The Blob (1988)

Review #0045

A scant year after A Nightmare on Elm Street 3, the Russell/Darabont writing team is back for this surpringly good remake of the 1958 drive-in classic that contains many twists on the dated premise. You know the story: a monstrous blob crashes on Earth inside a meteor and menaces to devour a small American community which an illustrious teenage hero must save. This time, both the blob and the teenage hero are back but their backgrounds are totally different. Unconvincingly enough, the glutonous man-eating monster is now a biological weapon created by American scientists to win the arms race with the U.S.S.R., which was in such a bad shape at the time that many of its satellite countries abandoned communism and Russia itself neared economic collapse. But although it's pretty unlikely that American R&D would require the sacrifice of an entire town to beat a kneeling enemy, such an apocalyptic meta-narrative taps into deep-rooted popular fears and offers some exciting action involving rocket launchers, assault rifles, unmarked trucks and flying motorcycles. Because that's what the hero rides: a motorcycle. You see, the Steve McQueen jock character actually dies early on (during an eye-popping embrace with the blob) and it's up to long-haired, cigarette-smoking greaser Kevin Dillon to save the day. And he's even got the though cheerleader with him (who is played by 18 year-old Shawnee Smith who's positively prettier and more wholesome here than as the repentant drug-addict/serial-killer from the Saw films). Finally, relevant updates in a remake! And what about those mildly rebel kids who sneak in to see Garden Tool Massacre, the generic slasher now featured during the classic movie theater blob attack? It's perfect! And perfectly campy too! The basic story may be standard 1950s fare, but the film definitely feels 1980s with its nasty, imaginative gore, elaborate special effects and action scenes, as well as its shameless (but tame) onscreen killing of a ten-year old boy! The Blob is a fun film that revels in artifice. But it also benefits from a savvy, funny script featuring engaging characters and situations.

It could be anybody agonizing under there, but it's actually Steve McQueen's character!

This Blob features everything you could possibly want from a grade-B monster movie. It's got an elaborate setting that's homely and full of nicely-fleshed characters, most enticing of all being the two underdog heroes (Smith's cheerleader is particularly strong for such a "prize" female character). It's got plenty of stunts and action involving motorcycles, bombs, guys jumping from moving trucks, blown-up government property, monster pursuits, government agents unloading entire clips of ammo on teenage civilians, and a blasting grand finale set in city streets filled with screaming onlookers. It's got effective humor to boot, but most of all: it's got inventive, gory, and tension-filled "kill" scenes. The blob being what it is, it's got endless possibilities for mayhem. It clings to skin, to walls and ceilings, it squeezes through pipes and drains and grows to envelop structures and people, extending prehensible tentacles all the while. Thankfully, all of those possibilities are exploited to their fullest by using tension instead of cheap surprises. You always know where the blob is in relation to the characters, you just don't know when it is going to strike and what exact damage it's going to do. Expectation makes the film exhilarating, while the superior (but sometimes slightly unconvincing) special effects make the monster more "life-like" than it's ever been. If the opening credits designed à la Terminator are any indication, movie-magic has come to small town, USA to disrupt, but also to amaze its peaceful inhabitants.

But here's an example of what makes this film so irresistible. An early scene in which two jock friends are getting ready for their dates by purchasing condoms at the pharmacy. Scott, the horny jock borrows money from Paul, the candid jock, by digging into his wallet, then charges toward the counter, shouting to the uptight pharmacist: "Uh, look, pal, gimme a pack of Trojans and a Binaca spray". In the same motion (and the same tracking shot), he nears the sunglasses stand and grabs a pair. While he tries them on, the town reverend appears right behind him and warmly congratulates him on his "game". A very unconfortable exchange of platitudes ensues, which is brutally interrupted just when the reverend confesses his disapointment with Scott for not attending Sunday services. The pharmacist appears smack in the middle of a three shot holding two boxes of condoms inbetween his thumbs and indexes. "You want the ribbed or the regular" he asks the jock who nervously glimpses at the reverend and makes this awkward reply: "Ribbed..., he says in a shattering voice, I guess. They're not for me you know. They're for my friend!". Grabbing the opportunity with both hands, he points toward Paul who holds a magazine, and makes impatient gestures toward him. "There's this sort of naive girl that he's planning on... well, you know, he confides to the reverend. And I... I insisted he takes precautions". "Why doesn't he pay for them?" candidly asks the cashier, ignorant of the fact that he actually is. "I had to drag him down here as it is, says Scott in an exasperated tone. The guy is totally irresponsable". As if to purposefully grant credibility to his friend's lies, Paul exclaims: "What's the hold-up, Scott? I can't keep this girl waiting!" The cashier then looks at him in dismay and sternly mutters: "Boy doesn't need condoms. He needs a muzzle" while making angry noises with a paper bag. Smooth-talking Scott has done it: he has dishonestly saved his honor by dragging his friend in the mud. And obviously, the story doesn't end there. Because the law of scenaristic probabilities make it necessary for the father of Paul's date to be the uptight pharmacist. So, before they head out together, Meg asks Paul to meet his father, which he immediately accepts to do. They trek through the house toward the living room, where the father is sitting in an armchair, his face hidden by a newspaper. When Meg introduces Paul, he puts down his newspaper and offers the young man a warm smile. But the instant he recognizes the "irresponsible" young man from earlier, his traits tighten and he just says, in the most affected voice possible: "Ribbed." Cut. I don't think there could've been a better way to end this scene, than with this simple word that says it all and actually makes you imagine a way crunchier follow-up than anything anybody could have ever filmed. It's teenage awkwardness materialized, which is an overlooked necessity for such horror films. Bravo!

A few scenes (and a few gruesome deaths) later, we are happily reunited with Scott Jeske's antics as he desperately tries to make his arduous condoms purchase worthwhile in what can only be described as a bachelor pad on wheels. His hammered date is oblivious to his advances so he decides to mix her yet another one of his patented strawberry drinks from his impressive trunk/bar. While he's busy doing so, we can see the blob crawl underneath the car, readying a nasty surprise for the "immoral" couple. When Scott comes back into the driver's seat, he finds his date asleep (actually, she is now a deflated, blob-filled carcass). But this only entices the adventurous young man further. He closes in on "sleeping" beauty, whispering a conqueror's words in her ears and very much ogling her breasts, eventually giving them some air by unbuttoning the lady's shirt. Ah! So rare to see such a date-rapist character, and so refreshing! After all, that's another awkward thing about teenagehood: sex with sleeping girls. So why not use it to set-up an awesome kill? Because of the dubious morality of such a scene? Fuck morality! It's not a sermon we're watching here, but an horror film. At least, Russell and company understood that. So, thank you, guys!

The blob effects alone make the film worthwhile, but it's
the engaging characters that make a real hoot.

3/5 An impeccable B monster movie.

Lord of Illusions (1995)

Review #0044

The "last" illusion indeed...

This third auto-adaptation by Clive Barker proves once more that the British author extraordinaire is just as good behind a computer than in a director's chair. This time, he manages to remain close to his Gothic roots by cleverly updating the film noir genre to include supernatural elements. After all, Lord of Illusions is less of a horror film, than a noir with magic-using characters. Every element is there: the dark and savvy detective (named Harry D'Amour, no less) caught in a dangerously intricate investigation involving a mysterious femme fatale and her rich, impotent husband, the romantic entanglement between the detective and his client and a climatic five-way duel. Barker strikes again! Based on his short story, The Last Illusion, Lord of Illusions is another crafty, tension-filled supernatural thriller featuring top-rate special effects and wondrously perverted contraptions and characters.

Warlock Nix is a paunchy cult leader à la Charles Manson who blindsides his fanatical followers with his magic. Enticed with renegade pupil Swann, which he believes to be his only worthy "student", he kidnaps a young girl and menaces to sacrifice her in order to lure him back. Swann does come back, with a bunch of gun-totting friends. With the help of the young girl, they manage to subdue Nix, to "bind" him (by screwing modular metal masks directly into his skull), and bury him. Cut to 13 years later. Bad-ass, supernatural-investigating detective Harry D'Amour is sent to L.A. for some well-deserved "vacations" when he stumbles upon sadistic cult members Butterfield and Ray Miller, who are hellbent on avenging Nix and bringing his binded carcass back to life. Enters Dorothea, Swann's seductive wife (played by Goldeneye Bond girl/Dark Phoenix Famke Janssen who looks more fetching than ever in a see-through bathing suit) who wishes to protect her husband from those freaks and thus hires D'Amour. As the mystery unfolds, Dorothea and Swann's backgrounds are slowly revealed by the cunning detective, while freaky Butterfield tries to locate the remains of his master. Eventually, Nix is revived and an exciting confrontation takes place between D'Amour, Swann, Dorothea, Nix and Butterfield.

A typical noir character, Dorothea is the woman who's seen too much

Although not on par with Gothic masterpiece Hellraiser, Lord of Illusions shares most of its significant assets including Barker's masterful direction that makes exemplary use of somptuous locales, a flair for editing exciting action sequences, awesome special effects and a tight screenplay featuring many twisted characters. The opening sequence alone features all of these elements neatly packed for an explosive start. Set in a rundown desert hideout (no doubt inspired by Charlie Manson's shack in Topanga Canyon), it features a fairly unusual rescue mission. Roaming through labyrinthine corridors, Swann and his commando must locate Nix and the girl amidst a sea of demented cult followers. When they do get a hold on the megalomaniac wizard, an exciting fight involving flight, telekinesis and binding rituals brings the opening act to a screeching halt. The only way to go from there is down. Fortunately, Barker keeps his story afloat thanks to strong characterization and the ever-present promise of weird and sadistic magic rituals. Bakula and Janssen are spot-on as the tough detective and femme fatale, while Barry Del Sharman is downright scary as Butterfield, the gay-looking sadist wearing skin-tight silver pants. The "magic" sequences are impressive, paramount of which is the nightclub act featuring Swann impaled by falling swords. This distinctive scene is absolutely exhilarating thanks to Barker's love for crisp editing and blood-spurting wounds. In the end, the film comes full circle and we find ourselves back at the dilapidated desert shack from the opening sequence. Although heavy on special effects, this wholly enjoyable finale ties all the loose ends together and makes for some pulse-pounding, eye-popping entertainment.

Nix gets what he deserves: 13 years in a sandy prison

Finally, a few words on the character of Nix. Interestingly enough, he is not the suave, well-mannered megalomaniac of, let's say... the James Bond films, but rather a true-to-life cult leader. He is fat, dirty, badly groomed and badly dressed, sort of a wizardly Manson whose cunning promises of doom are almost hypnotic. Everything about him is unsettling. He lacks the civilized demeanour that makes traditional villains almost loveable, and unlike Pinhead, he mostly steers clear of campy one-liners. Most of all, he is not at all fashionable, unlike Pinhead again, who almost singlehandedly invented S&M chic. Proof of his repulsiveness (which you could also call effectiveness) is the absence of plastic Nix figurines in the show cases of video stores and Nix costumes in the streets during Halloween... Cheers to Barker for fashioning this terrifying antagonist from scraps of collective fears instead of using a worn-out archetype. And cheers for blending the fantastic and realistic elements of the story so nicely as to make us fear that antagonist all the more.

3/5 Another savvy quality film from multi-talented auteur Barker.

A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors (1987)

Review #0043

This second sequel is much better than Part 2, but that's not saying much. For one thing, it's a more direct continuation of the original, with Heather Langenkamp reprising her role of Nancy Thompson. But although this guarantees a somewhat stronger premise, it doesn't prevent the film from slipping into self-parody, and eventually even resorting to dubious Christian lore to half-assedly propel the narrative and allow a (highly unwelcome) John Saxon cameo. As the "slasher sequel syndrome" dictates, the obligatory background updates on boogeyman Freddy Krueger provide only illusory depth to an increasingly goofy and flat character. If only by erosion of the "dream killer" premise, or because of his polished, almost "politically-correct" new look, the zombie child molester has almost none of the screen presence he once had. Which brings him closer and closer to Jason, the hulking n' sulking Camp Crystal ghoul who mindlessly swings the machete around. But instead of gorier and gorier kills, it's increasingly elaborate special effects which conceal Freddy's shallowness. Although this offers more "wows" to the casual viewer, it drags the series away from its horror roots and into the realm of fantasy. But frankly I must also say that Dream Warriors' confined new locale (an insane asylum) does very little to help poor Freddy out. Trapped by the tiled white corridors of the institution (which annoyingly is the only setting his teenage victims can dream off), he can no longer do what he does best, that is stalking and hunting the characters through the labyrinthine streets of suburbia (which is one of the most important staples of the series). Now, he can only assume new forms and quip new one-liners (such as the dubious: "Welcome to prime-time, bitch."). What is interesting however are the intriguing new narrative devices offered by the film, such as the "dream weapons" specific to each character's background and the sessions of group hypnosis during which Nancy and the kids can take on Freddy together. But these elements are far too underplayed to salvage the sinking ship. And as is the case with almost every element in the film, the 20-minute finale set in dreams is nowhere near as exciting as it promises to be.

No better weapon to beat Freddy than the heroine's virginal body

In this third installment, which thankfully skips the events of Part 2, all the remaining Elm street kids are in a mental institution under the care of orderly Max (Larry Fishburne, who it's always nice to see even in subdued roles) and super-lame psychiatrist Neil Gordon. Of course, the entire medical personel denies Freddy Krueger's existence altogether and wishes to rid the kids of moral ailments which they feel are responsible for their nightmares. Honestly, they all sound more like raving preachers than actual, analytical professionals. And although I know it is merely a plot device designed to isolate the characters, I found it infuriating to witness their lack of empathy, understanding and scientific rigor. Hell, the proof is there (the mounds of mangled teenage bodies left by Freddy up to that point) so why yack about morality and other such stuff which doesn't have ANYTHING to do with the scientific analysis of the situation? You'd think that once hot-shot grad student Nancy Thompson joins them, things will change, but they don't. Not right away. It takes two deaths (one of which features both an impossible feat and gross negligeance from the medical staff, two convenient plot devices used undiscriminately) before she convinces Gordon to prescribe the kids Hypnocil (an experimental, dream-suppressing drug that surprisingly reappears only in Freddy vs Jason). Considering the delay necessary to receive the drug, Gordon and Thompson try a temporary patchwork solution, group hypnosis, in order to accompany the kids in their dreams. It works and thus they are catapulted into Freddy's domain. But when the mute kid wanders away from the group, he is caught by the boogeyman who assumed the form of a hot nurse (hence providing a rare breast shot) for the occasion. Unlike the others, Joey is not killed, but rather dragged to Hell, where the climatic battle takes place after his friends bind together to get him back. The contrived subplot involves the ghost of Freddy's mother explaining how her son's bones must be buried in hallowed ground to erase the curse. But beware of Jason and the Argonauts type animated skeletons!

At least, the film starts off pretty well. The opening sequence cleverly sets up the mood and aspirations of the film as insomniac Kristen Parker (Patricia Arquette) feverishly glues together a popsicle sticks model of Nancy Thompson's old house, which we suspect is a recurring dream fantasy. When her mother irrupts into the room and asks why she isn't in bed, Kristen humors her, saying she was waiting for her return when actually she simply doesn't want to become finger food. Nonetheless, she eventually gets inbetween the sheets and wishes mommy good-night, after which she is catapulted on the porch of Nancy's house, where rope-jumping girls are singing that annoying nursery rhyme from the original film. Soon enough, Kristen encounters Freddy and he slashes her. Not much. Just enough for her mother to panic and seek psychiatric help. Thanks to this sequence, we can breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that the series has gone back to its roots (girls and guerrilla type dream attacks). However, it is also somewhat dishonest, not unlike Part 2's. What sucked about Part 2's opening sequence was that it misrepresented the protagonist as a lonesome object of laughter when he was actually a fairly self-confident and moody dude. What sucks about #3's opening sequence is that it introduces a character which becomes secondary the second Heather Langenkamp walks into the frame, that is a scant ten minutes later. In actuality, there is only one major reason for Arquette's screen time, but it's an overwhelming one. I'm talking of course about her incredible screaming voice. I mean, I've heard screams before, but hell! We're talking about a dead-raisingly piercing shriek here! Maybe it's a special talent she has, or a result of having such large, er... lungs, but Arquette has got it going on! Maybe not a scream "queen" (because of her limited horror films output), but certainly a scream princess!

Arquette in "that" dress. Luckily, the bodice didn't involve any
buttons, otherwise many eyeballs would've been endangered.

I must say that I was also thrilled to see Heather Langenkamp appear onscreen twelve minutes in. We're not talking about a meaningless cameo here (such as Kirsty's video-tape appearance in Hellraiser III) but a full-fledged role for her character Nancy. Actually, 'full-fledged' might not be the accurate word to describe it... because frankly, you start to curse her lack of depth five minutes later. Just like Freddy, Nancy's background (as the first Nightmare's survivor girl) provides illusory depth for it is otherwise, impossible to ascertain her status as trauma victim. Not only isn't she emotionally scarred or hellbent on helping the kids, but she doesn't provide any real insight into the Freddy phenomenon or the awesome researches she has done in college. Like most elements in this film, she is just a limp narrative link between other ill-assorted elements. It's only through her highly unconvincing romance with the repulsive Gordon that she ties the many narrative strands together, including the one with her drunken, cowardly father and Freddy's bones, but not through her own efforts. In the end, the film is made up of too many such examples of wasted potential to be worthwhile. Too much emphasis is put on the dubious Christian solution to Freddy's curse and not enough on the concrete and rewarding involvment of the kids themselves. The finale is set up as a team venture into the boogeyman's lair where teamwork and interpersonal skills should have been key. Instead, Freddy isolates and kills two right of the bat (in two obvious and dubiously comic set-ups), then wisecracks and chases the others to a very unsatisfying conclusion including too many dramatic poses and not enough dream powers. All of this is intercut with scenes of Lt. Thompson and Gordon trying to bury Freddy's bones and perform some very amateurish blessing ceremony. And there goes another valid opportunity to teach the teenage audience about the value of friendship and teamwork in time of needs. There's just so much of star Freddy that all meaningful characters and issues have been absorbed in his web of bad theatrics and offensive one-liners. And one other thing: where's the gore? Sure, the kills are now much more elaborate, and I must admit that some of them are quite innovative. But where's the incredible gore that launched the series? Where are the blood-soaked matresses and ceilings? They were banned by mainstream morality no doubt, along with almost every interesting concept in this film. Despite it all, this entry manages to earn its rightful place in the series, if only for being the basis to the following film and those other films lying beyond (such as the surprisingly good Freddy vs Jason).

Freddy kills a suicidal recovering drug-addict with seringue-fingers.
Comical, moralistic, or just tasteless?

2/5 Many intriguing ideas, but very disappointing execution.

Urotsukidôji: Legend of the Overfiend (1989)

Review #0042

This infamous animated film is continuously misrepresented in the West, being often categorized as porn, when it's actually a Gothic horror tale (which, by definition, includes sexual themes and imagery associated with transformation). And while they could eventually accept that simple fact, North Americans will probably never consider such a film as a legitimate work of art on the back of their rigidly puritanical and self-centered mentality. Such disregard also stems from the bothersome, but deeply-rooted Western belief according to which animation is children's fare, a contention which posits that the (very) rigid and moralistic Disney/Pixar narrative is almost the only one suitable for animated material. That's grossly under-estimating the awesome artistic potential of squirming tentacles, but most of all, it's confusing container and content. After all, animation is only a technique used to convey an idea, which is immediately freed from the shackles of reality. As for the animated content, its possibilities are endless, although it is often squarely used to showcase national quirks, which is precisely the case with this typically Japanese outing.

RANT ALERT! RANT ALERT! RANT ALERT!
(Please skip the following three paragraphs if you don't care for a rant against the MPAA)

If you're a productivity-minded society with mostly commercial imagination, reproducing sanitized art products ad nauseam, then you'll surely get the full gamut of talking animals and machines dispensing eon-old lessons about family life and friendship. But if you're a desperately expressive society obsessed by dark dreams of insularity, the nuclear Holocaust and sexual inadequacy, then you might get something like Urotsukidôji, a truly artistic endeavour that's both entertaining and cultural-specific. A film that features fairly explicit sexuality (but nothing hardcore or overly exploitative) ranging from the downright horrific to the sweet and innocent. A film that shows sex as a crucial transformative process... just like it is in real life. You might not know this, but sex is actually a very important part of life! It touches every single person from every culture, every religion and every walk of life. Then why is it banned from the screen? Why should I be ashamed to say that I enjoy watching tentacle-rape scenes that are narratively crucial, gorgeously animated, and full of pulse-pouding action?

The answer can be found in the institutionalized puritanism that plagues the MPAA and other such bodies of morality-control. Whenever sex is approached in a meaningful, level-headed way, these organizations always rear their ugly heads. Many complex, awesome films such as Boys Don't Cry, La Mala Educacion, Clerks, Crash (1996), The Cook, the Thief, his Wife and her Lover, Eyes Wide Shut, La Grande Bouffe, Happiness, In the Realm of the Senses, Kids, L.I.E., Last Tango in Paris, Lust, Caution, Mysterious Skin, Requiem for a Dream, and Where the Truth Lies were either brutally edited down or slapped an NC-17 rating (a kiss of death at the box office) thanks to the evil MPAA. Yet, none of these films is exploitative in any way; many of them being actually very tame, such as Clerks who merely discusses sex in a humorous, day-to-day manner. Now, that's what happens when corporate interests outweigh the relevance of art, when dishonest individuals such as Jack Valenti invoke "the greater good" to justify dubious business decisions, and when lobbyists run democratically-appointed officials. Without trying to boast, let me just say that in Quebec, a harmless comedy such as Office Space is rated G while it is rated R just across the border for "bad" words such as 'shit' and 'fuck', which are uttered maybe twice in the whole film. Why? Because film ratings are awarded here by a non-biased governmental organization that appraises content in light of the psychological impact it might have on its audience, not by a partisan Hollywood excrescence that uses "morality" to regulate the market.

Just imagine... Imagine a world without MPAAs and legions of decency, where touching, meaningful films such as Mysterious Skin and Happiness could be enjoyed and discussed by mass audiences, where Robin Williams could properly sing the hilarious "Blame Canada" at the Oscars, and where horror fans could watch pornographic sequences of animation without being tagged as disturbed perverts. Because that's another thing, the generally negative outlook on pornographic animation. It's as if it was somehow worst than live-action pornography. It's as if the tortured toons of hentais had it worst than the unilingual Russian immigrants who nervously stare at the camera while getting agressively double-fucked in mainstream porn. Are you kidding me? Pornographic animation is harmless. In it, no real girl is force-fed cum or anally sweeped by twelve-inch cocks. It's just this silly idea that people have according to which it's nerdy to jerk off to a "drawing", however life-like it might be. Personally, I think that the super-agile, unnaturally proportionned hentai heroines offer much more in the way of fantasmatic possibilities than any live girl could. I don't think that carnal lust for animated characters is any weirder than the consumption of "regular" pornography, insofar as it doesn't alienate the viewer from actual women (which he should love and respect above all). I mean, I know animation is not real, but so are Hollywood starlets. I know I will never fuck Motoko Kusanagi, but I will never fuck Megan Fox either!

END OF RANT

Sorry. I didn't originally want to write such a long rant. It's just that my fingers were on fire while I typed, fueled as they were by my hatred for the MPAA. On the other hand, I couldn't really review a film as controversial as Legend of the Overfiend without putting it into context. And now that I have, there is nothing much more to add other than to say that it is a great horror film that features unforgettable imagery, crisp animation, insane action scenes, and a tight, involving plot with epic proportions. It delivers on almost all fronts, and although the English dubbing (made by porno actors) defuses many emotional scenes, it still benefits from true-to-life, street accents that perfectly befit the irreverant script. Thus, we get "fucking Nagumo" instead of "damned Nagumo" or "fornicating Nagumo". The film also has some historical importance since it is the first incarnation of "tentacle porn" on the big screen. That said, such a form of erotica is not new at all for its roots actually date back to the Edo period. Case in point: below is a reproduction of the famous woodcut featuring The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife by renowned artist Hokusai, dating back to 1814 (app.).


The premise of the film is as follows. According to the legend, a god known as the Chôjin is born every 3,000 years on Earth to unite the three parallels worlds (the Ningenkai, human world, Jûjinkai, world of man-beasts, and Makai, world of demons) in one peaceful whole. Content with the prophecy, foul-mouthed man-beast Amano Jyaku has spent the last 300 years wandering Earth in search of the one who would become the Chôjin (thus his nickname, urotsukidôji, which means "wandering kid") while the demons of Makai (such as the awesome Suikakujû) plot his demise. Surprisingly, the Chôjin seed is found within a nerdy college student, Nagumo Tatsuo, a young man who enjoys his love for angel-faced Akemi by peeping and masturbating while she's changing clothes in the locker room. A young man whom bodily harm and sex can transform into a gargantuan demon with powerful phallic tentacles. But is he really the Chôjin? And if so, what is his true agenda?

What starts out as a colorful coming-of-age story perfectly combines with the Gothic elements of mythology that gradually seep into the plot, bringing along warped concepts about sexuality and manhood which the teenage characters must face head-on. As the film progresses, the concern shifts from Nagumo and Akemi's budding romance to the upcoming apocalypse via the messianic prophecy of the Chôjin (which, instead of provoking dubious "immaculate" conceptions, relies on its numerous glowing cocks and exploding seeds to impregnate women). On the way to oblivion, intriguing new characters appear such as Suikakujû, demon rival of Amano Jyaku responsible for the 1923 earthquake, and Niki Yûichi, a human rival of Nagumo who replaces his own penis by a demon's in order to become a sort of anti-Chôjin. This is real Gothic horror in the sense that it includes many grotesquely unnatural "romances" bearing catastrophic results as well as dubious "pacts" made between demons and power-mad humans. And do these demons look great, or what? Nowhere better than in Japanese animation! For the most part, they are grotesquely deformed humanoids with extra mouths and phallic, tentacular limbs that bind and rape nubile, but hairless human girls. In other words, they are creatures of pure, depraved pleasure and their bodies are built accordingly. Quite a welcome change of design from that of the tame, sexless Cenobites of the boring Hellraiser mythology... As for the action fan, Legend of the Overfiend provides him with many great, gory fights (the best of which involves Suikakujû and Amano Jyaku on serpentine mounts duking it out over the Tokyo night sky) and a typically extravagant finale featuring the fiery destruction of the city. For the non-discriminating aesthete, it's got fluid and colorful animation and awesome monster designs, combined with the best results during Akemi's initial rape. Sure, it's not Miyazaki, but it's certainly not Dragonball either.


4/5 A unique, historic effort with an epic scale.

A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2: Freddy's Revenge (1985)

Review #0041

Quite a mouthful, that title. I guess they couldn't just go for A Nightmare on Elm Street 2. They just had to specify that it involved Freddy's Revenge... Thus begins the sloppy screenplay of this jaw-dropingly bad sequel to the classic Craven film. Inexplicably discontent with the fresh and promising formula of the original, which guaranteed this second installment tens of millions in box office revenue, somebody at New Line thought it would be a good idea to take the series in a new direction. Instead of haunting dreams, as was dealt when he cursed the townspeople who executed him, Freddy Krueger would now possess a young man and use his body to act in the real world. Fair enough. But why such ambition when you clearly don't have the means to bring it to fruition? Considering its ragtag crew featuring many newcomers (including screenwriter David Chaskin and female lead Kim Myers), a blaxploitation shoot-em-up editor (Bob Brady), and two hammy, grossly miscast TV parents (Clu Gulager and Hope Lange) who appear atrocious on the big screen, the film could have benefited from being more derivative of the original. But, hey! Freddy's Revenge is what it is: a rushed-out cash-in (it was actually released a scant year and a week after the original). The producers probably felt that by cranking up the special effects, they could cram this razzie down the throats of eager fans right past their judgement.

Here's a case example of the film's ineptitude. A scene in which leads Jesse and Lisa investigate Freddy's background. They drive Jesse's convertible to the factory where the child molester used to work. On the way, Lisa, who believes Nancy Thompson's tale about a boogeyman striking in dreams but still humours Jesse about his own dreams, utters the fantastic line that follows: "It's all in your mind. You must be picking up some psychic signals." Okkkkkkay....very helpful. As the sequence continues, we try not to make a case of this incongruous line, but then another one lashes us. Inside the factory, Lisa asks: "Do you feel anything?" to which Jesse understandably replies: "What do you mean?" "I don't know, says Lisa, I thought you might be able to make a connection or something." What?!? She could've said: "I thought there was something here that could magically forward the plot" and it would've sounded less foolish. Because the truth is Jesse does not "make a connection". He just spots a rusty old metal cabinet that looks like it might hold a prop relative to Krueger. So he and Lisa slowly, very slowly approach the cabinet. And when they open it: GRAWRRRR! A medium close-up of a cute, pet-shop rat! Terrified, Jesse and Lisa hold each other. Cut. I know this is just the set-up for the final scene, but hell! An entire scene just for a cheap scare?!? Couldn't they have found something in that cabinet other than the rat? A glove with razors perhaps, a pickled piece of a child or even a dusty doll. Just thought I'd ask...

Okay. Here's another scene. This one features Jesse and his uptight gym teacher who apparently has a thing for boys. We're in what positively appears to be a dream scene. Jesse is walking the city streets under the rain, wearing only a half-open bathrobe and boxer shorts. When he steps into the local "hardcore" bar, he boldly asks for a beer, which the barman rushes to deliver without asking for an I.D. or an explanation as to why he was half-naked. Then the head of his gym teacher pops above his shoulder. The guy is clad in a mock-S&M suit that features a diamond-shaped opening through which his chest hair flows out (Hummmm, enticing!). Cut to the school gymnasium where Jesse is forced to run laps as punishment by his teacher. But it's not the following day. This takes place during that same night. When we realize that, we figure: "Alright, it's a dream." We unconfortably watch Jesse running until his teacher (still proudly sporting his prowler attire) orders him to "hit the showers". Uh-oh! Will we get some molestation? Actually, yes. While Jesse is showering, coach chills out in his office, probably fantasizing about the next steps of his plan to lay the young man, when he is attacked by (drumroll): sports equipment! Basketballs roll toward him with blinding speed, tennis balls pop out of their boxes and barely miss him, but then he is tied up at the wrists by two animated jumping ropes who drag him to the bathroom and crucify him on two shower heads. Then all of his clothes are magically ripped off. Yes. All of his clothes are magically ripped off. It happens so fast and it is so unexpected that we can only stare wide-eyed at the ass crack that suddenly appears onscreen. We're left speechless. I mean, talk about exploitative slasher films! Of all the characters in the film, most of which are youths, it had to be the hairy gym teacher who gets butt-naked! And that's not all! Once disrobed, he is senselessly towel-slapped, which warrants close-ups on his bleeding butt, then executed with two clean slashes of the razor-glove by Freddy-possessed Jesse. Cut. Then the next day comes, and sure enough, the gym teacher is found dead in the school showers. But wait a minute! Does that mean what we saw in the murder scene was real? Does that mean Jesse actually met Schneider in a bar, then followed him to school, in the middle of the night, to run punitive laps? Is that what we're supposed to believe? Just thought I'd ask...

I could go on and on like this. Hell, I haven't even mentioned Jesse's impossible night visit to his friend Grady and that infamous scene with the spontaneously combusting parakeet. The problem here is that Freddy's powers can now be used in the real world and the dream world indiscriminately. So the Nightmare gimmick falls flat, and what results is a confusing narrative indeterminacy. The reasons for Freddy's new M.O. are also unclear. We do get some hints about how Nancy "brought him to the real world" from her diary, conveniently found in Jesse's room, but nothing to really sink our teeth into. But that's not the main reason why the "possession" gimmick fails. The main reason is that it posits the question of choice, then swiftly disregards it. In the beginning, Freddy comes to Jesse asking him to kill in his stead. He says: "Kill for me", shows him the glove conveniently left in the cellar boiler... Basically, he's trying to convince him, and Jesse refuses. Nonetheless, the boogeyman invests his body. Did the young man really have a choice? Was he simply eroded into a receptive state? Why is Freddy's relationship with Jesse so ambiguous? Just thought I'd ask...

At least, there are some decent special effects in the film, but nothing close to the ruthless, imaginative gore of the first film. We do get an outstanding opening scene featuring a school bus teetering atop a stone peak, a very nice transformation scene that gives us a Cronenbergian Freddy whose blades are actually organic excrescences of his fingers. We also get an extravagant final scene, but this one is an even mix of pinky syrup and meaningless pyrotechnics. Fortunately, poor director Sholder got sounder material to work with on his following film, The Hidden (1987). To this day, I would guess that he is still plagued by nightmares of Freddy... you know, the second one. Oh! The one that really, really sucked? Yeah, that's right...

1/5 Awful, awful, awful. A piece of cheese anthology, but most of all, a travesty of Craven's awesome Nightmare.

Uzumaki (2000)

Review #0040

Now, here's a film with a one-track mind: uzumaki, the spiral, the line that goes round and round and round and round until we all transform in suicidal madmen or slimy snails. It's a pattern in nature, but also a pattern in the noblest of arts: pottery. It attracts the eye and drags it, along with its proprietor, into the nether realms of human thoughts. It may be a bait used by a Snake God or a curse that befell a small town and its wholesome inhabitants. We are not sure, but then, how can we be? We are already knee-deep in the whirlpool that is Uzumaki!


Have you ever stared at a snail shell or at the water flushing down the toilet, wondering how a perfect shape as the spiral came to be? Do you love pottery, but can't determine why? Do you feel the urge to drink liters and liters of water to quench that bothersome, bulging excrescence in your back? If you answered 'yes' to any of those questions, I'm sure Uzumaki will mesmerize you. But beware! It might also make you want to slice the tip of your fingers off. OK. Enough jokes. It's just that Uzumaki is such a manic, fun-loving and unpretentious little film that it puts a vacuous smile on your face and makes you wanna go CRAZY! It's a gimmick film, sure, but one that takes it all the way, right up to the extravagant finale. But most of all, it is a savvy and original project which benefits from both the Japanese's technical savoir-faire (particularly in terms of framing and composition) and their love for the weird and hypnotic.

The pretitle scene features a nice variation, a twist if you will, on the classic Hitchcockian "spiral" tracking. Starting with a close-up on a splattered corpse, and using fading graphic matches, the camera manages to ascend an entire spiral staircase while keeping the corpse in a spiralling frame. With such a clever, dizzying opening, we immediately know that the uzumaki gimmick is for real. This is confirmed by an early scene in which high school protagonist Kirie is "surprised" by a nerdy suitor framed laterally, then upside down. And that's not mentioning other such technical uzumakis as the irises on molding clay. Of course, the scenery is also peppered with spirals such as clouds, smoke, snails, pasta, 6s and 9s, which sometimes feel contrived. A bit like easter eggs scattered about for viewers to yell: "Hey, look! Another uzumaki right over there!" I guess that's also part of the fun, especially for Where is Waldo? fans... At any rate, it's great to see such a viral gimmick investing all aspects of the film in an attempt to entrap us as well as the characters.


Based on the eponymous manga by Junji Ito, Uzumaki is the story of "a strangeness" that befell a small town. It's the word used by protagonist Kirie Goshima in an attempt to resume the diegetic events: "strangeness". Early on, she catches her friend Shuichi's father manically videotaping snail shells. When she mentions this to the young man, his face becomes stern. "Maybe it wasn't him..." says Kirie to humor him. "It was him", he replies. Then he suggests he and Kirie should elope before they get caught in the uzumaki curse. Hesitant and attached to her own father, Kirie stays put, despite increasing evidence of the curse. Shuichi's father gets madder and madder, obsessed with the uzumaki to the point where he commits ritualistic suicide (in a quite down-to-earth, but original way). Students start transforming into snails, sluggishly making their way across the classroom and spewing goo around. Shuichi's mother gets crazy, as well as Kirie's father. Everything is absorbed in the titular vortex.

Convenient title, Uzumaki, because of all its connotations. But when applied as a narrative and symbolic pattern, it works surprisingly well. But most important of all, it's fun! Almost hypnotic... It's fun to watch all the weird little events that make up the story, and eventually witness the whole gamut of spirals, which we find in increasingly incongruous places as the pace picks up. In the twirling of eyes in their sockets, in bodies wrapped around car tires, and worst of all... in millipedes. God I hate millipedes, especially when... well, you'll see if you rent the film. Uzumaki keeps us excited with tentalizing chapter titles and the promise of increasing weirdness, thus, of increasingly elaborate special effects. In the end, it works exceptionally well, thanks in most part to the solid direction which keeps those special effects in check and to the lack of any contrived explanation that would lessen the mystery surrounding the hypnotic spiral. Actually, the "hero" reporter character, which does feel contrived, dies while bringing his findings to Kirie and Shuichi, leaving us with only scraps of information gathered from a short montage of him in the library. It's possible to "make sense" of what happens, if you care to do so, but the story works equally well as that of the uzumaki curse. Plain and simple. A vortex that swallows all in its intricate design.

3/5 A well-made gimmick film with strong Japanese flavor.

Art of the Devil (2004)

Review #0039

Don't be fooled by the cool artwork above; we all know that the only truly efficient razor-spitting scene is in Chinese gore-fu classic Riki-Oh (1991)! As for Art of the Devil, it is a lame Thai import that combines the savoir-faire of a student production with the vapid charm of a mainstream J-horror film. The result is a confused yawner that was generic and exploitative enough to spawn two (unrelated) sequels and, surprisingly enough, an American remake! The truth is that by tacking elements of Buddhist mysticism onto a sappy family drama and relying on cheap scare tactics to "pan-Asianize" it all, the makers of this film have created a bastard work that will please only the most underscriminating teenage crowds. As such, it fits perfectly alongside other Thai razzies such as Narok (2005, by the same director) and Shutter (2004), two films highly derivative of better, smarter Japanese films. At least, we get a lot of foxy Supakson Chaimongkol! In fact, I could very well recycle my closing argument about The Unborn and apply it to Art of the Devil since I felt about the same way watching both films (and their gorgeous, black-haired leading ladies). There is nothing else to watch! Except for a bunch of eels and a burning still-born, not even on par with the contorted specters of The Unborn...

Boom (Chaimongkol) is a very unlucky young woman. Knocked up by a rich family man, she squeezes one million baht (around 30,000 US$) out of him. But her ordeal isn't over because "for one million baht, she must be shared", that is raped by a boorish gang of company men under the watchful eye of the evil patriarch. Following further abuse, she finally decides to take revenge by offing anyone even remotely related to her torturers thanks to the black magic of an old barber. This radical change in her persona remains mostly unexplained until the very end, and even then, we hardly buy it. The film actually begins on Boom confining Nan, the very last descendant of the decadent patriarch, and exposing her to the dire truth about her father. Then, the narrative shifts back and forth between lenghty flash-backs shot in color (many of which are not even Boom's or Nan's) and snippets from this initial scene (shot in black and white). In the end, we even get a "climatic" fight on a hospital rooftop!


As I mentionned above, the sweet, angel-faced Boom is very unconvincing as the villainess, especially since her motivations are so hazy. During the entire film, I was wondering why this tear-eyed, pro-life little girl felt she had to kill kids and grandmas in grisly fashion for revenge on a bunch of middle-aged men. I guess her reasons only had to be dialogue-deep... In the end, I still sorta felt she was the victim in all this, because I couldn't buy the convenient shift in persona that had made her the demon she now was. Obviously, verisimilitude and even plausibility are not major concerns for director Jitnukul. And the narrative structure of the film doesn't help either. It's flash-back over flash-back with flash-backs of flash-backs (!) and annoying, superfluous ellipses. Most moronic of all are the "shocking" revelations peppered near the end to explain character traits that should've been exposed at the very beginning! Obviously, surprise may appear slicker, but it is actually much lazier and less effective than suspense (which the film completely lacks).

Now, that would be well and good if the horror sequences were more elaborate and the black magic lore more interesting. Because all we get on the horror front are snippets of gore, usually shot in the dark or in an annoying hyperkinetic fashion with these two words, "black magic", as sole explanation. Many of the scare scenes have little to no set-up, which makes you wonder why you should care at all about what you're seeing. There is a blatant abuse of suspenseful music used to artificially raise tension and excesses in style that barely mask the total ineptitude of the director. It gets better near the end, but by that time, your eyes are tiny, sleepy slits that can hardly make out the images onscreen.

Despite its ample budget and slick production values, Art of the Devil reeks of amateurism. There is an uncertainty (one could almost say shyness) in the direction and screenwriting departments which, although heartwarming, mares potentially decent material. Many scenes, mainly the "death" scenes, feature mixes of effects and camera angles so jumbled they appear to be straight out of a video clip, making you wonder if the filmmakers even knew what they were doing. Then, there is the unnecessarily loquacious scenario, full of budding sub-plots that never fully bloom, more of a showcase for sexy youths and cheap effects than an actual screenwriting effort. But strangest of all, there seems to be a self-devouring fear of true exploitation at the heart of it all, which makes the film a major tease that never really delivers. I mean, if you are gonna have pagan rituals involving eel-filled corpses and dried-up still-borns, why not show more of them than 5 seconds shots? If you're gonna have sex scenes, why not show more skin? And most of all, if you're gonna have a pivotal gang-rape scene, why not make it your bread and butter? I'm not asking for Irreversible-caliber stuff, just something nasty enough to warrant waves and waves of murders. At least a technical effort equivalent to that scene's narrative importance!

Like many teenage horror films, Art of the Devil grows out of lukewarm waters a limp and sad off-shoot fathered by producers out for quick bucks, but lacking the sadistic/artistic involvement and desire necessary to make a good film.

1,5/5 A slickly-produced but amateurish yawner.

Hellraiser: Inferno (2000)

Review #0038

The link with the Hellraiser series is flimsy in this formulaic psychological thriller with shy film noir undertones. Pinhead is here, the Cenobites are here (four of them, including the awesome new Wire Twins and a truncated version of Chatterer) and so is the Box. But they are merely subservient props to the story of a man and his own personal Hell. Although uptight and moralistic, this fourth sequel scores points for bringing new blood to the series (and taking anti-freeze out) while succesfully managing its own complex, if somewhat boring plot. At the risk of being crucified by leather-clad Pinhead fans with hammers and nails in hand, I will say this is actually the best Hellraiser sequel to date.


Baby-faced detective Thorne (the pun is positively intended) is actually an adulterous and drug-addicted sinner who enjoys stealing from crime scenes, beating up snitches and poking coked-up prostitutes in sleazy motel rooms. During one of his nightscapades, he accidentally solves the Puzzle Box (stolen during an ongoing investigation), and is sent spiralling in an introspective journey at the heart of "the Hell he has created", that is the result of his sinful ways. He first encounters the seductive Wire Twin Cenobites with whom he shares a strangely enticing, sado-masochistic embrace which grotesquely parodies his own pursuit of earthly delights. But soon, he is back in the real world. Or is it? A mysterious criminal dubbed "The Engineer" is killing people closer and closer to him until we start wondering if he is actually the killer. In the process, we discover how he has neglected his child, wife and parents in the pursuit of self-absorbed debauchery. Be sure not to blink because you might actually see a very tame Pinhead pop up and dispense his tired old wisdom.

Half-hidden behind this complex story of overlapping universes and amnesic candeur embroidered with flash-backs and oneiric set-ups lies a deep-rooted Christian moral about family values and purity that's pretty hard to swallow (especially for the thrill-seeking horror fan). It wouldn't be so bad if Craig Scheffer wasn't so unconvincing as the brooding Thorne, if his "evil" was less over-determined and his relationship with his family more developed. Then, perhaps, we might dig the necessity to have him tested and tried. Unfortunately, the whodunit mold and Scheffer's limited acting abilities are too restrictive to encompass all the psychological depth that the protagonist needed. Since the film focuses almost solely on Thorne, it eventually crumbles under the weight of its complexity because Scheffer's shoulders are not strong enough to support it. I happen to own Fangoria #198, which features an article on the "upcoming" Hellraiser: Inferno (horrible title, by the way). In it, we see some stills from the film, one of which features an incredibly stiff, emotionless Thorne attacked by his eyeless parents (his mother wielding a butcher knife). And the caption reads: "After the torments of the abyss, conventional weapons just don't seem as menacing". Now, it's very revealing of Scheffer's lame (if not plain unwilling) acting that the authors of Fangoria needed to interpret his lack of expression using some hypothetic trauma he might have suffered. It's a shame too because decent fuel could have actually taken this film somewhere...


Director Derrickson and crew certainly didn't lack ambition, or guts. They took a flawed series with a nonetheless solid, grassroot fanbase and have tweaked it beyond recognition, making this popular but dying story their own in trying to resuscitate it. What first appears to be a case of Season of the Witch-itis (in which a generic genre film is transplanted into a series for higher revenues) really isn't. It's actually an honest (and pretty successful) attempt at using the basic codes of the series in a novel, more meaningful way. Just like many fans, I also felt that showcasing Pinhead alone on the box art was false advertising, but hey, it's just a marketing scam! Get over it! And besides, the series is actually much better with less of those one-dimensional geeks, the Cenobites. The new Cenobites may be less hardcore, sure, but they're used more parsimoniously and more intelligently. In fact, the Wire Twins are by far the most interesting Cenobites in the entire series, not because of their look, but because of their representation onscreen. They surround Thorne and lasciviously fondle him, slipping their slender fingers under his flesh while licking his face with their serpentine black tongues. It's just great! No fucking one-liner, lame pun about "dates from Hell" or any shit like that, just a grotesque and frankly enticing parody of sensuality the likes of which we had yet to see in the series! I mean, hadn't you ever wondered why all the Cenobites ever did in the previous Hellraiser films was just standing there and talking tough, never actually torturing anybody onscreen? Sure, there was the occasional hook, or saw, driven by Pinhead's telekinesis, hardly something sensual, as promised by the ample lore concerning the forbidden "pleasures of Hell". Now I wouldn't go as far as saying that Inferno fixes all the representational problems associated with the Cenobites, but at least, it approaches the question in a more level-headed and relevant way.

Hence, the figure of Pinhead is also transformed, from wisecracking boogeyman to spiritual guide. In his blog entry for the film (from which I took picture #1), religious author Ron Reed had this to say: "Pinhead fans were unhappy that the monster-geek "star" of the franchise has less than three minutes screen time, and that Derrickson moves things in something of a detective thriller direction, but other viewers may appreciate his efforts to make a more psychologically and spiritually significant silk purse out of a slasher movie sow's ear." Eulogistic metaphors aside, this is a sound commentary that pretty well sums up the double bind in which the film is caught up and cleverly "enlighten" us about its merits. Personnally, I did not miss Pinhead, only the haunting theme song by Christopher Young, which has been replaced by underwhelming syrup.

Despite some slight abuses of atmospheric music and some excesses of style, the film is competently made and slickly produced. The detective story is well-laid, well-paced and involving despite being derivative and predictable. It features campy little voice-over lines inspired by noir cinema that are quite relevant to the "fallen detective" framework. And it merges surprisingly well with the dramatic and supernatural elements thrown in the mix. Despite heterogeneous influences, the film works as a whole without cracking too much on the sides. But eventually, as it is the case with most films of this ilk, it is mared by too many formulaic effects and plot devices, and an esoteric finale set in convenient "dream" settings. Fortunately, the film steers clear of the silly mythology of Hell clumsily established by the three previous sequels in which everything is either boring, dusty or campy.

2,5/5 A surprisingly good, no-nonsense entry in a moribund series.

Hellraiser III: Hell on Earth (1992)

Review #0037

Slightly superior to Hellbound, this second sequel benefits from a far more satisfying storyline that's unfortunately mared by some lazy narrative decisions (such as the gross over-abundance of dream sequences) and a very underwhelming, effects-heavy finale that would feel more at home in an action film. The film features the most elaborate dialogue in the series, a huge part of which belongs to Doug Bradley who hams it up as both Pinhead and his alter-ego Elliot Spencer. There is actually much more of him than I had bargained for. And despite lines after lines of campy demonic lore and ample exposition, he fails to become much more than what he was in the previous films: a boring, one-dimensional character with a phenomenal fashion sense. All in all, Hell on Earth is a more or less successful attempt to transplant the franchise across the Atlantic.

The film begins with shady club-owner J.P. Munroe purchasing a macabre sculpture containing the proeminent outlines of Pinhead and the Box. It's actually just an artsy version of the creaking wood pillar seen at the end of Hellbound. Trapped inside, Pinhead bides his time until blood is splashed on the sculpture's shiny surface in sufficient amount to bring him back. Thanks to gullible J.P., he finally gets his wish then goes on a killing spree, trying to establish his dominion here on Earth. All the while, TV reporter Joey Summerskill is hot on his trail thanks to the helping hand of J.P.'s ex-girlfriend Terri, and the oneiric apparitions of Elliot Spencer. When protagonist and antagonist finally meet, the film has already depleted all its steam, and it's certainly not the ridiculous new Cenobites who will rekindle our interest. In the end, Pinhead is "shot" back to Hell in an unconvincing flurry of special effects that reminds us of this ancient lament heard at the center of the world: "Kiiiiiill the seriiiiiiiies!"

For better or for worse, the franchise has left the Gothic archways of old Europe for the posh slasher scene of NYC. The roomy, split-leveled old homesteads and dark corridors in the bowels of asylums have been replaced by downtown high-rise lofts with large panoramic windows and trendy nightclubs decorated with sculptures of crucified babies. Evil, aristocratic Julia has ceded the lead to a virginal do-gooder with 1/10th of her screen presence (TV actress Terry Farrell). And Pinhead has been absorbed into the massive boogeymen roster of Hollywood, so you can now see him plow through crowds of party-goers, selectively making "home-made" Cenobites with barbed wire, pistons, cameras, CDs and cocktail shakers. As the new incarnation of cool, he now walks the slick city streets ominously with flaming cars and leather-bound henchmen in the background. In typical American fashion, the makers of this film have upped the ante in terms of quantity (more lines for Pinhead, more Cenobites, more corpses) and cranked the coolness factor up a notch. Now that's all and well for the teenage target audience, but older audiences (such as the first two films' fanbase) might feel cheated.

Fortunately, the film is built around a tighter scenario that comes back to the basics and provides some much-needed, gap-filling continuity to Hellbound. J.P., with his slick hairdo and gift roses, is much closer to Frank than the bland, clichéd Dr. Channard, and his motivations are much clearer. Having him convinced by the cunniving Pinhead is a more level-headed, but eventually much more effective way to forward the plot than making him an archetypical character who acts solely on conventions (such as Channard). J.P. is the cool dude you love to hate, and whose greed and lush will drive him to murder. Opposite to him is punkette (and ex-girlfriend) Terri whose lack of self-confidence makes her the ideal prey. She is very much a teenage character, and her demise is actually, genuinely sad.

As for Pinhead, he steals the show. Not because he betters it, but because he mares it with his overwhelming presence. It's actually incredible to see to what lenghts the makers of this film have gone to showcase him. He talks, talks, talks, and it's so tedious that we almost wish that he would go back to the concise, non-obstrusive one-liners of the previous films. Then, there are the flash-backs/Limbo scenes, designed to flesh out Pinhead, the man (i.e. Captain Elliott Spencer, British officer during WWI). These are actually the best-produced, most impressive scenes in the film, yet their relevance is highly questionable. You see, thanks to a loophole in dream law, Joey can actually enter Spencer's dreams through her own. Whether you can buy that stuff or not doesn't change the fact that dreams are dishonest plot devices. In a particularly contrived, convenient sequence, Spencer (in full military garb, walking through elaborate, shifting sets) explains to Joey his entire life story up to the events seen in Hellbound (thus warranting some footage recycling à la Rocky IV). Although I would argue that Hellbound's raggedy scenario is partly to blame, such a sequence sabotages the whole premise. The protagonist is a journalist for God's sake! Why not let her investigate the story instead of offering such resolution on a silver platter! Early on, she boasts about how she wants a career of "tight stories, not tight skirts". But in the final scene, she ends up tied to a pole with leather straps while two men discuss her faith. That's the steel Hell on Earth is made of: an intriguing and well-laid premise that eventually curls on itself and dies while the echos of wise-cracking zombies annoyingly reverberate in our hollowed-out minds. For the film critic, Hell is truly about dudes with head-grafted cameras asking a runaway protagonist: "Ready for your close-up, bitch?"

Hell on Earth has replaced Hellbound's nonsensical, metaphor-heavy scenario with a more straightforward albeit conventional one. It has better, rounder characters instead of the theatrical archetypes of the previous installment, with weaker and less interesting FX, more gore and sets just as uninteresting. Take your pick.

2/5 Campy and wholly watchable teenage film without any real ambition.

Hellbound: Hellraiser II (1988)

Review #0036

The Hellraiser series' fall from grace happens a scant year after the original, with this five-story drop of a sequel. Uncredited editor Tony Randel is now at the helm, and he does try his darndest to put into images the undescribably awful scenario he has to work with.

Chronologically, Hellbound starts a few hours after the original. But logically, it takes place in a completely different universe. When Kirsty wakes up from the terrible nightmare that has ravaged her family, she is in a mental institution. But not any institution: the Channard Institute, led by Dr. Philip Channard, a creepy brain surgeon obsessed by the idea of visiting Hell. Using a blood-stained mattress from the house on Ludovico street (which I could swear had burned to a crisp at the end of Hellraiser), he resurrects Julia, Kirsty's evil stepmother, to act as guide. Simultaneously, Kirsty receives a message from what appears to be her dead, skinless father saying he wants out of Hell. Needless to say that Channard, Julia and Kirsty are all Hellbound. Thanks to a mute, puzzle-solving girl, the Box somehow allows them passage, and a tedious explorative journey ensues.

What's worse is not the fact that Hellbound systematically contradicts everything we learned from Hellraiser, or that the script is made almost entirely of cheesy one-liners and tacked-on background bits. What's worse is its depiction of Hell as a dusty, old labyrinth where nothing happens, and its master as a rotating, hovering prism that does nothing but serve as a convenient plot device near the end. Ouff... Even the abysmal Thaï remake of Jigoku (Narok, the worst film I saw at the 2006 Fantasia Film Fest) had more enticing imagery! Clearly, the makers of this film have privileged the Haunted House approach to filmmaking. In other words, they have made the lazy decision of using Hell as a way to show horrific images out of context and out of sequence. Thus, we get moaning specters on sliding beds, bleeding photographs, slow-motion sex parties, clowns juggling with eyeballs, skin-ripping winds, and all sorts of scare devices conveniently warranted by "Hell logic". We even get to see uncle Frank pop up, try to convince Kirsty to become his sex slave by threatening her with a switchblade, then spontaneously combust while Pinhead makes a voice-over comment. Yet, the most ridiculous contraption in the film is certainly the Cenobite-making machine. You read that correctly: Cenobites are created industrially by that mesmerizing rotating prism, Leviathan. Why there aren't more of them or why they fight each other will forever remain a mystery. But what's annoying here are not the huge plot holes or the highly dubious causes à effets, but the denaturation of all the intriguing concepts from Hellraiser. No longer are the Cenobites "explorers in the further regions of experience", they're just a bunch of brainwashed, anti-frost-blooded freaks with silly backgrounds. The question of choice has eloped and with it the heart and soul of Barker's original novella. Fortunately, Julia and lovely Kirsty are back for a rematch that takes center stage while paper-thin supporting characters flail for attention in the waivers.

On the plus side, the first half of the film is genuinely engrossing as we witness the nasty ressurection of Julia and anxiously await departure to Hell. Once there, everything falls apart. Our Milton and Bosch-fed imaginations are offered scraps of dusty Antique mythology while cryptic metaphors about labyrinths echo in the hollow corridors around us. The whole film is a failed opportunity. Just as the Channard Cenobite, whose flawless design (complete with scar-sewn face, metamorphic tentacles, and penis-shaped head appendix) fails to compensate for its overall flatness. Because you see, the Cenobite-making machine has one nasty side-effect: it limits your dialogue output to one line or less at a time. So you can expect a lot of Dr. Giggles type wisecracks, but not much in the way of closure or excitement since "Hell logic" apparently doesn't allow it. Even the all-out Cenobite brawl and the three-way final duel are too short and ridiculously resolved. In the end, Hellbound is but a jumbled portfolio of horror-themed art tacked together for a rushed release.

2/5 The grotesquely horrific content of the film is equalled only by the horrific scenario.

Hellraiser (1987)

Review #0035

Hellraiser is Clive Barker's adaptation of his own novella, The Hellbound Heart. In the transfer, he has tacked-on a more "filmic" ending and awarded Kirsty a much greater role. Of course, I was happy to see the young woman (played by gorgeous 21-years-old American actress Ashley Laurence) get as much screen time as possible. On the other hand, I was not totally convinced by her dream scene (which adds nothing to the plot but a dubious hint of ESP) and her under-developed romance with some bland boy whose name I don't even remember (a relationship that adds nothing to the plot either). To be perfectly honest, I felt that all elements extraneous to the novella seemed contrived, even unwanted by Barker himself. Still, the film unveiled him as a competent director who can successfully translate words into cinematic expressions.


The scenario is almost Shakespearian in nature. It features the fratricidal relationship between evil Frank, good Larry and Julia, the bitch queen inbetween. You see, Frank is an explorer of extreme pleasures. Bored with sex and drugs, he summoned the "Cenobites", sado-masochistic demons from Hell who offered him the ultimate S&M experience (which obviously killed him). When brother Larry and second wife Julia (Frank's one-time lover) move in the now-abandoned family mansion, they revive Frank by spilling blood on the spot where he died. But the resurrected Frank is incomplete. He needs blood in order to recover his flesh and skin. Using a promise she made in the throes of ecstasy, Frank manipulates Julia into bringing him unsuspecting victims, namely lonely men she lures home with the promise of sex. There's only one small dent in their plan: Larry's daughter, Kirsty. Once she learns of their murderous doings, she strikes a deal with the Cenobites: Frank's life in exchange of her own. In the end, everybody's dead but beautiful Kirsty and her bland boyfriend.

The film benefits mostly from a haunting score, Barker's masterful adaptation of the source material into a concise, suspenseful cinematic experience and from some incredible special effects that move this classic tale of horror into the realm of the grotesque. The back story is superbly integrated to the ongoing plot (a case in point: the breathtaking cross-cut sequence involving both Julia's flashbacks of Frank and Larry's inevitable accident with the protruding nail) while the huge set full of stairs allows for some great, dramatic camera movements. Rhythmically, the film is excellent. It also features some of the greatest horror FX of the day, used with tremendous effect to showcase Frank's transformation. In my book, the scene where he rises from under the floorboards is one of the greatest in all of horror cinema. It is gooey, well-framed, well-edited, well-animated, and freaky as hell! Personally, I think this scene alone is worth the price of the best-quality DVD available.


Unfortunately, the film also features some lame, contrived add-ons to the original story which only mares the radical efficiency of the film. The 'engineer' character, for example, seems to have been tacked-on only to prove the proficiency of the FX crew. But its presence is irrelevant to the story, even annoying. Its morphology is interesting, in a purely graphic way, but it makes the creature non-functional. Seeing it "hover" above the ground and flailing its arms to no avail, we almost feel sorry for it. Its presence in the final scene is more than underwhelming since it seems incapable of interacting with human actors. In fact, the entire scene following Frank's demise is laughable. This sequence is superfluous, clichéd and unwelcome. It even transforms the grotesque Cenobites into token 'bad guys'. And this line by Pinhead (then called "Lead Cenobite"), this pathetic: "Don't do that!". Ouff...

Now, that's another thing: the Cenobites are freaky, yet they are almost criminally under-developed. Sure, their suits and makeup are memorable, but they lack a real onscreen presence. They only spurt "cool" one-liners that fail to really flesh out their characters. It's as if they were intentionally designed as camp objects! To me, the real pop icon here is Gary Turncliffe, the guy who designed Pinhead, and not Doug Bradley who merely chews through his lines. After all, it is Giger we worship for creating Alien, not Bolaji Badejo, the Nigerian titan (7'2'') who donned the costume.

3,5/5 The film comes short of greatness only because of the superfluous elements tacked-on to this otherwise great horror story.

All Night Long 2: Atrocity (1995)

Review #0034

This second entry in the infamous All Night Long series is not a sequel. It's just another bloody story of revenge pitting nerds against homicidal gang members. Shunichi is a typical recluse nerd enamored with a naked plastic model. He mostly stays home chatting on the Internet (a very early, crude version thereof) because outside roams a sadistic gang of bullies hellbent on torturing him. Their leader, a soft-demeanered psycho wearing all white, is apparently an old friend who's got a considerable crush on him. After a series of grueling trials (including the crushing of his beloved model, cigarette burns to the genitals, severe beatings, and a sordid night out where he is forced to torture a raped, starved, nail-less, humiliated, fork-punctured girl), Shunichi finally manages to find some friends off the Internet who are willing to lend him the money he "owes" his bullies. That night, they celebrate. Until they are all taken hostage by the gang and tortured "all night long". In the end, everybody is dead (even the gerbil) except Shunichi , who has taken justice by the sword, thus matching the ruthlessness of his captors.


This film is akin to theater. It is shot in bare, interior sets using a cheap video camera that manages to capture every sordid detail in the frame. Using almost no artifice (including close-ups and camera movements), the film is all about content, that is the extreme cruelty of the gang members and the bloody retaliation that ensues, which we are forced to watch from beginning to end. Confronted head-on with this surprisingly vicious violence, the viewer is in for a very unpleasant, nerve-racking experience.

Atrocity is one of the most depressing, disturbing films I have ever seen. There is nothing good, or uplifting about the protagonist. He spends his time alone in a dark room filled with disorganized piles of stuff, with no family or friends to look after him. And when he does make friends, they are savagely tortured in front of him. His most faithful companion is the mute plastic model, which he lovingly paints and kisses to a soft, sad tune. I have tears in my eyes just thinking about it: extreme solitude embodied by this scene of a boy and his plastic lover (shot to that damn syrupy song!). I was also disturbed when the innocent gerbil was splashed with (fake) blood. For me, that was another symbol of innocence soiled. Everything in the film is dark, twisted but most of all, inescapable. The faith of Shunichi was sealed the instant that bunch of sadistic gaylords set sights on him. Unfortunately, he is not the only victim here. There are two young (and pretty) girls whose treatment could infuriate the most stoic of women. And two other male victims who are forced to chew knives or watch their girlfriend being drugged and raped.

Atrocity didn't get a theatrical release because Eirin (the bad-ass Japanese rating board that fought to get tame Battle Royale banned) wouldn't allow it, saying the "overall tone of the film was unacceptable". Although I don't agree with any form of censorship, I must say that the film's tone is indeed unacceptable (for the general public). For the first 65 minutes, it almost solely features sadistic tortures dished out on innocents, while the last 12 minutes only shows sadistic tortures dished out by soiled innocents on the guilty. Overall, all we observe is the sick pleasure of sick individuals. Nihilists, to say the least, who value human life only insofar as other people's pain is the remedy to their own ailments. Why anybody with a healthy mind would want to see this is highly questionable.

Now, whether the film is a serious psychological study of extreme, asocial behavior (typical of the Japanese do-or-die mentality) or simply a despicably exploitative piece of garbage is up to you, the viewer. But ethical questions aside, the film is intense as very few and it features many memorable scenes of real-life horror. It may be lacking some production values, but it is undeniably effective as a masochistic experience. Watch it, then you will feel completely hollow.

2,5/5 A cheap film that works.