making indie films and wanting to break into the majors is probably a theme in Weathers’ life as well, but in this fictional version, things are going from bad to worse.

 

Not only is Smithee having trouble getting his latest project financed and is in profound debt and about to be kicked out of his Brooklyn apartment (Weathers’ own apartment substitutes for Smithee’s), but since the Fappening, no one will touch him and the women he photographed and taped having sex (shown in a montage in somewhat detail near the beginning; Sean does love to show off his toned bod and in the act with hot women...hmm, wonder if I’m jealous…) are now getting together a for a class action suit because he didn’t erase the evidence as they had asked.

This is all getting too much for him, until he snaps (as his characters are wont to do). Through some power of anonymous suggestion, he dons a mask and grabs a big butcher’s knife, and sets off to stop everyone on the lawsuit list. This leads to a large body count via various means of disposal, though mostly by stabbing.

Tina Krause

Weathers has gathered quite the cast here, many playing a version of themselves, i.e., characters having the same names as the actors. For example, the person he wants for his agent is one of my fave 1990s scream queens, and fellow Brooklynite, Tina Krause (pronounced Kross). I have been a fan since her W.A.V.E. days (though I wasn’t a fan of that company’s S&M releases), and I had the chance to meet her once at a New Jersey Chiller Theatre; she was nice to me and let me take a picture.

Other actresses doing similar turns include Rachel Robbins and fire dancer Sky Soto. Then there are the cameos of genre directors, again as themselves, such as the great Lloyd Kaufmann (who Weathers once interviewed on his podcast, and came across as, well, Lloyd Kaufmann on Toxie steroids), Joel Reed (1976’s Bloodsucking Freaks), and Jerry Landi (2014’s Bloodmarsh Kracoons, a film I definitely would love to see). Landi was also the Cinematographer for The Fappening, replacing (temporarily?) Weathers’ usual film companion d’arms Aswad Issa.

As for the women who play the disgruntled bedmates, well, most are quite stunning. For example, there’s Weathers’ stalwart Sybelle Silverphoenix (she’s been in more of his films than any other actress) in electric blue lipstick who shows she can handle self-effacing humor, as when she says to Smithee’s landlord, “I’m Jennifer. I know you remember me; it’s kind of hard not to.”

I would also like to take a sec and give a nod to Adonis Williams. In Weathers’ films, he’s the threatening gangsta hoodlum / drug dealer. Well, he plays a similar role here, but it’s much more flushed out, and his acting skills have actually grown quite well. Not DeNiro yet, but he manages to be both scary and sympathetic at the same time. Nice work, Adonis; in some weird way I’m proud of you. Meanwhile, as an inside joke, Adonis’s character is named Jason Voohrees, but he doesn’t get it when Smithee keeps giving him the names of horror characters (e.g., Freddy Kruger) as people in the film and record industry to throw him off, as he does not recognize any of them.



Erika Smith

Sean always manages to wisely use his films as a political forum, sometimes quite shrewdly. For example, at the beginning of this one, while celebutard Kim Kardashian (played by the much cuter Erika Smith, who steals her scenes as Kim, being hysterically funny and scarily accurate) is being interviewed about her images being released, the news scrawl of the bottom of the newscast indicates a black youth hade been shot for smoking a cigarette the cops thought was weed, while a white CEO who embezzled millions gets a slap on the wrist. This segment can also be interpreted  in a non-spoken comment on Kardashian’s history of sleeping with African-American men (though in the case of Kanye, an African-American man-child). Weathers is one of the few, brave indies that knows how to weave the real-life horrors into the fictional ones.

 

There are many shrewd moments throughout the film, and one that’s bound to stick out and be memorable, is the humorous scene where Weathers is talking with Robbins, and they start using the lyrics of “Don’t You Want Me” by the Human League that sneak in naturally as conversation, starting with “You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar when I met you…”  About this, Weathers told me in an IM message, “…when I rehearsed it I realized how close the scene fit the song, so the day before we shot it, I said screw it and just rewrote the scene and put the lyrics in; most people get a laugh out of it. … I love it when movies [I see] make me want to play a song.”

Rachel Robbins

This is Weathers’ straight-out first feature horror film in a long time, so it’s good to see him get back to his roots. The cast and crew hide the fact that this was probably a micro-budget release, and Sean knows how to work the locations to give it a fuller feel. Even when the action takes place in his small apartment, you never feel claustrophobic.

To me, the one flaw in the film, and this is a lack of suspension of disbelief on my part, is that I cannot believe he was able to do that many killings without being caught, even though all the action is supposed to take place in a single day. One person is on a cell phone to the police screaming his name, and he never, ever wears gloves. Also, some of the killings are done in his own apartment, but you never see him get rid of the bodies, even when people come and go there.

As I’ve said before, with each release, Weathers’ style is becoming more of his own form, and being helped by Landi I’m sure has helped him to get further to achieving that goal. Definitely one of Weathers’ better films, and I’ve enjoyed most of them.

Review: Killer Rack

Text © Richard Gary / Indie Horror Films, 2015
Images from the Internet

Killer Rack

Directed by Gregory Lamberson
Crow-Nan Productions / River Ridge Reels / Slaughtered Lamb Productions
97 minutes, 2015
www.gregorylamberson.com
www.facebook.com/killerrack

Before I start discussing the film on a deeper level, let me explain what we’re lookin’ at here: Betty (Jessica Zwolak) works hard for the Double D Collections company (“Proudly handling your assets”), but she is the only woman in the office with a low-end cleavage, so her chances of advancement by her boss (the irrepressible Michael Thurber!) fall kind of – er – flat. Her boyfriend Dutch (Sam Qualiana) is no longer interested, and even the horndog cat-callers on the corner won’t even give her the time of “woot.” She has such a low self-image, she can’t see that her friend and co-worker, Tim (Paul McGinnis) is in love with her. Even her therapist (Lloyd Kaufmann, King of Troma, plays an actual role, though it is a bit of an extended cameo, rather than his usual quickies) is on the snide side to her.

Debbie Rochon

She visits a shady doctor (who’s has the words “Plastic Surgeon” handwritten on a piece of paper and taped to the door) named Dr. Cate Thulu (Debbie Rochon, one of my fave queens of indie horror). Thulu has her own agenda, as she serves a Dark God by the name of Mammora (you heard me), and plans to help it control the world by… well, I’m guessing you’re already there.

This is a comedy on a few different levels. It is stupid and goofy as hell, but there is a very sharp intelligence that runs through it if you’re paying attention and can look up to it in the face. Similarly to Monty Python’s Flying Circus, you can get out of it what you want, but there is definitely more than it appears. I’ll get to that in a paragraph or three.

Most of the acting is expectedly just a bit over the top as well, but it’s definitely less demonstrative than the awful AC-ting work of, say, John Lithgow in 3rd Rock from the Sun. There definitely are some shining moments from most of the cast, especially from Rochon, who has a particularly good sense of comedic timing, even when her eyes are so emphasized; the brows look like they could be about six inches above her head. She and Thurber actually co-starred in one of my favorite films in the last few years, the very dark drama Exhumed (2011), though they share no scenes together in this one.

Shot around the Buffalo and Cheektowaga area (what, no Tonawanda?), City Hall makes its appearance in the first scene, a place I visited often in the 1980s when I would go and visit a record collector friend who worked there for many years. Most of the filming is actually indoors, but it is good to see some recognizable places. But, as I’m wont to do, I digress…

Jessica Zwolak,  Paul McGinnis

One of the great things about this film is the savviness of references that run throughout. Some are quite obvious, such as Betty showing up the first day after the enhancement saying “Tell me about it…stud,” but it’s the more subtle ones that made me laugh the hardest. For example, after the operation, Dr. Thulu’s assistant, Nurse Herbie (Robert Bozek) takes the exact same stance as Ernest Thesiger in the 1935 classic, The Bride of Frankenstein (see at 1:54 HERE).There is also a moment where some demonic-sprayed breast milk starts melting a businessman’s face, who whines, “Oh, no, not again!” This is particularly funny because he is played by Roy Frumkes, who wrote and produced the 1987 film, Street Trash.   

An alternative poster

Along with the bizarre non-sequitur musical showtune number in a dream sequence (“All you need is a pair of funbags”), there is a lot – and I mean a lot – of out-there humor. For example, there are take-offs of other films such as Tim saying “With great cup size comes great responsibility,” one frustrated co-worker of Betty snidely comments, about Betty’s enhancement, that for herself, “They’re real, and they’re spectacular,” and a great line at the end a comment made by two detectives that I can’t repeat because it could ruin the ending. Speaking of which, the two detectives? They are named Bartles and James.

Pay attention whenever Dr. Thulu and Nurse Herbie get together, because they are hysterical, and play off each other so well. For example there is this dialog:

Nurse: I don’t have any good lines! [he says breaking the fourth wall, reminiscent of a line from Monty Python during the mattress sketch, when Carol Cleveland laments, “But it’s my only line!”]

Dr.: You’re the assistant! All you need to say is, “Yes Mistress!”
Nurse: I refuse to be Igor; I’m way too pretty!

Rochon really does steal the film, and not just because I’m a fan. Just her reading of impatience at Betty’s getting undressed for an examination, saying “For the sake of the Dark One, would you take it off already?! C’mon, chop-chop!” gives some idea of her acting – er – chops.



One of the Killer Racks

I’m sure this will come into scrutiny as some heavy-handed killer female anatomy, but actually it’s quite a decent look at the way society views body image. Feeling inadequate due to small bust size is not male fantasy, but rather the way we are all mediated by prominence of the likes of the Kardashians and Kate Uptons. The film also addresses the male version of that at one point near the end of the film, which would lead perfectly into a sequel that I’m pretty sure is not in the plan (but would be welcomed by me). Speaking of which, stick through the end credits.

 

There actually is a history (subgenre perhaps?) of one aspect of the film, which is body extensions, be it for evil or not. On the not side, of course, there’s Marshall McLuhan’s image of technology being the extension of the body, such as the pen for the hand, glasses for the eyes, and computers for the brain. The evil side is more Cronenburg’s early work, such as Rabid (1977) and Videodrome (1973). More recently killer female anatomy could be seen in Teeth (2007) or appendages from transplants such as in Dustin Mills’ Night of the Tentacles  (2013).

I’ll admit I was looking forward to this as a bit of empty-headed fun. What I got instead was a multi-layered social treatise that was intelligent, psychotic, and yes, goofy. It was one of the more enjoyable films I have seen this year because it was so smartly ridiculous. And if you’re into it, as a drinking game, take a sip every time you recognize a reference. If you’re a film maven, I guarantee you’re gonna get smashed (not that I’m recommending that…).