House of Blood (Chain Reaction) (2006)

House of Blood (Chain Reaction) (2006) is an English-language horror film made by Germans, filmed in Germany and Austria as a setting for the Pacific Northwest in the United States.  House of Blood was directed by the notable (or notorious) Olaf Ittenbach, written by Ittenbach and Thomas Reitmar, and the special effects were created by Ittenbach.

Dr. Douglas Madsen (veteran American character actor, Christopher Kriesa who appeared previously in Ittenbach’s Legion of the Dead (2001)) awakens the morning of the anniversary of his parents’ tragic death.  Along his route to work, his vehicle collides with a prisoner transport bus.  This collision causes an accident which allows the prisoners to free themselves.  The four convicts have a shootout with the guards and are victorious.  They assume the garb of the guards but during the battle, one of the prisoners, Spence (Luca Maric), gets a bullet wound to his arm.  The convicts drag Madsen out of his vehicle, and the de facto leader of the group, Arthur (Simon Newby), forces Madsen to tend to the wounds of Spence (who is Arthur’s younger brother).  Madsen argues that he needs better facilities to help the man, and the group suggest hiking north towards Canada (away from their prison in Seattle).  They move through a dense forest and encounter a thick fog bank.  They enter and exiting the fog, the group encounters an antique cottage (seemingly older than the American Colonial period).  A beautiful young woman (named Alice, portrayed by Martina Ittenbach) is letting blood from a sheep outside.  The convicts decide to siege upon the cottage’s inhabitants (of whom there are quite a few) and allow Madsen to attend to Spence.  The inhabitants of the cottage insist that the convicts leave, but the convicts persist in staying.  The group appears extraordinarily religious (Christian) and passive, initially, until they transform into vampire-like demons and whip some serious convict ass.  Madsen is the only survivor and escapes into the arms of a patrolling SWAT team…

The screenplay for House of Blood is interesting conceptually.  Ittenbach and Reitmar introduce the governing theme as reincarnation and structure the narrative in an elliptical fashion.  However, its execution is woefully done.  Ittenbach does not use his exposition in the first act effectively.  Most of the characters’ dialogue and action are devoted to bickering and repeating the same things.  How many times can the group of convicts decide to go north? A lot.  How many times can Arthur bitch at Madsen to heal his brother?  Too many.  The most detracting flaw is the dialogue of the cottage inhabitants-cum-demons:  they all suffer from Yoda-its, where they all begin their sentences with verbs with the additional annoyance of adding –eth to the end of them.  For example, “Knoweth, I do.  Leaveth, you now.”  This shit gets on your nerves pretty quickly.  Finally, the dialogue pads the length of the narrative which in turn kills the pacing of the film.  Kriesa and Martina Ittenbach give competent performances.  Wonderful actor, Jürgen Prochnow, is sorely underused as a police inspector who appears in few scenes in the same setting (an interrogation room).  The best performance is given by veteran character actor, Dan van Husen.  [There is an essential interview with him discussing his career on the Wild East DVD of Alive or Preferably Dead/Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.]  Van Husen plays Paul Anderson, another convict leader with a penchant for quoting literature and philosophy.  It is too much, here, to describe his role in the narrative.  By the time van Husen and crew appear in House of Blood, you either have to roll with this bit or shut the film off.

Most would probably think that I am wasting my breath critiquing the screenplay (or acting or direction) of House of Blood.  Olaf Ittenbach currently holds a Tom Savini-like reverence by fans for his ability in crafting detailed, practical, and gory special effects.  In fact, like Savini, fans will see films solely armed with the knowledge that Ittenbach provided the special effects, regardless of the film’s director or actors.  The make-up upon the vampiric demons is particularly good.  The typical splatter effects, like shotgun head blasts and intestinal work, are present; however, the edits of such shots are quick, unlike some of his previous efforts, like in The Burning Moon and Premutos (both 1997).  It was either an artistic choice or a commercial edit.  [I watched House of Blood via the Region-one Lionsgate DVD.]  While the special effects are well done, House of Blood is not entertaining enough on the whole to merit seeing it for their inclusion.  Ittenbach- and German Splatter-fans will end up seeking this one out.  All others should avoid.

Ju-on: The Beginning of the End (Ju-on: Owari no hajimari) (2014)

Takashi Shimizu’s original V-cinema Ju-on (2000) has never been topped.  While the second Ju-on (2003) was entertaining, the best films to follow in the series were Ju-on: White Ghost and Black Ghost (2009), primarily because they were the most evocative of Shimizu’s original film.  Post Ju-on, interestingly, Shimizu went on to direct more metaphysical, Lynch-ian films like The Shock Labyrinth (Senritsu meikyû) (2009) and Tormented (Rabitto horȃ) (2011).  [His latest American film, 7500 (2014), appears to have a delayed release.]  In any case, I thought the Ju-on series was prime to die, but a new film has appeared from Japan, directed by Masayuki Ochiai and written by Ochiai and notable producer Takashige Ichise, entitled Ju-on: The Beginning of the End (Ju-on: Owari no hajimari) (2014).  At its heart, this new Ju-on is a remake of Shimizu’s original film.

Pretty young Yui (Nozomi Sasaki) has been promoted from substitute teacher to full-time teacher.  During her first class, she notices, from the previous teacher’s roll book, that a particular student, Toshio (Kai Kobayashi), has been absent for the past seven days.  Scared of overstepping her bounds, Yui consults the principal and believes a home visit to Toshio is in order.  Her principal reluctantly agrees and tells Yui that her predecessor has recently died.  With trepidation, Yui visits the home of Toshio and encounters only the young boy’s mother, Kayako Saeki (Misaki Saisho), who reveals that her son and husband are not at home.  Yui visits an upstairs room in the house and she notices a closet completely taped shut at its cracks (a la the red tape in Kairo (Pulse) (2001)).  The mother’s creepy behavior and the taped-up closet forces Yui to flee from the home.  She begins to suffer hallucinations while teaching and having extremely vivid nightmares.  Her boyfriend, Naoto (Shȏ Aoyagi), fears for the health and sanity of Yui and begins an investigation of the Saeki home and its mysterious history. 

Like the original Ju-on, Ju-on:  The Beginning of the End alternates between different periods in time, all involving doings at the Saeki home:  the opening scene of the film, rendered hand-held/”found footage” style, cryptically details the original event which may source the evil In the house; the second time period involves Yui and Naoto in the present; and finally, the last period detailed involves four high-school girls.  One of the girls’ sister is a real-estate agent and is having trouble renting the home, because of its haunted reputation.  Curious of this reputation, the girls visit the house, and each leaves the house to subsequently be overcome with paranoia and fear of a little ghost boy.  Quite a bit of time is devoted to episodes involving the high-school girls, and they are pretty weak, almost retreads of familiar J-cinema scare tactics.  It is extremely anti-climactic when it is revealed how this storyline relates to the present one involving Yui and Naoto.  Too much thought was put into this technique by Ochiai and Ichise.  Shimizu used this technique in the original Ju-on simply:  he showed three families occupying the house at different times with little exposition detailing when each occupied.  He used this technique for a disorienting effect and was highly successful.

There are a couple of creepy moments in Ju-on:  The Beginning of the End, but they are strongly outweighed by the myriad missed opportunities and boring, slow bits which had me grabbing for my smartphone.  The final act had a perfect set-up:  Yui was going to visit the Saeki home for the final time; and as she is standing at the gate, the front door slowly cracks open beckoning her.  The revelations of the final act, like most of the film, are anti-climactic.  The acting is average.  Ochiai’s direction is perfunctory.  His most interesting visual technique is shooting almost the entire film in natural light:  this is a bold palette to craft a supernatural horror film; and had he been successful, it would have been a rare feat.  It did not happen today.

Takashi Shimizu showed with the original Ju-on a talented and creative person making a film intuitively and far exceeding any audience expectations.  Ju-on:  The Beginning of the End shows commercial filmmakers adapting a formula around audience expectations and wholly missing the mark.  Incidentally, I watched Ju-on:  The Beginning of the End via the Malaysian release (which was English-friendly), and it had an extremely choppy frame rate for its picture.  I do not know if it is my DVD machine or a flawed disc.  So, in any case, buyer beware.

Seidan: Botandoro (Hellish Love) (1972)

Seidan: Botandoro (Hellish Love) (1972) is a pinku eiga, directed by Chusei Sone, and based upon a familiar tale.

Beautiful, yet sickly, Otsuyu (Setsuko Ogawa) and her handmaid, Omine (Hidemi Hara), are walking home in the rain.  Otsuyu stops to take a rest under a small shelter, and a handsome samurai named Shinzaburo (Hajime Tanimoto) gives the pair an umbrella to shield their walk home.  Otsuyu and Shinzaburo are smitten with each other, and Omine aids her mistress to bring the two together.  Otsuyu is the daughter of a wealthy but widowed samurai, and the head of the household, Oyone (Yoshie Kitsuda), is plotting to kill her master and his daughter in order to share his wealth with her lover.  Omine eventually brings the two lovers together, and they consummate their love.  Oyone takes the opportunity to tattle upon her mistress which forces the young couple’s confrontation with an enraged father.  Incensed that the meager samurai (he makes umbrellas for a living) has seduced his daughter under the roof of his home, he pulls his sword and strikes down his daughter.  Shinzaburo removes himself to his home, heartbroken, while Oyone is successful in killing both Omine and her master.  On August 13 [a Japanese holiday, Obon, where the living commemorate their dead ancestors], Otsuyu appears at Shinzaburo’s door for Shinzaburo to keep his promise: to consummate his eternal love for Otsuyu.

Thomas and Yuko Mihara Weisser write in Japanese Cinema Encyclopedia: The Sex Films, “Although a period film, director Sone’s fairytale stylings provided the movie a visionary charm which appealed to the college crowd.  Students embraced it as a cutting-edge movie, turning this venture into Nikkatsu’s first youth-oriented pinku eiga hit.  At the same time, Chusei Sone’s camerawork was hailed for its creativity by numerous tough critics.  The film won many industry awards and became a bonafide hit.”  (*) 

Indeed there is a true juvenile spirit to Hellish Love.   Ogawa and Tanimoto, who play the two lovers, are young and attractive and their courting reflects this:  when Omine is able to get Shinzaburo to visit, she is unable to get Otsuyu to leave her room:  Otsuyu covers herself with her blanket, afraid that the handsome samurai will not like her.  Likewise, brooding Shinzaburo sits alone in his workshop, afraid to go and visit the young beauty, because how can the daughter of a wealthy samurai ever be interested in a meager and lowly one?  Of course, adults are the ones who really fuck things up for the youngsters:  they are the plotters and schemers, like Oyone; the killers, like Otsuyu’s father; or meddlers, like the couple of dimwits who live next door to Shinzaburo.  The ending of Hellish Love would be a tragedy:  however, almost all of the adults in the film die from nefarious means; and in ironic fashion, the ending for the young couple actually elevates them above the rest.

Chusei Sone’s camerawork is stellar.  In Otsuyu and Shinzaburo’s fateful love scene, Sone composes the couple behind a dressing screen.  With a close-up, his camera focuses on the curled toes of Otsuyu in an ecstatic moment and pans quickly across the dressing screen to capture the look of pleasure in her face.  Sone’s eroticism is built primarily through tension: a glance or a naked shoulder captured takes upon a lot of weight.  [Indeed, when Otsuyu completely removes her kimono in her love scene with Shinzaburo, the two bodies are completely obscured by optical blurring.  Little nudity was shown possibly due to censorship.]  Most of the sets are austere.  The characters and their fetishes stand out:  Otsuyu’s combs and sashes and Shinzaburo’s sword and umbrellas.  The settings feel organic which makes Hellish Love focus more upon its characters, which in turn make the film much more intimate. 

Despite the fact that Hellish Love is a pinku eiga film, it hardly seems an exploitation film.  It is only an exploitation film, because it has more than one love scene and has nudity.  However, Sone’s eroticism, I believe, elevates Hellish Love above the exploitation elk and creates compelling cinema.  Hellish Love is no longer provocative today:  in fact, I would go so far to say that it is shy eroticism.  Sone’s direction and the performances by the actors give Hellish Love from me a high recommendation.

*  Vital Books, Inc.  Asian Cult Cinema Publications.  Miami, Florida.  1998: p.133.

Luna di sangue (Escape from Death) (1989)

Luna di sangue (Escape from Death) (1989) is another Italian film in the “Lucio Fulci presents” series, produced by Antonio Lucidi and Luigi Nannerini.  Luna was written by Enzo Milioni and Giovanni Simonelli and directed by Milioni.  Its primary attraction are the several notable actresses, such as Zora Kerova, Jessica Moore, Pamela Prati, and Annie Belle.  Please be advised that I viewed the film in the Italian language and am unable to comprehend it.  I figured this was going to be the only way to see Luna, as the Italian DVD is the only source with which I am familiar; and I doubt that this film ever had an English dub.  Therefore, I will sketch out what I can glean from the story, accurate representation or not.

Luna di sangue begins with the same murder that ends the film:  Larry Moffet (Alessandro Freyberger) is gunned down by a black-gloved assailant (whose identity is revealed in the final scene).  The action of the film begins when Ann Moffet (Barbara Blasko) views the corpse of a young man, recently murdered, in the horse stables of her property.  Dazed, she wanders to the front of the house where Mary (Kerova) is talking to Doctor Duvivier (Jacques Sernas).  Ann collapses, and the doctor tends to her.  Ann recovers slowly and becomes perturbed when Larry arrives at the house.  She apparently has no memory of him, despite pictures of herself and him strewn about the house.  Ann becomes distant from everyone.  At the end of the first act, Ann is brushing her teeth and maggots pour out of her toothpaste tube.  She crawls into her bedroom and dons her slippers one of which is filled with worms.  Too spooky.  During a later evening, she opens her bedroom door where she is greeting by a corpse with a bloody face.  Around the estate, other people are being murdered by a black-gloved killer.

As I have stated, the primary attraction of Luna di sangue are its actresses.  I have always thought that Zora Kerova is one of the most talented actresses to appear in Italian genre cinema; and perhaps ironically, she has appeared in some of the nastiest films to come from the genre:  La evase—Storie di sesso e di violenze (Escape from Women’ Prison) (1978), La ragazza del vagone letto (Terror Express) (1979), Anthropophagus (1980), Cannibal Ferox (1981), and finally, for example, Lo squartatore di New York (The New York Ripper) (1982).  Kerova appeared in other Lucidi/Nannerini productions of this period such as Quando Alice ruppe lo specchio (Touch of Death) (1988), Il fantasma di Sodoma (Sodoma’s Ghost) (1988), and Hansel e Gretel (1990) (The first two were directed by Lucio Fulci).  Kerova appears in the talkiest sequences in Luna, and I have no idea what the conversations were about.  She is very beautiful and gives a competent performance, but there is little for her to do here.  Jessica Moore plays Tania, a young mute woman who appears almost feral.  She will crawl on the floor and skitter away when asked to exit the room.  Moore is one of the sexiest actresses of Italian cinema of the 1980s.  She appeared in La monaca del peccato (Convent of Sinners) (1986); Eleven Days, Eleven Nights (1987); Non aver paura della zia Marta (The Murder Secret) (1988); Top Model (1988); Riflessi di luce (Reflections of Light) (1988); and finally, for example, Il fantasma di Sodoma (Sodoma’s Ghost) (1988).  In almost all of these films, Moore is typically cast in an erotic role, and in Luna, her role is not that different.  Her character, Tania, gets caught up in the murder-mystery plotline and she meets her death in the film’s nastiest gore sequence.  Pamela Prati appears in a couple of short scenes, unfortunately.  Annie Belle plays Brigitte in a small role:  her character is suspicious of Larry and she interjects herself into the mystery.  Her death scene appears on the cover of the Italian DVD.

Luna di sangue has short, nasty gore scenes; no tension; and a lot of conversation scenes.  Based upon the version that I have seen, I would be reticent to view an English version of the film.  I am really tempted to call Luna di sangue uninspired but a more apt description, often overused, is a missed opportunity.

Massacre (Massacro) (1989)

Massacre (Massacro) (1989) was written and directed by Andrea Bianchi, under the banner of “Lucio Fulci presents.”  It is a film that oscillates between nasty and sleazy (which Bianchi has proven over his career quite adept at delivering) and wholly pedestrian, talky, and boring.  From the first frame of Massacre, its low budget is omnipresent.

Massacre begins with a daylight driving shot of a man sporting a hoodie, mirrored sunglasses, mustache, and gloves.  He eyes a beautiful prostitute and stops the car to accost her.  Soon he pulls a knife, and with the cheapest special effects and editing, he chops the hand and head from the woman.  Cut to a film set located near a resort hotel where Jennifer (Patrizia Falcone) is the star of a horror film entitled, “Dirty Blood.”  The director, Frank (Maurice Poli), is determined to make as realistic as possible a horror film for modern audiences.  To exact this plan he has hired a genuine medium, Irene Ulrich (Anna Maria Placido) to host a séance with the cast and crew.  Experiencing a séance, Frank believes, will simulate the atmosphere and mood of his film for the benefit of his colleagues.  The séance does not go well: while attempting to channel a familiar spirit, Madame Ulrich struggles to fend off an evil spirit attempting to invade her body and those in the immediate area of the séance.  Not long after, Lisa (Silvia Conti), the producer’s wife is found murdered near the crew’s hotel.  Walter (Gino Concari), a police consultant to the production and paramour of leading lady, Jennifer, investigates the case.  Bodies start piling up…

I popped Massacre into the DVD player with intention of watching a movie where I could shut my brain off.  I must have shut my brain off too early, because I thought that I was going to watch The Murder Secret (Non Aver paura della zia Marta) (1988), another “Lucio Fulci presents” film.  When the opening sequence appeared, I immediately recognized the film, remembered that I thought the film was shitty, but was too lazy to get off the couch to change discs.  The main problem with Massacre is that it is woefully cheap and low budget (and not in a good way).  Often, when a low budget is a problem for the film, an enthusiastic film crew overreaches with their material abilities.  Often the enthusiasm of the performers, crew, and the energy driving the script overcomes such budget limitations.  Massacre feels like a cheap production that kept its costs as low as possible to reap the most financial benefits from an audience curious to see a film that “Lucio Fulci presents.”  Andrea Bianchi is an interesting director.  For example, my favorite Exorcist rip-off is Malabimba (1979):  almost a total exercise in sleaze focusing solely on the sensational elements of William Peter Blatty’s story.  Bianchi pens the script of Massacre, centered upon a film crew, located in a singular location, whose personalities are conflicting at even the most base level.  The murder mystery is haphazard (and very mechanical):  Bianchi is going to pull a little bit at a supernatural angle and a grounded, police-procedural angle as well.  An adept screenwriter could pull off such a stunt, but that feat was not accomplished today.

No character is central, and Massacre floats between conversations.  For example, Walter, the police officer, is chastised by his commissioner, played by Paul Muller (the best actor in Massacre in a small role), for having no leads in a murder investigation where four murders have occurred.  Walter blows him off, but Muller has merit:  I would be pissed, too, as a member of the general public where a killer was loose and the lead officer in the investigation was fucking the beautiful leading actress, working as a consultant for a film production, and having double whiskies while waiting for séances to finish.  Later Walter blames Muller for pulling officers off of surveillance as the cause for a recent death!  In an early scene, beautiful Lisa, the producer’s wife, gives a steamy striptease to the writer of “Dirty Blood.”  The producer, Robert (Pier Maria Cecchini), interrupts her.  He calls Lisa a slut and a whore, smacks her, and reminds her that he found her “in the gutter.”  Seemingly as penance, Robert demands that she set up a threesome with Mira, the production assistant.  (I’m not bullshitting.)  Is Bianchi proffering this scene to show a voluptuous lady performing a striptease, show a man hit and degrade a woman, or show Robert to be an asshole (and having a violent temper as a motive for a killer)?  I’m guessing number two.  When Bianchi is not being sensational or offensive, Massacre is filled with boring pedestrian scenes of characters engaging in conversation a little above filler.

Producers Luigi Nannerini and Antonini Lucidi asked Lucio Fulci to endorse a series of films that they were releasing of which Massacre was one.* The duo had produced Fulci’s Touch of Death and Sodoma’s Ghost (both 1988).* Later, scenes from Massacre would be included in Fulci’s Nightmare Concert (1990).* It is more than likely most people would know Massacre from clips from Fulci’s later film; and any legacy this film has comes from there.  The only sin that Bianchi committed with Massacre was being boring.  There were plenty of other sins he could have indulged.

(*) Thrower, Stephen.  Beyond Terror:  The Films of Lucio Fulci.  FAB Press.  Surrey, England, U.K.:  1999. P. 243

Blackaria (2010)

Blackaria (2010), directed by the duo of Francois Gallard and Christophe Robin, is not so much an homage to gialli of Dario Argento but rather like a sandbox film, wherein the directors pull imagery and techniques from Argento’s filmography to create their own film.  Blackaria is not a true giallo, as it does not follow its traditional structure.

Sexy Angela (Clara Vallet) lives in an apartment building next to equally sexy and mysterious Anna Maria (Anna Naigeon).  Angela borders upon obsession with Anna Maria as she tells her psychiatrist:  she is having dreams about Anna Maria and they are highly sexual, usually ending with Anna Maria being murdered before her eyes.  In a standout sequence, Angela enters the elevator and behind the mirror within she witnesses scantily-clad Anna Maria.  As Angela begins kissing and caressing what would be her own image she is kissing and caressing the image of Anna Maria.  (The eroticism early in the film is very reminiscent of Jess Franco’s dreamy, poetic eroticism.)  In the mirror, Angela sees a masked figure donning a dark hat and raincoat with straight razor in hand appear behind Anna Maria.  With brutal slashes, Anna Maria dies bloodily.  Angela awakens from this dream and visits Anna Maria’s flat.  She finds her dead upon the bed, and in a fit of shock, Angela knocks a crystal ball off of a table.  It comes crashing down upon the floor, and Angela’s arm becomes full of cuts.  She removes her robe and picks up the pieces of glass.  Angela exits the apartment and tells nothing to the police when they arrive to investigate the next day.  Angela tells her psychiatrist that this glass is special, and when one peers through it, he/she can see the future.  She gets eyeglasses made from the broken pieces, and when she wears them, she sees herself as the next victim of the killer.

At this point in Blackaria, if it were a traditional giallo (save the magical eyeglasses), then Angela or someone close to her would become the amateur sleuth, hastily making an investigation before becoming a victim.  However, Blackaria makes a radical shift in narrative focus by revealing its killer, the Lady in Red (Aurélie Godefroy), and following her character (and subsequent carnage) for almost the entirety of the remaining film.  It is a bold move by the directors and the choice is very engaging and compelling.  In my favorite Lady in Red sequence, she stands alone in an alleyway, brandishing a knife, when two drunk young ladies stop to accost her.  She brutally slashes one with her knife and broken bottle.  The other runs away, and the Lady in Red picks up a long chain.  Wielding it like a whip, she trips the young woman and strikes her to death.  (The scene is very evocative of an early scene in Lucio Fulci’s The Beyond (1981).)  The film ends when the police confront the Lady in Red, and the police investigator wraps up the plot to the last, would-be victim.  An epilogue of sorts then occurs, ending Blackaria with poetic justice.

It was fun watching Blackaria and being bombarded with imagery from Dario Argento’s filmography:  the soft pastel lighting of Inferno (1980); the red high heels from Tenebrae (1982); the doll imagery from Profondo Rosso (1975); and the technicolor lighting scheme from both Suspiria (1977) and Inferno (to name just a few).  The murder scenes of Blackaria are truly operatic and ornate, much like the sequences from original gialli.  Often Dario Argento’s cinema is referred to by fans and critics alike as “dream-like,” and it would appear the makers of Blackaria took that sentiment as their ultimate goal.  At seventy or so minutes, Blackaria cuts the fat from a mechanical narrative and delivers a film based almost solely on its visuals.  Blackaria is very much recommended.

I frati rossi (The Red Monks) (1988)

I frati rossi (The Red Monks) (1988) begins with a present-day sequence where Richard Garlini (Gaetano Russo) is perusing the grounds of his recently-inherited villa.  He spies a striking-looking figure, a woman with a black veil wandering among the trees playing her violin.  After a greeting and brief conversation, Richard enters the villa (which is slightly decrepit).  On the wall to the left of the door is mounted a gold sword with a jeweled handle.  At the top of the stairs, Richard sees a nude woman walking the hall.  Thinking his inheritance might not be so shitty, he gives chase to the woman who is curiously leading him down into the catacombs and dungeon of the villa.  Richard seems oblivious to all but the nude woman.  He confronts her at a dead end whereupon she immediately reveals that she is holding a golden sword and promptly decapitates Richard.

Cut to fifty years previous.  The Red Monks introduces Robert Garlini (Gerardo Amato), the current owner of the villa.  He hears upon his balcony the barking of his dog and heads out upon the grounds to see what has stirred the animal.  The dog has chased pretty young Ramona (Lara Wendel) up a tree, and she only wandered onto the grounds to paint a landscape portrait.  Robert invites Ramona into his home and asks Pricilla (Malisa Longo), the housekeeper, to hem Ramona’s dress.  Robert sees his meeting with Ramona as Providence, and soon after, the two are married.  On their wedding night, Pricilla tells Robert that he has an urgent meeting.  Robert descends into the villa’s catacombs and dungeon and encounters a group of golden-sword wielding, red-robed monks.  They tell Robert that in exchange for his wealth and fortune, he must sacrifice the blood of a virgin and offer her blood as a tribute.  The monks select his newlywed bride.  Robert bitches and moans a little bit but concedes.  In their bedroom, Robert is unable to consummate their marriage, and Ramona becomes despondent in her stay at the villa.  She becomes curious and starts to investigate the history of her surroundings.

The Red Monks is never totally engaging, but that is not to say, it does not have its charms.  Despite being a horror film, The Red Monks lacks both atmosphere and scares.  The dynamics are present to create a psychosexual horror film or a psychosexual drama, a la Joe D’Amato; but it does not dare to go there.  The film really only hints at its potential.  The two lead actresses, Wendel and Longo, are the main attraction, and their presence elevates this film slightly out of its obscurity.  At times, I even forgot The Red Monks was a horror film.  In one of the only murder sequences, Lucille (Mary Maxwell), the very stereotypical French maid who has become Ramona’s confidant, spies a figure lurking about the grounds.  It is clearly one of the red monks.  Lucille wanders around the trees and is decapitated by the monk.  After Robert and Romana have a spat, they decide to have a picnic on a sunny day on the grounds.  Romana opens the picnic basket and out pours Lucille’s head.  This scene is representative of the scare level of The Red Monks.  In one of the film’s best sequences, Ramona blows off Robert at bedtime for his lack of understanding and for being so unaffectionate towards her.  Robert visits Pricilla in her chambers and demands that she stop being jealous towards Ramona.  Pricilla reveals that she was given to Robert and that her affection should be enough for him.  Robert starts fucking Pricilla, and Ramona sees them through a crack in the doorway.  She grimaces at the sight, and Ramona is obviously hurt; but glances and grimaces are about all these characters give each other.  A confrontation is rarely in sight.

The highlights of The Red Monks are the genuine Italian locations, period costumes, and props, all from the 1940s.  They are all simply beautiful.  The performances by Wendel and Longo are very good, and each is quite sensuous in her role.  The script by director Gianni Martucci, Pino Buricchi, and Luciana Anna Spacca is poor:  no real tension is created by the story or with the characters.  Martucci’s direction is average.  I frati rossi is notable for having Lucio Fulci as one of the producers.  Fulci has stated that his involvement in the film is as thus:  “The producers begged me to help promote the film.  I don’t even know the director.” (*)  Isn’t that something?

* “The Lucio Fulci Interview.”  Conducted by Loris Curci & Antonio Tentori.  European Trash Cinema.  Vol. 2.  No. 4.  Ed. Craig Ledbetter.  Kingwood, TX.  1991: p. 7.