Give Me Pity! (2022)

Directed by Amanda Kramer

Featuring Sophie von Haselberg, Cricket Arrison, M. Diesel, Annie Kyle and
Shelley Long

Sissy St Claire is an actress obsessed with ‘making it’, and it seems like she has when she stars in her first live television special. But things quickly start to turn strange – the oversaturated colours on the TV screen warp and glitch, and a sinister masked figure appears in the wings. Sissy’s song and dance numbers and skits start to go awry, going downhill starting with a fortune teller in a skit telling Sissy not to touch them, since Sissy has a ‘demonic presence’. From here on the live special starts to spiral into a bizarre, sparkly nightmare.

This movie is impressively odd, being both a pastiche of 1970s and 80s television specials and a horror movie where the horror seems to mostly spring from the mind of the main character. It is a lot like watching a nervous breakdown play out on retro TV, with Sissy’s initially gushingly positive confessional speeches frequently veering off course to reveal bitterness, insecurity and even rage beneath. The whole thing has an increasingly unhinged feel to it, but in spite of this Sissy’s existential angst brings up some real questions about the role of women in society, beauty standards and the nature of stardom.

Worth watching? Yes – compellingly strange, this would make for great for 3am viewing. Having said that, I watched it during the day and can’t get it out of my head: it was deeply odd, and an interesting, unconventional horror film.

Truth in advertising? The title is pretty fitting: 5/5.

Lips of Blood (1975)

AKA: Lèvres de Sang

Directed by Jean Rollin

Featuring Jean-Loup Philippe, Annie Belle, Natalie Perrey, Catherine Castel, Marie-Pierre Castel, Hélène Maguin and Anita Berglund

After seeing a photo of a ruined castle, Frederic remembers an incident from when he was a child when a young woman in white helped him find shelter when he was out lost one night. He starts seeing the woman in white wherever he goes, and becomes obsessed with going to the ruined castle, believing it to have something to do with his past. At the same time, numerous mysterious individuals (plus Frederic’s own mother) are intent on keeping him from discovering the location of the castle, not afraid of resorting to violence or even murder in order to stop him. But in his pursuit of the woman in white, Frederic accidentally released four female vampires from a crypt. These vampires waft about in filmy, transparent robes, assisting Frederic on his journey by handily drinking the blood of those who stand in his way.

In many ways, this film is not necessarily good. The acting is pretty wooden, the vampires wear laughably ill-fitting fake fangs, and the plot is full of holes, with characters frequently making decisions that make absolutely no sense. But if you like arty, dreamlike exploitation, this will probably hit the spot. The endless shots of Frederic and the nearly naked vampires roaming the streets after dark may be repetitive, but they are also very beautiful. It all works best if you surrender to the dream-logic of the plot – if you let the imagery wash over you the themes of memory, longing and a journey to overcome childhood trauma meld into something quite poignant.

Worth watching? Rollin is a director whose films you will probably either love or hate. I am firmly in the former camp, and I really enjoyed this one.

Truth in advertising? Being about vampires, the title fits: 5/5.

Braid (2018)

Directed by Mitzi Peirone

Featuring Imogen Waterhouse, Sarah Hay, Madeline Brewer and Scott Cohen

Petula and Tilda are a pair of young women on the run. Narrowly escaping being caught in a drug bust, they now owe $85,000 to drug barons after their inventory was seized by the police. They travel to the stately mansion of their childhood friend Daphne, intending to steal from her the money they need to repay their debts. From the moment of their arrival, they fall into old patterns, playing along with delusional Daphne’s version of their childhood make-believe games. Each has a part to play: Mother, Daughter, and the Doctor. But the game is more intense, violent and twisted this time around, and Petula and Tilda’s quest to steal the cash gives way to a struggle for power, and for survival itself in the wake of ever-shifting realities and identities.

With an assured visual style, this film has no problem catching and keeping the viewer’s attention. Detailed sets, surreal visuals, and some arresting set pieces make it a pleasure to watch, with a hypnotic, hallucinogenic style. Some of my favourite scenes involve Tilda taking PCP and running through sublime gardens tinted in shades of pink and purple, lines between childhood and the present day blurring as she moves.

The plot also had potential, investigating questions of identity and reality. But after a point it loses all direction and devolves into total incoherence. This was possibly meant to mirror the growing disconnection of the three main characters from reality, but after a while it just became frustrating. This was particularly the case in the last half an hour, where multiple contradictory twist endings pile up upon each other, making the eventual conclusion feel immensely unsatisfying. Despite some horrific elements the film feels emotionally hollow, and was low on characterisation.

The best way to enjoy this film is to let yourself be carried along by the imagery, not thinking too hard about what’s actually going on. If you can accept the dream logic of it all, it makes for a visual spectacle that is beautiful, trippy, and horrifying in turn.

Worth watching? This visually impressive exploration of shared madness ultimately makes little sense and feels quite shallow. But it is worth a watch for the visual aspect alone, which is weird yet absolutely sublime.

Truth in advertising? With the three women’s lives and psyches being entwined since childhood, the title is fitting: 5/5.

Sh! The Octopus

Directed by William McGann

Featuring Hugh Herbert, Allen Jenkins, Marcia Ralston, John Eldredge and Elspeth Dudgeon

A pair of bumbling detectives investigate a murder by a criminal mastermind known as The Octopus. The investigation leads them to an old lighthouse full of odd characters, who all the while are being menaced by… an actual octopus.

This parody of ‘old dark house’ type murder mysteries is so full of nonsensical madcap action that it is sometimes quite difficult to follow. We have people appearing out of nowhere and disappearing almost as randomly, hidden doorways, hidden agendas, spooky voices calling out cryptic threats, a pirate with a hook for a hand, characters who aren’t who they seem to be, occasional use of special effects for no apparent reason (check out the frogs stealing shoes), and one extremely effective use of early special effects when the villain is revealed. It crams an awful lot into fifty-something minutes, leaving a head-spinning sensation in its wake.

There is also an ending (with not one but two extra joke endings after it) that would have been extremely frustrating in any other circumstance. But in this case, where we have a film which frantically includes everything but the kitchen sink to slightly surreal effect, the ending only serves to enhance the strangeness of the whole thing. At least the conclusion gives something of an excuse as to why what passed before it made so little sense.

Worth watching? This is an incredibly odd comedy-mystery that doesn’t really work or make much sense, but coasts by fuelled by its own insanity and willingness to break the rules of conventional film making. It’s one of those films that really makes you wonder what they were thinking, and I would recommend it mostly to lovers of cinematic weirdness. I don’t regret watching it, mostly because it has been a long time since I saw a film this strange.

Truth in advertising? I kind of hate the awkwardness of the title, but it works well enough: 4/5.

Point of Terror (1971)

Directed by Alex Nicol

Featuring Peter Carpenter, Dyanne Thorne, Joel Marston, Lory Hansen and Paula Mitchell

Tony Trelos is a sub-Tom Jones style singer who does his thing down at the Lobster House twice a night. Our film opens to Tony, on stage in a tight, bright red jumpsuit decorated with extremely long fringe, belting out a tune while doing some pretty questionable dance moves. As the song ends, Tony screams and wakes up on the beach.

Here he is approached by an older woman in a bikini. This is Andrea (played by Ilsa herself, Dyanne Thorne!), and she informs him that he is on her private beach. But she doesn’t mind – and as they flirt she agrees to come and see him perform sometime soon.

Andrea is as good as her word – she goes to the Lobster Shack and is mesmerised by Tony hamming it up on stage. She reveals that she is married to the boss of a record label, Martin (who is a partial invalid in a wheelchair), and implies that she can get Tony a contract. Against the advice of Tony’s girlfriend Sally, he goes for it, embarking on an affair with Andrea in exchange for being signed up to the record label.

As Andrea and Tony continue their shenanigans, Martin becomes increasingly jealous, and Andrea’s instability becomes more obvious. Martin and Andrea have more and more drunken arguments, and it all comes to a head one night when Martin sees Andrea and Tony having sex in the pool. He confronts Andrea, and they have a bizarre fight where Andrea pushes poolside furniture into his wheelchair and shouts ‘Toro! Toro!’, taunting him as the sounds of a bull fight play in the background. Martin’s wheelchair slips into the pool, and Andrea doesn’t lift a finger to save him from this ‘accident’.

At Martin’s funeral, Tony catches a glimpse of Helayne, Andrea’s stepdaughter – and the inheritor of the half of the record company fortune that is not Andrea’s. After the funeral Tony proposes to Andrea, who laughs in his face, confirming his mere sex toy status. Soon enough, he marries the pretty but boring Helayne instead. But it’s not all happy endings: not only is there still the bitchy and vindictive Andrea to contend with, but Tony’s ex Sally turns up pregnant and despairing of what to do about it.

Although the description on the DVD case and on IMDb make it sound like this is a horror movie, it really has minimal horror elements. It is an examination of personal exploitation of various kinds, wrapped in the form of an over the top and very 1970s soap opera. It is a parade of garish lighting and even more garish fashion, unhinged behaviour and a preening performance from the at best modestly talented Peter Carpenter as Tony. He is someone who exudes the sense that he believes he is the most handsome man in any given room, but who in reality looks older and more leathery than he thinks he does, and is creeping everyone out a little with his dance moves. It’s all gloriously entertaining, particularly given that from the title I was expecting this would be a half-baked horror movie.

[*SPOILERS*] The climax of the film takes place up on a cliff top, as Tony reveals to a disdainful Andrea that he and Helayne are married. Andrea is initially bitterly triumphant because the marriage negates Helayne’s inheritance. But when that isn’t enough to send Tony running back to her, Andrea spits venomous insults at him, whines, cries and generally has a giant tantrum, eventually grabbing onto his ankles so that he walks around dragging her along the lawn. Still clinging to him, she clamps her arms around his shoulders, and Tony starts spinning around (?!) until the centrifugal force causes her to be flung away, over the cliff and to her death on the rocks below (!!).

Just when you think it’s all over, there is an odd scene of a detective investigating this ‘accident’ while eating an array of snacks off a food platter left out by the pool from the night before. Tony gets off scott free and is just about to fly out on a trip with Helayne, but gets a last minute call from Sally. When hee goes to see Sally and find out what’s wrong, the pregnant Sally shoots him. He done her wrong, after all. As Tony lies dying, we hear him scream again – and then he’s back lying on the beach, meeting Andrea for the first time. Of course, it was all a dream. Or maybe a very extended premonition, one full of an incredible amount of interpersonal drama, murders disguised as accidents, and bad singing. [*END SPOILERS*]

This film is one hell of a ride. Catch it if you can – the mix of the super-vain Tony, his many sexy, slightly unhinged women, the ridiculous super-dramatic story and general 70s atmosphere make it as entertaining as it is bad.

Worth watching? Yes! It is not good, but there is never a dull moment (and plenty of jaw dropping ones).

Truth in advertising? The title really has nothing at all to do with the story, and comes across as falsely trying to advertise it as a horror movie: 0/5.

Keep My Grave Open (1977)

AKA: The House Where Hell Froze Over

Directed by S.F. Brownrigg

Featuring Camilla Carr, Stephen Tobolowsky, Ann Stafford, Sharon Bunn and Gene Ross

Lesley Fontaine is an eccentric woman living in an old mansion. She often talks to her brother Kevin (who is also apparently her incestuous lover), even though he does not seem to be there. Is he dead? Imaginary? It is difficult to say, but Lesley begins dress up as Kevin and murder those who approach her home. Her victims are usually either those who intrude (as is the case of the initial murder of a homeless man), or those who are there when she becomes jealous or sexually aroused. Sensing that something is wrong, Lesley’s psychiatrist tries to investigate.

This movie is far too slow for a horror movie, spending unnecessary amounts of time focussing on pointless mundane scenes (e.g. Lesley washing her hands) and scenes of Lesley generally acting crazy. I guess it is meant to be an atmospheric character study, a depiction of Lesley’s psychosexual unravelling which tries to take the viewer inside her fragmenting mind. But it doesn’t really work for me, particularly given the admittedly committed yet frequently melodramatic acting of Camilla Carr as Lesley. Another issue is the extremely obvious ‘twist’ that Lesley is committing the murders in Kevin drag, plus an additional twist in the ending that goes against the previous twist and raises a whole slew of other unanswered questions. Finally, there is a surprising total lack of gore, given that the murder weapon is a large sword. Add this all together and you have a muddle of a poorly thought out drive-in oddity.

Worth watching? It’s ok in its way, but I would not put any effort into seeking it out.

Truth in advertising? The title really has nothing at all to do with the film itself, and comes across as a ploy to drag in a horror movie audience. 0/5.

The Duke of Burgundy (2014)

Directed by Peter Strickland

Featuring Sidse Babett Knudsen and Chiara D’Anna

Two women play out an almost all-consuming dominant and submissive relationship, with Cynthia as the frosty mistress to the Evelyn’s servant. But all it not what it seems, and the supposedly dominant Cynthia feels increasingly trapped in the role in which she finds herself.

This film is a wonderful homage to a certain variety of European exploitation film from the late 60s and early 70s, in the vein of Jess Franco and Jean Rollin. These horror films mixed female sexuality with artistic touches in a distinctive way, making them some of my favourite genre films. The cinematography is beautiful, and effectively recalls the atmosphere of these kinds of films. And although this film contains no explicit horror elements, the sense of dread and suffocation experienced by Cynthia is palpable, making it feel to me like a horror movie where the ‘monster’ is really a relationship going wrong.

The universe of the film has an odd kind of dream logic to it – everyone in this world appears to be a female entomologist engaged in a dominant/submissive relationship. It occasionally breaks down into abstractions involving the butterflies and moths studied by the characters, but in ways which only enhance the mood of the film. The soundtrack is also great at setting the mood and tone, ranging from gentle, suitably retro-tinged pop to intense reverb-laden drones. And in case I am making this all sound too serious, there are moments of humour too, and some amusingly eccentric touches (watch for shop mannequins padding out the attendance during lecture scenes).

All said, this film is an exploration of the ways in which we can become trapped by our relationships, and the cycles of struggle which are often perpetuated. Although on the surface it is a slightly surreal lesbian S&M drama, what lingers beneath is far deeper and more universal, leaving a solid emotional impact.

Worth watching? Yes, particularly for fans of late 60s/70s Euro-exploitation.

Truth in advertising? The film takes its name from a species of butterfly, as studied by the women in the film. Given the arty nature of the film and its themes, the title seems fitting enough. 5/5.

The Lonely Sex (1959)

Directed by Richard Hilliard

Featuring Karl Light, Jean Evans, Carl Collyer and Leon Benedict 

‘I was driving past the beach yesterday and I saw you standing there, but you didn’t even notice me… I like seeing you in a bathing suit Annabelle, you have a nice figure.’

Opening with shots of a newspaper reporting a ‘Sex Slaying in Memorial Park’, we quickly cut to a man in a tweed coat and bow tie, looking suspicious as he conspicuously tries to seem inconspicuous. He peeps into a window to watch a dancer as she undresses (providing a topless scene of reasonable length – unusual for a 1950s film). With this burst of exploitation out of the way (got to reel in customers somehow!), the film moves on to weirder yet more thoughtful territory.

Teenaged Annabelle lives with her physician father and their boarder, Mr Wyler. Unfortunately for her, Mr Wyler is an unrepentant creep. He repeatedly ‘accidentally’ walks into her room while she is undressing, and generally goes around harassing her and making her feel uncomfortable by commenting on her body. Getting some time away from him, Annabelle frolics with her boyfriend down by the creek. An intense, silent stranger watches them from a distance, and eventually kidnaps Annabelle. He imprisons her in his wooden shack by the quarry, seeing this as his only way of gaining female companionship and sex.

This film is interesting in the way it compares the two perverts, Mr Wyler and the unnamed man in the shack. Both are sexually frustrated, and take it out on women via voyeurism and stalking. We soon learn that this goes even further with the man from the shack, who murdered a woman after she rejected his advances, humiliating him with her laughter. After a traumatic first sexual experience, which he seems to have never gotten over, he has ruined his own life via repeated arrests as a peeping tom. The film is an exploration of the chilling nature of the weirdness of male over-entitlement: these unpleasant men both mistreat women, with an apparent total lack of insight into how the women experience this violation. The men differ in that one is tortured and miserable, but the other (Mr Wyler) is apparently respectable, but also hypocritical and unashamed (and therefore more insidious). Mr Wyler is never punished for his actions, and in the abrupt, low key ending of the film we see that he never changes, even after the man from the shack gets his comeuppance. Even more remarkably, this examination of the nature of voyeurism was all aimed at a grindhouse audience!

The film is also interesting in terms of its atmosphere, which is strange and disconnected. The film is quite minimalist, with characters having simple interactions in front of plain household backdrops, or even blank black backgrounds. There are flashes of bleak arty-ness in the cinematography, adding to the pervasive sense of alienation.

There are many other bizarre aspects to the film, not the least being the man from the shack’s reactions to the world. He gets worked up listening to breathy lipstick commercials on the radio, scrawls a new face over his reflection in the mirror, and goes to leer at shop mannequins in lingerie (!). This becomes even more ridiculous when you consider that the film’s primary argument is that this man deserves our sympathy, rather than persecution or ridicule. Despite its interesting points the film suffers from being somewhat too sympathetic to the perverts in question, with Annabelle’s father acting as the loud mouthpiece of these views. This questionable perspective on the characters’ behaviour casts a queasy shadow over the film.

The print I saw (from Vinegar Syndrome) was quite crisp and in surprisingly good condition. Overall, this obscurity was a less exploitative and much more nuanced film than I had expected.

Worth watching? Yes. Despite the unconvincing central argument of the film, it is one of a kind. A strange and sometimes dark viewing experience, following unattractive characters through an unforgiving world.

Truth in advertising? My interpretation is that the title is calling men the ‘lonely sex’. Pfft – there is a good reason why these creeps are lonely, and it is not just down to their sex! 0/5.

 

 

Sin You Sinners (1963)

Directed by Anthony Farrar and an uncredited Joseph W. Sarno 

Featuring Dian Lloyd, June Colbourne and Derek Murcott

An early film from the prolific and pioneering sexploitation director Joe Sarno, ‘Sin You Sinners’ is low on nudity but high on psychodrama. It plays out a bit like a weird, seedy and increasingly dark soap opera, full of sleazy atmosphere and with a mild supernatural angle.

We first meet Bobbi, an ageing stripper, as the opening credits roll (see image above), performing an extremely non-erotic striptease for a bored and disdainful-looking audience. Bobbi also has a side business performing occult rituals and telling fortunes, often for various sex-worker acquaintances. She is assisted by her daughter Julie and her younger lover Dave, who are kept in her thrall thanks to the power of a Haitian amulet that she wears at all times. Jealousy grows between the mother and daughter as Julie also becomes involved with Dave, and the two of them plot to steal the amulet.

This film is not entirely successful, dragging at times despite running for just over an hour.  It doesn’t help that the film appears to have been shot in a series of random apartments, or that many of the actors performances are pretty substandard. The condition of the print (apparently the only one in existence) is also poor, scratched and sometimes jumpy. The sound is murky, with scenes set in a coffee shop suffering from so much extraneous noise that they might as well have been set in a bowling alley. But in a way these imperfections add to the dark and gritty atmosphere of the film, and the odd plot and weird psychological aura provide some interest.

Worth watching? I’m glad that I watched it, but would not necessarily recommend it. Maybe if you are feeling patient and in the mood for cheap and dirty psychological drama. A very specific mood, I know.

Truth in advertising? Figuratively, I guess the title is accurate? Most of the characters could be described as ‘sinners’ in one way or another, depending upon your perspective. 4/5.