IN THE H. P. Lovecraft-inspired haven of Dunwich, New England, a priest Father William Thomas (Fabrizio Jovine) hangs himself in the grounds of the parish cemetery. Although the reasons for what follows are never satisfactorily explained, his suicide throws open the gates of hell. The dead now rise from the earth to end their eternal slumber; the ghoulish priest seen among the first of this unholy horde. The zombies now emerge from the cemetery and begin to scour the town, ripping out their victims’ brains and biting into the flesh of all who stand in their way.
Somewhere in New York City, a terrified psychic Mary Woodhouse (Catriona MacColl) collapses and dies during a séance. In death, she experiences a vision of the priest’s suicide and the horror that follows. As the police begin their enquiries, another psychic who was present at the séance weeps uncontrollably about the opening of the gates of hell. Peter Bell (Christopher George), an investigative journalist, learns of this strange incident and intent upon furthering his research goes to visit Mary’s grave. As he stands by her unburied coffin, he is shocked when he hears her desperate cries for help. Using a pickaxe, he breaks through the coffin lid in a bid to rescue her, narrowly avoiding hacking her to pieces. She recalls the vision of the priest’s death, and the unleashing of a dark force from the very pits of hell. At her insistence, Peter takes her to Dunwich, knowing they must find the remains of the priest before All Saints Day because if he were to arise, the dead will inevitably walk among the living and feed on their flesh. When they eventually reach the town of Dunwich they find the horror has already swept the entire town.
Paura Nella Citta Dei Morti Viventi, also known as City of the Living Dead and the Gates of Hell, saw Lucio Fulci once again resurrect the dead as he attempted to capture the bloody excess of the previous year’s Zombie Flesh Eaters, which had seen release in parts of Europe as Zombi 2. For the duration of these ninety-three minutes, he succeeded in intensifying the brutality in the imagery from his previous effort and to his credit also created a suitably eerie milieu that was redolent of the works of H. P. Lovecraft, something few filmmakers have ever managed to achieve. This would be the first of three films that witnessed the opening of the gateway to hell. It would be followed by The Beyond (1981), which featured a hotel built over a similarly abstract construct, and then there came the terror lying beneath The House by the Cemetery (1981). City of the Living Dead was also considered the second film in what has been labelled his zombie quartet that began with the Zombie Flesh Eaters and concluded with the two previously mentioned terrors from 1981. On this occasion, Fulci observed a more coherent linear approach to his storytelling than was evidenced twelve months later in The Beyond. To the outsider, however, it resembled a series of disparate episodes, each of which were held together using a wafer-thin premise. Fulci’s vision was such he wanted his films to be viewed as a whole, rather than a separate series of unrelated incidents made up of actors, dialogue, scenery, lighting and sound. Viewed in this light, his approach become somewhat easier to understand.
When his cast arrived in Dunwich, they were greeted by the disquiet of a series of Gothic sets immersed in a mist-bound locale that threatened to erupt into hideous violence. Amidst the murk, he created a creepy air of suspense as the dead were briefly caught by the camera’s eye and then simply vanished. Gino De Rossi’s gore effects were to become the source of much discussion, with a considerable amount of attention being placed on an offending drill as it was bored deep into a victim’s face. Further excess would follow with an array of worm-ridden carcasses, eyes that bled, intestines seen to vomit before the camera’s gaze and heads brutally torn open to expose the luscious sight of the human brain. Fulci’s films had been guilty of greater atrocities, but City of the Living Dead was immediately classified as an “X” when it went for cinematic release in the UK. The BBFC were not entirely enamoured with the drill scene and as a result it was cut from the original release. Further editing came when it was issued to video with cuts to the vomiting scenes and unsightly brain removal. Fulci’s second splatterfest wouldn’t be seen in it all of its bloodthirsty glory in the UK until the unedited release of 2001. Even though the entire movie was now available, the finale continued to arouse much debate. It has always been considered that the evil priest and his supernatural zombies were all too easily defeated, making many wonder if the director’s meagre funding had just run out or was it possible some of the footage had been lost during the editing process. Unlike the two films that followed in the gateway to hell trilogy, the denouement failed to satisfy and begged many questions.
SNOW FALLS ONTO a struggling scar-faced teenager, as an obscured felon attempts to bury him alive. The newspaper headlines, which date back to 1975, are obsessed with the authorities’ efforts to find the boy and his assailant, alas to no avail. Thirty years later a group of amiable young friends are on their way to the same region, Jotunheimen, with the prospect of a few days’ snowboarding on the slopes. En route, Young Morten (Rolf Kristian Larsen) accidently breaks his leg, forcing the party to seek shelter overnight in an abandoned mountain hotel. They very quickly discover the phones have been out of action for many years, so any immediate chance of rescue is out of the question. While exploring the isolated hotel they learn it was closed to the public in 1975 when the proprietors’ son went missing in the surrounding mountains. Eirik (Tomas Alf Larsen) then sets off to get help, but he doesn’t get far for there is a pickaxe-wielding psychopath prowling the grounds and the kids are soon to be his quarry. They don’t know it yet, but the Mountain Man is Norway’s answer to Michael Myers.
Fritt Vilt was highly derivative of the North American slasher movies of the early 1980s and while it didn’t bring anything new to the concept it was the premiere for a fine young director in the guise of Roar Uthaug, whose work was introduced to a far wider audience than he had at first anticipated. Four years before, he had graduated from the Norwegian Film School, and looked set for a career in commercials and music videos. This was his first time in the director’s chair on a major production and he began his story very slowly, creating a likeable cast of characters before delivering them to this atmospheric setting, which oozed an unsettling aura of suspense. Such was his precise direction he was able to bring something new to the clichés of over twenty years past and gave the world his resourceful heroine, Jannicke, played by the talented Ingrid Bolsø Berdal. Praise was also lauded on this film thanks to the fluid cinematography of Daniel Voldheim, which savoured these stunning northerly landscapes before turning its attention to the claustrophobic shadows of the deserted hotel. The hotel contained an affectionate wink to Stanley Kubrick’s telling of Stephen King’s The Shining (1980), when one of the couples chooses room 217 for their stay, a portent of doom if ever there was one.
True to the slasher craze of the 1980s, this success was followed by a couple of sequels, Cold Prey 2: Resurrection was released in 2008 with Jannicke awakening in a hospital bed, while the latest sequel Cold Prey 3 (2010) returned to a series of grisly events in the 1980s. This film also paved the way for another Norwegian modern-day slasher, Patrik Syversen’s Manhunt (Rovdyr) in 2008.
WHILE Color Me Blood Red was completed in early 1964, it sat on the shelf for over a year as producer David F. Friedman went through the lengthy process of terminating his business relationship with director Herschell Gordon Lewis. When it finally did appear, its low-budget production values saw it recognized as a fitting conclusion to the “Blood Trilogy”. B-movie enthusiasts of the period would very quickly observe an obvious parallel with Roger Corman’s Bucket of Blood (1959), although the acting was never the match of its predecessor.
Don Joseph, or Gordon Oas-Heim, takes the lead role as Adam Sorg, a frustrated painter unable to interest the public in the purchase of his work. After having his efforts sneered at during a local exhibition at the Farnsworth Galleries, he returns to his studio in search of inspiration. When his model Gigi accidentally cuts herself and her blood drips onto the canvas, he finds the revelation for
which he has been searching, resulting in an uncontrollable frenzy at the easel. Gigi squeezes every bit of blood she can muster, but it is never going to be enough. It is not long before Sorg has to slice into his own fingers to set loose fresh pigment. He needs to complete the painting he has promised, but realizes it will be impossible to maintain this approach, so he returns to his original supply. Without so much as a word of warning, he stabs Gigi in the face and turns her bloody head into a brush to put the finishing touches to his painting. Having buried Gigi’s body, Sorg takes his masterpiece to display in the gallery. Commercial considerations are now of little import; he seeks the praise of the critics to give him the inspiration to pursue this new medium in the confines of his studio. Potential buyers petition to make their acquisition, but Sorg refuses to sell. He is now fuelled with a passion to create, but he needs to secure another source of this unique pigment. The slaughter now begins as he sets about the murder of other models to achieve his artistic lust.
Lewis heightened the gore factor in his film when Sorg took to the opportunistic stalking of a young couple, before engaging a spear to stab the man, Norman, through the chest. Sorg subdues his screaming girlfriend Betty and steals her away. He is next seen standing before his bloodstrewn canvas. Having exhausted his palette he enters the next room, where Betsy’s dead body is tied to a wall, her intestines hanging from her bleeding stomach. Lewis exacts every last morsel from this scene; he has Sorg squeeze more blood from the disembowelled girl before he returns to complete his insane masterpiece. The next day the bloodthirsty artist takes his creation to the gallery and once again refuses to sell. Instead, Sorg storms out of the gallery, failing to realize his painting is still wet. Herschell G. Lewis’s cult following regard Color Me Blood Red as the least imaginative of his gory trilogy, lacking the spontaneity that had heralded Blood Feast (1963) and revealing little of the excess that had shocked with Two Thousand Maniacs! (1964). Sadly, there was nothing new on show and far too much padding was in evidence, particularly the tiresome beach party antics of the local teenagers. The gore-mongers of the day would have still drooled over the shots detailing Betty’s ruptured intestines; such hideous scenes at this time were something of a novelty in American cinema. During the making of this movie, Lewis and Friedman considered making a fourth “Blood” film, entitled Suburban Roulette. Friedman, however, thought better of it, certain that the “super blood and gore” film market was at saturation point. He took the decision to abandon the series, leaving it to remain in the annals of cinematic horror as a bloody trilogy.
SET IN A rain-swept New Jersey of 1963, the withdrawn twelve-year-old Alice Spages (Paula E. Sheppard) lives with her mother, Catherine (Linda Miller) and younger sister, Karen (Brooke Shields). Their lives are enveloped by the influential Catholic church with Karen making preparations for her first holy communion. Alice is obviously jealous of her sister and cruelly torments her, stealing her doll before locking her away while wearing a transparent mask. As Karen puts on her white veil and readies herself for her communion, she is strangled in the church by a figure who wears a child’s yellow raincoat and a mask identical to that worn by her spiteful sister. Alice then takes her place wearing her sister’s veil, which she maintains she picked up from the floor. She soon becomes the prime suspect in the murder of her sister. Can this emotionally disturbed child really be a killer? Maybe not, for as she retreats to her basement shrine surrounded by an assortment of curious paraphernalia, a figure is seen stalking the hallways of her apartment building.
Alfred Sole’s little-known slasher was released a couple of years later as Alice Sweet Alice, the title by which it is more commonly known, and in 1981 as Holy Terror. This stylish movie would have remained in relative obscurity if it hadn’t been for an appearance by Brooke Shields, who two years later attracted controversy in Louis Malle’s Pretty Baby (1978) and then opened a few eyes in Blue Lagoon (1980). With Columbia Pictures having reneged on their interest in distributing this independently made movie, Allied Artists stepped into the frame. They demanded a change to the title’s religious theme, fearing it would affect the public’s perception of the film’s content and ultimately hinder its prospects at the box office.
The change in title would not alter the observations being made of the Catholic Church in a modern-day inner city environment, but in its deliberation on the loss of innocence and the ensuing deep-rooted remorse, Communion had an unusual affiliation with Nicholas Roeg’s Don’t Look Now (1972). Sole, however, ventured considerably further in his narrative; he moved to challenge and question the notion of clerical celibacy. His use of the child’s plastic raincoat would again evoke memories of Roeg’s seminal tragedy, although the mask that was often found in the gialli of the day actually predated John Carpenter’s creation for Halloween by two years. Communion, the novel written by Frank Lauria, was released in conjunction with the film through Bantam Books.
AN ABANDONED SHIP is observed drifting into New York harbour. When it is boarded by Lt. Tony Aris (Marino Mase) and his team of officers, thousands of containers of coffee are discovered, each concealing strange green pods. Shock after shock follows as the decimated remains of the former crew are uncovered below decks. They have fallen prey to this clutch of outlandish eggs, for when the temperature begins to rise they start to hum and then detonate, releasing a toxic liquid which, if it makes contact with the human body, consequently causes it to explode.
Colonel Stella Holmes (Louise Marleau) has been assigned to the case and it isn’t long before she determines a link between the appearance of the deadly pods and the recent catastrophic mission to Mars. On the journey through space one of the astronauts disappeared without trace while the other, Commander Hubbard (Ian McCulloch), suffered a nervous breakdown on his return and hit the bottle. The indomitable Holmes has to convince Hubbard to help her to ensure the toxic cargo is returned to Manhattan; only then can she successfully continue her investigation. Their findings lead them on a trail to a coffee plantation in Colombia. Here they locate the missing astronaut from the flight to Mars is alive. Unknown to them his mind, however, is no longer his own; he has been infiltrated by an evil spider-like alien they call Cyclops. This monstrous creature’s intent is to swallow the world with its lethal eggs and, as it has done on other worlds, annihilate life across the entire planet.
Contamination, which has also been packaged as Alien Contamination, Contamination: Alien on Earth, Toxic Spawn, Contaminazione, and Alien 2, was Luigi Cozzi’s follow-up to his Italian box office hit Starcrash (1978). In the wake of this success he was keen to become involved with another science fiction venture and very soon found himself directing the first of many features to be inspired by Ridley Scott’s Alien (1979). The pitiful budget meant that this was to be kept on Earth, and filming was completed over a five-week period, working between Rome, New York City, Florida and Colombia. Sadly, even with its eerie Goblin soundtrack, Cozzi’s film did not fare very well on its Italian release, but as with so many of its contemporaries, it was to acquire a quite particular notoriety. As limited as the budget was, Cozzi delivered a series of graphic slow-motion effects to quite literally explode his cast before the camera’s lens and their bloody remains spill forth over the set. This visceral excess saw the video cited in the UK as yet another video nasty in October 1983, with the film consigned to the list until January 1985.
When it was released to video by ViP and then European Creative Films, two minutes and forty seconds of cuts had to be made to guarantee it a place on the video shops’ shelves. These were earmarked for the opening sequence, where a dead man’s decomposing body was found in a cupboard, along with the graphic blast of several men after tampering with the alien pods as well as facial explosions and lingering shots of exploding human guts. There were further cuts to numerous gory explosions seen later in the film and finally the devouring of a man’s head by the alien queen. As the years rolled by, attitudes changed and in 2004 the BBFC passed the Anchor Bay DVD as “15” uncut.
As Cozzi’s film hit the Italian big screen, Ciro Ippolito released another unauthorized low-budget sequel to Ridley Scott’s terrifying masterpiece, Alien 2 – On Earth or Sulla Terra. The claustrophobia of the Nostromo was replaced by a pot-holing descent into deep caves in California. Both Cozzi and Ippolito would continue to write and direct for many years to come, carving out highly successful careers in Italian film and television.
AS THEY GO about their daily routine in the upkeep of the London sewage system, two operatives, Arthur (Ken Campbell) and George (Vas Blackwood), uncover a tunnel they haven’t previously encountered. Their exploration of this dark passageway brings them face to face with a deathly flesh-eating abomination.
Heading home late one night after a party, Kate (Franka Potente), a repellant London socialite, falls asleep on the platform while waiting for the last train. She awakens to find herself trapped in the bowels of the London underground, with all the exits firmly locked until early morning. By chance, a deserted train making its return to the depot draws up at the platform. She boards one of the carriages and meets the overly fixated Guy (Jeremy Sheffield) seen earlier at the party; she becomes the object of his desire before his thoughts turn to rape. During the attack, the creature from the film’s opening scenes makes a return and drags him away, having already butchered the driver. Thus begins a nightmarish ordeal in the disorientating claustrophobia of these dimly lit tunnels, as Kate and a young homeless couple are stalked by a malfeasance with an instinct for vicious slaughter. Her path takes her deeper into the warren and on into the sewage system, where she discovers an abandoned subterranean surgery. Only then does she realize the nature of the beast.
The Mammoth Book of Slasher Movies (Mammoth Books) Page 14