Cinema Obscura: Demons (aka Shura)

Toshio Matsumoto's follow-up to his avant-garde-shot-across-the-bow "Funeral Parade of Roses" (1969) was this bleak, nocturnal samurai revenge epic titled "Demons". Released in 1971, "Demons" couldn't be more different than that debut feature. Where that earlier film seemed to exist as a fly-on-the-wall experiment- blending Godardian nouvelle vague and queer cinema theatrics into a student film like adrenaline rush- "Demons" is measured and even patient at times, wallowing in its inky black and white images as if Akira Kurosawa wanted to get very dark....literally and figuratively. But this patience is often shattered by shocking acts of violence. Always a fan of the spurting squib effect, Matsumoto and "Demons" uses the sword and its devastating impact on the human body to angry effect. Throat slashing and quick swipes to the chest are felt and experienced quite unlike any other samurai film. And then there's the twisting Shakespearean acts of deceit and revenge that ultimately take hold and push the film's unrepentant ronin Gengobei (Katsuo Nakamura) farther and farther into the darkness. "Demons" may be a sophomore film for a director who left behind only four feature titles, but it places Matsumoto in the hallowed echelon of Japanese New Wave directors who not only successfully regurgitated an emblematic moment of their nation's history, but managed to graft something exciting onto the shadows of the past as well.

And shadowy may be the best description for "Demons". Without a hint of daylight observed once during the entire film, "Demons" is a film whose characters exist in a netherworld or purgatory. Gengobei himself is a lost samurai, devoid of his rightful place serving his master and involved with a geisha named Koman (Yasuko Sanjo). When Gengobei comes into possession of money that will buy back his rightful place in the ronin contingency, Koman spins an elaborate charade to rob him along with her lover Sangoro (Juro Kara). Unwittingly setting in motion a series of violent confrontations, double-crosses and seething retribution, "Demons" obliges its dark aesthetic by pulling no punches in its savagery. Just witness what fate Matsumoto (and writer Nanboku Tsuruya whose play the film is based on) hold for even the most innocent of children.

Choosing to call itself "Demons" seems perfectly apt. The opening scene of the film observes a group of people running through the darkness carrying lanterns..... discombulated bodies swallowed up by the night as the only thing visible are the lanterns bobbing and weaving as they move. This eerie yet calculated image sets the tone for a film that refuses to give light to anyone. It's as if everyone involved has already sunk into the netherworld, becoming remorseless carbon copies of themselves. Demons. And like his transvestite youngsters in "Funeral Parade of Roses", they're living a life they've accepted on the margins of reality. It may not be pretty, but at least its true to them.

Cinema Obscura: The Vampire of Dusseldorf

Robert Hossein's "The Vampire of Dusseldorf" (aka "The Secret Killer") immediately places the viewer into an unrestrained cycle of violence and confusion. Yet it's not at the hands of the aforementioned serial killer, but in the black and white newsreels of the simmering violence overtaking Germany in the 1920's. Nazi Germany is boiling to the top of society, Jewish busineses are being ransacked and Peter Kurten, played by director Hossein, seems to emerge from the ashes. Like other films to concentrate on serial killers in Germany (such as Fritz Lang's "M", which is loosely based on Kurten and Robert Siodmak's "The Devil Strikes At Night"), the political upheaval of the time runs simultaneous to the random murders being unleashed by a demented killer. Society is basically giving permission to kill. And this is the jumping off point for Hossein, blending his affinity for film noir with a twisted obsessive romance that sees his character want to fall in love, yet hopelessly bound by the evil impusles rooted deep inside.

Alternating between the murderous nights of Kurten and the (somewhat) inept practices of the SS police force trying to capture him, "The Vampire of Dusseldorf" is most effective in the performance of Hossein himself. He embodies Kurten (unnamed in the film) with near silence, barely talking throughout the entire movie and walking with a hunched, reserved manner with arms pinned quietly at his side. Method acting, to be sure, but he also films the various murders of the women with unflinching blandness. At one point, everything is normal until he sees the legs of the woman he's courting, and the impulse to kill overtakes him. In other scenes, the way he stalks his prey....filmed by Hossein in one of his fvaorite techniques of the long, walking tracking shot.....is all atmosphere and sound. The sound of footsteps on pavement and the staggered breathing of his prey fill the soundtrack with dread. Hossein also has a way of framing just right, such as the scene where Kurten observes a police officer standing post outside the home of a victim who got away from him. From behind a latice fence across the street, Hossein builds suspense from the POV of Kurten and just how he'll find a way past the policeman. It's only in the respite of the El Dorado Club where singer/dance Anna (Marie-France Pisier) peforms that Kurten finds peace. He eventually wins her over, but will his dark side destroy the small amount of happiness she provides him?

One of the 15 films directed by popular French actor Hossein (and so hard to find any of them!), "The Vampire of Dusseldorf" shows his immense and under appreciated talent. 



An Evening With Crispin Hellion Glover

Actor/director Crispin Glover has been called many things- some flattering and many not so flattering. The head-scratching has only become louder in recent years with the release of two experimental art films that choose to have actors with disabilities play leading roles. "What Is It?" utilizes people with down syndrome to tell its story and "It Is Fine. Everything Is Fine!" was written and stars Steve Stewart, a man confined to a wheelchair with cerebral palsy. Watching both films is a feat of tolerance, especially "What Is It?' since its main themes rally against the corporate propagandist that Glover so fiercely believes has infiltrated modern Hollywood. Like other surrealist artists (Bunuel the filmmaker most frequently  referenced), Glover says he wanted to challenge the viewer's expectations and have us ask ourselves probing questions. "What Is It?? certainly does that. But the better of the two films is "It Is Fine Everything Is Fine!". Filmed like a 70's TV murder mystery with a bit of Fassbinder for seasoning- especially in its casting of Fassbinder starlet Margit Carstensen and the film's penchant for garish lighting and highly artificial sets- "It Is Fine Everything Is Fine!" stars scriptwriter Stewart as the aforementioned wheelchair bound man with a unique obsession for women with long hair. And beautiful women seem to be throwing themselves at him, in which he proceeds to strangle and kill them. Beyond this straight forward synopsis, there's something heartbreaking and melancholic about Stewart's flights of fancy and the ideas of body constraint. "What Is It?", the first film in a proposed trilogy, also challenges the viewer with questions of authenticity about our relation to the visual image. Should we laugh? Should we be repulsed... especially in its imagery of repeated snails and Nazi symbolism. Yet there's a unique, experimental energy running through both films that supersede their obviously provocative statures.

All of this is made even more clear by Glover himself, an artist who not only shows both films on his current tour of art houses, repertory theaters (like the great Historic Texas Theater where I saw him) and museums, but performs his unique slide show reading and then stays for a Q and A session. Both nights I saw him, Glover spent almost 4 and a half hours in total answering every question thrown his way... extremely ingratiating and welcoming... a bit rambling at times, but incredibly well meaning and honest. As one person asked, "what is it about his persona...a man who never plays it safe... that attracts generations of people to him?" After this two night event and his deep explanations covering everything from his early days of acting to the personal sacrifices he's made in bringing these films to audiences, Glover is even more so a man who never plays it safe. Which makes us like him even more.

Cinema Obscura: Dream City (Traumstadt)

One never quite knows what they're getting themselves into when they venture into the outsider 70's cinema of Eastern Europe. Films by the likes of Krystoff Zanussi or Miklos Jansco can be quite maddening, adventurous efforts. Well, the same can be said for Johannes Schaaf's "Dream City". Part horror movie, part apocalypse film but mostly just an angry allegory of man's inherent ability to destroy everything he touches, "Dream City" stars Per Oscarrson as a writer who receives an invitation from an old school friend to travel to his city where everyone lives in peace. The writer and his wife make the trip and end up in the dilapidated city where not everything is as peaceful as it seems.

"Dream City", released in 1973, is one of those wild films whose ideas are swirling in every frame. After arriving in the city, the writer and his wife become pawns in an ever-shifting game of human chess. The writer's attempts to visit Patera, his old friend and seeming sole oligarch of the city, is met with bureaucratic blindness and ineptitude. In fact, the civil servant the writer goes to see for his "audience pass" makes him come into his office not once but twice just so he can repeat his practiced lines several times.... since he interacts with so few people. The writer's wife, played to shrill perfection by long time actress Rosemarie Fendel, meets an even odder fate.... first, caught as the unwitting victim in a massive theatrical performance where everyone in the city seems to be play-acting their own fantasies (and featured as the film's crazy centerpiece of sound, camera movement and chaos) then secondly slowly becoming he voice of reason to her husband that this paradise is far from normal. Added to her misery is the fact the the writer has become infatuated with a deaf-mute beauty (named Olimpia, whose only screen credit is this film) who wanders around the city, sometimes involved with a man named Hercules Bell, a revolutionary intent on bringing violence to the people. In fact, it's this vague reference to a coup de tat as well as the shocking unmasking of the real Patera that gives "Dream City" its subversive impetus. It's as if a Grimm fairy tale were updated to the swinging 60' with a violent anarchic bent. As one can tell, this brief synopsis barely scratches the surface of Schaaf's weird allegory, but one that demands to be seen by anyone searching out the undiscovered, dark efforts of European cinema. .

Director Schaaf, judging from his profile on IMDB, could be an interesting experiment if more his films were available. See the description for a 1986 film called "Momo" with John Huston?! "Dream City", although encumbered with a lack of focus at times, it's still a highly watchable effort that will most likely improve with viewings as its dense themes and busy visual scheme hide certain elements on initial viewings. If nothing else, the image of a bald, naked woman wearing some sort of gold 3D glasses (a motif hinted at in the film, yet never really explained) is enough to make one seek out answers from this truly original work.

Cinema Obscura: Kiyoshi Kurosawa's Suit Yourself Or Shoot Yourself

After my exhaustive retrospective of filmmaker Kiyoshi Kurosawa a few years ago, the one title I could never get my hands on was his ultra obscure comedy/crime series "Suit Yourself Or Shoot Yourself". Thankfully, that problem has been remedied.

Nestled in the mid 90's when Kurosawa was heavily involved in creating diptych crime stories such as "The Serpent's Path" and "Eyes of the Spider" and especially his "Revenge" double feature, "Suit Yourself or Shoot Yourself" was filmed and released for the home video market in Japan. The idea, six variations of life surrounding two low level yakuza gophers, expound on Kurosawa's fascination with subverting the same idea and story in a wildly divergent manner. Barely seen nowadays, his six part series obviously holds a soft spot in his heart, as Kurosawa himself told a website called EG in 2012 the following: "It makes me enormously happy to have someone talk to me about Suit Yourself or Shoot Yourself. As I’ve just said, I really enjoyed making this series. If everything had been shot for the home video market, for me these are the true films in my career. From the time the series was made fifteen years ago, no one in Japan speaks about it, in good or bad terms. I’d never been interviewed about it or seen any analysis of it. It practically moves me to know that we can talk about Suit Yourself or Shoot Yourself in France. It’s really while making these films for video that I finally understood that I was capable of making films as independently as my subsequent feature films, such as Cure [1997] or Charisma [1999]."

Like many series, "Suit Yourself Or Shoot Yourself" creates varying levels of satisfaction. Some episodes are much better than others and, save for a few cinematic tricks here or there, the films themselves are mainly devoid of identifying auteurist characteristics. The only constant factor, stars Sho Aikawa (long time Kurosawa collaborator) and Koyo Maeda get into various trouble and then wiggle their way out of it. Part a comedy routine but mostly just riffs on the yakuza genre, "Suit Yourself and Shoot Yourself" is most interesting for the episodic pit stops Kurosawa is now infamous for making- including his latest prject entitled "Penance" which was originally released as a five part film, but will most likely be edited down when and if it reaches these shores....which begs the question will we ever see the original version? Broken down by each episode:

Part 1 The Heist- Yuji (Sho Aikawa) and Kosaku (Koyo Maeda) are low level gangsters who both fall for the same girl, a teacher masquerading at night as a bar hostess. Not only does their relationship with this duplicitous woman bring them into drug smuggling and extortion, but a comical encounter with the local yakuza boss. As a Kurosawa film, “The Heist” is fairly straight forward, although one use of ultra slow motion hearkens to the slow-burn aesthetics that so heightened the tension in certain horror films such as “Pulse” and “Séance”. It’s also highly entertaining as this first pilot episode seems to be aimed squarely at the Godard period of “Band of Outsiders”, using the crime genre as a washboard for visual comedy.

　

Part 2 The Escape- Yuji and Kosaku are again entangled with the local yakuza when they inadvertently help a shy young man with his relationship problems- namely his involvement with two daughters of a mob boss. Less comically inspired than “The Heist”, “The Escape” feels even less like a Kurosawa film.

　

Part 3 The Loot- After Yuji and Kosaku inadvertently kill an old man they were sent to pick up, his granddaughter- as well as a host of other people including the cops and local yakuza- are hot on their tail as the secrets to a treasure map may be in their hands. Gaining some momentum with this third episode, Kurosawa’s deadpan variation on this Abbott and Costello pair of guys loosens up the energy and reveals some momentum for the series.

　

Part 4 The Gamble- Whether its Kurosawa and his band of actors becoming more comfortable in their interchangeable roles or sheer luck is unclear, but “The Gamble” ranks as the best of the series so far. Kurosawa’s direction feels less small-screen inspired and more cinematic, featuring some wonderfully inspired lateral pans and a story that’s less burdened by actual plot and moves along at a brisk clip. Yes, a lost suitcase of money and the local yakuza tracking it down are plot contrivances, but for the first time, Yuji and Kosaku are relegated to the sidelines a bit more and the comedy of the series is genuine.

　

Part 5 The Nouveau Rich- the weakest of the series, “The Nouveau Rich” leans much too often on physical slapstick comedy (such as the repeated motif of a yakuza boss keeping a man on a leash as his pit bull attack dog) to ever fully congeal as something other than a lark. The minimal plot- as the duo get mixed up with a girl who finds a trunk load full of heroin- also grates on the nerves as very little happens.


Part 6 The Hero- ending on a high note, "The Hero" is the best of the six films and one that staunchly looks forward to Kurosawa's heyday of the late 90's. Spinning a tale that consistently subverts good and bad and featuring a bleak, nihilistic ending that echoes Kurosawa's penchant for societal collapse and emotional decay, Yuji and Kosaku become involved with a brother and sister who want to drive a local yakuza gang member out of their neighborhood. How this final episode plays out, and the gaps in time it suddenly presents the viewer make one yearn for more.

 

Cinema Obscura: Anima Persa

"Anima Persa" (translated as "Lost Souls") is a completely weird effort. With acting pedigree as sublime as Catherine Deneuvue and Vittoria Gassman and shades of the giallo genre played out amongst the indelible images of a sprawling Venetian mansion, its a shame that "Anima Persa" isn't quite as good as it means to be.

Released in 1977 by the obviously prolific Dino Risi, "Anima Persa" deals with the arrival of a young student Tino (Danilo Mattei) in Venice to study painting. He moves in with his aunt (Deneuvue) and uncle (Gassman) and is quickly apprised that the old mansion holds secrets.... namely the confinement of another crazy uncle upstairs. Tino is forced into the psychological game between aunt and uncle. He is misogynistic, continually blaming Deneuevue for being "a stupid woman", unable to appreciate the finer things in life like his cherished opera records. She tells Tino about her daughter, supposedly murdered by the insane, pedophile uncle upstairs. Unable to believe or decipher the hatred between them, Tino goes on his own quest to uncover his family's secret past.

A better title would have been "Imprisoned Souls". Owing some rudimentary elements to the giallo genre, "Anima Persa" is far too tame in its suspense to qualify. Taking as its setting only two or three different locations- and a few exterior shots of the lovely Venice canal ways- "Anima Persa" instead chooses to act out a family psychological horror that often borders on extreme parody. Tino's love interest, Lucia (Anicee Alvina) meets him in art class (which looks like a holdover hippie protest) where she blithely strips nude for the class to sketch. Deneuvue, in one of her more strange, emotionless performances, rarely gets out of her pajamas and night gown and Gassman, as the controlling Uncle Stolz, is given a quick gambling habit towards the end of the film that neither explains him or the strange conclusion. A bit of Hitchcock and Argento thrown in for good measure don't tidy up the quite boring mess of Rosi's film. Perhaps my high expectations of an unheralded giallo gem soured my experience, but "Anima Persa" probably belongs as a true cinema obscura for good reasons.

Cinema Obscura: Leere Welt (The Empty World)

Wolfgang Panzer's "The Empty World" is a prototypical German film- dour, analytical and emotionless- which make the film's subject about the apocalypse via a disease that terminally ages everyone overnight even more puzzling. It's an end-of-the-world genre film unlike anything else you've ever seen.

Following teenager Tom (Tilman Schaich), "Leere Welt" is broken into three distinct parts of the apocalypse- introduction, survival and commune. Tom lives with his grandparents as the virus first begins to spread across the world. Lectures in school are presented on the topic and we meet Helen (Beatrice Dossi), a bright girl who Tom has feelings for but than leaves to work as an actress. The next day, Tom's teacher arrives to school severely aged and its clear that the disease is progressing through the adults in Tom's world. As the virus spreads, Tom loses his family and hits the road where he meets various scavengers and survivors- including a little girl. There's no real reasoning to how the virus spreads or why it afflicts certain people and leaves others unharmed. "Leere Welt" is less about this scientific outbreak and more about how Tom interacts with the crumbling world around him. Finally, in the last section of the film, Tom wanders into an abandoned factory and finds Helen surviving with her friend Kiki (Astrd Marshall). The trio comprise a certain kind of family, complete with jealousy between them and an interrupted threesome. All of this is handled with straight-forward ambition and a distinct avoidance of emotion.

Made in 1986 and released as a TV movie, "Leere Welt" has its obvious supporters and has even been called the "holy grail of apocalypse films" by avid fans. I feel a bit jealous to say it wasn't that hard for me to locate. Still, while "Leere Welt" feels like a fairly average film on every level, I can understand the unusual interest in the film. There are moments of bizarre randomness- a pack of dogs that relentlessly chases one of the girls.... an ode to Nicholas Roeg's "Don't Look Now" in its representation of the creepy, wrinkled face of a little girl appearing on-screen.... and the disjointed performance of young Tilman who swaggers through the film like a spoiled brat searching for his lost dog rather than confronting the harsh realities of the world's destruction. As a novelty to say I've seen it, "Leere Welt" was worth the effort. Otherwise, it belongs in the annals of weird German cinema.

Unintentional Double Feature: 2 From Kinji Fukasaku

When there’s a prolific filmmaker in the likes of Kinji Fukasaku- 66 titles listed on imdb- one can always expect a few oddities in the mix. While a good majority of his films, produced in the 60’s and 70’s, set the template for ‘yakuza’ films that deal with the complex, multi-layered hierarchy of inherent violence and betrayal, some of his best work resides in the always chic disaster Sci-Fi genre. Three different efforts in three different decades- “The Green Slime” in 1968, “Message From Space” in 1978 and “Virus” in 1980- reveal a creative artist willing to dabble in foreign territory with surprisingly good results. Through each film, which become progressively better with “Virus” being a near masterpiece, Fukasaku tackles the well worn genre with gusto and imagination.

“The Green Slime” is probably best viewed where I first saw it recently- late at night on TCM after a few adult beverages. A relic of the 60’s, definitely, the film follows a group of astronauts as they attempt to land on a meteorite that’s slowly plummeting towards Earth, effectively blowing it up and altering its course. Michael Bay, anyone? What the astronauts find on the meteorite and subsequently bring back to the space station with them is a decidedly nasty alien life force that wrecks havoc. Living first as the eponymous green slime, the life force soon morphs into a monster that drains the ship of its energy and electrocutes anyone in sight. “The Green Slime” is not an especially good film, but it is harmless fun. Beginning as ‘kiddie’ Saturday afternoon serial with models and costumes that seem left over from an Ed Wood production, it soon turns into a latex-suited monster film that seems to exist as Fukasaku’s excuse to blend Godzilla and Hollywood science fiction. Even the theme song- part 60’s acid rock that lingers in one’s head long after the film itself is over- screams of the time period. I don’t regret seeing “The Green Slime”, but there were finer moments for Fukasaku.

One of those finer moments is “Message From Space”, a low-rent “Star Wars” impersonation replete with a narrative that features a kidnapped princess and a rag-tag group of galactic beings charged with the task of saving her and her home planet. The inevitable cheekiness of the late 70's- and Fukasaku's own determination to chop socky filmmaking in general- also dates "Message From Space", but it doesn't belong in that "so bad its good" category. As midnight cult filmmaking goes, it's a serviceable sci-fo romp that goes a long way in creating terrific atmosphere from gaudy sets and some lunatic performances which include a Japanese pimp, two hot dog spaceship pilots and Vic Morrow joining the quest to save the aforementioned princess from a planet of marauding invaders. But redundant as it is, “Message From Space” is wholly entertaining, like a Shaw Brothers rendition of “The Lord of the Rings”. And although technological advances hadn’t quite grown beyond the model and latex suit phase yet, "Message From Space" overcomes its cheapness through a genuine attempt to specify a grand adventure within the confines of a newly burgeoning high concept genre. And, for the record, the above poster from Egypt has nothing to do with the film itself.... but I love its gaudiness.

The Humble Beginnings of David Cronenberg

The following is an entry to the Director's Chair blogathon being hosted by Matte Havoc.

I doubt there's an orifice or body secretion that David Cronenberg doesn't like. Add to that some weird fetishes and his unwavering view on mankind's clinical obsession between sex and science and one arrives at a truly strange yet brilliant body of work. His best films deal with body infestation ("Shivers" and "The Fly") or the idea of twisted connections of obsession and technological mutation ("Videodrome and "existenz"). Al of these ideas are present in Cronenberg's debut film, "Stereo" (1969), and follow up "Crimes of the Future" (1970).

Ok, full disclosure here- both of these early efforts are not very good films. Yet there is some merit in the ideas and thoughts being explored. Like all great filmmakers, there are themes and predilections that will be analyzed and evolved throughout the remainder of his career. While "Stereo" and "Crimes of the Future" suffer from true student film shortcomings, they serve as fascinating footnotes for a filmmaker searching for an identity.

"Stereo" and "Crimes of the Future" deal with similar themes. Both were filmed around the University of Toronto in which Cronenberg attended during the 1960's. While "Stereo" is black and white, "Crimes of the Future" is his first full length color film. Neither of the films, which details the various wanderings of a quizzical scientist, used on location sound editing, forcing them to have a full narration track added in post-production which lends a very detached and monotone feel to the works. Imagine listening to a psychologist read his graduate studies paper aloud and one gets the idea of Cronenberg's desire to lull the viewer with phrases such as "transmorphic inebriation". In essence, "Crimes of the Future", which is the more watchable of the two films, takes a larger financial backing and explores the themes of "Stereo". Starring Ronald Mlodzik as a black coated doctor wandering around the post-modern architecture of the college, he has created the "House of Skin", an institute that treats men inflicted with a disease caused by the use of cosmetics in the future. After his one and only patient dies (through an excruciatingly painful act of a foam liquid being secreted from his eyes, ears and mouth), the doctor wanders from institute to institute coming into contact with other men suffering from various afflictions. Women have all but been annihilated from the very same cosmetic apocalypse, yet there are mutations that crop up in his wanderings such as a male patient who is said to grow female organs before they fall of and re-grow later. Yes, "Crimes of the Future" plays out just as weird as all this sounds. There are some scenes of the doctor playing with other men's feet in some sort of telepathic showcase and a group of men hiding a little girl, whose ominous face and blank stare the film ends on. As a cohesive whole, "Crimes of the Future" fails pretty miserably.


Medical and philosophical ramblings aside, there are some things "Crimes of the Future" does well. Besides looking terrific, Cronenberg's use of light and shadow eclipse some of his later work which preferred to show the violence in full display. His fascination with one's body turning on itself is also a recurring theme as the previously mentioned secretion of fluids signals the death of several patients. It's also not hard to identify his genre-pushing methods of having the doctor (Mlodzik) be mildly attracted to the fluids, eventually tasting them himself. With "Crash" on the way twenty five years later, its obvious Cronenberg wanted to disgust and fascinate in perverse ways early on. Also, the very title itself would be the "aka" title to his 1997 film "existenz"... still one of my very favorite Cronenberg films and the most trenchant examination of virtual reality ever presented on film. Lastly, Cronenberg's now famous image of an exploding head in "Scanners" have their humble beginnings in both "Stereo" and "Crimes of the Future" with their main characters constantly alluding to the telepathic powers inherent in them. In "Crimes of the Future" especially, there are several scenes of the doctor placing a bare foot to his forehead, trying to manipulate the mind of his patient. The budget wasn't there for an exploding head, but one can sure bet Cronenberg would have figured out a way to include this if he could.


But its the simple traits of "Crimes of the Future" that are the most amazing. Clearly ahead of his time with content, Cronenberg's soundtrack is a truly unnerving experience, full of disconcerting static noises, birds chirping and mechanical droning sounds that add an otherwordly feel to the futuristic pinnings of his film. Also, technically speaking "Crimes of the Future" is a polished film, full of magisterial tracking shots down hallway corridors and fish eye lenses shots that distort the narrative in that oh so good 60's way. Even if I doubt I'll ever watch these two films again, I feel a bit more schooled in the Cronenberg method of cinema... a career that revels in the excess of the nightmarish and wades through the ugly waters of body secretions like no other.

Vermeers and Frustrated Fathers: 2 From Jon Jost

Working on the margins of even independent cinema since the late 70's and carving out a uniquely original voice, filmmaker Jon Jost really came into his own during the early and mid 90's. The benefactor of several retrospectives of his work and lavish write-ups by critics around the world during this time, it's all to sad that a majority of his work is still unavailable on any type of home video distribution today. And as for the unique voice part, once one sees a Jost film, it sticks inside your head like nothing else, developing its own rhythm and visual scheme that instantly identifies itself as something completely organic.

The one Jost film that is currently available on DVD, "All the Vermeers In New York", is as good a place as any for novices to start. Divided into a series of scenes that play out with much patience, it's a collage of several people in New York City who come together through a fateful meeting in a museum between stockbroker Mark (Stephen Lack) and aspiring French actress Anna (Emmanuelle Chalet). He instantly falls in love with her, comparing her beauty and high forehead to the paintings of Vermeer he observes her studying. Growing out from there, we meet Anna's room ate Felicity (Grace Phillips) who helps Anna remain a cool distance from her suitor on their first meeting when the girls pretend Anna doesn't speak English. Felicity comes from a wealthy background and we observe her arguing with her father over the (possible) immoral use of her name involved with his investments. There's also an unusual scene between a painter (Gordon Weiss), desperate for money from the gallery owner for his paintings which ends with him cutting his work directly out of its frame. The idea of money, financial incongruities and art waver throughout Jost's film. We observe mark's stressful days in a stockbroker firm in two long takes as he wheels and deals on the phone. Felicity obviously wants to distance herself from her father's potentially dirty money, but just can't seem to afford to. And as for the central relationship between Mark and Anna, Jost avoids heading into rom-com niceties, exposing the relationship as something true on Mark's part but predatory on Anna's... such as when she asks him for a loan to help pay her rent then pines for her "boyfriend" back home in Paris in the next scene. If anything, "All the Vermeer In New York" is a cautionary tale about forced attraction in the urban jungle. Does Mark, who seems to frequent the Met often, simply fall in love with the perfect idea of Anna or is he truly in love with her? In typical Jost fashion, he raises more questions than answers, opting to portray a mood and feeling rather than a cut and dry romance. Two scenes in particular go a long way in sustaining this mood- the first is a methodical tracking shot around the halls of a museum... a shot Jost loves to repeat in later films such as "The Bed You Sleep In"... and the second is a trip to the pinnacle of the Twin Towers where both Anna and Mark espouse their views on life and ultimately probably define why they are not made for each other.

In 1990, Jost released "Sure Fire", a film about as far away from the concrete hustle and bustle of the New York art world one could get. Starring Tom Blair as Wes, a fast-talking real estate developer in Utah, it's a spare drama that builds to a violent climax with very little effort. Blair is the archetypal Jost leading man.... articulate, calculating and without a swear word in his vocabulary. In his numerous scenes, both at work and home, Blair sends out a host of "by gollys" and "you can bet on that" in his monologues. Small glimpses of his home life reveal his wife is struggling with their marriage, none more so penetrating than in a five minute take as she ruminates on her life through an allegorical tale of a trapped farm animal.


The final half of the film involves Wes taking two friends and his son on a hunting trip. One scene, as Wes gives his son his first hunting rifle than spends an extraordinary amount of time explaining the do's and dont's of firearm safety, Jost creates immense tension seemingly out of thin air. Throughout its relatively short (80 minutes) run time, "Sure Fire" etches into the viewer's consciousness that something terrible is on the horizon and then promptly delivers. While neither "Sure Fire" not "All the Vermeers In New York" play by the rules, they are both galvanizing examples of the experimental and independent nature of Jon Jost. Even though there are 2000 miles in between their stories and settings, both films acutely emphasize that unhappiness and the unpredictability of human nature can strike anywhere and anyone.

Cinema Obscura: Girl Of Time

While I wasn't a huge admirer of Nobuhiko Obayashi's smash cult success "House" late last year, his work has been on my radar now. Anytime a virtual unknown is rediscovered and given a proper Blu Ray Criterion release, my cinematic senses spike. Obayashi has had a long and varied career and with the second film I've been able to track down entitled "Girl Of Time", its clear Obayashi loves creating modern fairy tales that blend extra terrestrial leanings and robust (sometimes awkward) humor.

Released in 1983, "Girl Of Time" (aka "The Little Girl Who Conquered Time") spins the same type of story involving innocent students becoming embroiled in something sinister... this time without spinning decapitated heads and eerie cats. In fact, "Girl Of Time" feels like one of those movies that would have fit nicely into the Disney channel's Saturday night stable of mildly weird kid movies i.e. "Something Wicked This Way Comes" or "The Peanut Butter Solution". It's sweet at times, visually unique at others, but ultimately moving in its depiction of young girl Kazuko (Tomoyo Harada) who, after school one day, accidentally breathes in the fumes of a broken chemical in her school's laboratory. She soon realizes that she's living one day ahead in time, able to see future calamities and save them from happening to her classmates. She has a crush on an older boy who isn't what he seems to be, continually disappearing to pick flowers. All of this is handled with a delicate, languid pace that develops the relationship of Kazuko and her two male friends with a gentleness. The sci-fi aspect of the film is hinted at, but the real motivation seems to be that awkward stage of budding young love that disorientates space and time naturally.


"Girl Of Time" is not available on Region 1 DVD, but if one looks hard enough and wishes to develop their viewership of a challenging Japanese filmmaker, it can be found.

Cinema Obscura: Letters From A Dead Man

Apocalypse films have an inherent attitude and tone. But when it comes from Russia, the apocalypse film is especially cerebral. This is certainly the case with Konstantin Lopushanshky's "Letters From A Dead Man", the type of film that seems to have borrowed Tarkovsky's visual scheme and Nabokov's ideas. Filmed in a yellow-tinged sepia tone, "Letters From A Dead Man" is oppressive in every way possible... and I mean that in the best sense of the word.


Released in 1985, "Letters From A Dead Man" gains its title from the lonely voiceover given by the film's main character, a professor forced to live underground with a handful of others in the cellars beneath their city. Death hangs over every corner. Suicides are rampant and the professor has to watch his wife slowly wither away and die. People can go outside, but only in haz mat suits and they're subject to curfew laws. Yet "Letters From A Dead Man" is lightyears away from other post apocalypse films. There's no violence from bands of roving gangs. Lopushanshky's goal is more intelligent, revealing a post-world tied up in confused bearuracracy as the remaining government apparatus is forcing every healthy individual into the main underground living quarters. Only those with "passes" may enter. The professor discovers a make-shift orphanage with seven unhealthy children, and "Letters From A Dead Man" quietly shifts from pessimistic survival mode to obliquely moving in the final moments.


Owing a huge debt to Tarkovsky's "Stalker", Lopushanshky still manages to create a unique universe. Ideas about the place of literature and religion are the main topics of conversation. And the slow monologue that details the accidental destruction of the world is both chilling in its reality and depressing that it could happen so easily. "Letters From A Dead Man" is not an easy sit, but if one is looking for a varied alternative to other apocalypse films, this is it.

Cinema Obscura: Kenji Fukasaku's "Virus"

As purveyor of hyper-kinetic yakuza flicks ("The Yakuza Files" series) and the bloody cult favorite "Battle Royale", Japanese director Kenji Fukasaku is probably the least likely candidate to produce such a great (and unknown) disaster flick featuring an international cast. With Chuck Conners as a British submarine captain, Sonny Chiba as a scientist, Glenn Ford as the President, Henry Silva hamming it up as a maniacal military general and Bo Svenson as the sacrificial lamb, not to mention the uncomfortable idea of 7 women having to digest the reality of procreating the entire human race, "Virus" (aka "Day of Resurrection") is two hours and forty minutes of early 80's goodness.... and a disaster film that wipes out the Earth's population twice! Who could ask for a more guilty pleasure?

Cross-cutting around the globe as a biological weapon is accidentally released on mankind, "Virus" spends the first 90 minutes effeciently charting the world's demise and establishing emotional resonance with a few select characters, namely Japanese scientist Masao Kusakari who survives the outbreak due to his position in the South Pole where temperatures keep the virus dormant. Research stations from around the world eventually band up together and begin to chart the recreation of mankind, led by George Kennedy of all people. Fukasaku's comic-book storytelling adds a second level of destruction though. Before his death from the virus, military general Henry Silva armed the doomsday devices... nuclear weapons that could launch after a certain period of time and wipe the remaining survivors off the map for good. As the true good guys, Bo Svenson and Kusakari return to Washington DC to disarm the device, risking infection.

Very little of Fukasaku's style is inherent in "Virus". As the precursor to Japanese filmmakers such as Takashi Miike- work fast and quick- Fukasaku has crafted a genuine Saturday afternoon pleaser with little violence, no bad language and old fashioned characterizations. "Virus" may not be as slick as recent ground zero disaster films, but its no frills aesthetic and peculiar pedigree of name actors pushes it a shoulder above the rest.

Cinema Obscura: The Dark Side of the Moon

DJ Webster's "The Dark Side of the Moon" belongs in that late 80's/early 90's direct to video market that suddenly became prominent when independent films were being plucked from obscurity at film festivals and turned a tidy profit. More chances were given and creative freedom was broadened some. Shown at a select few sci-fi film festivals in 1990, "The Dark Side of the Moon" is highly entertaining for its prescient mixture of horror and science fiction.... a film that pre dates the dead-in-space theory five to six years before the predominant favorite of that genre, "Event Horizon" and the more recent "Sunshine". It also tosses in some weird ideas about the Bermuda Triangle and the Devil, weaving together a story that offers a few chills and some mordant humor.


The crew of a spaceship in 2022, traveling through the dark side of the moon, come across a ship that lost communication over 20 years ago. Upon investigating, they find a fresh dead body onboard and stir up something evil at the same time. With a cast of recognizable character actors such as Joe Turkel of "Blade Runner" fame and veteran television actor John Diehl, "The Dark Side of the Moon" carries its low-budget attitude with some sleekness. The sets are believable (except one character apparently chain smokes in space) and director Webster infuses a shrewd sense of paranoia and dread as the astronauts begin to turn on one another.

Webster would not be heard from again in or out of Hollywood, but the sordid screenplay was written by Carey and Chad Hayes.... brothers who are still producing out-there thrillers. After writing the "House of Wax" remake with the delectable Elisa Cuthbert, their latest venture included "Whiteout".... aka the film I rented only for the sexy Kate Beckinsale and ended up fast forwarding through the final 30 minutes. Since most of the pleasures of "The Dark Side of the Moon" lie in its creepy ideas and finale, there's hope for these guys to strike something original.

This film has never been released on DVD.

10 Reasons For a Tarantino Remake

I lost interest in Tarantino way back in the mid 90's. While I don't deny "Pulp Fiction" and its lightning bolt charge of cinematic richness to indie films, his stuff always feels like an echo of much greater work. Tarantino is a walking encyclopedia of genres, camera angles, and obscure cult films that he distills into current pop smorgasbords. There's nothing wrong with liking that. I simply prefer to gorge on the originals.

So now we have "Inglourious Basterds" [sic] coming out this summer. After recently watching Enzo Castellari's original 1978 film which Tarantino's will be loosely based upon, I can certainly see why the ultimate film geek wants to use this bat-shit piece of Italian obscura as a jumping off point for something.... equally trashy and bat-shit, maybe? Granted, Castellari's film is fun in the sense that you can gain some joy while sitting around at 1am, drinking beer and laughing at the numerous amounts of over-the-top deaths and 70's persuasion. I somehow think Tarantino will strive for something more honorable than that... while ripping off every piece of Sergio Leone, and Sam Fuller along the way.

10 Reasons Why Tarantino Chose to Remake "Inglorious Bastards"

1. It features an African-American with an afro who spouts off ultra cool lines of dialogue whose anachronistic presence is worn out quickly.
2. It gives him a chance to feature a bridge explosion sequence (David Lean anyone?)
3. There's a secondary long haired hippie character who looks like he's been smoking dope all day and discovers a group of Nazi women taking a bath in a stream.
4. Lots of bullets that never hit anyone except the bad guys (to profess his love for Tsui Hark and others)
5. A train derailment sequence. I can just see Tarantino slobbering over this. Honestly, who wouldn't though?
6. A chance to overlay some Ennio Morricone music.
7. A chance to use swipe pans, quick zooms (a true staple of 70's Italian movies) and mounted stationary shots as vehicles drive.
8. Characters who swagger around in Nazi uniforms, dressed like the enemy to sneak behind the enemy line.
9. Castellari's original was essentially a twisted remake of "The Dirty Dozen", one of Tarantino's favorite films.
10. Lots and lots of Nazi deaths. Slow motion Nazi deaths. Quick Nazi deaths. Tortured Nazi deaths.

Cinema Obscura: Expect the Unexpected

Patrick Yau's late nineties action thriller, "Expect the Unexpected", certainly lives up to its title. Executive produced by everyone's favorite Asian director Johnny To, Yau's film bears a close resemblance to some of To's work, especially the crime-ridden urban environment of "Breaking News" in which violence seems to be seeping through every crevice of its downtown locations. In "Expect the Unexpected", the plot again concerns the abrupt clash of cops and crooks. As the film opens, a jewelry store robbery goes horribly awry, forcing the criminals to escape into a high rise apartment building with the cops in tow. Three different criminals watch all of this with anticipation from a cafe across the street since the very same apartment building seems to be their captivity grounds for kidnapped and assaulted women. While conducting a search from apartment to apartment, the cops discover this and find themselves hunting two separate groups of criminals. In the mix are two police sergeants played by Simon Lam and Ching Wang Lau (both staples of Johnny To films) who both fall for the cafe owner (Yo Yo Mung). If one can get through some of the very lame attempts at humor and some awful subtitles, there's a great little masterpiece within "Expect the Unexpected".

Formally, Yau is a great director of action films. Remember, this film was released in 1998 which means the shaky-cam has (thankfully) not yet entered the visual language of cinema. Instead, we're treated to long steadicam shots and carefully composed medium shots which neatly construct the logistics of space and placement during several shoot out scenes- especially the final one. But the real joy of "Expect the Unexpected" (as I alluded to earlier) is the sneaky translation of the film's title. If one thinks they know how this will turn out, think again. Yau doesn't ruin anything with a soapy twist ending, but he does play our expectations into a stunning reversal that will leave you breathless.

"Expect the Unexpected" is available on DVD.

Top 5 List: The Death Game Genre

I suppose one could make top 5 lists of the best rock documentaries (with the release of "Cadillac Records" this week) or the top 5 Mickey Rourke performances, but how much fun would that be? And apologies to any fellow bloggers who actually have made any lists like that. I wanted to go in a different direction. After recently watching Robert Altman's much maligned (but not altogether bad) 70's sci-fi film "Quintet", the idea hit me. How many good- or at least highly enjoyable guilty pleasures- are out there that feature this style of medieval hunter and prey narrative? Or as I affectionately call them, the death game genre. So, since my previous Top 5 list counted down the best Nazi hunter films, here's another offbeat list of films for you. Feel free to add any I missed. After number one, in no preferential order:

1. Battle Royale- Kinji Fukasaku's modern cult classic gets better every time I watch it. From the exaggerated kill scenes to the menacing sexuality of Chiaki Kuriyama, (who Tarantino requisitioned for his own romp through Asian theatrics in "Kill Bill"), "Battle Royale" is best seen with a crowd, preferably after midnight and with a few beers. In Japan, society is rapidly becoming overcrowded, so the government's idea is to randomly choose one class of school children, deport them to a secluded island booby trapped with all types of grotesque land mines, and have them pick each other off one by one with various weapons handed out in nap sack. Ridiculous, yes, but wildly entertaining in the right frame of mind. "Battle Royale" came much later in the death game genre, but it's pretty much become the definitive example.

2. Tag: The Assassination Game- If you've seen this film, then I think there's an unwritten law that you have to like it. I watched this compulsively as a kid in the eighties, and it's long overdue for a re-watch now. A small group of kids on a college campus form a game where they use fake guns with darts to hunt and assassinate each other. The only problem is, one of the group takes his losing way too seriously and begins playing the game with a real gun. Not only did this film single handily kick start me and my friends' love for dart guns and sneaking around our dark houses during the summer, but it remains one of those unheralded gems from the 80's that is ripe for discovery. Why isn't this thing programmed for cult film festivals? I could see Harry Knowles championing this thing.

3. The Running Man- Another great 80's cult favorite with every one's favorite governor portraying a convict running for his life in an elaborately staged game show hosted by Richard Dawson in the year 2019! Too good to believe, I know. For those totally clueless about this, "The Running Man" was Tri Star's attempt to cash in on everything from WWF (since Jesse The Body Ventura has a role) to "American Gladiators"... yes the original show with bad ass guns that shoot tennis balls at 80 MPH. As a twelve year old kid, this thing rocked. I caught up with it a few years ago and, amazingly, it still holds up. Great one-liners from Arnold, a smoking hot Maria Conchita Alonso and some pretty great production designs.

4. Series 7: The Contenders-The weakest of this bunch, but still a solid and intriguing modern spin on the death game genre. Directed by Daniel Minahan, the film jumped on the early 00's bandwagon of the mockumentary and re-created his love for films like "Tag the Assassination Game" as a film crew follows 6 people chosen to take part in a contest of last man standing. Really more of a jagged, sardonic riff on the explosion of modern reality television, the film's bite comes in the character of Dawn (Brooke Smith, the girl held captive in the well in "Silence of the Lambs"), a pregnant contestant who goes all out. As far as dark comedies go, you can't ask for anything better than this, even if the characterizations are a bit lazy and the film runs out of steam well before its over.

5. Quintet- As mentioned above, "Quintet" isn't the debacle that many have claimed. The sets are cheesy, yes, but Newman is effective as a man struggling to understand the futuristic game he stumbles across in an ice-covered city full of ravaging dogs and homeless wanderers. Not quite a dystopian vision of the future, but a compelling one nonetheless. And, honestly is this film the genesis for the genre? For the life of me I can't think of any films before this late 70's film that deals with this subject matter. That alone should secure "Quintet" a firm place on any such list.

Cinema Weirdo: Ecstacy of the Angels

When Cinemascope published an article last issue discussing the work of Japanese New Wave director Koji Wakamatsu, I knew I had to track down a few copies of his work. After seeing one of the (only) two films available on DVD, entitled "Ecstasy of the Angels", I'm flabbergasted and unsure if I really want to venture further. Filmed in 1972, "Ecstasy of the Angels" is definitely an acquired taste and prime candidate for any cult film junkie's list of weird and extreme.

Filmed in black and white with splashes of color thrown in for good measure (and indiscriminate reasons it appears), "Ecstasy of the Angels" follows a small group of Japanese revolutionaries who deal with in-fighting, power struggles and the daily grind of having to plant 'time bombs' all over the city, including police stations and crowded nightlife spots. But, I make this sound much more exciting than it really is. Like Godard's "La Chinoise", Koji is more interested in documenting the crazy ideas of his young warriors with dialogue rather than action. There is a flurry of activity towards the end of the film- captured in extremely jerky hand held camera work that follows a succession of bomb detonations around the city- but a majority of "Ecstasy of the Angels" takes place in the cramped, stuffy apartments of the revolutionaries as they spout mantra-like sayings and fight over the cache of stolen military munitions like three year olds. To make things even more avant garde, Koji supplies all his characters with names like Monday, Friday.... while the various factions of the militant group who struggle for power are known as seasons in the year. The 'October group' initially stole these weapons from a US army base (which opens the film with a rather well staged and believable break-in), but their reluctance to use them causes the 'February group' to show up, beat the 'October' leader, rape his girlfriend and take the weapons. If nothing else, Koji does a great job of fleshing out his revolutionaries as childish, inane and pretty clueless about reason, calculation or common sense.

But, wait... there's more to "Ecstasy of the Angels" than its political dissidence. Among the various double crosses and split factions, there's plenty of sex. Clearly deriving part of the film's stance from the pinku genre that Koji worked in for several decades, it belies a universe where sex and politics are inexplicably linked. Major decisions are made during the throes of passion. Nonsequitur comments such as "a park bench!" and "smash... smash them all!" are thrown out during foreplay to... I really have no idea. It does add a great dimension of weirdness and humor to the whole affair. If the film doesn't succeed as agitprop, then it may have a great shelf life as a comedy.

Wakamatsu has made close to 100 films since 1963. The next film I've slated to see is called "Go, Go Second Time Virgin" from 1969. It sounds just as genre-bending as "Ecstasy of the Angels": After being raped in an unknown rooftop, nineteen year-old girl Poppo meets a mysterious boy, and both share their sexual traumas and fears, with fatal consequences. Last year, Koji released a film called "United Red Army" that creeped into several critics top ten lists and has been written about recently by J Hoberman at the Village Voice. Koji is seemingly still interested in the disastrous and chaotic consequences of Japanese revolutionaries as this latest film (clocking in at 3 hours) follows a faction of the Red Army from infant stages to their death in a ski lodge. "Ecstacy of the Angels" seems to be his warm-up for this later effort. It is interesting to see a man of his age still spotlighting a cause he obviously supports, but if "Ecstacy of the Angels" is meant to convert anyone to his side of the line, then it fails miserably. If you're curious, check this one out.

Best. DVD. Company. Ever.

It's pretty close. I've shown much love for Tartan films here on this site. They've got their specialty distribution which deals with Asia Extreme. Then there's Blue Underground, whose glorious tag line includes, "For some strange and wonderful reason, you are compelled to see movies about psychopaths, cops, robbers, zombies, cannibals, madmen, strange women and more, with an audience often comprised of the same." You can be sure that Blue Underground fulfills all those needs and more (now featuring Blu-Ray!).

But the recent winner has to be Anchor Bay. They've just begun releasing a series of DVDs known as their Cult Fiction section. You can check out the full release of ten titles this week at Harry Knowles' site.

The common complaint with this new series is that they've all been released in the past in some form or fashion, either Criterion editions or in bare-bones standard formats. And that's fine. Some of the cover designs alone would prompt me to buy this release over previous copies. Conceptually, they're not the most inventive, but there's something wildly cool about the saturated, washed out images pulled from the film and placed onto the worn-out covers. The films have a classic feel to them. Anchor Bay could certainly be blamed for riding the 'neo wave' of cult film frenzy unleashed by Tarantino and Rodriguez- and as much as I dislike these two filmmakers and some of their films, there's something to be said for the lip homage they shed on long lost films- but this series still directed my attention towards films like "Class of 1984", "The Quiet Earth" and "Road Games" which embellished my Netflix queue once again. The purpose of DVD production companies like the three mentioned above is to sell movies, allow people to watch movies, and bring attention to unheralded gems that will make people do both.

Just seeing some of the cover designs for this series brings back a flood of childhood memories when I'd walk through my local video store (you know the ones... huge selection of VHS with a curtained room that dad would always descend behind sometime during the trip) and venture into the horror film section. I knew I couldn't actually rent one of these titles yet, but the covers were like a magnet, giving me nightmares for several days and allowing my imagination to run wild as to what exactly those horrible creatures on the covers would do to people. Honestly, can you not look at this new cover for "CHUD" and not remember seeing that image burned into your memory as a child? Hell yes I'm buying this Anchor Bay edition, lack of special features or not. It's the nostalgia that binds.

Beyond the cozy memories, there are new titles that, honestly, I had never heard of before. There's an early 70's Mario Bava film called "Kidnapped" (or known as "Rabid Dogs" or 11 other titles I'm sure) that, upon research, is named by fans as an intense, gritty exploitation crime film. I'm so there. Then there's an early 80's film called "Road Games" starring Stacy Keach and Jamie Lee Curtis as people terrorized by an omniscient vehicle. And still yet, a film called "The Quiet Earth" that explodes with favorable comments on Netflix from viewers calling it an eerie and overlooked sci-fi independent classic. Then you've got comedies such as "Return of the Killer Tomatos" and "Night of the Living Dorks". Yes, my friends, not even the original Killer Tomatos movie but the sequel. How's that for rifling through the vaults? And therein lies the joy of being a movie lover. Just when you feel like you might have a reasonably firm grasp on your hobby, a company like Anchor Bay comes along and knocks you flat on your ass. Thank God for companies like Anchor Bay.