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

---

• 
  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


• 
  Sets random fires


• 
  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.

Fun Times With Skull Butter

Dear Readers,

I know there are already two reviews of Carlos Puerto's 1977 film "Escalofrío" (aka "Satan's Blood") on this site... but mine has lots of pretty pictures! Allow me to depart from my usual verbose method of film critique and give you the Jeff's Notes version:



How To Live Like A Satanist

---

First, grow a beard and decorate in Tarot Cards:




Next, do what Satanists (apparently) do best: undress women!




Now cut the cheese!


"Why don't you cut the cheese, huh?"


Contact kosher spirits with the Jewija Board!




Finally, make sure you provide a decent home to Chucky's Grandma...





...because she makes the best homemade Skull Butter in Spain!
Skull Butter!!!


Two Georges for plenty of full-frontal nudity and one because I laughed a lot at the unintentional humor. That means at Dudes of Horror, this movie has thrice received a George Rating of three! Three threes? 333! That's half of 666! And look! I unconsciously posted six photos from the film! Help! I'm becoming a Satanist! Where's my skull butter!?!?!?

Satan Digs Nekid Chicks – Satan’s Blood (1978) or if you want to be all proper Escalofrío

Jeff – as requested. Karl already posted his review, here’s mine. Where’s yours?

Caveat: Jeff & Karl gave me the Cliff’s Notes version of the film as I came in 47 minutes late. They kindly provided their thoughts on the well thought out and superbly written plot, Machiavellian twists, the rules of Jewish Ouija and pointed out that skull butter is probably a better lube than Crisco.

So now I know that Bob & Carol along with their dog Blackie setting out for a mini-break when Ted & Alice came along and invited them along to Satan’s Cabin. Side note: if I took one step in the house and saw Evilyn the doll displayed on the table, I would have turned around walked right out of the Manor and headed home – dolls like that are always up to no good.

Carol gets attacked by the guy who is wearing the same outfit as the fisherman who gets hit in I Know What You Did Last Summer, minus the hook of course, freaks out completely and persuades Bob to get dressed and leave. They come upon Ted & Alice all nekid in the living room and before they can say “Jesus save me” Alice channels Kathleen Turner or I suppose, it could have been Satan, and Bob & Carol are nekid too and then the fun begins.

From here on, as Karl mentions in his review is where it all gets a little confusing – Ted somehow gets shot in the temple; whether Alice killed him or he shot himself, this time getting it right, is the question. Immediately after it happens as she does her best Eddie Izzard impression and takes off on her scooter to parts unknown. Carol, apparently a nurse, sets about trying to keep him alive by applying pressure to the wound. When Alice and Doctor come back some time later, the Doc takes one look at Ted and declares that Bob killed him.

Apparently there’s some more naked stuff and something about Alice killing herself – I don’t know if Satan commanded it or not, as I was doing important stuff like hulling strawberries. I do know that Carol is an excellent shot and blows little Evilyn’s head off resulting in a geyser of blood the likes of which hasn’t been seen in sometime. For some reason the house decides that this is a bad thing, I don’t know if it was the zombies or the doll, yet our heroes escape and manage to get home only to find that the Salvation Army has all their crap and the neighbors are shooting the video for Dead Man’s Party.

I would say it’s worthy of 3, maybe 4 George’s based on the amount of nekidness and for the awesome soundtrack alone.

Satan's Blood (1977)

This is what happens when swinging goes bad.
This ribald little Spanish ditty opens with a bang, in the midst of some sort of satanic ritual where a creepy priest? strips a nubile lass and has his way with her in front of the black mass and then sacrifices her. End scene and cut to something completely unrelated.

A young well-to-do set of DINKs (double income no kids) and their dog leaves their apartment and drives through town. During their drive, they are recognized by an old college friend of the male half of the couple while stopped at a traffic light. This new couple invite the DINKs to their place outside of town so they can catch up on old times.

After a verrrrrry long drive they finally arrive and they settle in for some good times. Well, they have a bite, have a chat, then they start to have a bit of fun with a Ouija table which gets a little weird. Later in the evening, the DINKs walk into the den to find the other couple nude and kneeling around a freshly made pentagram. The DINKs get mesmerized or hip-mow-tized or something –ized and get nekkid too. This is when the evening hits its high point and everyone gets it ON. There is a lot of writhing and canoodling going on and at one point some sort of body lube gets applied to everyone. The best part of the lube is the container, a skull. Yeah, baby. “Whenever I have ritualistic sex in the name of my Dark Lord, I always use Old Scratch Skull Butter.”

Anyhoo, after that it gets confusing. At one point the host male is shot in the head and no one can seem to determine if it was suicide or homicide and then his body goes missing, so even death is difficult to label here. A doctor is brought to the house but can’t help if there is no patient to treat. Then the host female tries to off herself. Again, difficult to tell whether she succeeds or not. Then the host male pops up again lumbering toward the male DINK who gives him a little more lead poisoning. The DINK couple tries several times to leave while all the post-sex confusion is going on. Finally they succeed in getting the hell out of Dodge.

In addition to the dead/not dead wackiness, there are several elements that add to the Hunh? Factor. Their dog is killed for some reason that is never explained. There is a creepy doll that becomes ambulatory at one point and cries blood. It gets dispatched with a gun and then the house battens all its hatches in response to the doll’s death. I guess Satan was really attached to his dolly and threw a hissy. There is also a lurking guy outside this villa that we see in cutaways throughout the film. At one point we see another lurker who gets killed by the first lurker. No one in the house ever becomes aware of this lurker Darwinism action.

The movie ends with the DINK couple arriving back at their apartment, only to find that all their belongings are gone. Confused, the couple goes back into the hallway where they are comforted by their neighbors across the hall, who take them into their apartment to console them. Inside their neighbors’ place is a the familiar pentagram on the floor, lots o black candles and everyone from the swingers villa looking like ghouls, even the lurkers!

The final scene focuses on a young couple driving through town and when they stop at a traffic light, they get “recognized’ by a “college buddy” and invited to a villa outside of town. Who is the buddy? Why, it’s the male DINK! Ahhh, the circle of life.

Even with the confusion factored in, I still give this 3 Georges for a good solid opening, for canoodling with skull butter, and for the creepy exploding bloody head doll.