Oren Peli's Paranormal Activity (2007)

Katie (Katie Featherston) and Micah (Micah Sloat) are a well-to-do, young couple living together in San Diego. They are "engaged to be engaged," and Katie's a university student while Micah is a day-trader who presumably works out of his home. Katie and Micah have begun to hear around their home unexplained noises at night, and Katie tells a psychic (Mark Fredrichs) that she has had encounters with the supernatural all of her life. The psychic tells the young couple that what is occurring is probably not a ghost and what is inside their home is not a haunting. Something paranormal is attached to Katie and it is fixated upon her. Micah buys a bunch of wonderful techie toys, like an EVP meter and an HD video camera. His intention is to film the odd goings on within their home and with his investigation help Katie. The viewer gets to see the results of Micah's experiment through solely his footage in Oren Peli's Paranormal Activity (2007).

Paranormal Activity was a huge box-office success in 2009 and it eerily mirrored the success of another popular and similar film a decade before, Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sánchez's The Blair Witch Project (1999). Both films benefited from a massive, word-of-mouth, grassroots campaign, as everyone who had seen the film said it was very scary. Both are low-budget films made with unknown actors with debut filmmakers behind their genesis. The biggest similarity and each film's primary appeal is its shooting style: a film composed completely of footage shot by its on-screen participants. The "found footage" film has a very noticeable inherent flaw for traditional film viewers. Not only do the film's participants have to chronicle the film's action with their cameras, they have to drive the film's narrative as characters. Hence, the viewer is often left wondering if the character is acting "in character" by filming the on-screen action; or is the character filming the on-screen action for the benefit of a viewing audience? The best example of a recent film which matched character motivation and character camera-chronicling is Jaume Balagueró and Paco Plaza's [Rec] (2007) . When the character motivation and the character filming do not jibe, it immediately takes the traditional viewer out of the dramatic action displayed within the film. Paranormal Activity suffers from this flaw with its character Micah, but as I've noted, it's an inherent flaw of the shooting style. Subsequent film makers, I'm certain, are going to conquer this filming (and narrative) style and produce more seamless films. Nonetheless, this inherent flaw in Paranormal Activity is almost completely overshadowed by its extremely effective paranormal scenes and scares.

I do not believe in ghosts and the like, as does not the overwhelming majority of today's culture. Most folks have a fear of being kidnapped, beaten, degraded, violated, having their fingers cut off, and killed (hence the popularity of the torture/kidnapping horror film). It's a primal fear, but Peli with Paranormal Activity is able to tap into another one: the almost complete vulnerability of one while sleeping. Unless you're a fan of crystal meth (and you're seeing ghosts, ninjas, and C.I.A. operatives all around you), everyone has to sleep; and Paranormal Activity's best scare scenes occur while Katie and Michah sleep soundly in their bed, as the camera focuses upon their bedroom and peeks out through the door, giving a glimpse of the rest of the house. Wisely, Peli has Micah's camera equipped with an on-screen digital clock in the right-hand bottom corner of the screen. He's able to use this innocuous device, especially in a couple of scenes where he speeds up the video, to clever effect. Likewise when Katie and Micah go to bed in the evening, the night is marked by an on-screen title card with a documentarian-type numbering and date of the happening. These title cards are used to excellent theatrical effect, as if it foreshadows something momentous about to happen (and most of Katie and Micah's nights are rarely free from activity). Peli's use of audio is also tops, including an extremely judicious use of lights and, especially, shadows. With little foreshadowing, nearly every evening contains unexpected paranormal events.

Peli attempts to shade over the inherent flaw in Paranormal Activity's shooting style by portraying Micah as an insensitive boyfriend. As the ladies are well aware, all of us boyfriends suffer from selective hearing, selfishness, and a degree of insensitivity in our relationships. During the first two-thirds of the film, the viewer can assume that Micah really doesn't believe in Katie's supernatural dilemma and that Micah is having a bit of fun, with his filming and technological toys, at Katie's expense. During the final third of the film, when the events in the house have really taken a toll on Katie, Micah does attempt to be sweet, caring, and sensitive; but when Peli has Micah embrace Katie or comfort her while she's crying, the intimacy of the scene is undercut by the fact that Micah's still filming. Katie's super sweet and really tolerant of Micah's behavior, despite the escalating series of events in the film. There are other scenes within the final act that standout more as a chronicle for a viewing audience rather than two actors portraying characters. This is also a minor quibble, but Micah and Katie's home is abnormally clean and sanitary. So clean, that the entire house seemed to shine in the light. I was waiting at some point for the (at least) twelve-to-fifteen person cleaning crew to come in one morning while they were having breakfast and work the house over.

Featherston and Sloat, as Katie and Micah, respectively, are good in their roles. They seem like a credible couple and are, for the most part, seemingly normal people. Fredrichs's psychic character is written well by Peli: he comes off as a down-to-earth, approachable character, instead of a traditional, stereotypical, eccentric and kooky type from past films. His performance is very good, as well. I don't watch very much recent American horror these days, but I have to say that I very much enjoyed Paranormal Activity and think that it's one of the better horror films that I've seen in a long time.

Awards and Thank You

Emily at The Deadly Doll's House of Horror Nonsense has been kind enough to bestow the above award to my blog. I've known Emily for a while now, and she writes one of the best and most popular horror blogs. I highly recommend checking her site out.

Geof over at his blog, Enter the Man Cave, had some extremely kind words to say about my writing, and I am very much flattered and humbled by his compliments. His blog is a tremendous amount of fun to read, and his taste is high above reproach: I submit as evidence his love for Dexter and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and rest my case. He was also kind enough to award me the "Kreativ Blogger" award which I proudly accept. Here are the rules upon receipt of the award:

The Rules:

1. Thank the person who nominated you for this award.
2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog.
3. Link to the person who nominated you for this award.
4. Name 7 things about yourself that people might find interesting.
5. Nominate 7 Kreativ Bloggers.
6. Post links to the 7 blogs you nominate.
7. Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know they have been nominated.

Here are the seven blogs which I am passing this award onto:

1. To Mob at his blog, Dear Bastards.... Mob writes daily entries, like a diary, and once a week or so, he'll post a collection of trailers. He also writes really precise and insightful reviews at Big Suck Loser. He's been a really good friend to my blog, and I have to admit I really enjoy reading about Mob and the wife and the MIL.

2. To Ben at his blog, Breakfast in the Ruins. Ben shares my love for paperbacks with sordid covers and sensational stories and has terrific taste in cinema. Ben wrote the best piece that I've ever read about Nigel Kneale's The Stone Tape, and it's really representative of how fine of a writer he is.

3. To Neil Fulwood at his blog, The Agitation of the Mind. Although I've awarded Neil before for his excellent writing about cinema in general, his recent December posts dedicated to Sam Peckinpah deserve special mention and acclaim. I highly recommend frequently visiting his blog and reading his often insightful reviews.

4. To Scandy at his blog, The Scandy Factory. Scandy loves the VHS format and has an eye for the lovely ladies. Dedicating a blog to these two passions alone is very much worthy of my praise; however, I admire Scandy's blog, because he's creative, playful, and blogs about what he wants to...everything I admire in an artist.

5. Although I've been recently informed this morning that he's deleted his previous entries of his past work, I'm not going to let his work go by unnoticed. To Aaron at his blog, The Death Rattle. Aaron loves cult and exploitation cinema and writes about it with a fan's passion and a critic's objectivity. His reviews are in his signature style, and he has a voice all of his own. I know his future work, whatever he chooses to do, will be killer.

6. To Jenn at her blog, Cavalcade of Perversions. Jenn likes Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain. She also love cats, the Misfits, and writes the best reviews about some of the sleaziest cinema. And she calls us pervs. Jenn's blog is a personal favorite.

7. Finally, to Paul Cooke aka Buckaroobanzai at his blog, Ballistic Blood Bullets. Paul co-authored Tough to Kill: Volume 1, Italian Action Explosion and I absolutely love it. Paul continues to write killer reviews about exploitation and action cinema. Another personal favorite.

Since I'm giving the award, I'm taking the liberty of amending its rules. No recipient above is required to post anything about him or herself, if he/she does not want to. I respect people's privacy. As for seven things about myself that people might find interesting, I thought I would relate seven cinema-related anecdotes:

1. The first film I saw in the theatre was George Lucas's Star Wars during its original run. I remember it quite fondly, despite being a tiny lad of two or three years, not solely because of its visuals or story but because I had these super-dope Amazing Spiderman bed slippers that I wore everywhere instead of shoes. The slippers weren't flip-flops; rather they fit snugly like shoes. They were made of imitation leather, and the soles had no grips, so I pretty much slipped and fell everywhere. They were Spiderman's original colors, blue was the dominant color while red filled the flourishes, and Spiderman pointed proudly towards the world on top of my foot, shooting his signature web. I remember slipping and sliding at the theatre and squirming in my slippers during Lucas' seminal film.

2. The first R-rated film that I saw in the theatre was Ridley Scott's Blade Runner. I was seven, and my older sister was eight. My parents were still young enough to have energy to go out at night on dates, so they went and saw it before taking us. (They also previewed Raiders of the Lost Ark before taking us, as well). I loved the visuals of the film and I was familiar with its leading man, Harrison Ford (I got called Hans Solo, a lot, because of this man). Its themes and story was way too adult for little me, but I've grown quite fond of it today. The biggest epiphany, however, of my adult life in regards to this film is the realization that my mother is utterly and completely in love with Harrison Ford (I always wondered how my old man talked her into seeing a science-fiction, neo-noir film). I dearly love the woman with all my heart; however, I believe that if Harrison Ford walked into her home right now and carried her away, then she would proudly forget all of us and live her life in bliss.

3. In 1987, when I was twelve and an avid reader of both Fangoria and Gorezone magazine, I saw a full page ad for the Magnum video release of Dario Argento's Suspiria. Ten years after its initial release in America, where it was successful in its theatrical run, Suspiria was making its home video debut. This ad was my first exposure to foreign cinema. The older writers, like Chas. Balun (R.I.P), for example, were championing this film as it were a true triumph. Indeed. It was the first Argento film to my recollection to receive a American video release in its uncut form. It was also the first time that I had ever seen a film released on VHS in four editions: the uncut, letterboxed edition; the uncut, pan-and-scan edition; the R-rated, letterboxed edition; and the R-rated, pan-and-scan edition. After reading about the release in multiple issues, my interest was piqued. I asked my parents to purchase a copy for me on VHS for Christmas. Despite the $90 price tag, my parents said okay. I got the uncut, pan-and-scan edition (I don't think my parents knew what "letterboxed" meant and neither did I. I stressed also to them that I wanted the "uncut" version.) and watched it Christmas morning. It was a viewing experience that I'll never forget and is probably the single film which has shaped my film tastes to this day.

4. My first trip outside of the United States was to England, and this trip, like every subsequent one that I've taken outside of the country, I went to a movie theatre. I was a teenager in the eighth grade on a school trip with about ten others. The U.K.'s rating system was alien to me; some films were rated "15," when they were R-rated here in the States; while they had an "18" rating for adults only. At the time, us yanks only had the "R" rating, which still allowed minors with "adult guardian supervision." However, like in the States, seeing an "18" film for us wasn't difficult. I went to see Russell Mulcahy's Ricochet (Ice-T was the biggest O.G. at the time), Gus Van Sant's My Own Private Idaho (which has to been one of the most beautiful films that I've ever seen on the big screen), and Peter Jackson's Meet the Feebles (which I was fortunate to see: it had an extremely limited run, I believe, in one theatre in London).

5. When I was in grad school in Los Angeles, there was a really beautiful girl in one of my poetry classes. We flirted a lot, but I never asked her out. During one of the final classes of the semester, she dropped a pen in my lap, and it fell between my legs. Sitting next to me, she coolly reached in and removed her pen. Needless to say I was motivated to finally ask her out. After class, I asked her if she wanted to have dinner, and she said yes. We went to a quiet restaurant in Marina del Rey. Andrew Fleming's The Craft had just made its video debut, and I had purchased at Tower Records its laserdisc release perhaps a couple of days before. At the time, a laserdisc machine was a good investment for a geeky film nerd, like myself: laserdiscs of recent films were of better quality and sometimes more affordable than VHS; the Criterion Collection put out stuff worth saving up for; and a single-laser machine could also play compact discs. There were machines with dual lasers, which were more expensive and overcame the biggest annoyance of laserdiscs--having to flip the disc at the middle of the film. I had a single-laser machine, and in this case, the flip of the laserdisc became a blessing. As dinner concluded, I asked her over to my apartment to watch The Craft. We snuggled under a blanket on my couch and watched. When I got up to flip the disc, she pulled me back onto the couch and we didn't finish the film until the morning.

6. The first film that I saw with the woman who was to be my wife was the remake of House on Haunted Hill. This film is a big piece of shit, and we both remarked to each other that fact when we had left the theatre. We had just started dating and were really into each other. Despite the film's poor quality, I had a great time just being with her. The second film that we saw together was Tim Burton's Sleepy Hollow, which we both loved. We started dating in November and by Christmas holidays, when we both had days off, she came over one evening and ended up spending the next three or four days with me. We spent that time almost exclusively in bed and we did a lot of what you think we did. We also watched a lot of movies. We watched the original House on Haunted Hill with Vincent Price at least twice from what I can remember. I remember also being really sad when she eventually had to leave. Despite the fact that we're no longer married today, the best time in my life was that time when we were dating, falling head over heels in love, totally and completely into each other, and thinking of no one else.

7. Finally, just this last Christmas a few weeks ago, I got some of the best news that I've heard in a long time--my older sister, who lives in Italy, is getting married. I got the opportunity to spend the holidays with her and the rest of the family. In addition, she gave me the some of the best Christmas presents that I've ever received. She went to an open-air market on a weekend trip in Italy and bought me some real gems: I got two original Profondo Rosso fotobustas (there are pics of them here (not my actual ones, though. I received the one in the middle of the top row and the one in the middle of the middle row.) and the original Italian locandina poster for Michele Soavi's The Church (there's a pic of it up on eBay currently here). It thrills me to no end to know that these posters were upon walls in theatres in the heart of Italy during these films' original runs, real pieces of cinema history.

Lucio Fulci's Door Into Silence (Le porte del silenzio) (1991)

"As for future projects," says Lucio Fulci during an interview (from Shock Masters of Cinema), "I'm writing a script with Franco Ferrini and Dario Argento. We're doing a remake of THE HOUSE OF WAX, an extremely sadistic tale of the fantastic. We are planning are getting it running in 1996, so wish me good luck." Unfortunately, Italian genre maestro, Lucio Fulci would die before helming what would be Maschera di cera (The Wax Mask) (1997), and the film would become the directorial debut of special effects maestro, Sergio Stivaletti. The anticipation of Fulci and Argento working together was high: they were arguably the two biggest names in Italian horror with an international audience, and because of this international audience, the two were still directing horror films while many of their colleagues had moved out of the genre. The anticipation of this project was perhaps as high as for Fulci's notorious Zombi 3 (1988), the sequel to his extremely popular splatter film, Zombi 2 (1979). Stephen Thrower writes in his book, Beyond Terror: The Flims of Lucio Fulci, "After a gap of nine years, the trade papers announced a forthcoming Fulci sequel that, had it worked out, could have stimulated a fresh wave of enthusiasm for the Italian horror genre. In 1988 Zombi 3, first announced as Zombi 3-D, would go before the cameras. A follow-up to the wonderful Zombie Flesh Eaters directed by the inimitable Fulci himself. It seemed perfect...Zombi 3 as it eventually appeared, to a howling chorus of disappointment, is one of the worst films ever made in Italian horror cinema." (The debacle and production history of Zombi 3 is for another day.) As they stand, both Zombi 3 and The Wax Mask, for all of their anticipation, are filled with sound and fury. Lucio Fulci's last directorial effort would be the little-seen and appropriately and eerily titled Door Into Silence (Le porte del silenzio) (1991).

Melvin Devereux (John Savage) is standing in front of the Devereaux mausoleum, in one of New Orleans' hauntingly beautiful cemeteries, speaking aloud and cryptically to his dead father, Richard. Melvin and his wife, Sylvia (Elizabeth Chugden), are realtors who work and live out in the more quiet and sleepy area in Louisiana. Sylvia is crying and is escorted home by comforters. Melvin is going home in his own car and taking his own special journey. Over numerous bridges and around road closings, Melvin takes a few frolics and detours: with a mystery woman (Sandi Schultz), who knows Melvin very well yet Melvin doesn't even know her name; a bubbly little sprite named Margie (Jennifer Loeb); and a hearse driver (Richard Castleman), who ends up anywhere and everywhere on any road which Melvin takes and always in front of Melvin. Melvin spies in the back of the hearse a name on a funeral wreath, and that name becomes Melvin's object of obsession, as he attempts to track down the hearse and learn who's occupying the coffin inside.

Fulci has this to say about Door Into Silence (during his interview included in Spaghetti Nightmares): "Well, it's a fine film, produced by my friend, Massaccesi, and based on another of my stories from Le Lune Nere. However, for various reasons, which I won't go into now, it's been beset by difficulties which have blocked its release for some time now...We shot it in two weeks on location in Louisiana, New Orleans and the surroundings. Another aspect of the film which has been given a lot of attention is the jazz soundtrack. Jazz is one of my great passions, by the way; I used to play when I was young. (edited by me out of Fulci's answer is a spoiler description of the film)." Door's producer and Fulci's "friend, Massaccessi" is Aristide Massaccessi, aka Joe D'Amato, whose production company, Filmirage, made four films in 1991 in New Orleans and/or its surroundings. Joe D'Amato has this to say about Fulci (and Door Into Silence, included in the documentary "Joe D'Amato Totally Uncut," a supplement on the Shriek Show Anthropophagus DVD): "Fulci's films were the best I produced. Unfortunately the ones I worked on weren't so successful, maybe because of distribution problems, or financial problems and so on...Even that one [Door Into Silence] was affected. It didn't do well, even if I think it's the best film I've worked on. It was a great film, with a great atmosphere. Fulci's very good so the shoot went great, with John Savage, and we brought a jazz band in to do the music, since there was a jazz soundtrack...We had helicopters...But it didn't make a single cent...But it's probably not the movie's fault. It's maybe the fault of the mess we'd found ourselves in at the time." D'Amato's helicopter reference (it's safe to assume since no helicopters appear in Door) relates to the film's opening aerial shots of Savage's Melvin driving across the Pontchartrain Expressway and the Crescent City Connection (bridge imagery is used extensively in Door). The jazz soundtrack that both Fulci and D'Amato reference is by Franco Piana. The costumes were designed by actress Laura Gemser. From his own story and screenplay, Fulci crafts a low-key, atmospheric, and fantastic film with not a drop of his signature blood and gore in sight. Door Into Silence is a film about death, immediately introduced by the opening cemetery sequence. Fulci, who always comes off as extremely erudite and conversant in music, art, film, and literature in his interviews, is able to fill Door with as many symbols relating to death as he can conjure. Door is a film about a journey, and as noted above, bridge imagery is prominent. Road signs indicating closures and detours lead Savage's Melvin all over the Louisiana countryside (in a seemingly curiously directed destination). The film is shot (by Giancarlo Ferrando) completely in the day light, but Fulci manages, with some very adept compositions to heighten the atmosphere, to create nightmare imagery, such as the small church funeral into which Savage timidly creeps or the understated and static shot of a blind newspaper salesman, who is sitting all alone and strumming a rhythm with a washboard. The mystery woman, who Savage meets at the beginning and encounters throughout Door, seems an archetypal character out of a famous Milton poem. The most obvious symbol is the hearse and it needs little flourish to become nightmarish.

Since Door is shrouded in mystery, Fulci wisely abandons any character exposition and keeps plot exposition to a minimum. Savage's Melvin appears initially a tired working man who wants nothing more than to go home to his wife. Over the course of the film, Melvin reveals himself a lonely, sad, and pathetic person. When Melvin first meets the hearse driver at a local bar, the driver has no problem swatting him aside and to the ground when Melvin starts to angrily bombard him with questions. Melvin picks himself up only to purchase a bottle of Scotch to keep him company on the road. Later, Loeb's Margie crawls into Melvin's car seeking a ride. She tempts him sexually, and it's an uncomfortable scene. It's as if Melvin doesn't want to have sex with the young hitchhiker, but he's craving human contact so badly that he'll engage in any. The scene ends quite embarrassingly for Melvin. The funeral scene is wonderfully curious as Savage's Melvin is tempted to disturb grieving families and walk forward to the coffin and open it in front of all. This scene speaks to Melvin's obsession, which is either completely irrational or the most important thing that Melvin will ever uncover in his life.Piana's jazz score is perfectly appropriate and moody. Ferrando's photography is very good. If anything sounds loudly from Door Into Silence, then it's Fulci's creative talent. Long overshadowed by his popular splatter flicks (which I very much enjoy, by the way), Fulci's filmography is quite diverse, and he's shown his talent in many genres. Completely eschewing the visceral, Fulci creates an ethereal gem. Door Into Silence, his final film, as far as the viewing public goes, has passed into its title.

Joe D'Amato's Devil in the Flesh (Il diavolo nella carne) (1991)

In 1986, Joe D'Amato released his Eleven Days, Eleven Nights (Undici giorni, undici notti) (1986) which became, at the time, his most successful film and his favorite of his "softcore, erotic" movies. For the director, the film also kindled a love affair with the city of New Orleans, Louisiana, the shooting location of Eleven Days, Eleven Nights, and D'Amato has this to say about why the film was successful and also his favorite: "I don't know, because it's my first movie in New Orleans. And I like New Orleans very much. New Orleans is a very cinematographic town. It's a nice place to make movies and it's the first time and I was very excited to be working there." (All previous facts and quote from D'Amato's interview included in Flesh and Blood, Issue #7, edited by Harvey Fenton, FAB Press, 1996.) D'Amato would film in the city again and in the waning days of his film production company (Filmirage) in 1991, he would film and release Fatal Obsession (Ossessione fatale), A Woman's Secret (La donna di una sera), and Door Into Silence (Le porte del silenzio). The latter film was directed by Lucio Fulci with the former two directed by D'Amato, and during the same year, Joe D'Amato would direct one other film--outside the city of New Orleans in Louisiana's hot and swampy areas, Devil in the Flesh (Il diavolo nella carne).

Sammy (Robert LaBrosse) and Klaus (Wayne Camp), although both appear as and make representations as to being American Special Forces soldiers, are mercenaries. The Louisiana location presumably substitutes for a Central or South American country where a coup d'etat has occurred with the rebels taking control. The ousted prime minister, Victorio Evans (Harold Evans) is being escorted to the border by Sammy and Klaus. Victorio has an extremely weak heart and cannot make the perilous journey on foot to the border, especially with the rebels on the trio's trail. Sammy and Klaus have to keep Victorio alive long enough to reach the border so they can receive their cash reward. On foot, the group reaches a small, International health clinic, run by its doctor, Katrin (Tracy Ray), and her three nurses, Helga (Carmen Di Pietro), Sophie (Nicole Grey), and Hellen (Jennifer Loeb). Sammy and Klaus take over the clinic and force the medical staff to attend to Victorio's health.

Devil in the Flesh is presumably a pick-up production during the shooting of one of the other Louisiana films of 1991. My best guess is that D'Amato shot Devil during the shooting (or right before or after) Fulci's Door Into Silence. I base this presumption on 1) D'Amato didn't work on Door as cinematographer (Giancarlo Ferrando shot Door); 2) Steve Morelli was a production manager on Door and wrote the screenplay for Devil; and 3) both Fulci and D'Amato allude to financial problems with the productions (Filmirage would not survive long after 1991).

D'Amato wasn't an intrusive producer (and seemingly this was his only role in Door's production) but an "apprehensive" one (revealed in his interview in Spaghetti Nightmares, conducted before the publication date of the book (1996) and presumably before 1994 (since the included filmography of D'Amato's directorial credits end there. Nonetheless, the interview was conducted not long after Filmirage's dissolution). When asked "Does this insecurity [D'Amato being apprehensive] lead you in any way to interfere with directors who work with you?" D'Amato responds: "No, not all. If I didn't respect other directors creativity, I'd make the film alone. (Spaghetti Nightmares)" No doubt D'Amato had faith in veteran Fulci's abilities (When D'Amato is asked what he thinks of Fulci's films during the documentary "Joe D'Amato Totally Uncut" included as a supplement on the Shriek Show Anthropophagus DVD, D'Amato responds, "Fulci's films were the best I produced."); and there's is also little doubt to presume while Fulci was filming, D'Amato would have time to simultaneously film another production at a singular location. Steve Morelli, the screenwriter for Devil, appears today to be an adult filmmaker. According to his IMDb credits, he appears to have been writing and directing adult films since the mid-1990s. I've never seen a Morelli adult film, so I cannot comment upon them. However, the narrative of Devil in the Flesh feels like a stereotypical story for a traditional adult film. The set-up for the film which I detailed in the second paragraph only occupies five to ten minutes of Devil, while the overwhelming majority of the film takes place at the clinic with the four actresses. The fortuitous stumbling upon the clinic rings of the traditional tale of the wanderer seeking shelter with the farmer and his daughters. It's not long after the soldiers arrive that the "erotic" (or would-be erotic) scenes begin. (There are a couple of rape scenes in the film, which aren't detailed or graphic and shot the same way as the consensual sex scenes but that doesn't change their depictions of what they are). The narrative focuses on sexual tension, especially between Ray's Katrin and LaBrosse's Sammy, voyeuristic sequences, and sex scenes with various characters coupling; and the thin plot seems sequential with a predictable ending while the non-sex scenes feel like filler.

I've been unable to learn as to why Filmirage had financial problems (and its subsequent demise). I only know that financial problems existed: D'Amato alludes to them during the "Totally Uncut" supplement from the Anthropophagus DVD, and Fulci alludes to financial problems riddling the production of Door and leading to its distribution problems (the film being withheld for release because of financial problems) during his Spaghetti Nightmares interview. Considering that Joe D'Amato had opportunity and a motive to shoot Devil in the Flesh, I have little doubt that it was a pick-up production for a quick cash in.

So what about the quality of this Joe D'Amato quickie? Devil in the Flesh feels hurried and uninspired. The sex scenes are a big indication. During his "Totally Uncut" interview, the interviewer comments to D'Amato about another softcore production, Fatal Seduction (La iena) (1997), that "One defect in 'Fatal Seduction,' I think, is that the sex scenes are shot as if they were edited porn scenes, which weighs the film down." D'Amato gives an uncomfortable-sounding laugh and responds humbly, "Yes. That's my fault. It's become a habit of mine. Because...It's just my fault. All my fault..." Likewise, the sex scenes feel the same way with no real attempt at eroticism at all (especially coming from a director quite adept at shooting erotic scenes, evidenced by his work at the earlier part of his career and at least a decade before Devil). The hurried feel is also evident by the set-ups and pacing. This is one-take cinema with static shots, mostly uninteresting compositions, with little flare. The dialogue is actually fairly credible and not bad; and in fact, the themes within Devil in the Flesh are fairly interesting: two mercenaries who love only money and their lives must keep a shaky political figure alive long enough for delivery, like a human battery as cargo with enough juice just to finish the circuit, while the two make a necessary diversion only to take it as an opportunity for indulgence and character-building. No time for depth, though, in Devil in the Flesh. The acting by all is bad. The only thing notable perhaps about Devil in the Flesh is that it marks a important period of time in the career of its truly talented director, Joe D'Amato.

Riccardo Freda's Murder obsession (Follia omicida) (1981)

Michael (Stefano Patrizi) is acting in a scene with Beryl (Laura Gemser), and something within Michael takes over while he's strangling her. "You seemed as if you really wanted to murder her," says director Hans (Henri Garcin) to his leading man, after it takes half the crew to pull Michael's hands away from Beryl's throat. Michael cools out at his flat, strumming his guitar, when a sudden gush of wind blows through the window. This gush of wind prompts Michael to want to see his mother, Glenda (Anita Strindberg) after many years without. Michael and his girlfriend, Deborah (Silvia Dionisio) drive to Michael's childhood home, where they are greeted by the manservant, Oliver (John Richardson). Glenda's ill and has desperately missed her baby boy. Michael's going to scout some film locations around the villa's countryside, so Hans, Beryl, and Shirley (Martine Brochard) are invited to the villa for both business and pleasure.
Riccardo Freda's Murder obsession (Follia omicida) (1981) is a mess. Highly influenced by Dario Argento's previous films, such as Profondo Rosso (1975), Suspiria (1977), and Inferno (1980) in terms of themes, style, and atmosphere, Murder obsession lacks Argento's inimitable and singular style and atmosphere; and unfortunately for Freda, he's unable to direct a film that's an Argento-esque mess (a whole other level of sublime beauty). Murder obsession is bits and pieces of a lot of motifs and genres which escalates to a surprisingly focused ending; yet for all its ending's focus, it reaches the heights of incredulity. Black-gloved killers and sexual obsessions are side by side with psychic phenomena and the occult and a black mass, which are further indulged by hallucinatory dream imagery from dated Gothic horror and as much bloody gore and special effects that can be sculpted and then shot. Like Michael making an associational link between a gust of wind to calling his neglected mother of many years, Murder obsession works in the same way: completely irrational (and certainly supernatural), the film is a lot of guilty fun.
Patrizi's Michael is a complex and enigmatic character, only because Freda (and his co-writers Fabio Piccioni, Antonio Cesare Corti, and Simon Mizrahi) doesn't know in what direction to take his main character (or his film, for that matter). Michael's initial sequence on the set while strangling Beryl curiously hints to Michael having a psychological affliction or some supernatural possession. Freda plays to both. Michael's father was murdered when he was a child and he was present at his father's death, along with Strindberg's Glenda. Michael has grown up to become a dead ringer for his father. Apparently, Michael was quite fond of his mother as a child, and now as an adult and at the villa, he's rekindled a strong attraction to his mother (Strindberg, incidentally, looks the same age as Patrizi or only slightly older). Glenda is also taken with her grown son, and although bed-ridden and ill, she immediately begins her subtle seduction. Michael's somewhat Oedipal upbringing combined with his childhood trauma could be the source for his "murder obsession" that is blossoming. However, Freda's treatment, like the mysterious gust of wind, dreamy flashback sequences of Michael's childhood, and the over-dramatic use of music hint also that perhaps not only does Michael look like his dead father but might be literally becoming the dead man. (It's later revealed that Michael's hidden secret is related to his father being abusive to his mother.)
Gemser's Beryl, Brochard's Shirley, and Garcin's Hans appear in Murder obsession, seemingly, to provide a body count or a red herring. Gemser's character is not developed at all and has really no depth. She wakes frightened from a sound (or a dream) to have Brochard's Shirley suggest that she take a bath. While in the bathtub, a black-gloved killer hides in the shadows and attacks her. Gemser's Beryl survives the attack only then to be placed in a giallo signature voyeuristic scene with Michael. Michael emerges from the woods with knife in hand to encounter the contemplative Beryl at lakeside. Michael pockets the knife, and without words, the two embrace and have sex. The two sleep after lovemaking to only have one wake up. Brochard's Shirley has even less depth than Gemser's character, although Freda and company intimate in a few scenes that Shirley and Brochard are having an intimate relationship (only hinted at, again, and never developed). Garcin's Hans, revealed in a long dialogue sequence with Strindberg's Glenda absent from the English-language print of Murder obsession, is not only a film director but also quite interested and knowledgeable about the occult. Hans has several strong beliefs about reincarnation and death. Foreshadowing? No. Hans and the occult do not commingle again in the film. When chainsaw appears, however, innocuously in the hands of Richardson's Oliver cutting wood, it does make an appearance again...as a murder weapon. Score one for Freda.
Among a cast of actors (all of whom have made notable appearances in European cult cinema), Silvia Dionisio stands above all as Deborah with her performance. (Dionisio's performance, like Strindberg, appears to be one of her last.) Deborah is a great character, and if Freda could have found some focus and development to match Dionisio's talent and enthusiasm, Murder obsession might be more well-known (and subsequently appreciated). When Michael first introduces Deborah, it is to Oliver as his "girlfriend." However, when Deborah meets Strindberg's Glenda, Michael introduces her as "his secretary." Dionisio's Deborah immediately and intuitively picks up on Glenda's jealousy, and the two become rivals for Michael's affection. The few scenes that the two have together are charged and tension-filled (Strindberg gives a fantastic performance, as well). Deborah's both sweet and smart: she knows that something is wrong with Michael, and despite his attempts to push her away, she's still affectionate and caring towards him. The best sequence of Murder obsession (and also Freda's most indulgent) comes with a very long dramatization of Deborah's nightmare that she tells Michael upon waking. Dionisio's Deborah descends into the deep, dark Gothic catacombs of the villa where she is being chased by a caked-face figure in a shroud. She spies a beautiful, Eden-like garden on the outside, only to have her path blocked by a giant rubber spider and its web. Through a foggy, sinister thorn forest, she ends in the hands of two dark figures in the midst of a black mass. Real snakes and a motorized spider lay in front of the bound Deborah, as the dark duo prepare their sacrifice. Utterly amazing. Dionisio carries the sequence, despite the laughable effects and ridiculous settings. Wide-eyed and frightened, most actresses would be unable to conjure as much credible emotion as Dionisio. All of her scenes within the film are welcomed. Sensuous and beautiful, it's hard for me to take my eyes off of her.
Included on the Raro release of Murder obsession is the longer Italian-language cut of the film without the options of English subtitles. An English language audio track is included, and for the scenes cut out of the English-language version, English subtitles are provided for the Italian audio. A short scene is included from the English print, absent from the Italian, less than thirty seconds, dark and murky of just really Gemser splashing in the bathtub. The highlight, and only other extra is an interview with Sergio Stivaletti, who worked (uncredited) on Murder obsession's special effects with Angelo Mattei. Mattei, according to Stivaletti, had previously worked with Dario Argento (apparently created the corpses for the underwater scene in Inferno.) Stivaletti describes Murder obsession as his first break, working with Mattei and Freda, and anecdotes about the production. The film is presented non-anamorphic and letterboxed. It doesn't have the sharpest picture or most clear audio, but I found it more than acceptable (considering the title's obscurity).

David Lynch's Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me (1992)

The genesis of David Lynch's Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me (1992) seemed both anti-climatic and enigmatic. The most simple plot synopsis would say the film is a chronicle of the final days of the life of Laura Palmer (leading up to the events of the pilot episode of the first season of the massively-popular Twin Peaks television show). No inherent mystery in that synopsis (her killer would be discovered during the show's run). Lynch would reveal several clues, however, within Fire Walk With Me about the mysterious "Black Lodge" and its denizens. Many professional critics (amongst whom it was not favorably received) saw Fire Walk With Me as at least an opportunity for Lynch to include imagery of sex and violence (and kink) that he was unable at the time to show on the small screen. (While this argument is not wholly persuasive, it is not without merit.) At its heart, the essence of Fire Walk With Me lies in this exchange between Agent Dale Cooper (Kyle MacLachlan) and Albert (Miguel Ferrer):

Albert: Will the next victim be a man or a woman?

Cooper: A woman.

Albert: All right. What color hair will she have?

Cooper: Blond.

Albert: Tell me some other things about her.

Cooper: She's in high school. She is sexually active. She's using drugs. She's crying out for help.

Albert: Damn, Cooper, that really narrows it down. You're talking about half the high school girls in America!

Albert's final line in this exchange is quintessential Albert, and the chuckle it receives detracts from Cooper's final line in this exchange. Sheryl Lee gives a phenomenal performance as Laura Palmer which is strongly buttressed by an equally powerful performance by Ray Wise as Leland Palmer in the focal relationship of Fire Walk With Me. When I initially saw the film during its theatrical run, I was near the age of Laura Palmer. Seeing it today, Fire Walk With Me still has resonance beyond the quirks, characters, clues, etc.: it's an intimate and sensitive portrayal of (real) characters dealing with addiction, abuse, and love in the foreground of an absurdist background.When Lee's Laura makes her first appearance in Fire Walk With Me (about thirty to thirty-five minutes into the film), Lynch presents her typical school day. (Interestingly, Lynch mirrors almost all the same events on her final day in a radically different fashion.) At the conclusion of her first day, however, Lynch presents two scenes back to back which would read on paper as totally innocuous. The first is Laura's would-be dinner with her mother, Sarah (Grace Zabriskie), and with her father, Wise's Leland. Leland chides his daughter ridiculously about not washing her hands before coming to the dinner table and probes her possibly inappropriately about her half-heart pendant around her neck. "Is it from a lover?" he asks. The performances and the low-key treatment by Lynch carry the darker tension within the scene. Lee perfectly becomes immediately terrified by her father's touching and piercing questions. Ineffectual Sarah shrieks and squirms uncomfortably while Leland, quite sinister, hovers over his daughter. Within minutes, the viewer is well aware of what goes on in this house after night falls, even without having to see Lee's Laura moved to complete tears while washing her hands. Lynch wisely follows this scene with the three at bedtime. Sarah is still ineffectual, and Wise's character gives a pivotal change with just the expressions on his face. Seen rocking on the bed, his expression goes from demonic glee to pitiful regret. He immediately goes to his daughter's bedroom to tell her very tenderly that he loves her. Not only do these domestic scenes hint at the darker goings on (from the other place), but they are also the very depiction of dysfunction with their strong emotions, violent mood changes, and conflicting behavior.Perhaps the most representative scene of Laura's descent into her addiction and also the the film's most visually intoxicating scene is the "Welcome to Canada" nightclub scene, where Donna (Moira Kelly) follows Laura during an evening's escapades and Laura reunites with Ronette (Phoebe Augustine) with whom she's invited for a fateful rendezvous. Words perhaps cannot adequately describe the experience of this sequence within a theatre setting; since I first witnessed it during its original run, I have never forgotten it with its strong red colors, flashing lights, pulsating and haunting score, muffled voices with subtitled, surreal dialogue, and the strangest character interactions. Completely intense. A viewing experience that can never be replicated outside of a theatre. Perhaps many of the professional critics walked away from their screenings with this memorable sequence in mind: although Lynch goes to great lengths to show the consequences and emotions of his characters' actions, he certainly does love to depict their self-destructive and kinky behavior. Likewise, this sequence is powerfully sensual, like watching Lee's Laura give a slow dance to her suitor, who slowly disrobes her on the dance floor or when she beckons her suitor with a finger wave to pleasure her under the table. Like a strong addiction, the nightclub sequence is completely alluring and simultaneously extremely dark (and dangerous). The treatment of this scene was a real artistic risk for Lynch, as it could (and did for some) overshadow the subtle and more intimate scenes of the film.Finally, Fire Walk With Me has few scenes with Laura and her true love, James (James Marshall), and these scenes are another tightrope walk for Lynch. He's able to balance sweet sentimentalism and genuine emotions between the two characters, as their dialogue goes from flighty ("gobble, gobble") to intensely and directly real. The opening thirty minutes of the film, an investigation of the Teresa Banks (Pamela Gidley) murder by Agents Chester Desmond (Chris Isaak) and Sam Stanley (Kiefer Sutherland) are a lot of fun. (Harry Dean Stanton, Lynch, and David Bowie appear in over-the-top, standout roles.) These opening minutes give lots of clues to the mysterious happenings at the "Black Lodge" and are important to the Twin Peaks mythology, but I much prefer the Laura Palmer chronicle. Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me is a phenomenal (and perhaps underrated) film from David Lynch both rich in its subtle, emotional content and richly wild in its visuals.

Jess Franco's Sexy Sisters (1977)

Edna (Pamela Stanford) is not paying attention to the typically surreal floor show at the club, two nude females in interesting poses and donning demon masks; she is far more interested in Joe (Kurt Meinicke), after draping her leg over his chair to attract his attention. Edna requests a light for her cigarette and a drink, only to have both turned down. Joe's ears prick up when she finally and bluntly requests a shag, and the two go back to Edna's villa. Edna works him up in the living room; her maidservant serves bubbly champagne and undresses Joe; and then, Edna introduces Joe to Milly (Karine Gambier), Edna's sister who is bound to her bed and locked in a cozy cell. Joe and Milly have sex. Dr. Carlos Barrios (Jack Taylor) visits Milly the following morning to treat her physical symptoms and her "nymphomania." Milly is also apparently suffering from powerful sexual hallucinations, a symptom of possible paranoid schizophrenia.

Jess Franco's Sexy Sisters (1977) is one of a baker's dozen (or so) films that Franco made for Swiss producer, Erwin C. Dietrich, who paints this portrait of the Spanish film maker while under contract with Dietrich. When asked, "Was he [Franco] obliged to deliver a certain kind of film while under contract to your company?" Dietrich responds:

Well he pushed himself to work as much as possible. That was also because whenever he was on a set, he knew he had enough to eat. The money he could spend each month was far more that I usually live on, but it still wasn't enough for him. So, naturally he had a lot of financial troubles, overdue bills he had to pay. Several producers were hunting for him because he still owed them large sums. Every once in a while he just disappeared from the hotel where he was staying without paying the bill, leaving his suitcases and personal belongings behind. I can remember once seizing one of his suitcases from a hotel in the South of France from which he had done a moonlight flit. I sent a guy down there to pay Franco's bill and fetch the luggage because Jess told me it contained the negative of a film I had already paid for. Of course there was no negative in the suitcase (laughs). At least he was no longer wanted by the French police. Whenever he was shooting, the production paid for his food. That's probably why he wanted to work so much. He always came to me with new stories saying "I will shoot this, I will shoot that." I always gave him a free hand when he worked for me. I could use every type of film and as many of them as possible. (from Obsession: The Films of Jess Franco)

So I suppose Dietrich's answer to the direct question asked is "no" as evidenced by the last sentence of his answer. Dietrich's accompanying anecdote and description of Franco paints the portrait of a desperate, sometimes indulgent, and derelict artist. Not surprisingly, Sexy Sisters appears a desperate, sometimes indulgent, and derelict film. Not all the Franco/Dietrich collaborations are like this, however. Jack the Ripper (1976) with Klaus Kinski is perhaps their best known, while Doriana Grey (1976) and Blue Rita (1977) are two highlights (and personal favorites), for example.

Sexy Sisters begins visually and thematically in classic Franco style: dreamy, disorienting, and hypnotic. The opening floorshow and the odd, contrived sequence of events leading Joe into Milly's "quarters" are fantastically over-the-top. Franco familiar-face, Jack Taylor's appearance is welcomed, and his initial sequence with Gambier's Milly is fun. Taylor brings as much reservation to his role as he can muster (presumably to keep from laughing), while Gambier is totally uninhibited on camera. In fact, Gambier steals all of her scenes within Sexy Sisters and her presence would merit a viewing of the film alone. While the substance of Franco's compositions is wild in the Franco way, his camera is static. Dietrich is later asked in the same interview in Obsession whether he would work again with Franco, today. Dietrich would but says he would not let Franco shoot his own films. Likewise, Dietrich didn't let Franco shoot Sexy Sisters (Peter Baumgartner would shoot the film, a frequent Dietrich collaborator). When Franco shoots his own films, the result is most certainly from the "right side of brain," and the films are always as interesting visually as thematically (and usually poetic). Dietrich obviously disliked Franco's occasional shot out of focus or the poorly-lit, blurry shots which pop up, here and there, in Franco's flicks. Dietrich's style, which he uses in his own directed films, is very "left side of the brain": meticulously-composed, well-lit, and glossy (and usually not very interesting). Franco's static, Dietrich-style filming hurts Sexy Sisters, giving the film an air of coldness and detachment. Sexy Sisters begins a dark and provocative tale. Edna and Milly are true adversaries in the guise of caregiving Edna and pitiful and sick Milly. Edna's elaborate seduction of Joe is revealed to be passive-aggressive torture of Milly. Later, Edna has sex with her maidservant behind the bars in front of Milly with a wicked smile on her face. Later, Edna invites another man over to the villa to have his way with Milly (but this time, he's someone from Milly's past whom she hates very much). Taylor's diagnosis of Milly developing paranoid schizophrenia is fueled by Edna's deeds. Taylor's character thinks Milly's escapades are hallucinations that she is truly believing are real. Edna is doing nothing to dissuade the doctor. Why? The answer to that question comes with the final two-thirds of the film, as Sexy Sisters descends into a tired, formulaic, and predictable plot. Sexy Sisters becomes totally unengaging on a narrative level (and Franco's powerful, discursive visuals are absent to supplant the narrative). Franco is able to steal the occasional flare, but he's hampered by too much of a seeming desire to make a typical softcore film. It doesn't help either that virtually all the male actors, save Taylor, give absolutely atrocious performances. Stanford and Gambier are the real stars here and are shouldered with delivering Sexy Sisters with nearly all of the film's energy. As it stands, Sexy Sisters is completely uneven, undoubtedly entertaining and engaging at times, and truly overshadowed by myriad Franco films in his diverse filmography.