Blackout (1978) Eddy Matalon

Blackout begins with criss-cross of power lines, then a traffic report with striking view of New York, glum magnificence of soaring buildings, grey sky and mist. View soon moves below to the hustle bustle of the streets, traffic and noise and rush and crime, and then to varied appartment block dwellers and their doings, a Greco-Jewish wedding, magician and his beloved pooch, kids, the elderly, the whole spectrum. But weaving through this slice of life a police transport carries some decidedly scurvy knaves, and soon things will never be the same...

It's a leisurely, smartly handled opening, dotting lightly between characters in such a way as to establish multiple threads of interest in the shortest possible time, but also building atmosphere of small crouched fragile within great, disorder lying gnarled just beneath the surface, realistic tension of city living. So when power fails, and things start to go awry there's real tension, and the film maintains higher speeds throughout, having banked plenty of steam. As far as lesser known late 70's urban thrillers go, this isn't as grotty or shocking as one perhaps might hope, but with a most able cast it makes a pretty excellent ride. Jim Mitchum makes a credible hero by not straining at heroism, his cop protagonist is just a good commited guy doing his job, no daredevil or tough guy. The baddies are the real winners though, one Don Granberry (also seen in the excellent Death Weekend) as a hyperactive, visibly, bracingly unstable pyromaniac, Terry Haig (appeared in The Pyx and Ilsa the Tigress of Siberia) as a slick but suddenly vicious rapist, one time player Victor B. Hall as (mostly) mute brute Marcus and best of all Robert Carradine as lead villain Christie, arrogance underpinned by callous intelligence and random mean streak. They have good chemistry and make for a few jolting moments (one is especially mean spirited), especially towards the end. Supporting cast is good too, especially from Ray Milland as the building owner who goes from merely grouchy to downright pissed and scowling like a champ as things go from bad to worse.

The drive of the film is pretty relentless once it gets going, while there is some downtime and levity there's no real ease and any smiles are crooked. There are a few unbelievable moments that belie its gritty attitude, and one or two spots where the intensity could have been punched up a little, but otherwise this is an exciting, high quality film of its type, well recommended.

Full Circle (1977) Richard Loncraine

Something of a cult notable but rarely aired on the box and seemingly unavailable on DVD, Full Circle (aka. The Haunting of Julia) sits firmly in the land of the flawed gem. An adaptation of a novel by Peter Straub (called Julia, I've not read it) it has some troubles typical of horror adapted from literature, and possibly marks of production woes too. Characters and their relationships which might in a novel be well delineated, deeply if not clearly considered and wrought, here are somewhat more sketchy, and one subplot is allowed to drop without impact. Also, more is said than shown of the stories horror, an approach which feels at times more TV theatre than cinematic. Now in context there's useful purpose. The focus is tightly on Julia, after the tragic death of her daughter (the days before everyone was taught the Heimlich) seeking to start new life alone, away from her interfering husband. That other characters have bare looks in, that we see them entirely in relation to her says much for her isolation. And the use of exposition over flashbacks, tense, frightened faces, quavering voices, sinister underswells in the delivery, draws out of the supernatural aspects the comfort of the concrete, one is never too far from the thought that poor Julia is simply delusional, caught up in the fancies of others, spinning from what meagre material she finds a web all the more dangerous for being insubstantial. Well maintained but precarious, patchy. There's a lot of potential for serious study here that goes wasting, guilt, paranoia, oppressions of family living, persistence of evil and cold calculations of darkness, while generally speaking brevity is a boon to this sort of genre cinema here an expanded treatment would be ideal, and for the characters, the straightforward drama too.

Luckily Mia Farrow's central performance is excellent, porcelain beauty that seems to silent speak of inner cold, hurt emptiness, bewildered longing. She holds everything together with clammy compulsion and quiet moments of deep sadness, in fact her turn is one of the few such that actually moved me somewhat. Tom Conti provides good support and contrast as an affable, concerned friend, though Keir Dullea is a tad wasted as the low key antagonist husband The scare scenes are often rather fine too, simple stuff but intense and unnverving (there's one pretty sweet jump scare here), building to a powerful climax. So it all works, even if it could have been... more. Strong 7/10 I guess.

Something Creeping In The Dark (1971) Mario Colucci

Dwelling in the strangelands of mingled giallo and supernatural, Something Creeping in the Dark may not rise to obscure gem status but is definitely worth more interest than it currently claims, and much deserving of remastered DVD release rather than its current availability through bootlegs or the internet. An assembly of strangers seek refuge from a storm in a mysterious house, well to do squabbling married couple (genre veteran Giacomo Rossi-Stuart and Lucia Bose of surrealist classic Arcana), doctor and his comely nurse, killer (handsome devil Farley Granger rocking a leather jacket) and the two detectives in charge of bringing him in. Piqued by the story of the houses former owner they perform a seance, and when this is interrupted the night commences to go rather awry...

Writer/director Mario Colucci wisely keeps this one offbeat and mostly on the down low, revelling in location and mood rather than action. The approach does wear a bit thin by the end but the first two thirds are so are fine stuff. The house is a treat of elegant oddity, luxurious red drapes, exotic gew-gaws spread about the walls, a strange abundance of clocks, and the direction, editing and score do it its due, the long, slow fluid camera, the rhythms of zoom and cutting, subdued yet richly ominous score all coming together with house for evocative near perfection of long uneasy night in strange place, fascinating frozen time and ambiguity.

Things perhaps are a little too oblique, while the characters are of interest little is known about any so their relationships and interactions are a little lacking in suspense and ultimate impact. There are a number of scenes of swift, jolting violence but nothing graphic, and the film has little blood and no gore to speak of. Nudity is also limited to one character, and though all this is in keeping with the films leaning towards earlier psychedelic/Pop Art inspired genre outings like The Witch in Love or Femina Ridens, the carnal tanglings and sinister mood really needed a less restrained expression. The end is a disappointment too, an abrupt, predictable gotcha of a thing that would pass muster in a short film but not after nearly ninety minutes. But this is still good stuff on the whole for the old fashioned, but European minded not starched. Suited perhaps best to late Friday nights sipping wine, from me then a 7/10.

Mongrel (1982) Robert A Burns

I feel sorry for anyone who rented the Paragon tape of this back in the day, invited by its snarling Cerberus that appears in no way, shape nor film during the actual film. And I feel sorry too for those closer to now who noted written/directed by Robert A Burns and thought it might reflect something of his genius for art direction as seen in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (or, erm... Don't Go Near The Park), or his acting prowess of Confessions of a Serial Killer. Alas, cry nay!, the most distinctive furnishing of the boardinghouse on which Mongrel focuses is a Deep Throat pinball machine, and the acting is just competent. In fact the only people liable not to be disappointed by this are those already steeled by the drudging disappointment of what seem to be the majority of reviews out there. Having read up before hand I expected nothing and hence was actually somewhat pleasantly surprised. For most of the runtime a slow, meagre thing, it nonetheless manages a certain dull, vacant watchability. Of the two key events that drive the plotting one occurs after the twenty minute mark and the other after the thirty, with little in the way of exploration of either character or location beforehand to make the wait especially worthwhile. Yet there's some tension to the set-up, nice guy Ken arrives at a boardinghouse of stereotypical boardinghouse tenants (oddballs, ass-holes, good guy, nervous guy, nice girl and hippy lady), and immediately grates, while there are no substantial sign-posts to indicate where the story is heading. Things are slow even when the story does get moving, some ten minutes odd could have been shaved to good effect on the films interest level. But things never quite drop from dull into boring, and when the film really breaks a sweat in the final twenty minutes or so it's agreeably offbeat stuff, mildly intense, a little unsettling, a satisfying capper. No gore to speak of and only a bit of blood, it still works quite well. X-Files fans may be amused to note that Mitch "Skinner" Pileggi makes his debut here as the ass hole of the film (and is effectively repellent) and classic film fans may chuckle at a boisterous cameo from Aldo Ray, who presumably palled up with Burns while appearing in the aforementioned Don't Go Near The Park. No one else really stands out, though no one is too notably bad. Altogether there aren't many likely to have much time for this, it's really just a film for obscurity fiends. But with an interesting atmosphere and decent finale its about worth the effort, so reasonable kudos from me.

Bloodmoon (1990) Alec Mills

One of the less feted slashers to still earn a release on a non poundstore/fly-by-night DVD label, Bloodmoon is generally taken as proof positive that the slasher genre had well mouldered away its last worth by the late 80's, and that Australians were never good at making them anyway. Apparently their older effort Nightmare is actually quite a solid giggle but I haven't seen it yet. Easy to see why Bloodmoon gets little love, it's a copiously flawed work, yet I found it difficult to really dislike. Problems first, starting with plot which is sloppily worked out with several fudged motivations and a lack of clear central protagonist. In the first half hour a teen rivalry subplot weighs heavy, but that dissolves completely into cheesy romance, which is then largely set aside for luridly schlocky soap operatics. Of course murder is bubbling away at the heart of it all and things catch alight sometime in the second half with a turn into suspense shocker, but even as things come to a head the impression remains of two fairly distinct scripts hastily pasted together. Along with plot deficiencies the kills mostly aren't up to much, poised without much suspense, staged with little skill and perhaps worst of all displayed with little grue. There's some blood and a couple of nice after the fact body shots, but given that the killer's weapon of choice is a loop of barbed wire for garroting purposes the general absence of rent flesh and gushing red is coming on tragic. And adding to the malaise is an unmemorable score from the usually reliable Brian May (not to be confused with the shaggy haired Brit astrophysicist), spiced up with a couple of typical for the era wuss rock tunes which are really no match for the butt rock of its genre contemporaries.

But for all this, a good time for me. The younger cast members cast are bright and enthusiastic, performing without guile and selling the material with charm. There are a number of attractive girls and a bit of nudity, but in a nice departure it feels innocent and fun rather than sleazy and deliberate (even if it was indeed sleazy and deliberate, which I suspect was the intention). The older members do well too, especially a creepy, toadishly pathetic Leon Lissek as a cuckolded teacher and Christine Amor a delight as his ice bitch wife. The locations are pleasing and the direction randomly atmospheric, one of the kills is surprisingly vicious and others achieve in random shots a certain offbeat charm. And due to the well stuffed plotting there's always something to entertain going on even if it is decidedly inane. So I rather enjoyed it all and was never bored. Not a film I'd ever recommend as "good", but worth a watch for bad slasher junkies.

Blood Frenzy (1987) Hal Freeman

Ah, now this is the good stuff. In one of those wacky japes the like of which I really hope were never actually sanctioned by the APA, a therapist takes six patients off for an intensive desert retreat, at which exactly what you expect happens. If Blood Frenzy were less entertaining I'd be pretty ill disposed towards the way it treats as normal some of the more reprehensible myths about mental health professionals and their patients, that the former are well meaning but easily deluded and somewhat nitwitted and the latter often have little more than standard social dysfunctions and readily experience cathartic breakthroughs, but since its kinda awesome as far as no budget late 80's slashers go I thought it forgiveable.

Simple fare for the most part, writer/director Hal Freeman (better known as a pornographer and centre of the vital court case of that culture) avoids the sap and psychodrama or multiplous red-herrings that one might expect from the situation. The writing is rather fun and snappy, carving out somewhat agreeable characters from clay stereotype, with a good dose of enthusiastically delivered profanity (Pussy-bumper!). Pacing is well measured for the small cast, with death and excitement portioned nicely for suspense purposes, events building to a rather fine over the top and twisted finale that would be more at home in some of the genre classics of several years previous. Although the kills don't have much in the way of variety or invention they are mean and bloody, even mustering a small measure of style and eerieness. More nudity than just the one short occasion would have been most welcome, in keeping with the generally sleazy vibe but you can't have everything. The cast make up in enthusiasm what they lack in talent with one John Clark amusing as the sort of chauvinist who would usually be merely insufferable, and its nice to see Lisa Loring, who followed this up with the crap but fun ski themed Iced the next year. There's some awkward editing and the desert setting is rarely put to all that much atmospheric effect (though this is partly down to the problem that the majority of available prints of this seem decayed), but there are one or two good shots, and while the score passed from my mind almost as soon as the credits rolled there is nice use of a nursery rhyme. So altogether a winner and well worth a watch for fans of the era and style.

Naked Blood (1995) Hiseyasu Sato

By quite a ways the best known film from Hiseyasu Sato (a bucket or two of the good old claret will do wonders for your distribution!), Naked Blood sees him on decent albeit by this point slightly unsurprising form. The most striking difference to his earlier work is that Naked Blood isn't really a pink film, there's an important sex scene and some nudity, but the focus has departed from the carnal. In this vein is the other change, the film concerned almost as much with innocent (relatively speaking) victims as the warped guilty. But otherwise the expected is all there, ills in heredity here rather smartly detailed, progress for all it's lofty goals just a catalyst for flesh obsession, and of course isolation and voyeurism with a rooftop, camera and binoculars getting a look in.

With no random detours into sleaze to keep the producers happy Naked Blood is pretty slow and measured stuff, only really sparking in the final block which earned it it's sterling reputation even among the less devoted to the strange. But the plot and characters are compelling, even indefinably moving, and slants of outright science fiction are fresh and interesting. Sato gets ever closer to the apocalypse hinted in the like of Brain Sex, but with warmer, almost tender touch, the maturity of someone finally knowing to get their hands dirty. He engages more with his subject rather than spying, progress of sorts, but here lies the problem with the film. It's a simple engagement, he never fully gets inside the story and characters, never properly guts, skins and pins. Instead of revealing whole new aspects of his obsessions he just fractionally advances their study. It's frustrating because there's so much potential here and Sato has trod such material before (Naked Blood being a reworking of his earlier film Pleasure Kill which I have not seen but is apparently superior), I suppose it clarifies his limitations.

Still, taken individually as an art shock piece Naked Blood is well worthy of consideration. It avoids the general pitfalls of emotional drudgery, static shots and overdriven pseudo intellectualism, and its symbolism is neither forced nor over-obscure, it coheres on a narrative level with little dubious ambiguity. And importantly its gruesome scenes are well handled and thoroughly twisted without obvious contrivance a far cry from the sorts of films that treat educated audiences as fools to be shocked from complacency. So my misgivings granted, still recommended.