Tag Archives: Horror

CAPSULE: MORBO (1972)

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DIRECTED BY: Gonzalo Suarez

FEATURING: Ana Belen, Victor Manuel, Michael J. Pollard, Maria Vica

PLOT: Their honeymoon goes awry when newlyweds unwittingly park their camper at the edge of a haunted forest.

 

COMMENTS: Morbo is a ghost story without ghosts. The English title, Morbidness, pretty much sums it up. A honeymooning couple find themselves engulfed in a sinister atmosphere that they’re at a loss to explain. Moments of violence erupt out of the tension, but this nontraditional horror film mostly traffics in mood.

A pre-credits introduction sets the scene. As the camera floats through a deserted, crumbling mansion, disembodied voices recount their misfortunes: the devastating forest fire that tore through the landscape, wrecking their livelihood, leaving them old before their time, ruined by injury, illness, and poverty. The empty rooms echo with plaintive laments. Amid the decaying furnishings, a reporduction of the Mona Lisa sits on the floor, symbol of their former prosperity and a hint of the mystery to come.

The opening credits then roll over a static shot of a church interior. We meet Alicia and Diego as they drive off to their honeymoon, a camping expedition designed to provide them with peace and quiet. They choose a secluded forest glade on their campsite, failing to notice the “No Trespassing” sign at the side of the road. When they set out to explore the area, Diego comes across the rotting, headless carcass of a dead animal without a head. He doesn’t mention it to Alicia.

Despite this disturbing discovery, they settle in, unpacking their wedding gifts from the camper and decorating the clearing with inflatable furniture. At first they are content to be together, sharing confidences and increasing their intimacy. They open the wedding gifts and immediately start mocking both the contents and the people who gifted them. “A real Leonardo,” Alicia sarcastically declares when she opens a package to reveal a Mona Lisa print.

Her disdain aside, the image triggers a vivid memory for Alicia. She recounts a dream she once had of inhabiting a summer house where a copy of the Mona Lisa hung on the chimney. The detailed vision includes gardens surrounding the house, a picturesque old mill, and a well.

Made in Spain during the tail end of the Franco regime, Morbo pushes the limits of state-imposed censorship. Through its irreverent attitude towards marriage and the sanctity of the nuclear family, it challenges prevailing Catholic beliefs and the encroaching consumerism of lavish wedding and honeymoon practices.

Along with the societal critique, director Suarez toys with the conventions of the Western horror film. The couple make a classic gas station stop along their journey, during which Alicia peels off her wedding dress to display a white crocheted bikini underneath. She unceremoniously tosses the dress into the back seat, and there it will remain, a casually discarded symbol of tradition.

It isn’t long before bizarre events begin taking place, leading to arguments between Alicia and Diego. An old house nearby becomes a point of contention. Diego sees it first, but he’s evasive when describing it to Alicia. Since it has a well, she’s confident the residents will allow them to replenish their water supply, but whenever Diego goes to ask, he’s says no one’s home. They find a river nearby, but Alicia refuses to drink or use the water out of fear of insects.

More alarming to the couple is evidence that someone may be spying on them. The invisible antagonist tampers with their car, as well as their water canisters. The theft of Alicia’s wedding dress proves to be the last straw. Determined to find the thief, she runs off to the old house on her own. Despite the prevailing aura of obfuscation, Morbo concludes with a satisfyingly bloody denouement for viewers who manage to make it to the end. The plot loops back to the introduction, connecting various narrative threads, although it can never entirely account for the strange workings of Fate.

Belen and Manuel, the two leads, were popular celebrities known for their left-wing sympathies, and a couple at the time. Their casting was a coup for Suarez, who remained somewhat outside the mainstream. He had begun his career in film as a scriptwriter before deciding to direct his own films. He was affiliated with the Barcelona School, a group of intellectuals, artists, film makers, and musicians who frequented the newly flourishing night club scene in the city. But Suarez always stayed true to his unique vision. Many of his films similarly deal with unseen forces that catch his protagonists in their inexorable grip.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“There are also visually striking surreal touches such as the inflatable red and yellow plastic chairs that Diego and Alice use for lounging in a barren field or a wedding cake left in the sun that becomes insect food… the film casts a strange, otherworldly spell and remains an enigma despite a resolution that sends Alice and Diego back to their bourgeois world, obviously changed forever by their experience.  – Jeff Stafford, Cinema Sojourns

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APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: MALATESTA’S CARNIVAL OF BLOOD (1973)

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DIRECTED BY: Christopher Speeth

FEATURING: Janine Carazo, Jerome Dempsey, Daniel Dietrich, Lenny Baker, Hervé Villechaize

PLOT: Vena and her family come to work at a strange amusement park marked by an ever-growing number of disappearances, deaths, and unusual goings-on.

WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: A collection of unsettling scenarios that make their low-budget DIY components into advantages, Malatesta’s Carnival of Blood cares not for your fancy storytelling and logical progression of events. A consistent mood of unease and an off-kilter sensibility make this an underappreciated companion to other amateur horrors, both good and bad.

Malatesta's Carnival of Blood (1973)

 

COMMENTS:  Biz Markie’s ode to loss and frustration, “Just a Friend,” was one of the biggest hits of 1989. Seemingly recorded with a mic and a Casio preset, Biz howled out his pain over the cheapest, tinniest piano loop. It was awful, but by gum everybody knew the damn song, and you couldn’t help but laugh and join in with the crowds screaming out “OH BABY YOU!!!” mid-chorus as Biz shredded his vocal cords in existential pain. It’s a legendary song despite its amateurishness, and possibly because of it.

Perhaps you can see where I’m going with this. We have spoken before about the glories of the 1970s indie horror scene, a genre unto itself populated by low budgets, first-time directors and screenwriters who tend to become only-time directors and screenwriters, and a fervent hope that blood and bodies will do all the work. Malatesta’s Carnival of Blood is a masterful example of the form, with major shortcomings in storytelling that perversely enhance the atmosphere of discomfort and dread, homemade effects that betray their homemade origins yet occasionally become transcendently original, and an incompetence that’s downright charming.

Speeth and screenwriter Werner Liepolt have a couple things working for them that lift Malatesta above the other amateur one-offs. One is its location, a working amusement park, which grounds the action in a tangible, believable milieu. The filmmakers had access to Philadelphia’s beloved old Willow Grove Park, at the time d/b/a “Six Gun Territory” and only a couple years away from being leveled and replaced with a mall. The picture also benefits from some unexpectedly decent acting. The performers are by no means brilliant, but they display a professionalism that is rare in this sort of film, managing to sell scenes that would otherwise be laughable. We only have the vaguest idea why the Norris family joins up with these carnies (revenge seems to be the primary goal), but Betsy Henn and Paul Hostetler are quite charming as the nervous Nellie and her heat-packin’ husband. Villechaize brings his particular brand of oddness, only a year before The Man With the Golden Gun. My favorite of these is Dempsey as the amoral impresario Mr. Blood, who is tasked with most of the exposition and delivers his lines with the sinister gentility of playing a maître d’. He remains confident even as he demonstrates a complete inability to operate a fire extinguisher. In his most delightful scene, he interrupts our heroine and the ratty tunnel-of-love operator by sliding up in a bumper car. Where did he come from? When he departs, where’s he gonna go in a bumper car? No matter how ridiculous things get, this kind of commitment helps sell it.

Sometimes the film hardly bothers with basics of storytelling, dispensing with voice or foley during tense scenes in favor of dramatically mismatched music. It’s actually an effective method; applying an eerie synthesized sting to a chase scene is as unsettling as any number of screams and crashes. Speeth has great confidence in his ability to let the images do the heavy lifting, and every now and then, he’s absolutely right. He attaches his camera to the walls of a rotating tunnel, adding a level of disorientation to an already head-scratching attraction. He places his heroine in the center of a giant tarp that actually takes on a sinister quality as she tries to escape. Perhaps his most effective visual is the room full of ghouls who have assembled to watch Lon Chaney’s The Phantom of the Opera, equally as delighted to be at the movies as they are hungry for blood. Speeth must have recognized a good thing when he saw it, because he replicates the shot with an unconscious Vena in the foreground and the leering Mr. Blood sneaking up on her like Chaney on the projection screen. The director is unquestionably an amateur, but every now and then, a unique vision comes through.

I feel like the film’s ending speaks for the filmmakers, as the evil mastermind Malatesta celebrates another successful night of carnage by taking a spin on the park’s chair swing. As he blissfully takes in the ramshackle setting, cavalierly disregarding the likelihood that a haunted amusement park that kills its guests, employees, and investors is a park that’s going to have a hard time luring in more of them, he leans his head back in gentle bliss. A job well done, Malatesta. A job well done, Malatesta’s Carnival of Blood. You’ve got what we need.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“In a world where everything looks, feels and sounds interchangeable, it’s a thrill to see something so completely removed from normality… as if Speeth was simply cherry-picking bits from popular horror and mixing them all together in a weird, psychedelic brew.” – David Flint, Desperate Living

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

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

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DIRECTED BY: Pere Portabella

FEATURING: , Herbert Lom,

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

Still from Cuadecuc Vampire (1971)

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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IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: KUNG FU FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE (1982)

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DIRECTED BY: Chiu Lee

FEATURING: Billy Chong, Lo Lieh, Chin-Lai Sung

PLOT: When martial artist Chung Sing learns that his father was murdered by the sinister Kam Tai Fu, the young man seeks revenge, but he’ll need a book of magic and the help of ghost warriors to defeat his enemy.

Still from Kung Fu from Beyond the Grave (1982)

COMMENTS: Part of the glory of late 70s/early 80s low-budget martial arts cinema is its joyful lack of seriousness. Sure, there may be people fighting each other in a brutal death match, but the whole thing just feels so darn lighthearted. We’re here to enjoy ourselves, not to worry about life and death. So why should we expect anything less when the subject turns to horror? The narrator of Kung Fu From Beyond the Grave informs us that, once a year, the dead return to roam the Earth. And how does this manifest itself? A bunch of silly whooping and fruit invisibly pilfered from dinner tables. Put away your heart pills; this is not serious stuff.        

The absence of gravity is mostly an advantage for a film like Kung Fu From Beyond the Grave, which only wants to have some fun, like a haunted house that also has a judo match set up on the front lawn. When Chung’s father’s ghost (who sounds in the English dub almost exactly like Krusty the Clown) shows up to demand that his son avenge him, you might pick up some Hamlet vibes, but the allusion is undercut slightly when Chung is so surprised that he kicks his ghostly father’s apparition in the face. Screenwriter Fung Lu seems allergic to anything that would approach genuine horror. Warriors returning from the dead bicker about whether to accept their summons, and then float through fight scenes like shirts on the carousel at a dry cleaner. Bodies that rise from their graves and are more annoyed than vengeful. If it weren’t for Lo’s resourceful evil sorcerer, you might start to wonder if anyone in this film knew they were in a movie about the supernatural.

This unsteady mix of martial arts tropes and disdain for scares leads to some of director Lee’s most off-balance impulses. The evil Kam Tai Fu is desperate to achieve invincibility, but his Achilles heel turns out to be his breasts, which resist the shield treatment. The formula for said impenetrability is some obscure dark magic, specifically requiring a pair of hearts stolen from victims at the moment of orgasm, a requirement of such specificity that it feels reverse-engineered to justify the associated sex scene. In the most unexpected and delightfully strange moment, the beleaguered sorcerer escapes Chung and his battalion of ghosts by throwing a wad of cash into their air and yelling, “Count Dracula! Come to my aid!” Sure enough, a pasty European with fangs suddenly appears and flits about, flummoxing his opponents but also not really coming to anyone’s aid. It’s a genuinely bonkers moment, and knowing they had this one up their sleeve, the filmmakers could have used more of them.

Kung Fu From Beyond the Grave is serviceable martial arts action, slightly ridiculous horror, and surface-level weirdness. It lacks the will to be no-holds-barred nutty, but it does make for a nice twist on familiar genre fare. If nothing else, this will always be remembered as the film that taught us how to summon Dracula to our aid. Use that knowledge wisely.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“The weirdness never lets up in this one, what with the ghosts, zombies, vampires (Dracula himself!) and black magicians all engaging in martial arts mayhem, which consists of (as usual) a frenetic combination of gymnastics, dance choreography and sound-enhanced gesturing.” – Dave Sindelar, Fantastic Movie Musings and Ramblings

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

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Kung Fu from Beyond the Grave is streaming on Prime Video.