Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Ghoulies (1985)



We open in the midst of a Satanic mass being conducted by Michael Des Barres (minor rock star, recurring MacGyver villain and ex-husband of famous groupie Pamela Des Barres), who's wearing an impressive set of horns. The mass is attended by white-robed cultists and small snot-encrusted puppet creatures. Des Barres is about to sacrifice his own baby when the mother comes forward to object, placing a protective talisman on it. He is so pissed he takes off his horns and tells cultist and David Lynch regular Jack Nance to take the baby away. He then uses his magic powers to rip the mother's heart from her chest while the puppets (known as Ghoulies) pin her down; unfortunately we don't see the end result but we do hear an amusing "Splut!" sound.



Then we get by far the creepiest moment of the entire movie, when a white-robed Jack Nance tells the baby that it is going to be safe. Cue the credits...



Charles Band is the undisputed king of the Small Creatures Attack subgenre of the horror movie. As producer and/or director of such movies as Puppet Master (which spawned nine sequels), Troll and Demonic Toys, Band's response to an idea like "Dirty Harry in space" would be to say, "Wouldn't it be better if he was six inches tall?" Band's dollmania peaked in the late '80s and early '90s, which I consider to be one of the worst times for horror movies as the genre was dominated by jokey bullshit, and his tiny terrors certainly contributed to the appalling state of the genre. He's still actively cranking out these things, with relatively recent effors like The Gingerdead Man and Evil Bong leading to sequels and crossovers with each other.



Even the stupidest obsessions have to start somewhere, and as far as I can tell the first time Charles Band expressed his cinematic love for small bitey things was Ghoulies. In this instance he farmed out the directing chores to Luca Bercovici, who also co-wrote the script. This is one of the few occassions where I found myself wishing that Charles Band had directed a movie himself, because Ghoulies is a badly paced movie with no visual panache.



The first half of the movie is taken up mostly by the exploits of Jonathan, the grown-up baby from the pre-credits sequence, after he has inherited his late father's mansion. He's been reading through dad's library, and decides to liven up his housewarming party with a summoning ritual. Nobody notices at first that this works and brings through some ghoulies, but soon Jonathan is regularly putting on his robes and doing black magic, much to the chagrin of his girlfriend Rebecca. Soon Jonathan is mind-controlling everyone so that he can rope them into more elaborate rituals. Infrequent and awkwardly placed voice-over narration by Jack Nance explains that he is himself being controlled by his father.



Eventually Michael Des Barres is brought back from the dead while the ghoulies get serious and slaughter everyone. This is by far the most entertaining part of the movie, as the wee beasties make short work of Jonathan's idiotic friends. There's some minimal gore, an arresting scene where Bobbie Bresee throttles a guy with her ridiculously long and prehensile tongue (this scene reminded me of A Chinese Ghost Story), and a genuinely unnerving bit where a life-sized clown doll leaks green goo from its eyes.



It all leads to a climax where everything is made worthwhile for the sight of Jack Nance dressed as a wizard. If you're not turned on by the idea of Henry from Eraserhead in a purple robe and having a magical duel with a washed-up British rocker, Ghoulies probably isn't the movie for you. As a Gremlins ripoff it's no Critters, and as a story of black magic it's no Simon, King of the Witches. Somebody clearly liked it because it managed to spawn three sequels. I guess I have to watch those now. The second is written by Dennis Paoli (Re-Animator, From Beyond, Dagon) so it may have something going for it.


This has been a Shortening in the tradition of The Deadly Doll's House of Horror Nonsense.

Saturday, July 20, 2013

I saw Suspiria live

This will probably be my shortest blog entry ever. About ten minutes ago I got home from a quick trip to Auckland to see Suspiria with Goblin playing the score as a live accompaniment. I think I understand what a religious experience is like now.

I'm a terrible photographer, but here is the gorgeous Civic theatre shortly before the band took the stage.


Thursday, July 4, 2013

Eyes Without a Face (1959)

For many years, the horror movie was closely associated with crumbling castles, gas-lit streets, mobs with torches and pitchforks, and the likes of Dracula, Frankenstein's Monster, the Mummy and the Wolf Man. Nowadays, when most people think of horror movies none of these things initially come to mind. The exact point where everything changed is difficult to find, but many people point to George Romero's Night of the Living Dead as being the turning point. As much as I love that movie and appreciate its enormous influence and importance to the genre, I think we have to look almost a decade earlier and well away from America to see where the horror movie really got it on with the 20th century.

A mere two years after England's Hammer Studios revived the horror genre by going back to its roots first with Frankenstein and then with DraculaEyes Without a Face gave us the modern horror movie in all its glory, perhaps for the first time. It's a beautifully made movie that would be a classic even if it were not such an important work in the history of the genre, and despite being a black and white movie over fifty years old, it still works its magic today. Or should I say its science? This is a movie that takes place resolutely in the real world, for all its poetic beauty and allegorical qualities. And yet in its way, it is absolutely a Gothic horror story: the shade of a dead girl wanders the corridors of an isolated mansion while a mad scientist performs hideous experiments in the basement. Eyes Without a Face straddles "classic horror" and "modern horror" so perfectly, it could have been designed specifically to demarcate the line between the two.


The movie opens with a woman (Alida Valli, somewhere between The Third Man and Suspiria) covertly driving a corpse to the river for disposal. All we can see at first is that there is something terribly wrong with its face beneath a pulled-down hat; when she drags it out of the car we see that under the man's raincoat is a naked female body. When the body is subsequently found by the police, Dr. Génessier (Pierre Brausseur) identifies it as his daughter Christiane, who had gone missing after her face was disfigured in a car accident. But the woman accompanying Génessier at the funeral, Louise, is the same one who disposed of the body, and when they return home we find that Christiane (Edith Scob) is kept hidden there, her face behind a white porcelain mask. It transpires that Génessier, who was responsible for the accident which disfigured his daughter, has been attempting experimental skin grafts to restore her face and that the dead woman at the beginning was the unwilling donor for the latest attempt.


All of this is played in an interesting combination of strict realism and fairy-tale poetics. Christiane is played as a princess locked in an ivory tower; Scob essays the role with a very theatrical body language. Meanwhile, Dr. Génessier and Louise go about the business of finding donors with a cold efficiency. Louise is the one who goes out and finds them - in a chilling sequence of events we see her calculatedly approach and seduce a student called Edna, taking her time to gain the young woman's trust before luring her to Génessier's house. Louise is most certainly portrayed as being a lesbian, and not just in these scenes; although she is deeply loyal to Génessier, who has apparently saved her own face at some point in the past, she is even more devoted to Christiane. She is also very troubled by her conscience; she is upset at the deception when they are burying one of their victims in the family tomb as if it were Christiane, and even more so when Génessier deposits yet another victim in the tomb as if he were throwing away a bag of rubbish.



Génessier is far less sympathetic. He is cold and controlling, and the scenes which show him as a competent physician with a pleasant bedside manner only serve to show that he is capable of faking human emotion when he needs to. Although he does really seem to love his daughter, and is a little upset by the difficulty there will be in reconciling her with her fiance (who also happens to be his young colleague and probably his disciple) when she is supposed to be dead, he seems more annoyed that he has damaged his "possession" than that he has caused her pain and grief. In fact, he seems barely to notice her extreme depression.



Christiane is more difficult to pin down. It is unclear just how complicit she really is in her father's schemes - she does seem aware that he is transplanting other women's faces onto her own, but at the same time she doesn't seem to have processed what this actually means. This may simply be a result of how introverted and self-involved she has become since the accident - she does not seem to be wholly in her right mind, and the movie does seem to portray her as being an innocent. The scene where she wanders through the kennels where her father keeps the constantly-barking dogs he uses for experiments and calms them is a case in point. In any case, Scob's very expressive eyes often seem to hint at barely-restrained madness even as she drifts wraith-like through the enormous house. In a very real sense she is a ghost; the world believes she is dead, and yet there she is.


The way that these Gothic tropes are relocated to contemporary Paris is what makes Eyes Without a Face the first really modern horror movie. Realistic performances by most of the cast dovetail perfectly with Scob's more traditional horror-movie role. And then there is the surgery scene, where we actually see - in significant detail and graphic close-up - as Génessier first marks out, then cuts, and finally removes a woman's face. The special effects have dated in the last fifty-odd years, but the scene still packs a punch. Meanwhile we only catch a glimpse of Christiane's disfigurement, but the impression it gives is enough.



Outside of the cloistered and stifling world Génessier has built for Christiane and Louise, we get to see an extremely inefficient police inquiry that is the closest the movie gets to traditional B-movie territory. The idea of coercing a young woman caught shoplifting into being used as bait is completely hare-brained, and the police seem to have no idea how this is going to work. All that they manage to accomplish is to get another young woman onto Génessier's operating table with a minimum of fuss, which finally prompts Christiane into decisive action. After being a passive victim for the entire movie, Christiane sets the woman free, stabs Louise to death with a scalpel (Louise's puzzled reaction to this is quite affecting), and sets the dogs on her father before finally wandering out into the night, presumably to her own death.


The realism of the movie is contrasted (but not undercut) by the dreamy mise-en-scène; much of the photography, especially those establishing place, have a hazy, dreamlike quality which contrasts with the more hard-edged scenes inside the clinic and Génessier's house. Director Georges Franju would later use a similar style for his much more surreal Judex, a homage to the silent movie serials of Louis Feuillade. It also contrasts nicely with the potboiler elements of the script, which is written by the team of Pierre Boileau and Thomas Narcejac, who had previously provided source material for Les Diaboliques and Vertigo.


This movie would be copied many times over the years. It is worth making a direct comparison with what was probably the first imitator, Jess Franco's 1961 film The Awful Dr. Orlof, which takes the exact same situation (a surgeon attempting to graft other women's faces onto that of his disfigured daughter) and turns it into a complete sleaze-fest, focusing on the evil Doctor and his monstrous assistant Morpho as they kidnap drunken prostitutes and cabaret performers to drag back to their remote crumbling castle. Franco keeps the atmosphere dark and dank, inserts possibly the first ever gratuitous nude body-doubling in movies, denies the equivalent of the Christiane character any dialogue or agency (in fact she spends the whole movie locked in a dungeon and doesn't even get to stand up), makes the police even stupider, and generally avoids art in favour of exploitation at every turn.


Although it was a critical disaster at the time and was released as exploitation (in the US it was retitled The Horror Chamber of Dr. Faustus and put on a double bill with the gonzo Japanese/American monster movie The Manster), Eyes Without a Face has gone on to be admired as a masterpiece of world cinema. And so, modern horror - and in particular, what we now think of as Euro-horror - began.



Here's the double-bill trailer:


Here's some highlights from the movie set to Portishead's music:


Here's the Billy Idol song of the same name, which actually features the movie's original French title in its background vocals:

Monday, May 27, 2013

Universal Soldier: Day of Reckoning (2012)

The movie opens with the camera representing the point of view of someone waking up in the middle of the night. You find that you are a man in bed with his wife, having been just awakened by your young daughter complaining that there are monsters in the house. You get up and go to the bathroom, splashing your face with water and catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. As you investigate the house, calling back that there are no monsters in the living room or the study, your daughter tells you to check the kitchen. When you push open the kitchen door, there are armed thugs in balaclavas waiting for you. One of them beats you repeatedly with a crowbar until you cannot stand. There is blood everywhere - you catch a glimpse of your mangled face in shards of a mirror on the floor - and you are making gurgling sounds.


The thugs drag your wife into the kitchen. One of them bends down in front of you and pulls off his balaclava, revealing himself to be Luc Devereaux (Jean-Claude Van Damme). Devereaux then shoots your wife in the head. As you scream and scream, the thugs drag your daughter into the kitchen as well, and Devereaux is just about to shoot her as well when there is a flash of white light and you wake up in a hospital, having been in a coma for nine months; apart from the vivid memory of the slaughter of your family, you have almost complete amnesia.


As well as succinctly setting up the situation and establishing the traumatized condition that the protagonist finds himself in, this scene ultimately serves to tell us that this movie does not play by the rules. Any expectations that we had about seeing a normal genre sequel have been smashed, and deservedly, because in terms of style, theme, content and tone, co-writer/director John Hyams has produced a unique personal vision with Universal Soldier: Day of Reckoning. The fact that he's done it with the sixth entry in an action movie series that was kicked off by Roland Emmerich is even more remarkable.



The previous movies in this series mostly dealt with the idea of "UniSols," soldiers who had been killed in battle. In the entry right before this one, Universal Solder: Regeneration, we were introduced to the next generation of UniSols, who are clones whose damaged body parts can be replaced Frankenstein-style. They're supposed to be the next generation of unstoppable soldiers, but up until now they've shown an alarming predilection for killing each other before they can get near to the enemy. This movie goes straight to the oddly under-utilized heart of the matter - these are cyborg zombies - and puts us right into the darkest part of this idea.



We follow the protagonist John (Scott Adkins) as he is discharged from hospital and attempts to put his life back together. He receives a strange phone call that starts leading him down a trail of forgotten acquaintances and dead bodies towards Devereaux, even as he finds evidence that seems to suggest that he is responsible for some of the corpses he encounters. He is also stalked and attacked on several occasions by a next-generation UniSol dressed as a plumber (Andrei Arlovski), who has been deprogrammed by a cloned Andrew Scott (Dolph Lundgren) and has enlisted in Devereaux's army/religious cult.


Hyams uses an interesting, non-standard stylistic toolbox. For example, this movie features some of the most relentless use of strobe lighting I've seen outside of a Gaspar Noé movie. For the fight scenes he favours long takes, allowing us to see the fighters in motion. The fights themselves are hard-hitting and brutal, and feature every possible combination of fists, blunt objects, sharp objects and firearms. The sound design is very notable as well. The score is minimal both in terms of what is presented - an abstract soundscape with no traditional cues and no driving action-movie rhythms or beats - and in that many scenes pass without any music in them at all. The music we do get is nicely abstract and blends perfectly with the movie, for example the trilling sound during the strobing hallucination scenes. The sound during the action scenes is punched up to emphasise impact; blows are landed with what sounds like crushing force.



Thematically, the movie is deep in Philip K. Dick territory, with a paranoid protagonist who is trying to figure out who exactly he is any why he seems to have done so many terrible things that he has no memory of. Original movie stars Dolph Lundgren and Jean-Claude Van Damme return in vastly altered roles, this time appearing on the same side: Andrew Scott (Lundgren) is now a John the Baptist figure, preaching salvation in the name of Luc Devereaux (Van Damme) as a Messiah who has figured out a way to break the UniSols' programming and set them free. Even in this freedom they remain violent and constantly on edge, requiring little provocation to turn on one another. Devereaux ultimately comes over as a figure reminiscent of Kurtz from Heart of Darkness - some explicit visual references to Apocalypse Now drive this home.


The two star names are both given the chance to do something different to what is usually expected of them. Lundgren is given entire speeches to deliver, which he digs into with obvious relish. Van Damme's role, though larger, is more stoic; in some ways he gives an extension of his melancholy performance from the arthouse hit JCVD. When John finally comes face to face with Devereaux, Van Damme greets him wearily and with resignation, as if something inevitable is coming to pass that he had been holding off for some time. Adkins is perfectly serviceable playing a confused everyman (his acting is a lot better here than in movies like Undisputed 3: Redemption or Ninja) but the fight scenes show us the real reason that he was cast in this movie. In the last third, when he shows us what he can really do, it's clear that hiring a top martial artist and working on his acting was a better idea in this instance than hiring a top actor and teaching him to fight.


 On the strength of what he's done here, I would fully expect John Hyams to go on to bigger movies. I for one hope that whatever kind of budget he ends up working with, he's given creative freedom, because the amount of imagination and ambition put into this movie is exactly the sort of thing that films on all levels need.

Now I'm not trying to say that Universal Soldier: Day of Reckoning is a flawless movie, because it clearly isn't. For example there are a few plot holes (e.g. it doesn't make sense that the Universal Plumber keeps trying to kill John even after he's been deprogrammed), and there isn't enough information on what Devereaux is up to; there are tantalizing hints, but I could have done with some resolution there. The movie's attitude to women isn't great either; apart from the murdered wife and child in the opening scene and a motherly nurse seen soon afterwards, all of the other women in the movie are strippers or prostitutes; only one has a significant speaking role and she's a girlfriend character mostly used as a post for tying exposition to.


But at the end of the day, this movie does everything that it's supposed to do and more: it's exciting and scary throughout, it features striking cinematic style and it provides plenty of interesting ideas. More of this, please!

Saturday, April 20, 2013

Spider Forest (2004)


Kang Min finds himself alone in a dark forest, and makes his way to an isolated cabin where he finds the mutilated corpse of a man as well as Su-Young, his girlfriend, who is afraid and dying and whispering about spiders. He spots the killer and chases him through the forest, but is ambushed by the man and bludgeoned into unconsciousness. When he awakes, groggy and unstable, he stumbles after the killer into a tunnel but is struck by a speeding SUV and is badly injured. The killer approaches, but Min lapses into unconsciousness.


After fourteen days in a coma, Min awakes with a severe head injury and finds that he is a murder suspect. The investigating officer, Choi, happens to be a friend and wants to believe in his innocence, so Min tells him the story of what happened. It turns out that he had been in a village near Spider Forest getting an interview from camera shop owner Min Su-jin for the television show he produces, Mystery Theatre. The story takes in much of Min's life story, from the disturbing events of a childhood friendship to the death of his wife in a plane crash, his relationship with Su-Young and his antagonistic relationship with his sleazy boss. It also reveals the mystical, folkloric nature of Spider Forest and Min's forgotten connection to it.


With its non-linear narrative, amnesiac protagonist, supernatural overtones and confusion between dream and memory, Spider Forest deliberately obscures what is real and what is imagined. It borrows a number of elements from David Lynch's movies Lost Highway and Mulholland Drive - explicitly referencing the latter on at least one occasion - but to rather different effect. What starts as a genuinely creepy horror movie metamorphoses into a melancholy and ultimately tragic character study as Min and Choi (as well as the viewer) piece together what actually lead up to the opening scenes. The ghosts of Spider Forest are real, but not all ghosts are threatening.


Although at times a very violent movie with some very bloody imagery, Spider Forest is a low-key and serious movie that feels very personal. It's an exploration of guilt and denial and of the stories we tell ourselves to explain who we are. Min's emotional pain is externalized again and again; for example in the scene where he drunkenly breaks the glass he's drinking from against his mouth, and it's no accident that the scar on his head from the car accident is shaped like a scythe.


Some people will be very disappointed by this movie because it really doesn't conform to the expectations we've come to have from horror movies or from Korean movies; others will be frustrated by its refusal to explain itself. I loved the depressed tone of the film and its ambiguity. I guessed the denoument early on, but although you might think this means that the movie is predictable, in fact it kept surprising me throughout. There is a lot going on here and you really can't just sit back and let it wash over your. Writer/director Song Il-gon expects the audience to be an active participant. If you bring your full attention to Spider Forest, you should find yourself rewarded.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Inside (2007)



In about the last ten years, there has been a concerted movement in horror movies to push the envelope and go extreme. It's the same basic impulse that drove the splatterpunks in 1980s horror fiction: a desire to go further in terms of graphic content and to create horror that really is horrifying. Seminal splatterpunks John Skipp & Craig Spector wrote perhaps the most stirring defence of this idea in the introduction to their 1989 zombie anthology Book of the Dead: "On Going Too Far, or Flesh Eating Zombies: New Hope for the Future." It's almost a manifesto for extreme horror and if you're into this sort of thing, I'd heartily recommend finding a copy and reading it. (The book itself is also very good.)

In theory I am behind this practice. I think that there is no such thing as going too far in horror. Anything sacred, taboo or just plain offensive should be rudely pushed past. Horror should revel in the things that society deems unexceptable. There is plenty of room for horror to be quiet and subtle, as horror is a beast with many heads, but at least one of those heads has been flayed alive and is drooling and spitting acid, and that's as it should be.

But there are two basic problems with the horror of extremes. One of these is, quite simply, that most of what is tagged as extreme horror is nowhere near extreme enough. Movies like Hostel and Saw have reputations for extreme content that is not evident upon watching them. These movies are simply disappointing. The other, and more pervasive problem is that a lot of extreme horror doesn't have anything on its mind except for being as extreme as the imaginations of the filmmakers can make it. This usually leads to them being silly.



Unfortunately, Inside (aka À l'intérieur) falls very much on the silly side of the fence. It's a shame because its concept has potential. It starts with a (very CGI-looking) baby inside a womb as a woman's voice over says, "My child. My baby. Finally inside me. No one will take him from me. No one can hurt him now. No one." Then there is an impact, and we see that two cars have collided. Sarah (Alysson Paradis), who isheavily pregnant, sits behind the driver's wheel of one car, covered in blood, with her dead husband next to her. We go from there to a hospital exam some time later, which establishes that her unborn daughter is doing just fine, that it is Christmas Eve, and that if she doesn't give birth in the next 24 hours they will induce pregnancy. Sarah, who understandably depressed, then rejects an offer from her mother to have dinner together, arranges for her boss to pick her up and take her to the hospital the next morning, and goes home to be alone.

That night, a mysterious woman (Béatrice Dalle) arrives at Sarah's home demanding to be let in, revealing that she knows Sarah's husband is dead. The police come and find no evidence of the woman, but promise to keep an eye on her. But the woman has already managed to get into the house unseen...



The entire setup for this movie is terrific. It does a great job of establishing Sarah's character and then isolating her. The initial appearances of Dalle are deeply unsettling; she is first glimpsed lighting a cigarette outside of the back window, and moves silently through the house like a wraith. Her motivation is clear, and horribly perverse; she wants Sarah's daughter to replace the unborn son she lost in the car accident, which she clearly blames on Sarah. When she brings out a large pair of scissors and starts caressing a sleeping Sarah's belly, we know that she is not going to wait for a natural childbirth.



Initial arrivals of intruders into the situation are handled very well, specifically the boss and the mother, but shortly afterwards the movie starts to seriously go off the rails as more and more people start arriving at the house, and are dispatched purely because of their own stupidity. Any attempt at developing the situation between Sarah and the woman are abandoned in favour of a series of contrived killings which quickly become laughable. There is a brief moment towards the end which suggests that something supernatural might have been going on, but it is too vague and minor to amount to anything and certainly does not explain or excuse the silliness.



Inside proves that a horror movie can feature an intriguing setup and be technically excellent, have very good performances (Béatrice Dalle is particularly good) and showcase effective shock sequences and very well-done graphic gore, and still fail if the script is poor. As well as featuring characters who die by the "rule of dumb," it in no way capitalises on its premise, or does anything thematically interesting with it. I was not at all surprised to find out after watching it that in the original script Dalle's character was a man and it was a more standard "woman menaced by intruder" story. The writer and directors just wanted to shock the audience. I admit that I was a little shocked and disturbed by how far it was willing to go, but by the time it went there it had long since stopped being scary or suspenseful and had made clear that it wasn't giving me anything to really think about, and it was a dull shock and a resigned disturb.



When we have movies like Martyrs, which I will discuss soon, we don't need Inside. I give this one a failing grade for not even trying hard enough. Disturbing images alone do not make an effective horror movie, and even the most disturbing images here were ultimately nothing new.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Demons (1985)

"El sueño de la razón produce monstruos" - Goya

When I was a child in the early 1980s, I used to look at the video covers of horror movies with a mixture of trepidation, awe and covetousness. I knew that if I ever managed to get my grubby little hands on the actual tapes, I would witness a universe of unparalleled depravity and gore, in which horrible things would constantly be happening to people for no reason at all while the souls of the damned howled torturously on the soundtrack. These video covers frightened the hell out of me, and I couldn't wait to see the pure, unadulterated real thing.



Of course, when I actually started watching the movies whose covers had such a huge impact on me I couldn't help but be disappointed. The Deadly Spawn, Boarding House, The Burning - not only were they massively over-sold by their posters and video covers,, the copies I managed to see were often cut versions that had came to New Zealand via the censors in Australia or the UK. Worse, many of the movies that really would have had a strong impact on me if I'd managed to see them - The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Hills Have Eyes, Eaten Alive etc - had completely vanished from the shelves, some the victims of NZ's new video censorship laws and others simply played to death.

It was a while before I saw anything that came close to my initial imaginings of what a horror movie must be like. The first was the legendary first twenty minutes of Dario Argento's Suspiria, and the second was the last sixty minutes of Sam Raimi's The Evil Dead. But the movie that came closest to my childhood dreams was a peripheral movie from the Argento stable, Demons



At first glance, all Demons wants to do is run around screaming and biting people on the throat and gouging out their eyes. That's all I got from it on my first few viewings, and I was perfectly happy with it. But this time around I've realised that there's something going on beneath the skin, something that's threatening to swell and burst and splatter green goo over everything.



The story of Demons is really something. It opens with Cheryl (Natasha Hovey), a music student, taking a train to Berlin on her way to university. She starts getting glimpses of a sinister masked man (Michele Soavi), who then stalks her through the subway... in order to give her a free movie ticket. She convinces her friend Kathy (Paola Cozzo) to bunk off school and take in the movie. At the theatre, they encounter an amusingly diverse crowd.



First and most fun are Tony the pimp (Bobby Rhodes) and two prostitutes, Rosemary (Geretta Geretta) and Carmen (Fabiola Toledo). While they clown around, Rosemary takes a silver demon mask (reminiscent of the one worn by the subway stalker at the start) and tries it on, cutting her face in the process. There's also the blind Werner (Alex Serra) and his daughter Liz (Bettina Ciampolini); as Werner is blind, he relies on Liz to describe the movie for him as they watch it. Liz takes the opportunity to secretly make out with her lover (Claudio Spadaro) while Werner is oblivious. Two young guys, George (Urbano Berberini) and Ken (Karl Zinny) take a shine to Cheryl and Kathy and decide to limpet themselves to the reluctant young women. The rest of the audience is fairly anonymous, though it also includes Fiore Argento, daughter of Dario and half-sister of Asia.



Once everyone has taken their seats, the movie begins. Of course, it turns out to be a horror movie. It tells the story of a group of young people who break into Nostradamus's tomb in the middle of the night, where they find a prophecy about how the world will be overrun by demons. One of them (Michele Soavi - the same actor who played the masked man at the start) finds a demon mask and puts it on, despite his friend's warning that anyone who wears the mask will become a demon.



Just as this happens, Rosemary finds that the cut on her face from the mask in the lobby has started to bleed again. She heads to the bathroom to get cleaned up, and is understandably distressed when she finds that the cut has swollen to a boil, which bursts and splatters green goo everywhere. Soon Carmen goes to find her friend, only to discover that - just like the guy in the movie - Rosemary has changed into a demon. She slashes Carmen's face and they both run off. Soon Carmen finds herself trapped behind the movie screen as her own injury starts to swell and burst. She pushes her way through the screen, transforming into a demon as she does, and in this way the movie quite literally bursts into the audience.



It's at this point that Demons goes absolutely nuts. After a spectacular on-screen transformation Carmen starts slaughtering people at the front of the auditorium, while a gleefully cackling Rosemary runs in from the back and starts creatively killing everyone she sees. The soundtrack thunders with '80s heavy metal, and everybody runs around screaming, especially once they discover that the exits have all been bricked up and they are all trapped in the theatre. Anyone who is wounded by a demon becomes a demon themselves, sooner or later. The movie immediately degenerates into a delirious orgy of violence and gore from which it never returns. Obviously, I am using the word "degenerates" as a compliment.



Meanwhile, a carload of young punks are driving around snorting cocaine out of a Coke can. They bicker amongst themselves childishly and throw tantrums when one of them spills the coke. They don't seem to have anything to do with anything until they attract the attention of the police, and end up ducking into the Metropol through a side entrance, which they leave ajar. As they go in, something sneaks out...



Horror is perhaps the most self-referential of all movie genres, and horror movie aficionados tend to be unusually film literate. The movie references in Demons are even deeper and more multi-layered than is usual in the genre. The concept of a horror-film-within-a-film influencing events in the "real" world is quite common (see such movies as Bigas Luna's remarkable Anguish, the so-so Popcorn or John Carpenter's In the Mouth of Madness, for example), but none of them take the theme quite as far as Demons.

The masks seen in the movie, which seemingly cause the demon plague, are similar to those seen in The Mask of Satan, the first great Italian horror movie, directed by Mario Bava, the father of Demons director Lamberto Bava. In Bava Sr.'s film, the masks have spikes on the inside and are nailed to the faces of the movie's villains; in Bava Jr.'s film, it is a cut on the face from the inside of the mask that causes the demon plague.



The name of the theatre, Metropol, alludes both to an actual famous Berlin cinema and to Fritz Lang's 1927 expressionist film Metropolis; there is also a poster for Metropolis seen in the theatre. Germany is, of course, the original home of the horror movie thanks to expressionistic movies like The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and Nosferatu. There is also a poster for Werner Herzog's 1979 remake of Nosferatu in the Metropol, bringing the expressionistic horror movie closer to the present, as well as an in-joke poster for co-writer/producer Dario Argento's movie Four Flies on Grey Velvet. (There are also posters for Paul Newman's uninteresting Harry & Son, for the anti-nuclear weapons concert movie No Nukes, and for the Australian band AC/DC, whose music the filmmakers probably wanted to use.)



The casting of a grown-up Nicoletta Elmi as the Metropol's usherette Ingrid is a multi-layered reference in itself. Although only about twenty at the time, Elmi was an Italian horror movie veteran, having started her career in Mario Bava's Twitch of the Death Nerve in 1972 [*]. Elmi's biggest impression before Demons was probably in her small role as a sadistic child in Dario Argento's Deep Red, though she also appeared in such gems as Paul Morrissey's Flesh for Frankenstein and Aldo Lado's Who Saw Her Die? She hadn't been visible in the genre for almost ten years, but she had retained her distinctive looks as she grew up, and although Ingrid is a bit of a red herring, Elmi's sinister (and now also sexy) presence confirms that the characters are definitely trapped in an Italian horror movie.



In the movie within the movie (which I don't think is ever given a title) the actor who wears the demon mask and cuts himself on it is the same actor who plays the masked man handing out free tickets at the start of Demons. Soavi also worked behind the scenes as Lamberto Bava's Assistant Director, a position he had also held on previous Bava and Dario Argento movies. While working on Demons he also filmed behind-the-scenes footage for a documentary called Dario Argento's World of Horror, in which he deliberately turns his camera to a mirror and films himself and his camera to accompany his own directorial credit. Somehow, Soavi also found time to film a music video for Claudio Simonetti's theme music.



Along with the aforementioned mask, the other props from the movie-within-the-movie that we see in the lobby are a motorcycle and a samurai sword. Towards the end of the movie, one of the heroes leaps on the bike, grabs the sword, and starts hooning around the theatre cutting demons to shreds. In this scene, it's not just the evil that's come out of the movie but also a means of curtailing it.



And of course in the scene where Carmen is infected, she finds herself pushing through series after series of red curtains - a recurring Dario Argento image from movies like Deep Red and Opera, usually signifying the beginning of the journey into horror - and finds herself behind the movie screen itself. As she starts to transform into a demon, her screams mingle with those of the movie until she finally rips through the screen itself. This scene was copied in the 2012 movie Gangster Squad, in a scene that appeared in the trailer but was ultimately cut out of the movie beause of concerns about a real-life mass murder in a screening of The Dark Knight Rises. [**] It is also reminiscent of a scene in the same year's The Purple Rose of Cairo, written & directed by Woody Allen, in which a character steps out of a movie into the audience.



Apart from its surprising metatextual sophistication, there is a lot to enjoy about Demons just in the realms of good dumb fun. There are many excellent transformation and gore effects by Sergio Stivaletti, on only his second movie, which still impress today; in particular the elaborate transformation of Carmen still looks amazing. The whole cast gives amusingly over-the-top performances, in particular Bobby Rhodes as Tony the pimp and Geretta Geretta as Rosemary, the lead demon. The seemingly unrelated scenes of the coked-up punks driving around Italy offer their own kind of dumb fun. The unexpected arrival of a helicopter at a pivotal moment is cited by some as being the best moment in the entire movie, and the amazing apocalyptic ending (which features another cameo from a distinctive young horror veteran, Giovanni Frezza from Lucio Fulci's The House by the Cemetery and Manhattan Baby, among others) sends the movie off on a high note.



There are also a few unexpected and effective moments of quiet horror. Many people point to the scenes of the demons prowling the corridors with glowing eyes, but I would single out the beginnign of Kathy's transformation as my favourite creepy moment in the entire movie. Having stumbled through the previous scene in a state of shock, Kathy looks up at Cheryl and asks in a distinctively different accent to the one she's used in the rest of the movie, "This place... Where am I?" and then, as her eyes turn red, "Who are you?" The implication that the demons may be rational creatures driven to insane bloodlust as they come into our world is nicely disturbing. Of course, the horned demon that bursts impossibly out of Kathy's back moments later is pretty cool as well.



On the downside, most of the female roles are pretty weak. Not that Demons is a movie with well-written male characters, as characterisation is pretty much beside the point here, but all of the women in the movie basically scream and cry while the male characters tell them to pull themselves together. Horror is one of the few genres which regularly presents women as strong and capable, so it's a shame to see Demons letting the side down. Other than that, unless you're going to carp about the plot being weak - which is also beside the point - or things not making much sense - which almost is the point, as the more "what the fuck?" moments are also the most fun - there's nothing to complain about here.

I recommend Demons to anyone who likes wild & crazy horror movies. If you enjoyed the first two Evil Dead movies or Rec 3, this should be right up your alley. And what's more, there is a sequel that is just about as good as the original (as well as various fake sequels of wildly varying quality).

But that is another story...







[*] Bava Jr. worked as an assistant director on both Twitch of the Death Nerve and his father's next film, Baron Blood, which also featured Elmi. ^

[**] I actually saw this trailer before a screening of The Dark Knight Rises on the very night that the murders were committed - luckily not in the same theatre. ^