50 Chilling Classics: DVD Box Set Review (Part 1 of 5)
A Review by Rhonda Baughman
Last night I dreamed of old cohorts and sex dice.
And if you have no idea what I am talking about, well - these reviews are a reflection of my early days as a critic with Film Threat¸ although sans my previous writing partner, mercifully. That one was only going to end badly. These days, I’m all about the happy ending.
There is something comforting about having 50 movies in the living room, next to the telly, within easy lazy reach of my jittery and hot little hands. If the Ohio winter prevails, I will not have to leave my house for a movie; should the apocalypse come and wipe out all the Red Boxes, then you know what? I have my 50 chilling classics DVD box set, so phooey, I say, and bring on the nasty weather and the end of days. My SAD has already overtaken the most basic canals of my cellular system, so it matters not, really.
Disc 1
Scoring System: (on a scale of 1 to 5, 20 possible points)
Score/Atmosphere
Editing
Story/Characterization
Pacing
Overall Execution (average of the above categories)
The Murder Mansion
(Music)Score/Atmosphere: 3/5
Editing: 2/5
Story/Characterization: 2/5
Pacing: 1/5
Overall Execution: 8/20
The number of car chases in the film should have appealed to an overt Death Proof fan like me, but alas, the scenes were so …. droll … and very, very, anti-climactic. Had these folks hit the Autobahn, or one of the suicide lanes Tucson used to have, or hell, even Canton, Ohio during the influx of tourists for the Pro Football HOF induction – then the car chases would have meant something. I kept waiting for something, anything to happen during these car chases … but instead, I just began to outline how I would score the films in this box set. That took ten minutes – and the goddamn car chase, vehicular montage was still going on. Then I began to fast forward. So, when you see FF and a number following (ex – FF2), this is on a five point FF scale, with one being the lowest my DVD player goes and 5 being the most generous of skippage.
The gorgeous, (flawless, really) women in this film could not make heighten the overall execution, and I bet when the make-up is scrubbed off, some of these women could work at my local IHop. However, one patch of dialogue did stand out in this dreary potato field of verbiage: The only thing that really makes any sense is that your car has broken down and ere we are all three … lost in the forest … but there’s one good thing. We’re near a cemetery and the dead are buried by the living … so, there’s got to be a village somewhere. (pause) Oh! The cemetery has been abandoned. Yes, I’m afraid the village will be as dead and dark as those unattended graves.
Now that was worth watching cars drive around for the first ten minutes of the film. And I love when film characters are so calm and hyperaware that they ask themselves and each other if they somehow have crossed over into an unreal dimension. Their feelings of oogly boogy and unreality must be in regards to having stepped out of the normal, natural world. I say this without a hint of sarcasm. Yet.
As the film progressed, one character kept reiterating something about a “mystery” and “getting to the bottom” of things. What fucking mystery? What things!? The film barely establish anything is amiss, only the viewer knows this, not the characters. The characters are all holed up in a mansion due to the fog, with many characters locked in their rooms, battling personal demons of one sort or another. To keep myself occupied at this very large plot hole in the floor, I began studying the furniture and fashion of the film.
The dvd sleeve indicates these unfortunate souls are “beset upon” by the living dead. Um, not really. SPOILER ALERT: much like inaccurate title Vampires Vs. Zombies
Death Rage
(Music)Score/Atmosphere: 1/5
Editing: 1/5
Story/Characterization: 1.5/5
Pacing: 0/5
Overall Execution: 3.5/20
The death rage is indicated technologically by primitive red splotchies on the screen – which is quite quaint. The intro begins with a disco of death (not real death, but when I think of disco, I think of death, so might you after seeing the intro), and we quickly cut to establishing a setting in Naples, Italy. After a monstrously long montage of not-so-surreptitious head nods, winks, and stares, the viewer may come to understand this is the mafia conducting shady business. I had to guess a lot; the dialogue was long-winded and boring. I always wondered if it was possible to make a boring mafia movie, in Italy no less, and now I know the answer: Yes. FF3.
What’s Yul Brynner doing in this film? I’m almost positive he has no idea either. Although there’s nudity, and I give it an A+, there’s just not enough it, sadly. And mercifully, Brynner does not drop much trou. I thought about just muting the film and putting on my Tourist Trap vinyl soundtrack – but in the end it just seemed so blasphemous to do that for this piece of shit. On a high point – make note of the ending, very reminiscent to the requiem to Death of a Salesman
Medusa
(Music)Score/Atmosphere: 2/5
Editing: 2/5
Story/Characterization: 2.5/5
Pacing: 2/5
Overall Execution: 8.5/20
I was smitten with George Hamilton’s drunk Elvis impersonation from the very beginning of this film. Then I saw the little butterfly on the ass of his white pants, and decided I was not only a smitten kitten, but melting into my floor. Someone hose me down. I have decided the alternate title of this film is Butterfly on the Ass of My Tight White Jeans. Seriously. It’s right up there with Your Vice is a Locked Door and Only I Have the Key. I’m all about the kitschy titles (see next review). I can appreciate the use of the word “syndicate” in this movie, rather than “mob”. Just sayin’ … it’s kinda funny. FF1. And for the record, when I was younger, I would occasionally confuse Tony Perkins and George Hamilton. I actually think the latter channeled the former. Why am I even thinking about this?!
Sadly, like the previous films, this one drags in the middle. I like that it’s in Rhodesia an characters are scaling ruins, crawling under ruins, climbing towers, and it’s pretty in an abstract way. My roommate at the time, also pretty in an abstract way, and who wishes to remain anonymous, mercifully comes home while this film is on to describe to me, in hairy detail, her latest conquest. What we know about this man is that he has a large penis (“fucking gigantic” were her exact words) … she continues her tale, unaware I am writing down her story and trying to keep a straight face, and we discuss tickling, post-orgasm sensitivity, visualization techniques, and guys who do not understand that once you have released your seed onto a condom, you will have put on a new condom if you would like to keep going. And my response? Du-uh.
Every film has those special, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moments, and this one is no exception. Look for the homoerotic shotgun in the mouth of George Hamilton scene, as well as the make out scene in a restaurant/cantina/bah miztvah … Hamilton ogles his next female meat selection while groping another … it’s oddly hot.
I was loopy by the time Medusa ended, and adrift in a sea of metaphors, mostly of my own doing. The final scene illustrates my mind’s state, showing a boat drifting alone, on the open sea … or, um maybe I dreamed that part – it’s all very unclear.
I Eat Your Skin
Score/Atmosphere: 1.5/5
Editing: 1/5
Story/Characterization: 1/5
Pacing: 1.5/5
Overall Execution: 5/20
I am not in the minority in this film when I say, GREAT FUCKIN’ TITLE, but what the hell does it have to do with the film? Not much unless you, again, are into the metaphorical challenge. Of which, by this point, I was most decidedly not.
My interest in this film died after the excellent opening scene and credits. The great premise was lost considering the film was unsure of what genre it was atemptin to unload its load upon … Mystery? Horror? Comedy? Slapstick? An unintentional combination of all four? The viciously painful dubbing of a lead female character’s voice made me hit FF much sooner than I wanted. FF3, to be exact. It’s downright awful – and you better be ready with the mute or stock up on ibuprofen.
You might fall in love with the first zombie you see, though. He’s some kind of hybrid between a dusty oreo cookie and cucumbers over his eyes, perhaps to relieve the puffiness of his situation. And I use love lightly, because even Oreo Zombie and the voodoo hoodoo mysticism of this film isn’t worth the effort.
