Eyes of Laura Mars (1978)

This is a actually a mystery/thriller, not a horror movie per se... but since it appeared in the FearNet section of Comcast's OnDemand service (and since I am trying to recover from a dearth of posts) I'm reviewing the damn thing. It starred Faye Dunaway, Tommy Lee Jones, Raul Julia, and Brad Dourif who were all directed by Irvin Kershner (Empire Strikes Back ring a bell?) So that's how I was suckered in, anyhow.

In hindsight, I probably should have re-watched The Virgin Witch.

John Carpenter has yet to make me his fan, and this story didn't help. To the Eyes of Jeff Horror, this seemed like a lame Hitchcock attempt... minus the clever Hitchcock ending. That being said, there is a truly creepy performance by one of the actors in the end (I'm avoiding serious spoilers.) I dug the music by Artie Kane who also scored Devil Dog, Hound of Hell (a film released on television in the same year.)

On the musically negative side we find the featured song, "Prisoner", by Barbara Streisand. It was a perfect choice of song topic for the film's audience (I wanted to be freed) but I truly can't stand that bitch. One of the producers was dating Streisand at the time and bought this script for her to star in, but she declined. Thank George for that. I could stomach Tommy Lee Jones getting busy with Faye Dunaway... but Streisand? Ugh.

The titular character, a career photographer, is cursed with seeing through the eyes of a serial killer in her nightmares. She turns a negative to a positive by using these images in her work which becomes both sensational and extremely lucrative, two adjectives that I doubt applied to the box office release of this movie. (Ok, so the film made money- but it was no Star Wars.) Her photographs are much in the same vein of those by Helmut Newton, which makes sense because many of the photos used in the movie were taken by Helmut Newton.

I slagged though this film curious to see a young Brad Dourif in his usual role as creepmeister and curious to see if the nude photographer plot device would pay off with some high grade nudity that the Eyes of a Dude could take in. (High quality, indeed, but too brief. You're much better off with Hostel.)


Brad being hot.
I had to keep my sights on the puerile aspects of the film because it wasn't doing too much to engage me as a thriller through its plot. A lot more tension could have been built by having the protagonist see herself though the eyes of the killer during a few scenes. It would have been more affecting- at least to this viewer- than multiple murder scenes composed similarly from a shot of an icepick approaching the victim's eye cut to a close-up of the eye surround by a few dabs of theatrical blood. Meh.

Two Georges for moderate levels of creep, decent production value, and a smattering of fashionista flick-tips on screen. Negative points awarded for inflicting Barbara Streisand during the credit sequences.

Devil Dog: Hound of Hell (1978)

Lost: Devil Dog, Hound of Hell

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• 
  Last seen on TV in 1978


• 
  Father victimized by Martine Beswicke in a satanic cult ritual


• 
  Sold into the slavery of a wandering pedophile


• 
  Shot by Richard Crenna


• 
  Immolates housemaids


• 
  Causes drowning


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  Sets random fires


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  Mesmerizes homeowners to attempt self-mutilation


• 
  Corrupts families


• 
  Breeds insanity


• 
  Is possessed by the devil


• 
  Answers to name of "Lucky"

The Lifetime Channel's Horror Spotlight Presents: El Orfanato

This movie is the English Patient of horror films. Like a dramatic love story, you need to have a soft spot somewhere in your heart to enjoy the full impact of this film. So I fucking hated it. F. Epic Fail.

Alright, alright... so this isn't really a beer chugging, pizza and wild times with your friends feel-good zombie romp. It's a high production ghost story that relies heavily on a realistic sense of creep. Whereas the classic "Dead" films (the Dawn of the Deads, the Evil Deads) hit you over the head with gory images and lead you into a hyper-realistic world of special effects makeup, El Orfanato's few gory images take place within the context of the "real world" conjured up for the viewer by an adept production crew. When a horrible image is portrayed it's affecting not simply in a "ewww yuck!" or "wow, that was cool" way; rather, it's like waking up in the middle of the night to find a half-rotted animal twitching under your bed. It works.

I conjure up the sublime, unholy-yet-hallowed names of the Dead Movies for good reason: El Orfanato approaches this level of horror greatness. Yet, in the macabre zoo of horror film beasties you'll find this Guillermo del Toro offering to be a half-rotted animal indeed: its genetic makeup of half horror and half heartstring-pulling drama make taxonomical placement difficult. Ultimately, the film doesn't fully satisfy the requirements of either camp to be the shining star of any particular pigeon-holed genre... and this is good. It stands on its own- each foot firmly placed across categorical boundary lines- to affect its audience while telling a solid story. Simply put, it's a really good movie.

We are not, however, The Dudes of Drama. There are no laughs and no boobs; furthermore, finding myself at the closing credits feeling like a middle-aged woman who just sat through the fucking Bridges of Madison County means that something is quite amiss in Dudeville. Arriving at a rating somewhere between 3 and 4, I hired a team of Spanish mediums to contact the spirit of our dearly departed namesake, George. I took his ghostly squeaks of approval in my ears to indicate that extra fractions of George points could be awarded not only for the excellent and effective Dolby Digital 5.1 sound mix but also for the brief cameo of one of George's relatives in the scene where the cache of dolls is discovered.

The Orphanage rates a solid four Georges, but don't plan a party around it- you may be too bummed out afterward to eat the cake.

The Virgin Witch (1972)

There isn't too much I can say about this film that Edgar Wright hasn't already said about it (at length) here but I'll try.

First of all, this movie scores a George right out of the gate: quite literally in the very first frame of actual movie footage. Blam! Bewbs! A second George for laughs may as well be awarded in the next few seconds, as the opening credits are so humorously spattered with campy shocked expressions on nude actresses that you can't help but laugh. I'll admit that I was hooked from the start, and set about trying to organize a Dudes viewing as soon as I could. (Thank you, The Jesus, ever so much for bringing this film's existence to my attention!)

Secondly, it is worth noting that Edgar admittedly has a fondness for inflicting "bad" films like this one on groups of friends. As someone who has scared away too many of Maude's friends in the past for doing just the same, I'm not about to cast any stones in that direction; rather, I'd go so far to say that this is the only way to properly enjoy this film. Without a group of friends to laugh at the many unintentionally funny moments, you may find yourself somewhat ashamed to be spending 88 minutes alone with Ann Michelle's naked seventies boobs on your television screen. Or not. Depends on who you are, I suppose.

Edgar pointed out that many of the actors appearing nude should not have. It was just such a scene (the ritual in the final reel) that drove Maude out of the viewing room. As a matter of fact, I think it was this dude who did the trick:



On the other hand, if I had grown up (as I suppose Edgar did) watching Vicki Michelle in countless BBC reruns of 'Allo 'Allo then I'd be scouring the internet trying to get my hands on this film. For an American teenage boy today it would be akin to discovering that Keri Russell appeared fully naked for gratuitous amounts of screen time in a seedy "Rosemary's Baby" ripoff.

Although it has been pointed out elsewhere that the sisters portrayed in the film are, in fact, real-life sisters (Ann and Vicki Michelle) I haven't seen any mention of a rather taboo moment between them. As we all know from films like Satan's Blood, you can't have an occult ritual without rubbing down a naked female with some form of lubricant. To prepare her sister for initiation into the coven, Ann Michelle makes sure that Vicki gets her left breast adequately lubed up for the occasion. Perhaps if I were a gal I'd think nothing of rubbing tanning lotion all over my sister's breasts while vacationing at some European beach... but as a guy I can't help but think this movie moment was pretty damn pervy. Chalk it up to the perverse powers of Skull Butter, I suppose.



The Virgin Witch does indeed entertain, but the only scares came from seeing creepy grandpa up there in the buff. Although seeing this in 1972 was probably much more shocking to the average Joe than it is for a Dude of Horror in 2009, in a modern context it is just plain silly. Aside from the laughs and the flesh-fest there simply wasn't anything else present to boost my rating above 2.5 Georges. Karl, who watched this film with me from a remote location in our beta testing of "Remoto", arrived at this same rating. Watch it with your friends, but follow it up with something truly frightening.

El Orfanato (The Orphanage) (2007)

Why is it that all ghost stories all occur in creepy old HUGE houses? Why is it (except for that one episode of Angel) that they never happen in apartments? Is it something in the fundamental nature of creepy huge houses. I mean I live in huge old house that's divided up into apartments, but no ghosts (considering we think it used to be a brothel back in the day, one would think there'd be a ghost or two of a whore wandering about, but no... the guy in the basement thought he heard a ghost once, but it turned out to be my cat). What was I talking about, oh yeah, creepy old houses & ghosts, so yeah, did you see The Others? If so, you may as well have seen El Orfanato. This is not to say I didn't like the movie, quite the opposite in fact, I very much enjoyed the flick. It relied upon the score to create that essential atmosphere of creepy. If I could have been fortunate enough to see it with surround sound, I'd probably be scared out of my wits - especially the psychic scene (I kept waiting for the psychic from Poltergeist to show up). It had a better story and was beautifully shot, however, once the old woman is identified, you know where the story is going. Albeit except for the twist at the end (spoiler - it's kind of an M. Night twist)

That said, I sincerely believe the little kid who played Simón could pull off Damien in a heartbeat.
Not to mention his little invisible friend who thinks he's the Scarecrow from Batmang - that kid gave me the willies.

All in all an enjoyable flick, very worthwhile. It was apropos that I happened to watch it during a thunderstorm, which made the atmosphere even better. If I had an ounce of foresight, I could have watched it via candlelight.

Oh yeah, sorry boys, no nudity.

Still,

4 Georges.