Michele Massimo Tarantini's The Hard Way (1987)

If I were to have discovered Michele Massimo Tarantini's The Hard Way (1987) when I was ten, then I would have traded my red Rambo headband for a bottle of Vitalis hair tonic and played as Miles O'Keeffe's Bull on the playground. One of the best 80s Italian action movies sees Henry Silva and Miles O'Keeffe square off in the battle of the square jaws and stiff acting, while over ten thousand bullets are spent in under ninety minutes in Tarantini's lean action film. The Hard Way opens after the credit sequence and Luigi Ceccarelli's excellent movie theme to reveal an army squad creeping up to an open road in the jungle to intercept the "cocaine pick up." Enter Henry Silva as Captain Wesson and his crew of mercenaries to quickly dispatch the awaiting army. Wesson, cold as ice, wounds the awaiting army captain and shuffles him into his helicopter. A convoy of trucks, carrying enslaved locals and bushels of coca plants, head to a large, guarded compound. The compound is the drug plantation for Cartel overlord, Pinero (Philip Wagner), and Wesson brings the wounded army captain as a gift. After making the poor bastard eat about seven hundred bullets in a vulgar display of power, Pinero and Wesson have ended any opposition by the local government. Only the U.S. stands in the way now but Wesson has a mole inside the D.E.A., who keeps them informed about any secret operations.

The D.E.A. has their own mole inside Pinero's organization and they know the whereabouts of his plantation. While sending in U.S. troops is "politically impossible," the D.E.A. decides to send in a small elite group of soldiers, led by Colonel Bacall: three soldiers from three nations, Brazil, Germany, and its leader from the U.S., John Barrymore aka "The Bull" (Miles O'Keeffe). The D.E.A wastes about as little time as Tarantini does in The Hard Way to dispatch the trio from a plane over the jungle. As soon as their feet touch the ground, Bull cautions the other two: "If you get your ass shot off, you're on your own." The trio meet up with the mole from the D.E.A., who lays dead in his dapper white suit. Wesson has set a trap for the three and the bullets fly. Grenades are thrown and soldiers go bouncing everywhere. The only way to slow down The Hard Way is to put the disc on pause.

In a phenomenal sequence, Silva's Wesson lets the dogs loose to track the trio, while Wesson flies over head in his helicopter. The trio splits temporarily to divert the troops' attention. O'Keeffe's Bull reveals himself to be as sharp as his survival knife: with the said blade, Bull cuts a nasty gash in his own arm and bleeds himself a trail across a rope bridge, where the alligators are congregating in the swamp below. The troops and the dogs are diverted across the bridge, while Bull lays in ambush. Bull goes to cut the bridge but he's discovered! A knife toss and a high kick takes out two soldiers, while a full clip from his machine gun takes care of the twenty across the bridge. I think Bull missed the dogs (Tarantini's presumably a dog lover), and the alligators get nothing. What a set-up!

The trio reunite to meet Colonel Bacall with reinforcement troops, banded together in patrol boats coming down the river. Oh no, it's Wesson! In his helicopter! A few grenades and missiles later and get out the jam and jelly, because Bacall and company are toast! Okay, enough exclamation points. Bull tells his compatriots that they must complete the mission. Tarantini follows this litany of explosions with one of his best sequences: Bull stands at the edge of an open field and attracts the attention of an enemy helicopter. He runs full speed through the open field while bullets rain down around him. Bull alerts his buddies, and the two spring into action and pull their trap, a homemade clothesline which brings down the chopper with a bang.

Needless to say, I had an absolute blast watching The Hard Way. Michele Massimo Tarantini penned the screenplay, which probably looked more like a sketchbook of orchestrated action scenes, because the film is very lite on dialogue. Henry Silva throughout the film normally just barks into his walkie-talkie, but he delivers some of the best lines in the few minutes of the film when bullets aren't flying. With a tumbler of two fingers of Scotch in his hand, Wesson tells Pinero, "Let me tell you something...I love killing people. It gives me great satisfaction." The final third of the film is an assault on the plantation by O'Keeffe and crew, culminating in an escalating battle between O'Keeffe and Silva (which ends perfectly).

Tarantini spent the 70s directing crime flicks ( 7 Hours of Violence (1973)) and sex comedies (The Teasers (1975)). He moved into the 80s and put his hand into just about everything: sex comedies (A Policewoman in New York (1981)), sword-n-sandal (Barbarian Master (1982)), jungle/action/cannibal comedy (Massacre in Dinosaur Valley (1985)), and women in prison (Women in Fury (1985)). Tarantini is a terrific director, who has really never gotten his due. He's helmed quite a few good films, but he's often overshadowed by his contemporaries. However, with The Hard Way, he delivers one of the best Italian 80s action flicks, a literal visual assault on the viewer. The numerous action sequences are brilliantly shot and edited, and the film as a whole is well-paced. The Hard Way is always exciting, as Tarantini shows an incredible amount of enthusiasm. I wished he would have helmed more action films. Henry Silva is no stranger to Italian cinema nor to playing a bad mofo on screen. Silva goes from stoic to intensely animated in a split-second. He's a fantastic villain with other notable like roles in Fernando di Leo's Manhunt (1972), Umberto Lenzi's Free Hand for a Tough Cop (1976), and Fabrizio de Angelis's Man Hunt (1984), for example. Handsome Miles O'Keeffe began as Tarzan in John Derek's Tarzan, the Ape Man (1981). No stranger to Italian cinema, like Silva, O'Keeffe appeared as Ator in the fantasy films, Joe D'Amato's Ator the Invincible (1982) and Ator the Invincible 2 (1984) and Alfonso Brescia's Iron Warrior (1987). He also appeared in Ruggero Deodato's post-apocalyptic The Lone Runner (1986) and Stelvio Massi's actioner, Hell's Heroes (1987), alongside Fred Williamson. O'Keeffe's true talent is also his career hindrance: his uncanny likeness to a young Clint Eastwood, from his look to his demeanor to his delivery. This likeness was okay for the Italian 80s films, but when he plays Count Dracula, for example, in Anthony Hickox's Waxwork (1988), his limited range is really shown. Nonetheless, O'Keeffe is a perfect hero in The Hard Way with one of his best performances.

Anyone who loves the ridiculous and excessive frisson that only 80s action can deliver, then The Hard Way is the film for you. It is truly one of the best Italian action films, standing tall with Ruggero Deodato's Raiders of Atlantis (1983) and Bruno Mattei's Strike Commando (1987). See it.

Luigi Batzella's The Devil's Wedding Night (1973)

Some things truly never die but just disappear for a while. Lately, teen-angst and romance have been fuelling the recent popular trend, but they've seemingly always been around in pop culture and, especially, cinema. Yes, that's right, vampires. In the early 70s, at least in Europe, vampire cinema was still making the rounds: England's Hammer Studios, even in its waning days, was still sticking to its guns and producing Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee in Alan Gibson's The Satanic Rites of Dracula (1973); while also producing fresher and more interesting takes on vampire lore, like Robert Young's Vampire Circus (1972) and Brian Clemens's Captain Kronos--Vampire Hunter (1974). Also in England, Spanish film maker, Jose Larraz would make his sick and sexy Vampyres (1974), while in his native country, Paul Naschy was making his own Gothic brand of horror, usually involving his reluctant werewolf character, Waldemar Daninsky, with an appearance as a vampire in Javier Aguirre's Count Dracula's Great Love (1972). Fellow Spaniard Jess Franco was releasing Dracula Against Frankenstein (1972), Daughter of Dracula (1972), and Female Vampire (1973). In France, Jean Rollin began his career with bloodsuckers, for example, directing Requiem for a Vampire and Shiver of the Vampires, both in 1971. Other vampire films were being produced around the continent; however, they were almost unheard of coming from Italy during this period. Interestingly, one that I pleasantly stumbled upon doesn't really take fangs as its focus but rather sex and Satanism in Luigi Batzella's The Devil's Wedding Night (1973). The Devil's Wedding Night opens with the camera chasing a young female through the forest at night. After taking a couple of twists and turns, she's toast for the unknown assailant. After a psychedelic credit sequence, the camera reveals bookish scholar, Karl Schiller (Mark Damon) in a Poe-esque pose behind his desk, reading about ancient lore. His twin brother, Franz (also Damon) enters his study and pours himself a drink. The rakish Franz has just lost again while gambling and he is interested in what his brother has gotten into. Karl is about to begin a journey, believing that he has learned the location of the "long lost ring of the of the Nibiloni (?)" What's that? It's a ring whose bearer holds power over all mankind and its previous holders were Alexander the Great and Genghis Khan and the like. So where's this groovy ring? "In north Transylvania, the Carpathian Mountains, specifically, Castle Dracula." Franz doesn't bat an eye and responds to his brother, "But that's vampire country. You have heard of those blood-sucking creatures, haven't you?" After Damon's delivery of this line, I'm hooked. It gets better. Vampires aren't a problem for Karl: during a previous expedition, he discovered an amulet which protects its wearer from all supernatural evils. "Vampires should be covered, then."The next sequence shows one of the Schillers on horseback, racing through the mountains. At a local inn in Transylvania, Franz arrives and requests a room. He asks about Castle Dracula and receives strange and quiet looks from the locals. The innkeeper's daughter shows Franz his room for the evening. As she is turning over his linens, she tells Franz that tomorrow night is the Night of the Virgin Moon. What's that? Every fifty years, after midsummer, five virgins are called to Castle Dracula. Franz shows the innkeeper's daughter his protective amulet and tells her not worry. Franz is such a kind fellow, he'll offer her some additional protection by taking care of her virginity for her. The following morning, Franz arrives at Castle Dracula and is greeted by the zombish Lara (Esmeralda Barros), the maidservant to Countess Dracula. Using the ruse that he is studying local architectural designs, Franz gains entry into the castle. Where's the Countess? She will be arriving, much later.


When Countess Dracula does appear in the film, the real jewel of The Devil's Wedding Night is revealed: Italian actress, Rosalba Neri. Gorgeous Neri was a staple of 60s and 70s genre cinema, and her popularity has never faded. She has developed quite a cult following for her sensuous demeanor and steamy sex scenes. Some of my favorite Neri performances are in the Fernando di Leo-scripted, Romolo Guerreri's Johnny Yuma (1966), also alongside Damon, Jess Franco's 99 Women (1969), Ottavio Alessi's The Seducers (1969), and Fernando di Leo's Slaughter Hotel (1971). Even fully-clothed and in the most innocuous scenes, charismatic Neri is always the focus and she doesn't disappoint in The Devil's Wedding Night. Neri is so elegant that she is able to credibly deliver in this exchange with Damon's Franz:


Countess Dracula: No, thank you. All this wine, I'm afraid, is making my head spin.
Franz: My head is spinning also...but not from the wine.
Countess Dracula: Oh, Schiller. You do have a way about you. I imagine women find you quite irresistible. Do they?
Franz: Do you?
Countess Dracula: Quite. But perhaps not in the same way as the others.
Franz: Oh? In what way then?
Countess Dracula: Differently.
Franz: Oh my dear Countess, all of the other women in my life are like so many ladies of the night compared to you. .


Countess Dracula: Oh...but I am in my own fashion also a lady of the night.


The sex scene that follows this exchange is one the true precious moments of Italian genre cinema. Either Damon's Franz is revealed to not be such the sophisticated ladies' man or Damon, the actor, is in awe: he has the look on his face that his world is about to get rocked by Neri, even in this simulated love-making scene. She absolutely dazzles. What was I talking about?
Oh, The Devil's Wedding Night goes on for the final two-thirds to be extremely predictable but also fun. Damon's Karl realizes that Franz has stole the amulet and comes to rescue him. Franz left the amulet at the inn, so he is totally vulnerable to the Countess's powers within the castle. The set-up with the legendary ring and the story of the five virgins on the Night of the Virgin Moon come to fruition. The Devil's Wedding Night's director, Luigi Batzella, is one of the true madmen of Italian genre cinema, alongside his cinematic brothers Rino di Silvestro (Red Light Girls (1974); Werewolf Woman (1976); and Hanna D (1984)) and Cesare Canevari (Mátalo (1970); The Nude Princess (1976); Gestapo's Last Orgy (1977); and Killing of the Flesh (1983)). Subsequent to The Devil's Wedding Night, Batzella would helm Blackmail (1974), a bizarre kidnapping tale about a hippie, played by Brigitte Skay, and, possibly his most well-known film, Nude for Satan (1974), before delivering his nasty, shower-inducing The Beast in Heat (1977). Batzella loves to fill his films with psychedelic and dream-like images, and Nude for Satan is representative and full of this type of imagery. Batzella also doesn't mind getting a little down and dirty. In The Devil's Wedding Night, Neri's the focus of a couple of dreamy sequences: in one she has the obligatory lesbian scene with Lara, who bathes her in blood, a la Bathory. In another with Karl, one sip of wine leads to uncontrollable laughter and the most bizarre audio and accompanying images. Needless to say, the Satanic finale is over the top and indulgent. Finally, Mark Damon is a wonderful old-school American actor, who went abroad to work in Italy, like many others during the period. I first saw him in Roger Corman's The House of Usher (1960), alongside Vincent Price. He would appear as the titular character in the excellent western, Johnny Yuma, and give an over-the-top performance in Carlo Lizzani's Kill and Pray (1967). Today, Damon is a very successful Hollywood producer. Damon gives a terrific and campy performance alongside Neri.The Devil's Wedding Night is the very definition of a guilty pleasure and it's a fun one to revisit every now and again. If anyone gets the chance to see it, forget it's about vampires and dive in and enjoy the mad silliness.

Sergio Martino's Silent Action (1975)

There is something nostalgic and almost ancient about relatively recent cinema involving police work, or in the case of Sergio Martino's Silent Action (1975), polizia work. Technology has grown rapidly in the thirty-four years since Silent Action, and cinema, especially television, has been quick to seize upon it in its depiction of "modern" police work: sophisticated evidence-gathering gadgets, cutting-edge medical and autopsy techniques, and the use (and often overuse) of large, internet-fuelled databanks. While culturally this depiction of police work might seem more credible and hence, more intriguing, I personally find it so cinematically unsatisfying. Perhaps I'm in the minority but I enjoy watching police officers use intuition as their primary tool; hit the street and gather clues in their polyester suits and turtlenecks; and make mistakes to get led astray and then get a break for a breakthrough in the case. Luc Merenda is from that class of police officers and he is on the case as Inspector Solmi in one of Sergio Martino's lesser-seen films.

The film opens with title cards, introducing the viewer to Milan, June 1974, where a driver is on the freeway. He pumps the brakes a few times and realizes that they are not working and soon crashes. The media reports that the driver is an army major, who had an unfortunate accident. Rome, August, 1974: two thugs break into an office and assault an old man. They shoot him in the head and place the gun in the dead man's hand. The media reports that the old man was a colonel and the death was by suicide. Florence-Bologna Railway lines, September, 1974 shows unknown men place an incapacitated man on the railway tracks. In a brutal sequence, the train speeds by and decapitates him. The newspapers reveal the identity of the victim as an army general and a police inquiry is begun. Salvatore Quirotie is the fourth homicide of the film, found in his wealthy villa, from a blunt attack to the skull with an iron poker. Inspector Solmi (Merenda) and District Attorney Nanino (Mel Ferrer) are assigned to the case. The crime scene yields little in the way of clues: long brown hair is found on a brush in the bathroom (obviously, says Solmi, a woman was here), and the police take Quirotie's personal book of phone numbers. The caretaker of the villa reveals that a woman was seen leaving the home on the night that Quirotie was murdered. Quirotie was a bachelor, who worked in "gadgets, like a master electrician." Solmi finds the number for a high-class madame in Quirotie's book, and he visits her at her bordello. Going from room to room, Solmi threatens to shut her operation down, unless she gives the name of the prostitute who visited Quirotie. The madame confesses and names the prostitute: La Polisina. Solmi and his partner arrive at the prostitute's apartment and ring the doorbell. The door explodes (!), as toxic gas flies out of the room. La Polisina, ne Juliana, lies on the floor of the kitchen, unconscious with her wrists slit.Ferrer's Nanino is ready to indict Juliana, as her suicide attempt is a clear admission of guilt. Solmi thinks otherwise, as he believes a woman is incapable of generating enough power to bash a man's skull in. Solmi tests this theory with his quick-witted, sharp, and beautiful journalist girlfriend, Maria (Delia Boccardo) on a pile of melons, Gallagher-style. Solmi cannot discern Juliana having a clear motive for Quirotie's murder and believes that this case is about something much deeper. Merenda's Solmi is quite correct as one of the most intricate and well-structured plots plays out. I scribbled nearly eight pages of notes while viewing Silent Action, keeping tabs on all the characters who are introduced and the various twists and turns that take place. By the time Sergio Martino directed Silent Action, he had already filmed all of his gialli (The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh (1971); Case of the Scorpion's Tail (1971); All the Colors of the Dark (1972); Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key (1972); and Torso (1973)), for which he is much admired and loved by genre fans. Although Dario Argento would release Deep Red (1975) in the same year, the giallo was pretty much dead as a genre. Argento would become really a genre unto himself, and Martino would move into other genres, especially two of the more popular: sex comedies and crime flicks. Martino previously filmed Violent Professionals (1973), also with Luc Merenda, which is really more representative of the period's crime cinema: its subject is organized crime, where the criminals are machine-gun toting badasses and the police officers prefer to instigate interrogation with the back of their right hand. Car and motorcycle chases are obligatory and expected. Silent Action doesn't fit neatly into that category, as it takes as its premise a homicide investigation, which is a subject suited better for amateur sleuths in the giallo. As such, Silent Action plays like a hybrid of the crime and giallo genre to excellent effect. Perhaps the background of Silent Action's talented screenwriters, Massimo Felisatti, Fabio Pittorru, Gianfranco Couyoumdjian, and Martino contributed to the mix of crime and giallo. Felisatti had previously penned Emilio Miraglia's The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave (1972) and the spectacular and nasty, young thugs crime flick Violence for Kicks (1975), which he also co-directed with Sergio Grieco. Felisatti would also contribute to the script for Andrea Bianchi's Strip Nude for Your Killer and another excellent crime/giallo hybrid, Mario Caiano's The Maniac Responsible, both released in 1975. Fabio Pittorru collaborated with Felisatti on The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave and The Maniac Responsible. Prior to Silent Action, Pittorru contributed to the screenplay of Emilio Miraglia's The Red Queen Kills 7 Times (1972) and Ruggero Deodato's Wave of Lust (1975). Silent Action was Gianfranco Couydoumdjian's first screenplay. He would later become notable as a producer. As each screenwriter had his hand in often both, or multiple genres, it was inevitable that there would be a conscious or subconscious crossover. Italian genre cinema was going through a transitional period, and in some ways, Silent Action is representative of the transition.

In a break-in sequence during Silent Action, Martino films it from the intruder's subjective P.O.V., reminiscent of his previous gialli films, especially Torso. A fairly intense car chase also occurs, where a cop on a motorcycle stops Solmi and his suspect and fires his gun, killing the suspect and setting off the chase. The pacing of Silent Action is fantastic: the script has little filler. The film moves with Solmi and his police cohorts as they move through the investigation towards the end. Merenda's not one of the greatest actors, but he's occasionally animated and quite often focused in Silent Action with his stoic presence. Tomas Milian gives a typical, yet very good, brooding and quiet performance in a small but integral role. Ferrer and Boccardo give good performances, also, in their supporting roles. Overall, Silent Action is a tight mystery, occasionally punctuated by some intense action sequences, and very much well worth seeing for genre fans.

Other notable giallo/crime hybrids are Massimo Dallamano's What Have They Done To Your Daughters (1974), The Maniac Responsible, Martino's The Suspicious Death of a Minor (1975), and Alberto de Martino's Blazing Magnum (1976). While Silent Action probably won't satisfy pure fans of polizia films nor pure giallo fans, it will be intriguing and interesting for fans, like me, who absolutely love genre cinema made in Italy during the 70s.

Nello Rossati's Top Line (1988)

The Sensuous Nurse (1975), fun and forgettable, like a lot of 70s Italian sex comedies, revelled really in its representative nature with its farcical humor and sight-gags, starring international sex symbol, Ursula Andress. Its legacy, at least in the American memory, was the second life Andress's nurse breathed into the production during the subsequent decade, where on late-nite cable television, The Sensuous Nurse sent boys' boxer briefs flying into the ankle zone. Meanwhile, in cinemas, Franco Nero was resurrecting an old hero and an earlier role with his return as Django in the fittingly-titled, Django Strikes Again (1987). While you are still wrapping your head around the image of a nude Ursula Andress (or have left and are wrapping your hand around your head), I will reveal the connection between the two films: their director, Nello Rossati. As of date, Rossati has helmed fifteen films in his career, with the above two most likely his most notable, but the year following Django Strikes Again, Rossati would deliver, along with star, Franco Nero, a real hidden gem of 80s Italian genre cinema, Top Line (1988). Top Line is a ridiculous and excessive blend of action, adventure, science-fiction, and suspense. It's also totally radical fun, like an ancient hidden spaceship in a Colombian mountain or like a bull charging a cyborg. Those similes are allusions to images within Top Line, but you're probably still thinking about nekkid Ursula Andress. Anyway, bad jokes aside, Top Line is about a writer, Ted Angelo (Franco Nero), who's destitute and drunk, living in Colombia. His publisher and ex-wife, Maureen De Havilland (Mary Stavin) cuts off his funding and sends him a plane ticket for a trip back to Italy. One morning, Angelo's local girlfriend awakens him at knife point, and Angelo's relieved that she didn't kill him and extremely excited that the knife's an antique ("Where did you get this?"). She leads Angelo to her brother, who found the knife in a cave, while trekking though the jungle. Her brother seemingly is the only one who knows the location of the cave and he allows Angelo to have a diary that he found there. Angelo takes the diary to his best friend, Professor Alonso Kintero (William Berger), who tells him that the diary holds the secret to a cache of pre-Colombian gold. What a find! Does Angelo know what this means? Yeah, historical value be damned. Unlike Indiana Jones, this treasure doesn't belong in a museum but in private hands of a collector, preferably holding some sweet cash. Kintero agrees to hook Angelo up with sinister and dangerous Heinrich Holzmann (Oscar-winner, George Kennedy), who's the largest private collector of pre-Colombian artifacts. Before Angelo gets to see the German, Berger's Kintero turns up dead, the victim of some brutal torture. Coincidence? Angelo doesn't think so and he forces the kid who found the diary to take to him to the cave. Inside the cave, Angelo finds a secret passage and inside the passage, a five-hundred-year-old Spanish ship resides with an alien spaceship parked right next to it.After the first act of Top Line, a lot of guests show up at the party: the CIA, the KGB, a cyborg, Angelo's ex-wife, and of course, aliens. Ted Angelo's not having a very good time while uncovering a vast world-wide conspiracy, but Franco Nero is obviously having a splendid time in his role. After exiting the cave, Angelo comes back to his hotel, where he is greeted by two unwelcome guests, who have just finished rummaging his room. An exciting foot-chase sequence plays out, with Kennedy's Holzmann leading the pursuit. Angelo barely escapes into the arms of Professor Kintero's assistant, June (Deborah Moore), who accompanies Nero for the remainder of the film, as his confidant in his quest to uncover the conspiracy and as his burgeoning love interest. Watching Nero guzzle his booze and relay his alien theory, quickly like an excited child, is hilarious ("Hey, this is no bullshit."). The only thing really driving the incredulous story line is Nero's sincerity as Angelo. Franco Nero is a fantastic and legendary Italian actor. Some of my favorite Nero performances are in Sergio Corbucci's Django (1966) and Companeros (1970); Enzo G. Castellari's High Crime (1973) and Street Law (1974); Pasquale Festa Campanile's Hitch Hike (1977); and Menahem Golan's Enter the Ninja (1981). Mary Stavin's performance is pretty sweet, as her character becomes quite an unexpected surprise. Stavin was previously in Fred Dekker-scripted, Steve Miner's fun House (1986) and subsequently appeared in Bruno Mattei's powerhouse actioners, Strike Commando 2 (1988) and Born to Fight (1989), both alongside Brent Huff. Berger and Moore's performances are quite good too.

Finally, praise needs to be sung to Top Line's unsung hero, Nello Rossati, in one of his most unsung films. Rossati's film isn't filled with a bunch of signature and showy shots but instead, the whole film shines with a slick, commercial gloss, regardless of its budget. Rossati also possesses one of the few traits that many film makers never had and that many have lost touch with today: knowing when to loosen up and have fun. The addition of the Terminator-like cyborg showing up near the end is totally unnecessary to the plot, but its inclusion is totally necessary to Top Line's overall sense of fun. It's almost as if Rossati perfectly knows how to moderate his film's ridiculousness and excessiveness (however, exceeding those limits is often okay, too). Top Line is a terrific Italian 80s genre picture. Seek it out.

Tonino Ricci's Encounters In The Deep (1979)

Steven Spielberg's Jaws (1975) and Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) made massive amounts of cash at worldwide box offices, entertained countless numbers of viewers, and would become influential films for future generations of film makers. However, there was an elder generation of film makers savvy enough to recognize that blockbusters made temporary film markets; and if a truly resourceful film maker, like Tonino Ricci, could move quickly with a production, then he would be able to snag at least a few of those film fans, like a rogue shark after a frenzy. Ricci would follow his similar The Shark's Cave (1978) and bring back its star, Andres Garcia in his hybrid of the two Spielberg 70s classics, entitled Encounters In The Deep (1979). Whatever is down there in the deep, like sharks, aliens, and divers in skimpy bikini briefs, Ricci, like the master craftsman that he is, will scrounge up what he can. Legendary Stelvio Cipriani returns with Ricci for Encounters, and genre stalwart, Gianni Garko, dumps the six-shooters and dons some flippers, while not forgetting the dog treats. Encounters In The Deep begins with a voice-over and an image montage of natural disasters. The voice-over introduces the theme of UFOs and does not dispute their existence. The only issue of dispute is their origin: Earth or outer space? A chronicle of history is presented of unexplained disappearances, explosions, and sightings. The film cuts to a sequence presumably aboard a naval ship, where the sailors are talking about fear and bad dreams: there's something in these waters, and then all of the sudden, dreaded green light, bubbling up from out of the ocean, attacks the ship with accompanying throbbing audio. Encounters cuts once again to a lovely beach setting to introduce beautiful Mary (Carole André) about to embark on a pleasure cruise to the Bahamas with new husband, John. Soon after the two are on course and having a wonderful time, Mary decides to call her father, Mr. Miles (Gabriele Ferzetti). While in the middle of their conversation, the ominous bubbling reappears and the dreaded green light and throbbing audio bursts on the scene. Miles starts flipping out and John and Mary disappear. The Coast Guard attempts to locate John and Mary without success, so Miles goes and sees Professor Peters (Manuel Zarzo). Peters is famous for his scientific theory that there exists a mysterious current, located where John and Mary disappeared, capable of capturing planes and boats under the water. Miles has hopes that this is true and agrees to finance Peters investigation of his theory on the condition that he locate John and Mary. Peters agrees, and Encounters cuts to its final opening sequence, a dive bar where diver, Scott (Andres Garcia) is in a fight with the most stereotypical-looking pirates (in fact, if title cards with the words BAM! and POW! were inter cut, they wouldn't be out of place). Peters rouses Scott from his bedroom and recruits him to go on the investigation. Whew! Damn! Now Encounters can move out to sea on the boat. Encounters In The Deep runs for eighty minutes and Ricci spends almost the first half of it with sputtering beginnings and set-up. The paint-by-numbers plot of Encounters becomes a Pollock painting of padding. Like The Shark's Cave, Ricci does not show any real enthusiasm through the exposition. It's the underwater scenes with the sharks and aliens where Ricci shines, but the viewer is going to have to wade quite a bit before getting to those scenes. Gianni Garko appears as Mike on the ship and he does a few tricks with his canine. This expedition still appears more like a pleasure cruise, as Ricci attempts to channel the camaraderie vibe of Shaw, Scheider, and Dreyfuss in Jaws. Peters, over dinner, relates his theory again, as a sort-of low-brow Lovecraft tale: aliens visited the Earth millions of years ago and never left. They went underwater and are responsible for a lot of the recent disappearances. How about the water, fellas? Want to strap on some of that scuba gear and play with the sharks?

Unfortunately, no. Andres Garcia is an extremely handsome man and looks like a runway model in his bikini briefs. Garko puts on a pair of dainty, black bikini briefs, but not even a nibble at the toes by the sharks at these two divers happens. The sharks must have been bored to tears, as well. Mike does mysteriously pass out under the water and comes back on board a little bit changed. Garko manages to stoically sleepwalk through the rest of the film. Peter, Scott, and Ronnie don the scuba gear and go down for an investigation. Who the eff is Ronnie? Ronnie is the auxiliary character who doesn't come back. Peters finds a rock below and says it's full of plutonium. He hands the rock to Garcia who smells it. Encounters goes on to have a relatively long Mary Celeste sequence and Peters's alien theory is proven true. For whatever reason, Ricci doesn't reach for any sensational scenes. Encounters is an ambivalent film which doesn't know if it wants to go for Jaws-like excitement or Close Encounters-like sweetness. More of the viewers of this film are likely to generate more hostility than any of the sharks or aliens. However, I am willing to forgive Ricci. The man made quite a few gems in his career that I keep coming back to. Unfortunately for a film made for a temporary market, Encounters In The Deep might have snagged a few film fans' money, but it would have been nice if it snagged a few of our attentions, as well.

Claire Denis's Trouble Every Day (2001)

Claire Denis's perverse Trouble Every Day (2001) really represents what I love in cinema: its simple premise, as a Jekyll and Hyde tale, is engrossing as an intense horror/genre picture; while its provocative and transgressive take on themes such as gender roles, sexuality, and the idea of the "outsider," move Trouble Every Day out of the sensational and commercial arena, exclusively, and into another. I imagine Denis's film sitting snugly on the shelf in between, on the left, Takashi Miike's Audition (1999) and Catherine Breillat's Fat Girl (2001), and, on the right, Walerian Borowczyk's Dr. Jekyll and His Women (1981) and Gerard Kikoine's Edge of Sanity (1989). Trouble Every Day truly is a captivating and divisive film with imagery often simultaneously beautiful and disturbing.

Trouble Every Day opens at night with an anonymous couple kissing, as the soulful music from the Tindersticks plays as the soundtrack. The night imagery continues over the Seine to reveal at dawn a beautiful woman (Béatrice Dalle) at the side of the road. A trucker stops for her, and as night falls again, the cab of his vehicle is open and empty; his corpse lays in a field; and the beautiful woman sits covered in blood in a blood-red field. Above her, a newly-wed couple sits closely aboard a plane, with Paris as their honeymoon destination. Shane (Vincent Gallo) kisses sensuously his wife's (Tricia Vessey) arm, but feeling ill, Shane goes to the restroom to compose himself, where he has a vision of a blood-drenched female. Dawn breaks again over Paris, where Dalle is now in a bedroom, where her lover is meticulously locking her windows. With the opening night and day imagery, Denis presents her tale of Jekyll looking for Hyde. Shane is Dr. Shane Brown and he knows the identity of the beautiful woman, Core. Were they in love? "No," Shane says, "that's not the right word for it. I was attracted to her." Their initial meeting took place over a year ago in Guyana, where brilliant doctor Shane went hunting for a secret serum developed by Core's lover, Leo (Alex Descas). Core has been corrupted by the serum, and apparently Shane has been also. Leo keeps Core locked away as he attempts to develop a cure, but Core escapes frequently with dire results. Shane doesn't seem as if he searching for the cure but for Core, herself. The majority of Trouble Every Day's shocking imagery involves the coupling of sex and violence. Denis shares seemingly my own view of my current culture: while we have abandoned a lot of our traditional Puritanical views towards violence, we have retained quite a bit of those views towards sex and the belief that both genders have different roles and rules in regard to sex. Not surprisingly, then, Denis reverses the traditional roles in Trouble Every Day: Dalle's Core plays the sexual aggressor, locked up and kept away from the world; while Gallo's Shane walks free, tortured by his own repression of his sexual desires. Dalle, as the former, brilliantly executes her role: in arguably the film's most shocking sequence, Core seduces a young thief through the captive wooden planks of her bedroom. Denis films the seduction and the sex scene in shadows and close shots of the two caressing, until Dalle turns violently on her partner. Alternatively, Dalle's Core is beautifully sad in another scene where Leo softly bathes her. She quietly and hauntingly whispers that she doesn't want to live anymore. Gallo's performance is also praiseworthy. The most poetic and agonizing aspect of Core and Shane's affliction is the absence of any affection. Shane cannot make love to his new wife, so he takes myriad opportunities to hug her. He gropes ladies, unsuccessfully, in the bathroom and on the subway. In his saddest scene, he purchases a puppy and holds it closely and tightly. Shane's biggest obsession and one of Denis's most interestingly drawn characters is the young maid, who works at Shane's hotel. The two have several quiet and innocuous encounters which build to the film's climax. The young maid is often shown in her domestic attire, doing her cleaning. Occasionally, she will steal some lotion or soap from one of the rooms and once, she lays in Gallo's bed and smokes one of his cigarettes. Her transgressions are minimal and not enough to put her outside of normal acceptance. Her final encounter with Gallo is shocking and also leaves the viewer with Denis's metaphor about those who step outside of their traditional roles.

Please bear in mind that it is my dumb ass which is overtly propounding underlying themes and not Denis. As I alluded to in the outset of this entry, Trouble Every Day is a seamless blend of thought-provoking drama, deeply-rooted also within the horror genre. Denis doesn't preach or push with Trouble Every Day: the film moves lyrically and leisurely with beautiful imagery and some very beautifully shocking imagery. The writing and the performances are stellar. See it.

Andrzej Zulawski's My Nights Are More Beautiful Than Your Days (1989)

I crawled through the portal, through a stapled, snail-mail, xeroxed catalog, which I found listed in the back few pages of an old copy of Gorezone, that led me into the cinema of Andrzej Zulawski with a film entitled Possession (1981). The portal was small: I based the selection of purchasing a VHS copy of the film on 1)it was in English; 2)its source was Japan; and 3)Dario Argento was a fan of the film. The cosmetic criteria employed by me was ridiculous, but I don't even think that I was fifteen at the time. I don't think, also, that I was quite ready for Possession or for the mind behind its creation, Andrzej Zulawski, but for the nearly twenty subsequent years, I continued crawling through that portal, going deeper into the mind of its creator, searching for his films. Thankfully, quite a few of Zulawski's films are available on DVD in English-friendly editions, today; however, I still find Zulawski as enigmatic and challenging as the first time I saw the opening frames of Possession. His cinema is one of violent and poetic beauty, often with a view that the world and its conventions are absurd; or rather, the world and its conventions turn its characters against it and each rebels often losing his or her own sense of self. I took a recent look at Zulawski's My Nights Are More Beautiful Than Your Days (1989).Lucas (Jacques Dutronc) creates a new computer language, with the prospect of becoming amazingly wealthy because of its creation. However, believing death looms over him after a trip to his doctor, Lucas abandons everything. Sitting in a cafe, he plays word games with beautiful, young Blanche (Sophie Marceau), and the two speculate on the identity of a passing couple (are they lovers? drunks?). Lucas pulls the sunglasses from her eyes and gazes, revealing a profound sadness and depth behind her eyes. Immediately enamored and attracted, Lucas wants to steal Blanche away, but her large entourage keeps her at bay. Blanche must leave Paris to perform in a coastal town casino, as a reluctant flamboyant clairvoyant. Lucas follows her, and the two embark on a spiritual journey together while also falling in love. Blanche is capable of seeing inside of people's hearts, often seeing both their virtues and their vices. In addition, she also feels from each an amazing amount of emotion and Marceau conveys quite a bit of it during My Nights. Her ridiculous entourage, composed of a would-be lover, her possessive older husband, and her indulgent mother, love the spectacle of Blanche performing and its cash potential. Blanche, however, is weary of the pain that she's enduring, while her hangers-on reap the benefits. She's also haunted by a violent childhood memory, presumably of her mother and father in a small apartment, which appears at the start of any of Blanche's visions. Lucas is also haunted by a childhood memory of his parents and over the course of My Nights and with extreme difficulty, he attempts to keep that memory and his painful feelings about it at bay. As the two are making love, in one of the film's most poignant and beautiful scenes, Blanche is able to look into Lucas's soul. She sees the pain hidden inside of him, which Lucas is so desperately attempting to control and failing miserably; and Lucas utters two words with a profound brevity, "words and body." Zulawski takes the most simple themes and grounds each in a profound reality. As a simple and deceptive motif, Lucas's creation of a new computer language becomes his raison d'etre: although he is able to create a new language, Lucas is unable to control his own nor is he able to create a way to fashion his reality beyond language. In a painful yet comedic sequence, Lucas rents the "Imperial" suite at the posh hotel, and in anticipation of Blanche's arrival, Lucas attempts to conform the surroundings to his ideas of suitability. As he goes about the room, speaking aloud the discursive thoughts in his mind, Lucas makes a complete wreck of the room. In a brilliant image, Zulawski shows Dutronc wrapped in sheets and a towel as the "king" of his new surroundings: Often speeches and conversations with Lucas fly into games which usually lead into painful subjects:Lucas, the one with the power of creation of language, has no control, and the real power to gain, by the film's end, is to surrender: Blanche, as a clairvoyant or "seer," allows Lucas to surrender to his feelings and let go of control. In Marceau's most powerful scene and also most vulnerable, Blanche breaks down from all the emotion in the room; however, the most powerful emotion comes from Lucas. Blanche also realizes during this scene that she does not have to bear the burden of others' feelings and actions. The control that others believe that she has or forces her to use, she abandons. The painful memories within each are capable of being let go, and Lucas and Blanche are able to full unite.More than likely, I've misread the film, but with certainty, I will revisit again and again. I am also confident in saying that Andrzej Zulawski is one of the last true and real iconoclasts in cinema. His films are always confrontational and often brilliant. My Nights Are More Beautiful Than Your Days awaits any viewer, night or day.