Pou-Soi Cheang's Accident (2009)

A young woman has a flat tire in the middle of a crowded street in Hong Kong. The older gentleman behind her is irritated that she won't move her car to the side, so he takes a right turn down another street. The older gentleman inches by a large truck, and its cargo of water splashes onto the street and into his window. With the water stunning him momentarily, the older gentleman is blindsided by a banner which falls onto his windshield and covers his view. The gentleman exits his car to remove the banner, and in the exact spot where he is standing a chain breaks and a large piece of glass falls directly on his head. The gentleman dies from the injury.Accident? Of course not. The older gentleman was a Triad boss and his hit was performed by Kwok-fai Ho (Louis Koo), aka "The Brain," in Pou-Soi Cheang's ironically-titled Accident (2009). The young woman with the flat tire (Michelle Ye), never named in the film; the truck driver of the water cargo, elderly Uncle (Shui-Fan Fung); and a man in a room above the banner, Fatty (Suet Lam) are part of Brain's crew; and this team's modus operandi is staging meticulous and intentional hits and giving the appearance of the victim's death as an accident. For a sum of money, of course. Produced by Johnnie To and his Milkyway Production Company, Cheang delivers a fantastic character study, surrounded by an intriguing plot, with Accident.The crew preps for their next hit: their mark is a disabled, elderly father whose son is their client. Koo's character takes the job and begins observing the son and the father's behavior. He notices, almost like clockwork, that the son pushes his father's wheelchair across trolley tracks on the way home at the end of the workday. The Brain's elaborate plan is to use the trolley tracks' electricity and shock the old man in his wheelchair as he crosses. Rain and a well-placed conduit wire is necessary to complete the task. The crew assembles after a long duration of planning, only to wait, night after night, for the perfect culmination of rain, darkness, and crew persistence. When all the elements come together, one evening, the hit is performed successfully, with only a slight hitch. As Koo's Brain walks away from the "crime" scene, he is almost hit by a bus, skidding in the rainwater, which ends up ramming into a car, sliding into a fence, only after the bus has hit and killed Fatty head on. Brain doesn't think the bus had an accident, after he arrives home and there's been a break-in. Every cent of money that he's ever earned on a job has been taken and his flat ransacked. Unlike his previous two films, Dog Bite Dog (2006) and Shamo (2007), Accident is very slick-looking and calculated, more like a To film, and lacks the raw intensity and emotion of the former. It is a perfect style, however, for a film about a man who desperately tries to manipulate and control people and events involving risk, coincidence, and chance. After the Triad hit, the crew assembles in their hideout, and the woman chastises Uncle for being careless and leaving a cigarette butt at the accident scene. Uncle tries to go back to the scene to retrieve it, but the woman said she's already taken it. Uncle tells the woman and Fatty to forget about it. Uncle insists that his carelessness won't happen again and hopes Brain doesn't find out. Too late: Brain's got a bug in his hideout. He wants to know everything going on behind his back. Koo's character has the butt from the crime scene and asks Uncle why he lied. After the hit on the disabled, elderly father, Koo's Brain follows the son to the insurance office and spies through his telescope, the son and the insurance agent (Richie Ren). Their body language appears odd to Koo's character: he begins a meticulous surveillance of the insurance agent, by renting a nearby apartment to spy on him, bugging the interior to hear his conversations, and learn his every day rituals. Koo believes the bus was trying to intentionally kill him and now he trusts no one. The truth, he believes, will be revealed at some point by the insurance agent. Observation, diligence, and patience is all that Koo needs.The initial imagery of Accident, depicting a car crash accident and woman's death, resonates throughout the film, both for Koo's character and the film's theme. Accident is a journey and meditation on the theme of control. Is one able to control his/her actions and emotions? Is it possible to determine and manipulate the future with an accurate degree of certainty? Accident, however, is solely not an intellectual exercise. Louis Koo truly carries the film with an excellent performance, quite possibly his best performance of his career. It is through his eyes that the viewer sees Accident, and the mystery which unfolds is so engaging that it is only at the ending where the viewer can step outside of the narrative and reflect. Like Koo's character, Accident is meticulously written and shot with an adept eye to detail. In order for Koo's Brain and crew to be successful with their "accident" hits to fool the police, the accidents have to look genuine. Likewise, Cheang has to make the scenarios and set-ups look believable and credible to the viewer: he's successful. Visually, Cheang's film is on par with the work of his producer. Anyone who has seen, say, Johnnie To's Breaking News (2004), with its fantastic opening shootout, or his more recent Sparrow (2008), with its elaborate pickpocket sequence in the rain, knows the man can shoot a slick-looking, elaborate, and exciting action sequence. Accident is both cosmetically beautiful and rich substantively. The film is garnering praise as one of the best films from Hong Kong this year. While I haven't seen that many films from Hong Kong this year, Accident is one of the best films that I've seen this year, from anywhere.

Ruggero Deodato's Raiders of Atlantis (1983)

Brilliant. Phenomenal. Amazing. These are words that describe Ruggero Deodato's Raiders of Atlantis (1983), and perhaps, I'm the only one who is using them. Mike (Christopher Connelly) and Washington (Tony King) are ex-soldiers turned mercenaries. At a Miami mansion, the two perform a flawless kidnapping by incapacitating their target and taking out all of the henchmen. They deliver their target to "The Colonel" and get paid a cool fifty grand. Time to disappear for a while, so Mike and Wash (or Mohammed, as he likes to be called, since he's been reborn) gas up the boat to head to Trinidad. Meanwhile, off the coast of Florida on a platform, a group of U.S. scientists and military are attempting to float a Russian submarine located on the ocean bottom loaded with nuclear missiles. An interesting artifact is found (an ancient tablet found near the submarine), and helicopter pilot Bill (Ivan Rassimov) flies in Professor Cathy Collins (Gioia Scola) to decipher the language on the tablet. She meets Professor Peter Saunders (George Hilton) and tells him that the language on the tablet might be the key to proving the existence of the city of Atlantis. Soon, the Russian sub is floated, the sky mysteriously darkens, and a large storm swirls up in the ocean. A glass-domed island appears from beneath the ocean, while back in south Florida, a group of marauders, the Interceptors, have been waiting for this day to come. The Interceptors are led by a man donning a crystal skull (Bruce Baron).

Ruggero Deodato is one of the most talented Italian film makers of his generation. I often find it difficult to prove my case with this theory, because his films, substantively, are often extremely violent, transgressive, or sexual. The material and themes within his cinema often detract from his very slick visual style and story-telling ability. His Cannibal Holocaust (1980) is masterfully shot and its story told in an equally powerful fashion. While I would never willingly subject anyone to a viewing of Cannibal Holocaust (a film for the seriously curious risk-taker who is advised to do extensive research on it before viewing), a film such as his Raiders of Atlantis is much more digestible; and its most extreme aspect is its entertainment value. In my opinion, Raiders is one of the best genre films that the Italians delivered in the 80s: extremely likable characters accompanied by enthusiastic performances; an odd and intriguing genre blend and atmosphere; exciting and over-the-top action sequences; and above all, fun.

American actor Christopher Connelly as Mike spent the bulk of his career acting in myriad American television programs. However, in the 80s, alongside his television work, Connelly would appear in a number of notable Italian films, such as Lucio Fulci's Manhattan Baby (1982); Antonio Margheriti's Jungle Raiders (1985); Nello Rossati's Django 2 (1987); and Tonino Ricci's Night of the Sharks (1988), for example, before dying before the age of fifty. Connelly would appear in some of the Italians' finest action films of the period: Enzo G. Castellari's 1990: The Bronx Warriors (1982); Fabrizio De Angelis's Cobra Mission (1986); Bruno Mattei's sublime Strike Commando (1987); and of course, Raiders. While not an imposing figure physically, Connelly is charismatic, sweet and kind, and determined and persistent. He brings these qualities to his character, Mike, and despite his amoral mercenary nature, Mike is a hero to root for. Mike's romantic interest and a fantastic character all on her own is Gioia Scola's Cathy. Beyond her role here, the only other film in which I can recalling seeing her is in Gabriele Lavia's Evil Senses (1986), where she delivered a nude scene at the beginning and then seemingly disappeared. As Cathy, Scola is smart, sassy, sweet, and funny. Her inclusion brings an excellent balance to the testosterone-driven action, and her character is pivotal to the narrative. Tony King, prior to his role as Wash, would appear in three films from Antonio Margheriti: Cannibal Apocalypse (1980), The Last Hunter (1980), and Tiger Joe (1982). King is totally credible as an action star and delivers some of the best humorous lines within Raiders with an infectious enthusiasm. Last, but definitely not least, are Ivan Rassimov and George Hilton, two of the most well-known Italian genre actors and stalwarts. Their contributions to Italian genre cinema are too numerous to cite here, but both are absolutely perfect in their roles as Bill and Saunders, respectively.

Mike and Wash's opening kidnapping sequence is a well-executed action sequence and a fitting opening for Raiders. After the exposition curiously unfolds during the first act, the viewer is truly treated to bizarre fun. The leader of the Interceptors, Crystal Skull, is taking his band of marauders (who all look as if they walked off the set of George Miller's The Road Warrior (1981)) and killing everyone in south Florida. Mike and Wash survive the island rising and ocean storm in their boat. Cathy, Bill, Saunders, and a couple others are the only platform survivors and are rescued by Mike and Wash. The survivors have no idea what happened; although they get a hint when Manuel (John Vasallo), Mike and Wash's deckhand, begins threatening to kill everyone and kidnapping Cathy. Cathy is an essential figure who the Interceptors need for her specific knowledge of the ancient tablet. When the motley crew of survivors arrives back in South Florida, they are treated to a destroyed and desolate sight. In a brilliant and haunting sequence, the crew hears the skipping of a song. Inside a church (?), a bloody-sheeted corpse is dangling from the ceiling while its lifeless body is hitting the side of a jukebox: a truly odd and disorienting sight. The Interceptors arrive and the action starts.

The initial firefights between Mike and company and the Interceptors are straight out of the Rio Bravo/Assault on Precinct 13 school and traditionally and perfectly executed and exciting. Deodato adds his bizarre touches, such as the Interceptors burning one victim and sending a crossbow arrow through the mouth of another victim (shot in a close up with a prosthetic head (one of many used in Raiders, by the way)). During the battles, King's Wash gives his trademark satisfactory laugh, as Wash, Bill, and Mike take out foes with military precision. Cathy is eventually captured by the Interceptors, and Raiders follows with its action highlight set piece: Mike and crew taking out foes from their red school bus as the enemy helicopter flies overhead. The sequence is shot kinetically and all the stunts look dangerous and genuine. Deodato makes this cinema look easy. The final third on the island should remain hidden, here, as the sci-fi takes an even more bizarre turn, the humor becomes unintentionally hilarious, and the action remains continuously exciting.

Despite gushing over a thousand words about Raiders of Atlantis, I do not believe that I can adequately describe my love for this film. Once the score and theme song by Guido De Angelis and Maurizio De Angelis (as Oliver Onions) is heard, it will be forever stored in the mind of the viewer and is as unique as the film is. Raiders of Atlantis shows a talented director, who's never conservative, having fun and translating it to celluloid. See it multiple times.

Renato Polselli's The Vampire and The Ballerina (1960)

After milking the cows, a young maiden goes wandering to encounter a sinister vampire! She's bitten and taken to a villa which houses a troupe of ballerinas. The local farmer who brought the young milk maiden says there's a vampire on the loose, but the Professor (Pier Ugo Gragnani) believes otherwise: vampires exist only in superstitions and legends. The ballerinas are curious and a little frightened, but there is choreography and dancing to do. Young and handsome Luca (Isarco Ravaioli) arrives to see Francesca (Tina Gloriani). Luca, Francesca, and Luisa (Hélène Rémy) take a leisurely stroll that day, only to get caught in the forest with nightfall approaching. Luca suggests that they take refuge in the old abandoned castle on the hill. Inside, the trio is welcomed by Countess Ogda (María Luisa Rolando). Her attire is dated by about a hundred years, and the ladies remark upon this. The Countess reveals that she has no desire to connect to the world outside of the castle walls. She invites the three for tea. The Countess's manservant, (also named) Luca (Walter Brandi) summons the Countess away momentarily, and Luisa takes the opportunity to wander in the castle. She receives the vampire's kiss, and the trio leave, a little confused and a little scared. The Countess says to Luca, before the three exit, "I must see you again."Renato Polselli's The Vampire and The Ballerina is an Italian film released in 1960. Riccardo Freda and Mario Bava were making the true Gothic horror in Italy around that time, for example, with Freda's (with Bava's collaboration) I vampiri (1956), Bava's Black Sunday (1960) and Black Sabbath (1963), before his highly influential Blood and Black Lace (1964). The English Hammer Studios were conquering Gothic atmospheric horror with a litany of flicks, such as Terence Fisher's Horror of Dracula (1958). More modern horror was also on the horizon, such as in France with Georges Franju's masterful Eyes Without a Face (1960); while a little-known director of the time would unleash a film that would change the face of modern horror forever entitled Psycho (1960) by Alfred Hitchcock. Polselli's film isn't really kin to any of these films. The Vampire and The Ballerina is more aligned with campy fun flicks from across the pond like those made in the U.S. and Mexico, like Alfonso Corona Blake's Santo vs. las mujeres vampiro (1962).

While the title of the film is simply The Vampire and The Ballerina, there is less emphasis on "vampire" and more on "ballerina." Specifically, a heavy emphasis on Polselli's part on emphasizing his young actresses with a fondness for longing camera looks into their eyes, medium shots above their cleavage, and obsessive captures of these ladies' legs. The teasing in this film is enough to send most of the young gents into a tingling frenzy, rushing home after the cinema without consulting any magazines that evening. Polselli takes the time to break his narrative in the film, like in an El Santo film with a wrestling match, to treat the viewer to two dancing sequences. The first is a fun upbeat song and dance, with the ladies in their leotards, with Polselli's camera near the floor. The second dance is both campy and sexy: the choreographer gets the idea of integrating vampire lore into the productions. He begins to play a tune and the ladies begin interpretive dance: sexy, sensuous moves with lots of shots of long legs, cigarette smoke, and quite a bit of gyrating. A vampire is included in the narrative, as I was apt to forget from time to time, and Polselli adds some interesting touches. For example, after the young maiden is bitten from the initial scene, she later dies and is buried. The vampire arrives at the cemetery and digs up her corpse. She rises as one of the undead, only to be staked by the vampire who made her and driving her back into the grave. This vampire is an egotistical one: the Countess (what a shock) is also a vampire who is tortured by this grim soul. She's not allowed to leave the castle and feeds only when the vampire allows her. He threatens the Countess by using the weaknesses they both share against her, like banishing her to sunlight if she disobeys.

The vampire portion of the narrative is traditional, cheesy, and fun, yet the true charm of The Vampire and the Ballerina is its leisurely pace and scenes with Gloriani's Francesca and Remy's Luisa. Two fantastic performances, as the two characters go from close friends to near adversaries. Young and handsome Luca and the Countess have a terrific scene together, as the Countess attempts to seduce Luca in order for him to free her from the castle. The meandering pacing of the film is fun, because the performances are so good. When the narrative is close to ending, it's awkwardly wrapped up. I didn't find this aspect disconcerting. Of all the participants in this production, the most notable is co-writer and assistant director, Ernesto Gastaldi, with one of his earliest credits. Gastaldi is a legendary Italian screenwriter who wrote some of my all-time favorite genre films, such as Sergio Martino's Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key (1972), Torso (1973), and Umberto Lenzi's Almost Human (1974). He has numerous credits, and his screenplays are often smartly-written and creative.

Practically forgotten or overshadowed by other genre films of the period, The Vampire and The Ballerina is true campy fun and is waiting to be uncovered by the curious.

Jess Franco's Incubus (2002)

One of Jess Franco's few and recent films, Incubus (2002) was produced by One Shot Productions and released on DVD by Sub Rosa. The 90s and 00s haven't been critically kind to Franco nor have they garnered him any new fans really. Incubus is a low-budget, shot on video, remake of his sublime Lorna, the Exorcist (1974) with Daniel White's music culled from his The Perverse Countess (1974) (as the credits reveal), shot on location in beautiful Spain. Johan (Carsten Frank) is a successful artist. At a bar before returning home to his wife Rosa (Lina Romay), he encounters a woman (Fata Morgana) who demands a meeting with him. Twenty years prior, Johan made a promise to this woman that in exchange for a successful life he would surrender his daughter, Lucy (Carina Palmer) to the woman. Lucy was not yet born when the promise was made nor was she ever made aware of it. Rosa is truly frightened, and Johan has to confront the woman, today, whether he likes it or not.

The behind-the-scenes production footage included on the DVD contains some wonderful images: Franco's hand always holding a lit cigarette; Romay bringing Franco a cup of coffee with one for herself, sitting at the bar, during the film's initial scene; Romay helping the two younger actresses with their costumes or makeup; and the most striking, Franco holding presumably the script or a shot list. Whatever the literature is, it is related to the production and appears to be less than a handful of pages. Again, Franco's narrative is going to give away to his imagination and his imagery.

Unsurprisingly, quite a bit of female flesh is on display. Frank's Johan is also frequently nude. One of the more unsettling images for modern viewers, as I have I read on message boards and the like, is Franco's continued shooting of a nude Romay. Romay, approaching fifty at the time of Incubus, lacks the youthful body of her previous work, where most of her fans prefer to romantically remember her. However, I find it quite endearing that Franco continues to shoot Romay as lovingly as when she appeared walking slowly out of focus and into soft light focus at the beginning of his Female Vampire (1973). An older woman's sexuality has always been a problem for cinema-goers, especially males. Not for the elder Franco, though: for a director who has obsessively shot the female body throughout his career, he knows well who he finds beautiful. Franco shares an intimacy with Romay beyond the cinema, and it shows. Romay's performance, as she often is capable of showing, is both vulnerable and powerful.

Frank's Johan is an ineffectual character, and the narrative of Incubus gives him little to do. Beyond sharing scenes with his wife Rosa, Franco devotes the majority of his scenes with Fata Morgana, primarily in flashback sequences. In an extremely long static shot, with the occasional zoom from Franco, Johan is receives the tail end of Morgana's whip. This was Johan's inducement to promise away his unborn child: the masochistic pleasure he received from his sensuous provider of pain. Beyond providing the kink for the viewer, this sequence hides the mystery for the devilish deal: was Johan coerced or willing to trade for continued pleasures?

Johan's relationship with Lucy is an odd one. As the film progresses, Lucy's days become her final ones, as she eventually learns of her father's deal. Franco shoots her revelation interestingly: it comes when she views her father's art. Her father's imagery is surreal, and it alters her consciousness (or maybe a demonic possession). Palmer's Lucy in a subsequent scene attempts to seduce Johan and gets him to willingly admit his sexual desire for her. It's an uncomfortable scene (in which Frank is unfortunately not very good) which Palmer plays with a sinister sensuality and playfulness.The ending is classic Franco, shot in a palatial mansion, where Morgana now holds Lucy to seal her deal. Completely sexual and dream-like, Franco's imagination is let go. An impressive visual sequence full of flesh, mirrors, phallic imagery, and masquerade masks, Morgana plays with Lucy.

As much derision as these recent Franco productions have received, I was determined to seek them out. No, Incubus is not like modern cinema and will appeal to few. The film is available on DVD for those willing to check it out and judge for themselves.

Andrzej Zulawski's L'amour braque (1985)

Sophie Marceau's Marie tells Francis Huster's Léo, "Here, with you. It's not like in the movies or in books, where everything is precise, thought-out, organized with a clear-cut goal. Everthing's chaos, chance, pain, disorder..." These playful lines from within Andrzej Zulawski's L'amour braque (1985) are an apt description of his film itself: a powerful and complex film, which Zulawski somewhat simply describes as a film about a man who becomes a catalyst for a sequence of bad events or situations which would not be nearly as bad without his inclusion. The narrative of L'amour braque is based upon Fyodor Dostoyevsky's The Idiot, set in modern-day Paris.

L'amour braque begins with a playful and colorful bank robbery by thieves donning Disney masks and, later revealed, led by (appropriately named) Mickey (Tchéky Karyo). The heist is successful, and Mickey and his crew board a train. Aboard the train, Mickey meets Hungarian immigrant, Léo (Francis Huster) and feeling, perhaps, an outsider kinship, upon arrival in Paris, Mickey asks Léo to accompany him. With a handful of cash, Mickey wants to see Marie (Sophie Marceau), the woman he loves. At first glance, Léo falls in love with beautiful Marie. Mickey, his crew, Marie, and Léo go to a cafe in the late evening to dine, after having disrupted Marie's posh dinner party. A violent shootout happens at the cafe, tied to a gentleman named "The Venom." Mickey, Marie, and Léo survive, while for the remainder of the film, L'amour braque follows Léo and his relationship with both Marie and Mickey, as those two close in for an encounter with "The Venom."

While I've attempted to describe the initial scenes of L'amour braque, no plot synopsis could truly and adequately describe Zulawski's kinetic, chaotic, violent and bloody, fiercely sexual, highly emotional, densely-packed and richly-filled cinema. Zulawski's description of modern Paris, spoken much later in an interview after his film Szamanka (1996) gives some insight into the Paris canvas of L'amour braque and describes Léo's journey, perhaps incidentally:

It's an extremely conservative culture now here in France, and they "know" everything, they've "organized" the world, you know. In a museum you know exactly who is a "good" painter and who is not. They organize their world and they can't understand after this 250 years of organization they now have behind them, why the people in this country are so unhappy. Why are they so gloomy? Why is there so much hatred and just...plain sadness? If you stay in Paris for a week you become so...a heavy burden, I don't know what, falls on your shoulders and you feel...so responsible...for everything, and nothing works. It's idiotic, because things, more or less, like everywhere, it's a rich country and they have the problems they've invented, so... They want to control. People in front of a TV set want to control the TV set, they want to control you if you walk in the street, they yell if you do something wrong at the wheel of your car, they want to control. And having control they are very unhappy! Because this is the way to get unhappiness, to control. (taken from an interview with Zulawski by Daniel Bird and Stephen Thrower from Eyeball Issue No. 5, Spring 1998, edited by Thrower, published by FAB press.)Reluctant Léo follows his heart towards Marie throughout the film, as she follows, both literally and metaphorically, in the footsteps of her mother. Mickey shadows Marie towards her destination (with "The Venom"), while becoming a brother to Léo, sharing his love for Marie, although quite a different love from Léo. The journey within the film is beautifully and hauntingly rendered by Zulawski and cinematographer Jean-François Robin. Nearly every frame of L'amour braque appears an artistic composition; however, the edited film (by Marie-Sophie Dubus) appears organic and chaotic. Léo and Marie's first love scene in a blood-red hotel room goes beyond being visually jarring: it speaks to the emotions of the two lovers (in several ways). The scenes of violence are done playfully, as are most scenes of the film, yet they never fail to be intense and disturbing. The violent scenes often involve Mickey and his crew towards his final confrontation. I view Zulawski's cinema as a portrayal of outsiders, which perhaps why I'm attracted to it, and L'amour braque is an amazingly complex tale of outsiders. Huster and Karyo give affecting performances. However Marceau is amazingly affective, beautiful, and vulnerable as Marie (she was not yet twenty years old). Mondo Vision has released L'amour braque on DVD in two editions. I have the Premiere edition and it's loaded with specs here. Mondo Vision has also put out Zulawski's La femme publique (1984) and L’ Important C’est D’aimer (1975) in two editions each. These DVD releases are true labors of love. The audio and video is absolutely brilliantly rendered. I've only just gotten into the supplements. The recent interview with Marceau is fantastic, as she gives insights into her complex character, anecdotes of the production, and her thoughts on L'amour braque today. The video interview with Zulawski, filmed apparently during the post-production of L'amour braque, is also interesting: Andrzej Zulawski is a unique and interesting artist. I own all three of Mondo Vision's releases in their Premiere Editions and I will purchase and support this label with their subsequent releases. All of these releases are available for purchase at Amazon.

Willard Huyck's Messiah of Evil (1973)

A man is running frantically through a neighborhood (future film director, Walter Hill). A gate is opened by a young girl which offers the grateful man sanctuary from who or whatever was chasing him. She slits his throat with a straight razor.

Point Dune. From a brightly-lit hallway, the voice-over narration warns of the location. The voice-over narrator is revealed to be Arletty (Marianna Hill) who is now driving the location. Point Dune is the home of her artist father to whom she corresponds only through letters. His letters have ceased which has prompted Arletty to visit. She stops outside of the town at a gas station and receives a not-so subtle warning: The gas station attendent is seen firing his pistol into the darkness. "Fill'er up?" Arletty doesn't seemed fazed by the attendant's odd behavior but she is struck by the appearance of the next patron. A trucker (Bennie Robinson) arrives, and the attendant begins pumping his gas. Curiously, he peeks into the bed of the truck, where two corpses are nuzzled. The attendant shoos Arletty away without paying, only to now be alone with the trucker.

Arletty arrives at her father's house where there is no sign of him. She finds his sketchpad and flipping through, the sketches give away to words. Her father began chronicling the strange events of Point Dune. The following morning, Arletty goes to an art gallery to learn the whereabouts of her father. The art dealer knows nothing but leads her to Thorn (Michael Greer) who came inquiring earlier that morning about her father. Thorn is currently in his motel room tape-recording the narrative of the history of Point Dune by local drunk, Charlie (Elisha Cook Jr.), while Thorn lays on his bed with his lady Laura (Anitra Ford). Thorn's other lady, Toni (Joy Bang) comes out of the bathroom, and Arletty sizes up the situation. Why did you ask about my father at the art gallery? Thorn gives a cryptic answer, and Arletty leaves. Drunk Charlie gives Arletty a cryptic warning as she exits. Thorn, Laura, and Toni show at Arletty's father's house, after Charlie is found dead.

Drunk Charlie's narrative speaks of the "Blood Moon" over Point Dune, while Arletty's father's chronicle mentions a "Dark Stranger," who visits the town, changing it forever. Co-producer, co-screenwriter, and director Willard Huyck admits that his Messiah of Evil (1973) was influenced by H.P. Lovecraft and "pretentious arthouse cinema" of the late 60s, such as Antonioni and Godard. Screenwriters, Gloria Katz and Huyck (who shared an Oscar nomination with George Lucas for their script on Lucas's best film, American Graffiti (1973)) pen an Innsmouth-ish mystery to carry Messiah's narrative; however, the arthouse influence and the atmosphere permeate throughout the film, truly giving this low-budget film its unique status.

The arthouse influence brings an air of artificiality to Messiah of Evil: character actions are often contrived and not naturalistic; the frame compositions are meticulous (and well-filmed by Katz's brother, Stephen M. Katz in glorious use of widescreen); and the narrative is secondary. Two of the best characters are Thorn's lady companions, svelte, beautiful, and cold Laura and impulsive and cute Toni, who also bring a healthy dose of sensuality to the production. Laura and Toni are ancillary characters to the narrative (Arletty and Thorn drive the mystery), yet their inclusion is wholly necessary. Laura and Toni each have a pivotal scene: both wonderfully and hauntingly orchestrated: Laura's getaway visit into the town, which ends at a grocery store confrontation, and Toni's ill-fated visit for a cinema show within a sparsely-packed movie theatre. Laura's encounter begins with Robinson's trucker from the gas station scene and becomes steadily more mysterious and tension-filled. The quiet atmosphere of the town isn't created with set-pieces: the normal-looking town is shot to look alien and other-worldly. Laura's sequence begins as a slow simmer and escalates to a roaring boil. Toni's sequence is similar in tone yet different in execution. Point Dune's residents reveal themselves as monsters not through solely their appearances but they way they are filmed.

The unreal atmosphere of Messiah of Evil rings loudly and speaks more than its narrative. The visuals are powerful. The Lovecraftian mystery is very intriguing yet doesn't cohere completely. This is an intentional artistic choice by Huyck and Katz, yet it also results from the production running out of money and being unable to film a final sequence which explained all. The resulting ending of the film is still very haunting and well-executed, however; and I was impressed with Messiah's atmosphere and hypnotic vibe to allow the plot to slip to the wayside. Messiah of Evil is a terrific film, worthy of cult status. It has been recently released on DVD by Code Red Entertainment. The film is properly presented in its 2.35 to 1 aspect ratio, which really shows the power of Katz's cinematography, and looks terrific. An approximately twenty-minute featurette is included with many of the film's participants, including Katz and Huyck (from where and from whom I gleaned the objective facts about this film's production), who give a in-depth insight into the production. An audio commentary with Katz and Huyck is also available (which I haven't yet listened); two short films by Katz and Huyck; and an audio interview with Joy Bang. Not least of all, several Code Red trailers are included. Code Red is an excellent DVD label which I financially support and applaud. They have been putting out cult classics and films which should be cult classics onto DVD which have only previously been available on VHS. Buy it here and here.

Jess Franco's Dracula's Daughter (1972)

In 1972, Jess Franco was in a period referred to by the authors of essential tome, Obsession: The Films of Jess Franco, as "The Peak Years: 1970-1973." Of the fifty to sixty films that I've seen from Franco, these years hold some of my favorites. This span also sees the end of the Spanish film maker's creative collaboration with producer Harry Alan Towers and with gorgeous actress, Soledad Miranda; this period also predates Franco's collaboration with German producer Erwin C. Dietrich; and finally, these years would see the beginning of a lifelong collaboration with actress, Lina Romay. Although she doesn't seem to grab as much attention as Maria Rohm, Miranda, or Romay, Britt Nichols would make a handful of films with Franco during this period. Around the time of his formal yet decadent The Demons (1972) and poetic and affecting A Virgin Among the Living Dead (1973), Franco and Nichols would make Dracula's Daughter (1972).

Atop a seaside cliff sits ruined Castle Karlstein where legendary Count Dracula once resided. The notorious nobleman lives today only in legend, but the Karlstein family lives on. However, not long for some: the Baroness Karlstein (Carmen Carbonell) is ill and perturbed. Her granddaughter Luisa (Britt Nichols) arrives to see her. The Baroness makes a near-deathbed confession: the original Count Karlstein was a vampire; and although the Castle has been abandoned for many years, his corpse still resides within. The Baroness tells Luisa to take the key to the crypt and go. Perhaps the recent murder of a young woman whose body is found at the shore in the shadow of the Castle is the source of the Baroness's immediacy.

While Luisa takes a leisurely stroll to the crypt, the rest of the seaside town's inhabitants begin speculation and investigation of the recent murder. Journalist Charlie (Fernando Bilbao) asks Inspector Ptuschko (Alberto Dalbés) for information on the murders at the local inn. Ptuschko doesn't have much yet; but innkeeper, Cyril Jefferson (Franco) believes the Castle has more to do with the murder than cast a shadow over the sea. Luisa stays in town with Count Karlstein (Daniel J. White) and her cousin, Karine (Anne Libert), after she has visited the crypt.

The authors of Obsession write, "Despite a captivatingly unreal atmosphere, La Fille de Dracula is too chaotically thrown together to really hold an audience, which probably explains why the film was only released theatrically in France and Belgium." This chaos results from "some obscure reason Franco decided to shoot about a third of the scenes in tight close-up, with the result that the erotic scenes become artistic, a sort of mosaic of areas of flesh, which works against the voyeurism that is so characteristic of him." Later the authors add, "After Dracula Prisoner of Frankenstein, Franco was hardly likely to control his imagination."

Dracula's Daughter comes from what I informally call Franco's "right side of the brain" group of films: less of an emphasis on narrative structure and more of an emphasis on the rendition of the images and atmosphere. Like a lot of Franco's cinema, Dracula's Daughter appears shot on a low-budget with few (yet powerful and atmospheric) locations and as the Obsession authors note, on sets from another film. The narrative is carried by a redundant mystery: the Inspector, the journalist, and Cyril are hunting for clues to the killer, but the viewer is well aware from the beginning who's the perpetrator. There is an unexpected twist to the mystery but it is only revelatory to the characters and not to the viewer. Franco needed some narrative for his wild images, like a jazz trumpeter using a standard tune to allow him to riff. I don't even think Franco hides this sentiment: from the beginning with the opening imagery of the castle shadowing the seashore, where the first victim is found, with the accompanying voice-over narration about the legend of Dracula in Castle Karlstein, I believe Franco assumed the viewer would make the associational link between vampires and victims.

The poetic power of Dracula's Daughter resides in the juxtaposition of its voyeuristic sequences. The murder victims are shot from the p.o.v. of a literal voyeur: the first victim is coldly and statically shot as she undresses to then bathe. The camera from behind the threshold of a cracked door continues to watch as she bathes only then to descend upon her for the kill. The subsequent murder of a cabaret dancer is shot similarly. These scenes of female nudity are no doubt designed to titillate, yet Franco creates an unsettling and sinister atmosphere with the images. The murder of the cabaret dancer is even more jarring, because of her previous scene, where she was dancing nude to a jovial group of onlookers. The two scenes of her undressing create total opposite emotions in the viewer, arousal and repulsion, respectively, despite both scenes' attempts to titillate.

Juxtaposed to the literal voyeuristic sequences are two love scenes with Nichols' Luisa and Libert's Karine. These scenes are shot "objectively" and are filmed, as the Obsession authors allude, in Franco's "characteristically voyeuristic" style: stationary camera on tripod, panning left or right, or hand held, slowly-moving, wide to medium shots, with intense use of zoom, whose speed ranges from slowly to quickly, to sometimes very intimate close-ups on the actresses' bodies. This style is almost like Franco attempting to match his camera with the movements of his roving and discursive eye. Luisa and Karine's first lovemaking scene follows after Luisa has visited the crypt and met the Count (Howard Vernon). Now infected, Luisa's seduction of Karine is a vampiric one and a feeding. All appearances, however, give way to a very erotic love scene with cross cuts of Count Karlstein (Daniel J. White, who wrote the music with Franco) playing the piano with the beautiful score segueing the two. Both Nichols and Libert are, to put it mildly, strikingly beautiful and Franco's camera doesn't hide it: the soft light gives a soft feel to their skin which accompanies their soft caresses, as their loose hair brushes against each other, lightly. Franco brilliantly ends the first lovemaking scene with a zoom shoot to a close up on Libert's fingers, slightly coiling after Luisa's feeding.Whatever chaos results from Dracula's Daughter is the result of Franco's poetic imagination. The emotions and imagery clash as the narrative fades away. Franco's cinema is often a haunting experience.

All objective facts and the quotes are taken from Obsession: The Films of Jess Franco.