Revisiting the comfort of 70s Euro horror, I've chosen to talk a little bit about Jean Rollin's The Grapes of Death/Les Raisins de la Mort.

Starring: Marie-Georges Pascal, Félix Marten, Serge Marquand, Mirella Rancelot and Brigitte Lahaie.

The Grapes of Death sits somewhere in between Romero's The Crazies (1973) and Jorge Grau's Let Sleeping Corpses Lie (1974), in as much as...The 'zombies' in Rollin's picture are more akin to the infected citizens of The Crazies, when compared to other shuffling-undead movies.
Grapes also shares a similar social commentary based narrative, found in both of the aforementioned films, although given the pesticide contagion, is a tad closer to Grau's work.

The dreary autumnal landscape and scenery is also reminiscent to that found in Dawn of the Dead (1978) or Fulci's The House by the Cemetery (1981). Personally, I quite like the change in seasons being used to reflect death in horror cinema, visually conveying a greater sense of sadness or depression and acting as a cold reminder that death, is quite literally surrounding the surviving group of protagonists.

The story is centred around Elisabeth (Pascal), a young lady who is traveling by train to see her fiancé. However, on her way there, her friend is murdered by a madman, who's face is covered with pus-spewing abscesses. In a blind panic, Elisabeth flees the train for the countryside, to try and find her way home, unfortunately for her, she discovers that the countryside has become overrun with people baring facial sores and homicidal tendencies.

Grapes' narrative possesses a dreamlike quality, a trait prominently found in 70s Euro horror, mainly due to the the randomness in which the events unfold. From the moment Elisabeth is first attacked on the train and escapes into the sprawling French countryside, the events that follow are unravelled in such a fashion that it borders on sheer insanity.



Rollin effectively creates an intense and oppressive atmosphere throughout The Grapes of Death, as Elisabeth and her 2 male cohorts are relentlessly and mercilessly pursued by hordes of the infected and to be honest, there is a lot to love about this film. What it lacks in the dialogue department is vastly made up in the visuals, it is a beautifully shot film that is home to many memorable and fiendishly twisted scenes. Including the cruel fate of poor blind Lucie (Rancelot) at the hands of her once loving carer.

In my opinion this is what Euro-horror is all about.

As I find myself growing tired of the wintery climate, I'm taking a short trip to the tropics with Joe D'Amato's Papaya: Love Goddess of the Cannibals/Papaya dei Caraibi.

Starring: Sirpa Lane, Melissa Chimenti, Maurice Poli and Dakar.

By now, anyone reading this blog should already know I have a penchant for the films of Joe D'Amato. Whether they be good, bad or downright obscure, I'm bound to find some perverse enjoyment in his work and perhaps dear reader, you do too.

But, if you came here expecting a gore drenched shocker along the lines of Ruggero Deodato's Last Cannibal World/Ultimo mondo cannibale (1977), prepare yourself for a little disappointment. As Papaya is more akin to the steamy softcore romps found in D'Amato's Emanuelle film series.

The narrative of Papaya is somewhat more environmentally conscious when compared to other cannibal-related films, similar to Bruno Mattei's Zombie Creeping Flesh/Virus (1980), it deals with the exploitation of the Third World. Though, this plot device becomes largely forgotten about in true D'Amato style by the unnecessary scenes of nudity and/or accompanying violence. Although, in this instance the latter is severely lacking, save for the gratuitous pig gutting and Voodoo sacrifice sequences. I would assume that this film got marketed as a cannibal film purely to piggy back on the success of the then-recently emerging 'cannibal-boom', since the it only has roughly 2 scenes of actual cannibalism.



The film hauls itself along at a snail's pace, further padded out by unnecessary dialogue between Lane and Poli. In fairness to D'Amato, his background work as a cinematographer shines throughout, scenes are perfectly framed and the camera work is crisp.
He succeeds in creating a moody atmosphere, specifically in a scene wherein Lane and Poli stumble upon a seemingly deserted shantytown, as the couple investigate further, a horse-drawn carriage passes them by, missing its human occupant. A scene which might actually hold weight in a straight laced horror film, is in this instance, simply overlooked.

Perhaps the only saving grave is Melissa Chimenti's portrayal of Papaya, the seductive Island beauty. As she appears to be the only character in the entire film who has...character. Sirpa Lane, most well known for her scandalous performance in Walerian Borowocyzk's The Beast/La bête (1975), holds a persistently perplexed expression in almost every scene and Maurice Poli remains smug and nonchalant throughout, even during the film's sex scenes.

I think most genre fans yet to see this will be let down by it, but if you like me, are willing to endure a D'Amato picture, I would assume you already know what you're in for.

Seasons greetings, time to get festive with a yuletide slasher. My choice for this year is Lewis Jackson's Christmas Evil, also known as You Better Watch Out, which I personally believe to be a better fitting title.

Starring: Brandon Maggart, Jeffrey DeMunn, Dianne Hull, Andy Fenwick, Brian Neville and Joe Jamrog.

The idea of a 'killer Santa' verges on sheer ridiculousness, Christmas Evil, however remains somewhat serious, except for a few campy lines of dialogue, the bulk of the picture is quite a chilling tale of psychopathy and helplessness.

The story is essentially about a lonely chap named Harry Stadling (Maggart), who's completely obsessed with Christmas and the concept of Santa Claus.
As in almost all instances of slasher films, the antagonist generally suffers from one form or another of childhood trauma and Christmas Evil is certainly no exception.
In the opening minutes of the film Harry's backstory is unveiled, as we see a mother and her two sons watching Santa deliver presents to their home, unknown to the children it is really their father pretending. After they have both gone to bed, one of the two children, Harry, goes back downstairs and sees his father, still dressed up as Mr. Claus, engaging in some PG-13 romance with his mother. But, the scene is so tastefully shot that's conveyed more romantically than smutty or mentally damaging. Though, after what he has seen the young Harry retreats to his room, smashes a snow globe and deliberately cuts himself with a shard of the broken glass. Now, without being a qualified psychologist I find it questionable as to why anyone would be traumatized by such a thing.



The narrative then skips forward to a 'present day' Harry, unmarried and living alone in a small house. Incidentally, he works at Jolly Dream toy factory, where he is mocked and belittled by his colleagues, even though he holds a higher position than them. Director Lewis Jackson is wastes no time establishing Harry's mental condition, when he's shown to be scrutinizing the children of his neighborhood, before writing down the names of who's been naughty and who's been nice in specifically marked books.
As Christmas draws nearer Harry's mental state steadily declines, at first it begins quite innocently as he glues a fake white beard to his face and dons a full Santa suit. However, things become more deranged when he begins breaking into people's houses...

Christmas Evil is a bit of an oddity, it's nowhere near as strong as Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984), but certainly holds a distinct charm. I believe that said charm is predicated wholly on the complexity of Harry's character. He's not a clean, glorified killer. Instead he appears to be an already disturbed individual, who's been pushed around too many times and has just 'lost it'. He makes mistakes, including one humorous scene of him attempting to fit down a chimney. I'd go as far as comparing his character somewhat to the character of William Foster, portrayed by Michael Douglas in Falling Down (1994).

Yet, towards the end of the film I found Harry garnering quite an amount of sympathy from myself, I couldn't help but root for him to get revenge against his co-worker who took advantage of him. A lot really has to be said for Brandon Maggart, as he carries most of the film on his own acting abilities. But, I feel that because of the film's slow pace and sparse killings and lack of gore, it may not appeal to newer/younger audiences.

Enzo Milioni's drawn-out giallo entry, The Sister of Ursula/La sorella di Ursula.

Starring: Barbara Magnolfi, Stefania D'Amario, Vanni Materassi, Marc Porel and Anna Zinnemann.

By the late 70s the giallo had undergone numerous transformations, from the depth of Bava's Blood and Black Lace/Sei donne per l'assassino (1964) to the stylishness of Argento's Animal Trilogy (1970-1972). The giallos that followed mainly focussed on pushing the levels of sex and violence through the roof and leaving the good story telling behind. Unfortunately The Sister of Ursula belongs in that latter group.

The plot is a fairly basic setup, beautiful sisters, Dagmar (D'Amario) and Ursula (Magnolfi) are residing at an extravagant hotel while searching for their estranged mother, incidentally at the same time a mysterious killer has begun to brutally slay promiscuous men and women in and around the hotels grounds.
Perhaps the only reason this film gets any attention is due to the killers lewd choice of weaponry, as aside from that and the beautiful scenery, The Sister of Ursula is a pretty forgettable giallo title.



The acting is more or less what one would expect, in terms of style and direction, it's somewhat basic and suffers from terrible pacing issues. Unlike other giallo films, the scenes of dialogue are overly protracted, which is more of a nuisance than a hook in this instance, as The Sister of Ursula is far from a 'smart' film. Overall, when compared to similar work of that era it really struggles to hold its ground.

I suppose that in all fairness, The Sister of Ursula works well as a sleazy erotic giallo and a bit of a disappointment.

Romano Scavolini's Nightmare. More formally known to us residing in the UK as, Nightmares In A Damaged Brain.

Starring: Baird Stafford, Sharon Smith, C.J. Cooke, Mik Cribben and Scott Praetorius.

Banned upon its initial VHS release amidst the Video Nasty scandal, Nightmare has had its fair share of censorship and controversy. A distributor was sentenced to 18 months in prison after refusal to edit 1 second worth of footage. Since then, Nightmare's home video releases since have been sporadic, including a number of US VHS tapes, which do feature an uncut print in terms of violence and gore, but are missing scenes of dialogue. The film also had no legitimate DVD release aside from a pre-cut version put out in 2005, in the UK.

The other major piece of controversy surrounding Nightmare is, as I'm sure you all know by now, the involvement of Tom Savini. His name is featured on both the film's poster and credits, there are also a number of production photographs featuring him. However since, Savini has publicly denied working on the film. One would have to speculate that Savini was purely on set to serve as a consultant to effects artist, Ed French and that, Scavolini and/or his producer used Savini's name on the poster and credits as a marketing ploy in order to sell the film.

The plot in Nightmare closely follows the story of a psychopath, à la Lustig's Maniac (1980), named George Tatum (Stafford), who is discharged from a mental hospital, after supposedly being cured through a 'major breakthrough in behaviour control'.



Thrust out onto the dirty streets of downtown Manhattan, George's mental health quickly relapses, feeling from New York to Florida. He begins to stalk single mother, Susan (Smith) and her 3 children. One of whom is growing up to be a little terror himself.

One thing I particularly liked about the character of George is how distanced he is from other slasher antagonists. He's not a remorseless indestructible monster, hacking and bludgeoning his way through promiscuous teenagers. But a man, haunted by the memory of murdering his parents. We also learn that George feels remorse and a confusing sexual gratification from his murderous acts.
The correlation between sex and violence in Nightmare is strong. From the get go, the whole reason as to why George is disturbed, is from witnessing his parents engaging in mild BDSM foreplay as a child. Mistakingly believing that his father was being harmed by his mother, the young George grabs an axe from the shed, beheads his mother, before quite literally 'burying the hatchet' in his fathers head.

Scavolini wraps up Nightmare with an ambiguous ending, neatly tying up one story strand and leaving another wide open. Without spoiling the whole plot, the ending allows the viewer to speculate the future of C.J.'s character.



Scavolini's Nightmare is by no means a standout slasher film, performances are adequate and from a stylistic standpoint, it's fairly basic. That said, there are some excellent and rather vicious murder sequences.
I believe Nightmare is surrounded by something of a mythos. In a sense that, it's become more written about than actually seen. However, much like Meir Zarchi's I Spit On Your Grave (1978), it possesses a memorable and scuzzy charm that's difficult to shake off.

Taking time out from the usual Italian or American affair, it's time to head north with David Cronenberg's ambitious body horror feature, Rabid.

Starring: Marilyn Chambers, Frank Moore, Joe Silver, Howard Ryshpan, Patricia Gage, Susan Roman and Roger Periard.

A young woman involved in a horrific motorcycle crash, has her wounds treated by an experimental operation at a nearby plastic surgery clinic. While the operation was a success, the patient, Rose (Chambers) is the unfortunate bearer of a gruesome side-effect. She has developed an insatiable appetite for human blood, which she syphons from a victim's body via a phallic proboscis, which extrudes through a sphinter-like hole, concealed under her armpit.

Furthermore, those whom she drains have no recollection of the event and eventually transform into rabid zombie-like fiends, whose bite spreads the disease.
Soon enough, the city of Montreal is thrown into chaos as the government and city officials fail to contain the outbreak.



Following the ' body-horror' trend firmly established with Shivers (1975), Cronenberg also delivers a rather satirical message in the first half of the film, in regard to cosmetic surgery and people's attitudes towards their appearance, mainly through humorous conversations between other patients visiting the clinic.

Cronenberg's use of sexually transmitted infection also carries over into Rabid. However, unlike the manmade 'orgy' parasites seen in Shivers, the character of Rose is effectively a vampiric monster, with her power of seduction being tool of survival and the infection being passed on is essentially by-product of her condition and out of her control.



I would consider Rabid to be a turning point in Cronenberg's career, as the production is much more ambitious and complex; dealing with large action sequences, shooting crowds and running on a small budget.

Before I mention Cronenberg again, I think it's about time Marilyn Chambers was given some praise. While her performance isn't World-class, it should be appreciated nonetheless as she certainly showed enough talent for a future career in legitimate cinema, as opposed to the hardcore pictures where she gained her notoriety.

Certainly not the best flick in Cronenberg's back catalogue, but it serves as a great example of his trademark themes and what audiences were set to recieve from a visionary director.

Howdy, it's been a while. I'm returning with a supposedly 'lost' Italian horror film, Pier Carpi's Satan's Wife/Un ombra nell'ombra, an adaptation of his own novel "Un ombra nell'ombra", although the film feels much more like a cash-in of The Exorcist (1973).

Starring: Anne Heywood, Valentina Cortese, Marisa Mell, Irene Papas, Ian Bannen, Lara Wendel and John Phillip Law.

The film's narrative is essentially based upon the turbulent relationship between a mother and her rebellious teenage daughter, albeit through a Satanist/exploitation facade. Anne Heywood stars as Carlotta Rhodes, one of three women who made a pact with Satan and only now are they beginning to realize the consequences of their unholy alliance.

For me, Satan's Wife was a difficult picture to sit throug, the plot trudges on at a snail's pace with very little action or exploitative quality to garner my interest. Given the film's strong cast, aside from Anne Heywood and Lara Wendel, the rest of them are pushed into minor supporting roles. Furthermore their performances are gravely undermined by Carpi's inability to direct. Visually, Satan's Wife is dull, compared to even the disparaging works of Mattei, it's dull.



Satan's Wife is a flick I'd direct more towards genre completists than cult newbies. However, I urge everyone to check out the film's Goblin-esque score, provided by Stelvio Cipriani (The Frightened Woman/Femina ridens (1969), A Bay of Blood/Reazione a catena (1971).