Tag Archives: 1971

IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: CUADECUC VAMPIR (1971)

October 26, 2026 Michael Diamades 1 Comment

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DIRECTED BY: Pere Portabella

FEATURING: Christopher Lee, Herbert Lom, Soledad Miranda

PLOT: B-roll footage from Jesus Franco’s Count Dracula (1970) repurposed into an avant-garde presentation of the story.

COMMENTS: Pere Portabella’s oeuvre refuses to be easily intelligible. It embraces the fragmentary nature of surrealism, suggesting the idea of a narrative without delivering a cohesive story. Portabella is especially known for his clandestine period: a series of films made illegally during the Franco regime in the late 1960s and early 1970s, employing guerrilla tactics in the vein of the Third Cinema.

Cuadecuc Vampir is perhaps his most famous work from that period, an abstracted take on the vampiric myth camouflaged as a making-of documentary for the European co-production Count Dracula by Jesús Franco, directed a year before. Franco’s movie was a typically mediocre B-movie affair following the tradition of Hammer Films, even using Christopher Lee as Dracula.

Portabella worked like a documentary filmmaker for this project. During Franco’s movie, his own crew filmed the improvisations and behind-the-scenes footage without directing anything himself. Due to purposeful continuity errors and grainy black-and-white high-contrast photography, he made something whose effect closely resembles the unearthing and manipulation of long-lost media: that is, a found-footage movie.

As in a found-footage movie, Portabella uses editing to set the mood he has in mind. An oppressive and claustrophobic atmosphere emerges through segments depicting the spread of vampirism from an old patriarch. The results hints at possible political undertones, but those are not always clear.

What remains undeniable, though, is the anachronistic aesthetic—a result of the stylistic choices mentioned above—that engages in a dialogue with the cinematic tradition of gothic horror and the vampire myth, and explicitly refers to productions the silent era. Nearly all diegetic sounds are muted, replaced by an experimental soundscape composed by concert pianist Carles Santos, including thunderstorms, tapping sounds, and glitchy effects alongside the melodies, deconstructing any sense of cinematic illusion. From the beginning, the creative process unmasks itself: practical effects are shown during their construction, actors take off their makeup, cinematic crews appear onscreen or in mirrors.

Cuadecuc could be interesting as a glimpse into the backstage production for fans of Franco’s original movie, but only if they are open to an experimental format without voiceover and with no informative intent. But the film stands alone as a puzzling and challenging cinematic experience.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“The effect is gorgeously dreamlike, as the actors, who are captured alternately in character and as themselves, appear as automatons, moved by some shadowy unseen force… a radical, avant-garde mood piece that is among the most mysterious artefacts in cinema.”–Tom Grieve, The Skinny

		
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Vampir-Cuadecuc + Umbracle (Double Feature) [Blu-ray]

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APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: EMPEROR TOMATO KETCHUP (1971)

October 12, 2026 Michael Diamades 2 Comments

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DIRECTED BY: Shūji Terayama

FEATURING: Goro Abashiri, Tarô Apollo, Shiro Demaemochi

PLOT: In an alternate Japan, kids take control, forming their own utopia—or dystopia.

Still from Emperor Tomato Ketchup (1971)

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: This is taboo-breaking cinema at its wildest, full of sexually depraved content that could easily pass as pedophilic. At the same time, it is a radical yet nuanced political allegory with a dreamlike, fragmentary narrative.

COMMENTS: Terayama is one of the most audacious representatives of the Japanese New Wave, a filmic movement associated with political critique and experimental formats. His cinema is highly transgressive, combining the absurd with an anti-authoritarian attitude foreshadowing punk. Emperor Tomato Ketchup is an exemplary example of and perhaps the most subversive moment in his filmography.

The plot revolves around a Japanese colony where children have taken control. Adults have been ostracized or enslaved. Kids, “freed from fixed views on childhood,” as they say, attempt, through orgies, to explore their sexuality.

Equating radical politics (kids taking control of the state) with sexual revolution, Ketchup is clearly a product of the sexually liberated late 1960s and early 1970s . However, goes a step further, deconstructing this seemingly noble revolution and underlining its grotesqueries to reveal it for what it really is: a new authoritarianism, and a re-appropriation of old patterns of thought and symbols. The mustache remains a symbol of power, however absurd that may seem when prepubescent kids rule.

The narrative unfolds through vignettes. Subplots emerge, but not a coherent story in the conventional sense. There is no dialogue, just a complex voiceover reciting excerpts from the revised constitution, poetic yet absurd terminology, and letters from a state official to its mother, a fugitive hiding for her life.

A holistic portrait of this violent state gradually forms, showcasing its inherent depravity. Through figures like the child-official, we see the archetype of the compromised opportunist, and understand the banality of evil. At the same time, violent or mildly sexually explicit scenes take place in the luxurious bedrooms of the new king—a boy around eight or ten years old—and in vacant industrial spaces that recall Nazi gas chambers. The parallels are as loud and clear as they can be.

As for the graphic scenes, let’s just say that even though they are mild, they still make for a difficult watch since they often suggest sexual behavior between minors. Two extended scenes—depicting homosexual foreplay between male teens and a small boy playing with nude adult women—could even pass as softcore erotica. If you could stomach the final segment in Dusan Makavejev‘s Sweet Movie, there is a high probability you can tolerate this. (Emperor Tomato Ketchup and Sweet Movie share a lot of common DNA, both ideologically—as revisionist takes on the sexual liberation of the 1970s—and aesthetically, as taboo-breaking spectacles.)

The soundtrack revels in ominous industrial ambience, but at the same time, ironically, occasionally incorporates sensual melodies and uplifting music. Heavy theatrical makeup and extravagant accessories complete the carnivalesque aesthetic.

Note that there are two versions of this film. The first was released immediately, in 1971, as a heavily cut 27-minute short film. The second is an extended reconstruction released in 1996, running around 70 minutes. The extended reconstruction was the subject of this review.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…as diligent (and controversial) an exercise in satirizing an entire socio-economic vision of the world as experimental movies can be.”–Aido Garcia, Asian Movie Pulse

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It Came from the Reader-Suggested Queue

IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: WAKE IN FRIGHT (1971)

September 14, 2026 Michael Diamades 4 Comments

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DIRECTED BY: Ted Kotcheff

FEATURING: Gary Bond, Donald Pleasence, Donald Pleasence

PLOT: A teacher in the Australian outback plans to visit Sydney for his New Year’s holiday, but bad decisions and wild instincts take the lead instead.

COMMENTS: The “Australian New Wave” occurred from the early 1970s and the late 1980s. Heavily inspired by the structure, transgressive nature, and aesthetics of New Hollywood and American cinema in general, these films found a solid fan base in the United States. Though made by a Canadian director, Wake in Fright, based on the titular novel by Kenneth Cook, is an excellent case study of how the Australian New Wave draws formal inspiration from genres and styles associated with American cinematic and literary traditions, starting with the opening 360° shot revealing a vast deserted landscape straight out of a Hollywood Western.

Our protagonist, a teacher in the middle of nowhere, feels trapped, but finds a glimmer of hope in the idea of visiting Sydney for a few weeks during the New Year holidays. However, nothing goes according to plan, and he finds himself trapped once again in a neighboring small town. This isn’t your typical Kafkaesque nightmare of absurd, never-ending entrapment and paranoia, however. The style is realist, reminiscent of a Southern Gothic adapted to the outback, with a similar aim of using its oppressive atmosphere to depict real social horrors. The Australian countryside here is a hellscape peopled by barbaric eccentrics. But they are not the real villains. They play the role of corruptors, but it’s our protagonist’s own deeply hidden passions and desires that push him over the edge. His own mistakes make him unable to leave this town, at least for the time being. But in the meantime, he discovers friendship and an escape from societal norms among a group of local outlaws.

The strangest of them all is Doc Tydon, an alcoholic doctor and self-taught sage who lives like a bum. He awakens the violent monster lurking inside our humble teacher through a series of violent initiation rituals culminating in a sadistic kangaroo hunt. Let it be noted that the kangaroo hunt is real, and may prove upsetting to animal lovers. On the other hand, this rawness offers a naturalistic, almost documentary-like feel.

Our hero’s journey brings him face-to-face with his inner self, in a transformation that verges on self-destruction. In any case, it isn’t a Lynchian, surrealistic tale, even if the premise suggests something along these lines. It’s about real horrors and the way our instincts make a fool out of us. It is, above all, a psychological odyssey with a few sociological elements. A dark transgressive masterpiece, but not exactly a weird one.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…this strange and beguiling film (served with a tangy chaser of black humour) has been given a thoroughly welcoming digital spruce-up… an absolute must-see for fans of cult, off-kilter cinema.”–Adam Lowes, HeyUGuys (Blu-ray)

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Wake In Fright [Limited Edition] [4K Ultra HD]

After a bad gambling bet, a teacher is marooned in a town full of drunk, violent men who threaten to make him just as crazy, drunk, and violent.

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APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: THROW AWAY YOUR BOOKS, RALLY IN THE STREETS (1971)

July 1, 2026 Shane Wilson Leave a comment

Sho O Suteyo, Machi E Deyou

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DIRECTED BY: Shuji Terayama

FEATURING: Hideaki Sasaki, Masaharu Saito, Yukiko Kobayashi, Fudeko Tanaka

PLOT: An angry, aimless young man drifts along in search of purpose, despairing at society’s shallowness and cruelty.

WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: Terayama’s filmed essay defies traditional elements such as narrative or a consistent point of view. It is, instead, a howl of righteous anger using a cinematic techniques to depict a society in chaos and an individual’s profound isolation.

COMMENTS: A legend that has arisen over the years about philosopher Henry David Thoreau focuses on a single night in 1846 when he was arrested and jailed for failing to pay taxes, a stance he took to protest government policy on slavery and the Mexican-American War. In the story, his friend, the poet Ralph Waldo Emerson, discovered that he had been imprisoned and rushed to visit him. As dramatized by playwrights Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee, a despairing Emerson asks, “Henry, what are you doing in jail?” Thoreau, fueled by his righteous commitment to civil disobedience, replies indignantly, “Waldo! What are you doing out of jail?”

Thoreau would find common cause with Eimei, our guide through this kaleidoscopic tour of 1970-era Japan. Eimei opens the film angry… at us. He’s been standing by as we’ve sat through a couple minutes of a solid black screen, and he has had it. He castigates us for mindlessly tolerating the nothingness like an audience of sheep. Don’t be offended, though. We will soon see that he has much to be angry about. He has little money, no respect for his family, his community is obsessed with sex and lacks any other ambition, and his culture is becoming uncomfortably Americanized and subsumed by rapacious capitalism. By the end of the film, he dabbles in a small-scale dream of his own, only to be attacked and robbed. He ends screaming his hatred for Japan—but no one truly escapes his wrath.

We see the subject of his ire first-hand. Eimei wanders through a series of scenes with an air of disconnection, not because he doesn’t care but because he can find no way in. The local school does nothing but practice soccer, where Eimei lamely offers to tidy up the locker room. Showcasing society’s whacked-out priorities, the coach happily takes him down to the local prostitute for a chill-out deflowering, which does nothing for him at all. His grandmother, knowing she’s about to be kicked out of the house, lies to strangers about her dead family in a bid for sympathy. Eimei’s father, who fought in the war, is a shiftless layabout whose only profession is molesting young women. Most tragic is Eimei’s flighty (and possibly mentally compromised) sister, who initially has an unhealthy attachment to her pet rabbit until her grandmother arranges to have the animal killed, which somehow leads to her terrible assault at the hands of the entire soccer team. It’s an extraordinary set of circumstances, but the film in no way sensationalizes or finds dark humor in the accumulation of miseries. Imagine living in a world where each day brings not just bad news, but a completely different kind of bad news (if you can even picture such a scenario), and you get a sense of the struggle Eimei has just to get up each day.

Throw Away Your Books, Rally in the Streets is reportedly adapted by Terayama from his own play, which is an extraordinary notion, because the movie feels in no way tied to the stage. Terayama has a vivid and far-ranging approach to visual storytelling. He mixes film stocks, employs surprising framing and shot angles, toys with film tinting and superimposition, and stages scenes with the eye of a Surrealist. He also has a solid appreciation of the power of sound, often staging scenes with repetitive sound effects or scoring transitions with proto-punk anthems to soundtrack Eimei’s oppressive surroundings. Interspersed among the scenes of Eimei’s world are staged interviews, fantasy sequences, and dream-like images of early pioneers of flight. This is one of Terayama’s first films, emerging the same year as his controversial Emperor Tomato Ketchup, and it mixes a newcomer’s urge to play in his new sandbox with an experienced storyteller’s confidence in abstract and nonlinear storytelling.

There are no rallies in Throw Away Your Books, Rally in the Streets. There are barely even books (although urgent quotes are graffitied across the landscape). That title isn’t a synopsis but a call to action, a demand from Terayama. Look at your world. Why do you tolerate this? Aren’t you going to do anything about it? Given what he shows us, it’s not hard to understand his contempt. If we’re not rallying in the streets, just what are we doing?

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…a surreal psychedelic experience like no other… Many of the bizarre, dreamlike sequences that act as short interludes or scenes of escapism for the adolescent at the heart of the film elicit the traits of a Jodorowsky film.”–Tom Bielby, Film Bantha

(This movie was nominated for review by Adam. Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)

		
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Reader Recommendations

READER RECOMMENDATION: THE MANIPULATOR (1971)

July 9, 2025 admin 1 Comment

Reader Recommendation from James Auburn

AKA BJ Presents; B.J. Lang Presents

Beware

“…a motion picture so haunted… it will never be shown!” – B.J. Lang Presents trailer

DIRECTED BY: Yabo Yablonsky

FEATURING: Mickey Rooney, Luana Anders, Keenan Wynn

PLOT: The film takes place almost entirely on a dusty soundstage. B.J. Lang (Rooney) has kidnapped a woman he refers to as Carlotta (Luana Anders of “Easy Rider”) and has tied her to a wheelchair. Lang spends nearly 90 minutes tormenting Carlotta, screaming at her, forcing her to recite lines to an imaginary movie, and spooning baby food into her mouth, among other indignities.

Still from the manipulator (1971)

WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE LIST: This acid-damaged wannabe-arthouse film has stupefied even jaded psychotronic film freaks. Every “hip” avant-garde editing gimmick in the psychedelic-era toolbox is utilized: strobe lights, fish-eye lens, solarization, freeze-frames, quick-cut frames of random images, flashbacks/flash-forwards, slow-motion/fast-motion, etc. The viewing experience feels like a 90-minute long, 104-degree-fever hallucination that makes you question your own sanity. The uncomfortably cathartic performances from its two leads seem like a blend of acting-workshop exercises and heavy existential therapy put on film. Through extended monologues, the central character explores his own inner turmoil and waxes philosophical about life and show business, and as he wallows in his own insanity, the movie itself follows suit.

COMMENTS: Yes, one of the most demented movies you’ve ever seen starred Mickey Rooney—and he gives a psychotic tour-de-force performance that must be seen to be disbelieved.

In the opening scene, B.J. Lang enters the soundstage, as if to begin a routine day of work, passing cobwebbed props and backdrops; he sits down, and starts talking excitedly to thin air. Lang establishes himself as either a movie director who has gone insane, or an insane man who fancies himself a movie director; it’s never quite clear which. He runs a take of an imaginary movie scene while barking orders at mannequins and a film crew that exists only in his addled head. This opening segment culminates in a nightmarish two-minute freakout sequence with Lang screaming at two nude white-bodypainted figures (his parents? sure, why not) who cruelly laugh at him, over a screeching electronic racket. Suddenly: silence. Closeup: Lang is drenched in sweat, exhausted, as are our eardrums and sensibilities. What’s your threshold for cinematic insanity? You’ll know in the first ten minutes of The Manipulator.

We then discover Carlotta, tied to the wheelchair. Evidently she’s been there against her will for some time. For a long stretch, her only line is “I’m hungry, Mr. Lang!” She repeats it, again and again, with every different inflection she can muster (Lang spoon-feeds her a few Continue reading READER RECOMMENDATION: THE MANIPULATOR (1971) →

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