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Bloodsongs Issue 1 By D.K.D. Kadavar I dunno, you ever get confused when you look through those seemingly endless arrays of weekly hires when you visit the video library? I sure do. You walk in there, looking for something interesting to hire, but you’ve seen everything worth seeing on the “New Release” shelves. There’s fuck all on TV that night, so what do you do, you start rummaging through those hundreds and hundreds of videos that most libraries let you have five of for a week, and ten bucks of course. But when you’re confronted with the multitudes of vids -- all of which are the finest examples of the film-maker’s art, according to the blurbs on the jacket anyway -- you think, “I know there must be at least one or two films in here I’ll like, but fucked if I know which one to choose.” Yes, there is much trash on dem shelves, but there’s also many a gem in there too. Dust jacket blurbs are certainly no indication of what sort of film you’re getting … they are written by PR/advertising execs remember. Wouldn’t it be great if you knew someone who’d seen them all to recommend some of the better trash classics for you? Well, after ten or eleven years of being a video junkie, and with a taste for the trashier, exploitative, violent, horrific, and generally tasteless genre of film, I believe I may be qualified to help here. Yes there are varying levels of tastelessness. We might enjoy watching a bunch of college co-eds getting systematically slaughtered by a chainsaw-wielding indestructible psychopath who likes wearing hockey masks, but we also demand to be entertained, right? Fucking A! How many times have you ended up with a turkey that promises to take you to new extremes of bloodshed and weird sex acts, only to end up with something that could be shown on TV without being cut? Well, one thing I can guarantee is that any vid I discuss in this column will: (a) deliver the goods promised; (b) be readily available in most video stores (unless you live in Queensland where many of these titles may be banned); and (c) entertain. (Just a note to you video connoisewers [sic] out there: I realise that you’re already familiar with the films I will talk about, but please note that this column is aimed at the novice video junkie, who may not have heard of these titles, or just given them a passing glance on the shelf at the video library.) I’m sure you are all familiar with the schlock classics, Re-Animator and Re-Animator 2: Bride of Re-Animator, both of which feature the brilliant Jeffrey Combs as Herbert West, and another fine actor, the late David Gale, who, in his role as the sinister Dr Karl Hill single-handedly redefined the term “head job”. But how many of you have seen SYNGENOR, where David Gales gives us another manic, over-the-top performance as psychotic business tycoon, Carter Brown, whose character can best be described as a cross between Max Headroom and Frank Booth (Dennis Hopper’s character in Blue Velvet). SYNGENOR is a sf/horror horror film, released on video (1991) by The Home Cinema Group, and having only an M-Rating should be readily available throughout Australia. SYNGENOR is an acronym Synthetic Genetic Organism, and is a creature developed by US military defence contractor, Norton Cyberdyne, to be the “new breed of soldier and survive in the desert … (and) capable of reproducing every 24 hours”. The creation of mad-scientist Ethan Valentine (we know he’s a mad scientist because he keeps rows and rows of jars containing glowing green goop in his garage-cum-laboratory), the SYNGENOR prototype soon escapes –- thanks to the machinations of one Paula Gorski (played by Riva Spier), a Norton-Cyberdyne exec who wants to discredit head honcho, Carter Brown (Gale) in order to take his place as director of the company –- and, after killing a company exec and two bimbos, goes off in search of its creator, which it also kills. Now enter ol’ Ethan’s niece Susan (played by Starr Andreef) and reporter, Nick Carey (Mitchell Lawrence), who wants to do a story on Norton-Cyberdyne, both of whom go off to find what happened to Uncle Ethan. Meanwhile, the prototype Syng, which is a-sexual, has spawned a whole bunch of these critters, which are being kept in a locked vault in the basement of Norton HQ, and which are let out for the hell-of-it by bad girl Paula. I think you’ve all got a fair idea about what happens from here on. But there’s more to SYNGENOR than the plot description might indicate. Although, a fairly standard monster flick on the surface, there’s some real dark humour for someone willing to look a little deeper. Writers Michael Cermody and Brent Friedman use this monster scenario to take a poke or two at American militarism. Then there’s David Gale’s portrayal of Carter Brown. What can I say? Gale, whose mere presence dominates every scene he appears, is a real delight to watch. When he says, “Let me tell you about crazy,” you better believe him. This guy is a fruitcake of the first order. And not only does he get all the best lines, but he also gets to shoot up with this real neato injector-gun thingy, where he pumps himself constantly with some designer drug (for which the FX people use the same glowing green liquid that must have been left over from Re-Animator) that makes the veins on his neck pop out, and causes him to complain about the air-conditioning. Low budget psycho-killer videos are something I’ve always had a soft spot for, and Bloody Wednesday (Show Case Video, 1985) is one of the finer examples of this sub-genre. This one you’ll probably find lurking on the action shelves, and you shouldn’t let this fool you as this is a horror movie. Harry Curtis (played by Raymond Elmendorf) has a few problems, which may be an understatement, when in the opening scene he walks into a crowded diner and proceeds to blow everyone away with a sub-machine gun. We soon learn that this opening bloodshed is only a brief glimpse of what we can expect in the finale, and in fact, this device of giving away the ending during the opening credits proves to be very effective as through the rest of the film we are episodically led through the few months preceding the final massacre as we watch Harry slowly drift down the path to insanity. When we cut back to the few months earlier where Harry is working as a garage mechanic, we already know the end result, giving each scene all that more emphasis. When a customer comes in to collect his car he finds that the engine has been removed and disassembled with all the pieces carefully laid out on the floor as a totally out-of-it Harry sits in the middle of all the engine bits. When the car-owner complains to the garage owner, who asks Harry what’s going on, Harry just replies “Nothing fits”, which, in a way, makes a clever metaphor for Harry’s life; all the parts are there but Harry just can’t get it together. Naturally Harry gets fired and it isn’t long before we learn that this is just another in a long series of failures in Harry’s life. Recently divorced, just out of a mental home, broke and with no place to live, Harry turns to his ultra-straight accountant brother for help who arranges for him to live in an abandoned motel. It’s here, when left alone to his own devices, that Harry’s mental state progressively worsens. The emptiness and isolation of the motel in many ways is a reflection of Harry himself –- both are discarded remains in a world where neither can fit in and a world that doesn’t care. It’s here that Harry walks the corridors alone, speaking with its many ghosts –- which it isn’t clear if they are real or figments of Harry’s deranged mind –- and where he lives a life of fantasy. It’s also in the motel where Harry is forced to face up to a gang of street thugs who break in. How Harry handles this is one of the highlights of the film. And it’s here that Harry is forced to confront his ex-wife –- who when she appears on the scene one can’t help thinking that having been married to such a bitch may be the reason that Harry is so fucked up –- for which I’m sure you will cheer Harry on as he deals with her in his own inimitable fashion. Bleak, downbeat, dystopic, Bloody Wednesday is a character study of one really disturbed individual. We know from the opening scene that Harry is doomed, which in away makes this almost a voyeuristic experience as we watch Harry drift further and further into insanity. Elmendorf’s portrayal of Harry is first class. And the old motel with its ghostly guests is easily the equal of King/Kubric’s one in The Shining. And then there’s that finale, a five minute splatterfest that is unequalled anywhere. Last up we have a police-procedural horror flick with a difference. Although just another cops after a crazed killer flick on the surface, Headhunter (Palace Entertainment, 1988, Rated M), directed by Francis Schaeffer, holds some real grisly delights for the goreaphile. Miami cops, Kay Lenz (played by Katherine Hall) and Pete Giulani (Wayne Crawford) are on the trail of a serial killer who has a thing for decapitating and leaving headless bodies in what appears to be part of some bizarre occult/voodoo ritual. Sounds pretty good so far huh? Only this aint the work of an ordinary psycho. What we have here is a head-hunting demon from Nigeria after its long-lost brethren who have left it for the greener pastures of Florida. Now in the big city said demon discovers a whole bunch of new souls just waiting for it to capture. Throw in a voodoo cult, a bunch of headless corpses, a great chainsaw finale and we have the makings for a fine film methinks. And for once the cops accept the notion of a supernatural killer after seeing the evidence … and there’s also an over-the-top performance by Steve Kanaly, who does much over-acting as the redneck, racist, ultra-moronic Police Captain. |
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All material on this site is Copyright 2007 to Chris A. Masters
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