Antonio Isasi-Isasmendi's El perro (1976)

Jason Miller gave, unequivocally, one of the best performances in the 1970s as Father Damien Karras in William Friedkin's The Exorcist (1973). Also an accomplished playwright, Miller won both the Pulitzer Prize for Drama and the Tony Award for his play, That Championship Season, in 1973. He was nominated for Best Supporting Actor at the Academy Awards for his role as Karras. Following The Exorcist, Miller starred in Robert Mulligan's truly-underrated and excellent The Nickel Ride (1974). A brilliant actor, capable of generating both emotional intensity and true emotional vulnerability, his subsequent roles in cinema never truly reached the heights of his debut character. Nonetheless, whenever an opportunity to view the actor in a film, it should be seized upon heartily. In 1976, Miller appeared in a Spanish production, El perro, directed by Antonio Isasi-Isasmendi of Summertime Killer (1972) fame. (All objective facts within about Jason Miller are from here and here.)

Miller is Aristides Ungria, a mathematician and intellectual and political prisoner, in a South American jail. The country is run by a military dictatorship, and Aristides is privy to important information: he holds a mental list of the country's rebel conspirators with whom he is also a participant. Under auspicious circumstances, Aristides and the chain gang are being transported to a work site when their truck gets stuck near the top of a hill. The guard orders all the prisoners to push to free the truck. Aristides is chained to a fellow prisoner who gets his arm wedged under the truck's wheel. The guard pulls a machete and cuts the prisoner's arm off. Aristide is now free and takes the opportunity to dash. He heads into the country's marshland and escapes. A couple of days later, Aristides is found by the prison's tracker and his dog. Miller's character manages to kill the tracker, but with his dying breath, the tracker commands the dog to kill Aristides. The chase begins.The set-up for El perro has all of the potential for an at-least interesting action/exploitation film. Subsequent to his escape from the tracker and the dog, Aristides wanders into a rebel camp where he is welcomed and fed. The rebels are met by a helicopter troop of soldiers, and a firefight plays out, ending with the helicopter's explosion. Aristides continues and for the rest of the first act, El perro remains firmly rooted in exploitation territory. Taking the opportunity to bathe in a lagoon, Aristides has his clothes and weaponry on the shore. The dog tracks him down and makes a mad dash into the lagoon to kill. A nude Jason Miller and a ferocious dog engage in a fist-to-paw/claws/jagged-toothed-jaw battle in and out of the lake. Aristides subdues the animal, only to lose his weapons and his clothes. He continues on foot, butt-naked, into the arms of a gorgeous farmer whose husband is away. "How long were you locked up?" she asks. Miller's Aristides looks intensely yet sweetly (in Miller's signature style) and says, "A very long time." She gives him a very good rogering before clothing and feeding him. The dog arrives to attack the farm, only after Miller's character has gratefully been shagged, clothed, and fed. Aristides escapes, again.

The exploitation elements of El perro are strong and familiar and well-rendered by Isasi-Isasmendi who from time to time drops a subjective p.o.v. shot from the dog. With the cross-cutting, it appears from the first act that El perro will play out with two parallel storylines of the film's opponents who meet for battle at intersecting opportunities. Isasi-Isasmendi does not abandon this narrative technique but widely increases the scope of the story. Aristides takes a journey leading him all the way to the country's capital where he reunites with the rebels. As Isai-Isasmendi widens his scope, the story focuses more on drama, and El perro becomes more than an exploitation picture yet still retaining its action roots. Aristide's information is highly valuable to the rebels yet understandingly, he wants to see Muriel (Lea Massari) his long-lost love. She's been put up financially by the government (to keep tabs on her), and in an effective sequence, Aristides and Muriel meet for a risky rendezvous. Miller and Massari are quite good together, as they appear as two lovers who are going to spend their short time together as intensely as possible. Unsurprisingly, the sequence is endearing and a nice touch.

El perro is in the capital, too, and it takes its own journey. Unsurprisingly, here, this storyline is either far-fetched or truly amazing. It is still a killer and at times, a powerful symbol to both Aristides and the film. This schism in the narrative, and the schism in tone between the three acts may have contributed to El perro's obscurity. All expectations of the film should lead to a simple exploitation film but Isasi-Isasamendi does not stay in that realm exclusively, so the film appears disjointed. If this is a flaw to most viewers, then it is a flaw here and perhaps a glaring one. Miller gives a fantastic performance, because he is Jason Miller. The very handsome, charismatic, and talented Antonio Mayans (aka Robert Foster) appears in a small yet very pivotal role as does the very beautiful, charismatic, and talented Marisa Paredes. El perro is available on DVD as part of the Tales of Voodoo, Vol. 5, under the title "A Dog Called Vengeance." It is a terrible VHS fullscreen transfer.

Jess Franco's Sola Ante el Terror (1983)

Jess Franco's Sola Ante el Terror (Alone Against the Terror) (1983) seemingly follows his La mansion de los muertos vivientes (1982) chronologically, and with that fact in mind, what appears in Sola is familar in Franco's filmography yet unique with its uniqueness polarized. Here's a plot synopsis (and its criticism) taken from Obsession: The Films of Jess Franco:

"Melissa, a young paralytic whose father was murdered in strange circumstances, lives a secluded life. One day she senses a strange call, like a revelation from the beyond, in which her father urges her to take revenge on his murderers. At the same time, she is given almost supernatural strength, and is able to get up and walk while in a trance...

A remake of Los Ojos Siniestros del Dr. Orloff, minus the acting skill of the original model which was already tedious."

Within Sola Ante el Terror, there are two scenes involving (what us yanks call) a baby's stroller. Melissa (Lina Romay), the "young paralytic," is sitting within and being pushed, once in a day scene and once at night. At first glance, it appears that an adult woman is being pushed in a baby's stroller; however, upon closer inspection, could it be a newer prototype and substitute for a wheelchair? A wheelchair, it can be fairly assumed, is the expected and traditional vehicle for a paralytic (at least in cinema). With closer inspection, the idea that the contraption is anything other than a baby's stroller disappears: its handles arch forward, unlike a wheelchair's handles which point backwards to facilitate pushing. The forward arching handles do not facilitate pushing; rather, the handles facilitate easier lifting of the forward wheels to climb obstacles such as stairs. Pushing is not a burden with a baby's stroller, since presumably, an infant is present within; and an adult (or even small child) could maneuver the stroller without the impediment of heavy weight. During the night scene, the one maneuvering Romay's Melissa has trouble guiding the stroller, obviously because of her passenger. This is not to say that Romay is heavy, but a grown adult is not the suitable passenger for a baby's stroller.If you are still reading, then what is the point of the previous paragraph? One, I'm just effing around, and two, the image of an adult Lina Romay in a baby's stroller is perhaps the most unique scene within Sola Ante el Terror. Why? Coming from Jess Franco whose entire filmography is filled with often poetic, jarring, and haunting imagery, the image of Lina Romay in a baby's stroller is unique, because Sola Ante el Terror is completely placid. Juan Soler's photography sees in Alicante a quiet community of high-rise condos which overlook the most beautiful vistas. Within the modern condos, Melissa's quarters (along with her two guardians, Marta (Mabel Escano) and Flora (Carmen Carrion)) are furnished at the height of style of the day. The young rock band, whose singer Melissa becomes infatuated with, looks a garage band also of its day and could grace any vinyl album cover in the local record store. The opening of Sola sees young Melissa (Flavia Hervas) coming out of her condo to encounter the voice of her father (Robert Foster) who has been fatally injured. Most interestingly, as young Melissa descends the steps and slight hill to encounter her father below, the camera performs a smooth and very clean tracking shot. In fact, Soler's camera performs more than one perfectly-executed clean tracking shot. The use of zoom is judicious and when used, it is fairly slow to make its use innocuous and seamless. So when the viewer sees Romay in a baby's stroller, it really stands out amongst the scenery. Sola Ante el Terror also boasts a complete and total absence of nudity.The familiarity of Sola Ante el Terror (within Franco's filmography and employing the auteur theory) lies within Soler's photography, especially the capturing of its location's atmosphere in Alicante. From Melissa's condo, the most breathtaking view comes from her window. A lonely and secluded rock sits slightly off the coast and its cliffs under where the water hits the rocky beach. The communication between grown Melissa and her father is effectively minimal: only the fatal wound of Foster's head is seen in close-up with its dripping red blood to focus upon his mouth and his slow words while his teeth are covered also in blood. The scenes with Melissa and her "doctor," Dr. Orgaf (Ricardo Palacios) have some disorienting compositions. In at least one, the sinister doctor appears a giant and Romay appears as small as a child. The music by Daniel J. White seems a hybrid from the scores of The Exorcist (1973) and the opening sequence of Argento's Profondo rosso (1975). The authors of Obsession write, "Advertising material credits Katja Bjenert [sic], Ann Stern, and Karen Field, but they don't appear in the film." Within Obsession, there is a photo of the Spanish poster corroborating this statement below its writing. Presumably, Bienert would have played the role of Melissa, as she was not yet twenty at the time of Sola's production. Romay was nearly thirty when she performs her role. It would have been a completely different film with a different actress. As the film stands, Romay is, as usually always, quite good. Watching her in childish scenes strains credulity, yet in certain scenes, like when she sits alone on her balcony and watching the young band perform, there is a resonance to her loneliness and sadness. The fact, perhaps, that now she is older (yet still quite young) and has missed the opportunity for teenage love or fun comes through. Also, as she is older, when she is able to walk to exact her father's revenge, it appears liberating for her character and Romay brings a subtle flair to the murder scenes. Obscure. Another Franco experiment. All objective facts are taken from essential tome, Obsession: The Films of Jess Franco.

Jess Franco's La Mansion de los Muertos Viventes (The Mansion of the Living Dead) (1982)

"Damn you and bless you. Bless you and damn you. May your sins never be forgiven."

Jess Franco does not like the films of George Romero, which he finds "primitive," and he finds the idea of the living dead, as reanimated corpses without rational thought, "silly." Franco does like, however, Amando de Ossorio's La noche del terror ciego (Tombs of the Blind Dead) (1971), which he thought was creative and had a great atmosphere, and Franco's 1982 Spanish production, La Mansion de los Muertos Viventes, is certainly inspired by de Ossorio's essential Euro-cult horror film. "The living dead of this film," Franco relates, "are people who were dead, but in some ways, they're still alive." With La Mansion de los Muertos Viventes, Franco prefers a depiction of a literal living dead: people who are existing yet dead inside (soulless) and unable to feel genuine pleasure in life (or life), condemned to commit acts of violence in the service of another. Candy (Lina Romay), Mabel (Mabel Escaño), Lea (Mari Carmen Nieto), and Caty (Elisa Vela) are topless dancers from Munich who come to a resort hotel in Gran Canaria for a vacation. The hotel appears expansive yet deserted. "Maybe they're all at the beach," says one. They encounter the hotel's manager, Carlos (Robert Foster), who gives the four two rooms. The four split into couples; and after Candy makes love to her roommate, Candy goes to sleep. Her roommate decides to take an evening stroll with her camera, and under a sheet of fierce wind, she encounters a quiet convent. The convent's inhabitants are a brotherhood of cursed priests. Save some of the anonymous hooded priests, La Mansion has only seven characters (Albino Graziani and Eva León appear as eccentric and standout characters), and they are the sole people who inhabit La Mansion. It's a lonely and secluded film with a strong presence of atmospheric horror with some intense violence combined with some seriously playful sex and nudity: La Mansion is an odd mix of elements from seemingly two different films; yet this clashing creates a phenomenal disorienting and uniquely Franco effect. The sexual situations are joking, uninhibited, and come from a liberated culture in Spain. "For Spanish cinema it was a boom," says leading woman, Lina Romay. "There had been a complete opening. From not being able to to show even a breast, we had moved to where almost everything was allowed." (A more detailed discussion of sex in Spanish culture and cinema during this time is included in my review of El Sexo here.) Franco paints his four actresses as fun and thrill-seeking topless dancers who not only enjoy taking their clothes off but feel completely comfortable in the nude. Their openness feels celebratory, and the actresses' energy is infectious. Franco takes the opportunity when the four actresses as friends are split into two rooms as couples to reveal each pairing as exactly that--a couple in a romantic relationship, ready to reveal all to whomever is watching. These characters, like the culture, no longer has to hide behind closed doors with their sexuality. The sex scenes are comedic and light and create an overall sense of fun. Not all is light, however, in La Mansion. One of the more provocative relationships within the film is with Foster's Carlos and his prisoner, Eva Leon as Olivia. Olivia is bound in "the best hotel room" to her bed with a chained dog collar. Carlos brings her food but puts her tray just out of reach in order to torture her. Even more bizarre are Olivia's reactions to Carlos's behavior: it's a love/hate relationship with Olivia always attempting to seduce Carlos when he enters, despite his degrading words to her, and then her immediate resentment when he leaves. Leon's Olivia tells Romay's Candy the origins of the relationship, and it's an odd tale. This story is tied into Carlos's character and his relationship with the brotherhood at the convent. The best scenes of La Mansion come with the goings on at the convent. The ritualistic acts of violence by the priests are amazingly effective and well-written. Their prayers are as haunting and disturbing as are their acts of violence. The convent and its inhabitants feel ancient and from another world. Franco, during his interview included on the Severin DVD of La Mansion, speaks of the convent (a genuine location near Las Palmas in Gran Canaria) and tells of its fantastic atmosphere. The strong wind in this location, Franco continues, cuts the island in half and permeates the landscape. Franco notes how the ringing of the convent bell by the wind is pervasive in the area. The lonely convent feels trapped by the wind in its location. Franco is able to channel this unique atmosphere with his photography. He is able to make the convent other-worldly and take the secluded area and create a fantastic atmosphere of dread (and quite successful also at creating an atmosphere of dark seclusion at the resort hotel despite the comedic goings on.)The final act of La Mansion is dark, both literally and thematically. The mystery with Foster's Carlos is revealed as Romay's Candy delves deeper into the area's secrets. The playfulness of the first two acts dissolves and its absence intensifies the third. La Mansion de los Muertos Viventes is a great Franco film: it's another Franco experimental work, seemingly shot spontaneously, yet quite successful in its final result. Robert Foster really stands out and gives one of the best performances that I've seen from him. Franco also deserves a lot of praise for this work here. It was only after the third or fourth time that I had viewed La Mansion that I had realized that Franco had used this location before. Juan Soler Cozar's photography was able to transform the location to fit the atmosphere, and Franco's compositions were fantastic. The film is filled with myriad beautiful wide shots, emphasizing the seclusion, loneliness, and dread of the location. All quotes and remarks from Franco and Romay and objective facts about the production are taken from their interviews included on the Severin DVD release of the film. Buy this essential purchase here.

Jess Franco's Sex Is Crazy (El sexo está loco) (1981)

During his interview included on the Severin disc of Macumba Sexual (1983), Jess Franco talks about his return to his native Spain after making myriad films in other European countries. He intimates that Spanish culture was certainly different in the era after Francisco Franco's reign ended. The authors of Immoral Tales write about the changing culture in Spain; its effect on cinema; and Jess Franco's role during this period:

As the demand for erotic sex films went up, the gap between films became much shorter. Much of the finance came from Spanish companies like Golden Films who were eager to cash in on the softening up of censorship that took place after the death of the Spanish dictator, General Franco...After Franco's death the production of softcore comedies increased, censorship became slightly more liberal, and film makers were allowed to show nipples on the screen for the first time...The next stage was the development of the "S," or slightly more explicit softcore film. Film-makers still weren't allowed to show penetration, but they produced a wide range of sexploitation films for the home market, supplemented by imports. As one of the premier low budget European sexfilim makers, this was a good period for Franco.

This period would produce Franco's Sex Is Crazy (El sexo está loco) (1981) which thematically is both a celebration and a playful commentary on this liberal period in Spanish cinema and culture.

"'Sex is Crazy' is a piece of mayhem that fully illustrates Franco's bubbling creativity. Eschewing any plot discipline, Franco has fun mystifying the spectator by presenting the story as an erotic nightclub floorshow, which is imagined by a lonely wife in a 'quadrilateral' marriage, who is in turn an actress in the film inside the film. Are you still with me? Don't worry, I didn't understand it the first time I saw it!" (from Obsession: The Films of Jess Franco)

One of the most creative and playful sequences begins with Lina Romay and Robert Foster's characters laying in bed. Romay's character is frisky, but Foster rolls over for more sleep. Nude, she walks to the glass doors and looks out upon beautiful seaside scenery. Romay's character walks into frame from behind the camera and outside (in cute detail, Franco realizes from behind the camera that Romay's bum is not completely in the frame and gives the camera a slight pan down to correct. Whether it was an intentional shot or not is unknown, but it wasn't removed in editing.) After sitting amongst the rocks on the seaside, Romay is visited by Foster who embraces her before the two begin some lovemaking. Another couple (Lynn Endersson and Antonio Rebollo) spies Romay and Foster and become aroused which in turn leads to their lovemaking (whereupon another couple spies Endersson and Rebollo which in turn...). Beyond Franco's signature voyeuristic motif, this humorous sequence resonates louder: an overwhelming sense that "coupling" is literally in the air and no longer does the sexuality have to be hidden (from neither the camera nor in the culture).

This scene concludes with Romay and Foster meeting Endersson and Rebollo. Endersson and Romay's characters begin a dialogue. Endersson and Romay break from their characters (into other characters possibly) and question each other as to whom is supposed to deliver a certain line. Franco steps into frame from behind the camera to direct the actresses and resolve the dilemma (only to exit the frame in the static shot to resume filming). The meta element of Sex is Crazy is as playful as its themes, and primarily upon what Franco is riffing is erotic cinema and its participants (and its burgeoning home market). More than once, Franco behind the camera is shown in a mirror. In one, Romay sits at the mirror while her lover exits the shower. Romay's character accuses her lover of cheating, and the two actors play the scene seriously (Romay as accusatory and her lover as defensive). Franco behind the camera is in center frame during the static shot, and his voice is heard by the viewer when he asks the two to redo the scene in a lighter manner. The two redo the scene, the dialogue is almost the same, the tone is different, but one thing remains constant: both attractive actors are still nude. One character, Rosalinda, is shown briefly from time to time laying upon a bed, as the camera tracks from her head to her toes or vice versa. She is always accompanied by a voice-over narration that never fails to comment that she is the producer's girlfriend and how excited everyone is that she will be the next star. While the scenes with Rosalinda are inserted into the film seemingly randomly, when she makes a pivotal appearance in a later scene, Franco reveals that the Rosalinda scenes are a set up for a clever joke about erotic actors and drama. Needless to say, there is quite a bit of flesh on display in Sex is Crazy, and nearly all the scenes in the film would fall into the category of (or wouldn't be unusual within) erotic cinema. The scenes range from cold and contrived, like the opening "alien nightclub" scene, to intimate ones, as with Endersson and Romay alone (in a parody of the "swinging" scene), but above all, the scenes are mostly bizarre (which drives the humor).

Low-budget and creative, Sex is Crazy is another oddity from Jess Franco. It has been recently released on DVD by label Sinful Mermaid. Buy it here.