And with that, I immediately wanted to see this movie as soon as possible.
Postal, surprisingly enough, is highly enjoyable and nearly as offensive as Boll wanted it to be. The film opens with an already-infamous scene in which two hijackers opt to fly to the Bahamas instead of into the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, because they can’t be absolutely guaranteed 99 virgins in the afterlife due to the sheer number of suicide bombings in the recent past. Unfortunately, they’re thwarted by passengers and steered directly into the first tower, at which point the film moves on to present day. Our hero, the unemployed Postal Dude (Zack Ward, who is never given a proper name) lives in the trailer park of a town called Paradise with his unfaithful, monstrously obese wife. His Uncle Dave (Dave Foley) runs a hippie cult commune on the outskirts of town as a way to scam people out of money (and into his bed) and live easy.
Uncle Dave cooks up a plan to pay his $1 million in back taxes by stealing a shipment of (inexplicably) massively popular Krotchy dolls, plush figures in the shape of a cock and balls. Dave plans to sell the dolls on eBay for thousands of dollars each. Unfortunately, a terrorist cell (headquartered in the lavish backroom of a convenience store) has already put vials of bird flu in the dolls and is also out to grab the shipment as their follow-up to 9/11. Also, for some reason Verne Troyer plays himself and spends half his screen time in a suitcase with a purple light-up dildo.
Postal gets by entirely on its own cheerful distaste. Boll happily takes potshots at everyone, including himself (in a hilarious cameo appearance). The film breezes past plot points with no real interest in keeping a cohesive storyline, just in lining up as many inappropriate jokes (“retarded” terrorists, Nazi gold) and set pieces (including a shootout at an amusement park where dozens of children are shot) as possible. This turns out to work in the film’s favor: just as you’re done shaking your head or laughing at one disgusting turn of events, there’s a new one submitted for your disapproval. The film is too wacky to really have much to say, but it’s hard to deny that in its final shot Boll hits the level of surreal offensiveness at which he was aiming through the whole film.
Saying Postal is the best film Uwe Boll has ever made is not saying much at all, so it’s probably better to say that it’s the first film he’s made that seemed like something he genuinely wanted to do and less like another dreary, mercenary assignment to fill out his growing filmography of bad movies. It’s far from perfect, but it hits more than it misses, and the fact that everyone onscreen looks like they’re having a blast is infectious. The film’s theatrical run is probably long over, but I wouldn’t be surprised to see Postal develop a cult following once it hits DVD. To summarize with another sentence I never thought I’d say (or type): Uwe Boll has made a film that’s actually worth watching.
Pretty Peaches (1978)
Originally published on Daily Grindhouse 30 November 2014
Fans of classic era adult films were excited when Vinegar Syndrome announced plans to release many films by the legendary Alex de Renzy, and their first release in the “Films of Alex de Renzy” series (a double feature of Pretty Peaches 2 and 3) was one of the best in the Peekarama line yet. It was also a savvy move on the part of Vinegar Syndrome, as those films are well-made and funny but none of their sexual content is too far removed from the other releases in the Peekarama line. By introducing newcomers to more accessible features by de Renzy, they created more anticipation for their future releases by the late filmmaker. Their latest de Renzy release is a limited-edition Blu-ray/DVD combo of 1978’s Pretty Peaches, widely considered one of the best X-rated comedies ever made, and it’s interesting on a number of levels; not least of which is the contrast it illustrates between adult films made in the ’70s and those made in the ’80s.
Peaches (Desiree Cousteau) barely makes it to the wedding of her dad Hugh (John Leslie) and his new bride Lily (Flower) at a small wedding chapel/casino. After the wedding, Peaches, Hugh, and Lily all play slots and Peaches has a few too many complimentary shots. She stumbles off in a huff and drives her Jeep off a road and into a tree near where Terry (Ken Scudder) and Kid (Joey Silvera) are trying to get their broken-down station wagon started. Terry and Kid take the unconscious Peaches out of the vehicle, and Kid rapes her while Terry nervously sits in the Jeep. When Peaches wakes up, she has amnesia, and the guys convince her that they found her sleeping by the side of the road when they drove by in their jeep. She agrees to join them on their trip to San Francisco, where they claim they will help her recover her memory.
From this point, naive amnesiac Peaches finds herself in a series of bizarre situations with people who want to take advantage of her while Hugh frets about what has happened to her—although not enough to avoid some enthusiastic sex with his new bride and his jealous maid Katia (Juliet Anderson). While Hugh is enjoying himself, Peaches has a run-in with an enema-happy “doctor,” is tricked into taking part in a lesbian orgy sex show, and finally meets a handsome psychiatrist (Paul Thomas) who may actually be able to help her regain her memory. Meanwhile, Terry and Kid hatch a scheme to get a reward for Peaches in between rounds of sex with a couple of blondes they picked up while Peaches was out looking for a job. The action culminates in a swingers’ party held by the psychiatrist in Peaches’ honor, to which Hugh and Lily were invited and Terry and Kid decide to crash. Needless to say, it probably isn’t going to end well.
Pretty Peaches feels very much like a hardcore take on Terry Southern’s Candy (or a live-action version of Little Annie Fanny), in which a naive but attractive young woman finds herself in a series of sexual misadventures. Peaches is not terribly bright, but she’s cartoonishly resilient, as evidenced by her easy shrugging off of repeated not-entirely-consensual sexual interactions. There’s nothing like the forced lesbian orgy or the enema scene in Pretty Peaches 2 and 3 (made in 1987 and 1989, respectively). By the time they were produced, the wild experimentation of 70s adult cinema that resulted in such curiosities as Forced Entry (and its roughie ilk), Let My Puppets Come (the puppet porno film from the director of Deep Throat), and Water Power (based on a real-life serial rapist called “The Enema Bandit,” it’s not too hard to imagine what its content is like) was mostly gone. Pretty Peaches is very much a time capsule of the wide-open approach to sexuality of 70s adult films, when filmmakers were willing to try anything to get audiences into theaters.
As problematic as Pretty Peaches may be for modern audiences, there is no questioning the film’s technical excellence. Especially in this beautifully restored Blu-ray, the only notable difference between Pretty Peaches and major studio films of its era is the hardcore sex. de Renzy was an auteur whose work was marked by his cinematic artistry and his interest in pushing boundaries, and Pretty Peaches is an excellent example of his work at its best. In addition to the spectacular restoration of the film, this set includes the only known video interview with de Renzy, a 19-minute piece in which he discusses his early career. Also included is an 11-minute interview with film historian Ted Mcilvenna and trailers for other de Renzy films. Vinegar Syndrome will be re-releasing the film in a DVD-only set early in 2015, but fans of de Renzy in particular and of 70s adult film in general will want to make sure to grab the limited edition Blu-ray set before it’s gone.
Proxy (2013)
Originally published on Film Monthly 14 August 2014
Indiana-based filmmaker Zack Parker’s previous film, Scalene, was an unsettling thriller based on seemingly normal people behaving very abnormally. That film, built around an uncomfortable to watch but incredible performance by Margo Martindale, earned Parker a fair number of fans in the indie horror scene despite not being a straightforward genre film. It followed that his next project would be more ambitious, but it still came as something of a surprise that Proxy, Parker’s latest film, was picked up for release by IFC Midnight. After all, like Scalene, Proxy is hardly a commercially friendly film. If anything, it cements Parker’s reputation as a filmmaker who is perfectly willing to present audienc
es with exceptionally difficult material.
Parker lays his cards on the table before the opening credits even roll: Esther Woodhouse (Alexia Rasmussen) is brutally attacked leaving a doctor’s appointment to check on her unborn baby. The attacker leaves her in an alley to die, but she is discovered and taken to a hospital. Esther lives, but the baby does not, and after leaving the hospital she finds herself in a support group for parents who have lost their children. Here she meets Melanie Michaels (Alexa Havins), who has also lost a child. This meeting sets in motion a series of increasingly bizarre events as the audience learns that no one is anything like they seem, and the women at the center of the action harbor some profoundly unsettling secrets.
Proxy, like Scalene, is a study of extreme human behavior. However, it is also much more of a genre film, although this is still miles away from any kind of supernatural horror. The disturbing aspects of Proxy are entirely due to the mental states and actions of the characters, who often behave in ways that completely defy rational explanation. Scalene was played mostly straight, only using occasional stylistic flourishes to tell its story, but Proxy is much more concerned with style. The film hinges on a centerpiece so wildly over the top it’s hard not to laugh out loud at its sheer audacity, and when the story takes off in a completely different direction afterward, it’s virtually impossible not to admire Parker’s approach.
As impressive as Parker’s steady hand is in guiding this insane story, Proxy is not without problems. Alexia Rasmussen is perfectly distant as Esther, and Alexa Havins is equally perfect as her reluctant soulmate. The supporting cast is fine, but no one seems to be playing at quite the same level as the two leading ladies (or, sometimes, in quite the same movie). There are some iffy special effects that rob a few moments of their full desired impact, one of the only places the film’s small budget is apparent. Despite these minor issues, Proxy is destined to be a highly divisive cult film. It is a highly unique psychological thriller that will have audience members seeking out Parker’s previous work or dismissing him completely, with probably little room in the middle for anyone on the fence. And that’s worth an enthusiastic recommendation for any film.
Psychomania (1973)
Originally published on Film Monthly 22 February 2017
Biker gang movies of the 60s and 70s tended to depict groups of motorcycle enthusiasts as violent hedonists whose hard-livin’ ways were frequently at odds with The Establishment. There were some notable variations on the basic formula set forth in Roger Corman’s The Wild Angels in 1966: The Pink Angels (1972) followed a group of gay bikers posing as macho men to avoid being hassled by The Man and other bikers, and in The Northville Cemetery Massacre (1976) a gang is framed for a crime they didn’t commit by corrupt cops. And there was an occasional genre take on the biker movie, like Werewolves on Wheels (1971). But Psychomania (aka The Death Wheelers) is perhaps the pinnacle of delinquent biker gang genre cinema. While the film has previously been released on DVD by Severin Films, Arrow Video has now given this cult artifact a spectacular Blu-ray update.
Tom Latham (Nicky Henson) is the leader of the biker gang The Living Dead and the son of a famous medium (Beryl Reid). He and the gang terrorize their local village, but what Tom really wants is something he suspects mysterious family confidante Shadwell (George Sanders) can give him: eternal life. Sure enough, Tom braves the secrets of the Latham estate’s mysterious locked room and comes out with the answer, and a mission. The next day he commits suicide during a police chase after The Living Dead annoy people in the village shopping district, and sure enough he’s back in action shortly thereafter. Having returned from the grave, Tom is invincible and relentless, gleefully murdering anyone who happens to stray into his path.
The fuzz come down hard on The Living Dead when they think someone has stolen Tom’s identity to commit crimes, but the gang soon learns the truth and they’re anxious to follow in his footsteps. All of them, that is, except Tom’s skittish girlfriend Abby (Mary Larkin). Abby seemed out of her element enough when The Living Dead were just causing local drivers to die in car wrecks; the idea of killing herself to return from the dead to enact an eternal reign of motorcycle-based terror on the poor folks who happen to live in her hometown is well outside her comfort zone. When Tom’s mother discovers he has shared the secret of becoming truly undead, she begins to doubt the wisdom of her bargain with the demonic Shadwell. Will Tom convince Abby to kill herself and join him and the rest of The Living Dead in annoying people on their motorcycles forever? Or will someone find a way to stop their rampage before it’s too late?
Psychomania was directed by Don Sharp, a veteran horror director who had worked for 20th Century Fox (The Curse of the Fly) and Hammer (Rasputin: The Mad Monk) among others. He gives Psychomania a flavor very much of its time, with a look similar to contemporary UK horror productions like 1972’s Tales from the Crypt. In its specific details, though, this is almost more of an absurdist comedy. The Living Dead wear goofy skull helmets, and the sequence in which the members kill themselves is flat-out hilarious. Some of this is certainly intentional, although it’s probably a safe bet that some of the more campy amusements–including an over reliance on instantly dated slang and a bizarrely earnest acoustic ballad sung at Tom’s makeshift funeral–have aged like a fine wine into something the filmmakers never quite intended. It’s a hugely entertaining film that absolutely lives up to its legendary reputation.
Arrow Video has given Psychomania a typically excellent home video release, the centerpiece of which is a complete restoration of the film from its black and white separation masters. As with virtually all of Arrow’s releases, it’s a huge improvement over any previously available home video version of the film. There are occasional very minor color issues, but that’s likely due to the highly unique process required for the restoration. A featurette on the disc shows how the film was restored and its color enhanced, which is fascinating but far too brief. In addition to this and the inclusion of the “making of” featurettes originally produced for the previous Severin Films DVD, there is other new material in the disc’s special features. There’s a 14-minute interview with star Nicky Henson and a featurette on the boutique that provided the biker gear for The Living Dead (the oldest such business in the UK, founded in the 1890s). As always, Arrow has packaged the film with a beautiful reversible sleeve and the first printing of the disc includes a lengthy booklet with writing by William Fowler, Vic Pratt, and Andrew Roberts. It’s a spectacular package that any cult film fan will be proud to have in their collection.
Quarantine (2008)
Originally published on Film Monthly 19 October 2008
Even as the J-horror remake trend seems to be on its last legs with the box office failures of One Missed Call and Shutter, the practice of remaking recent foreign films so that the American audience doesn’t have to read subtitles continues with no end in sight. The latest example of this is Quarantine, an American remake of a Spanish film released just last year called [Rec]. [Rec] has been a huge success on the film festival circuit and in bootleg circles– this year’s horror conventions have been packed with bootleg and import DVD versions of the film. The original film’s reputation is well deserved: it’s a fast-paced, scary gut punch. Coming just a year after the original, Quarantine perhaps unsurprisingly works best when it directly mimics the action of [Rec].
The basic plot lines are identical: reporter Angela Vidal (Jennifer Carpenter of TV’s Dexter) and her cameraman Scott (Steve Harris) are doing an episode of a show that follows people who work while most people are asleep. This week’s episode is about a local fire department. Angela does short interviews, slides down the fire pole, and flirts a bit with firefighter Jake (Jay Hernandez). Late into the night, a call comes in and Angela and Scott accompany Jake and Fletch (Johnathon Schaech) to an old apartment building where neighbors of an elderly woman are concerned after hearing screams and other noises coming from her apartment.
Once in the apartment, the firefigh
ters, Angela, and Scott meet up with the police who arrived first on the scene. While trying to help the old woman, she violently attacks one of the policemen and soon everyone in the building is trapped when government forces appear and quarantine the building. It soon becomes clear that the government has no interest in getting the people inside the building out, and everyone must band together to find a way out of the building alive with armed forces outside and bloodthirsty monsters lurking somewhere inside.
Quarantine seems to spend more time at the start at the fire department, building the characters of Angela, Scott, and the firemen more than [Rec]. Once the action moves to the apartment building, the running, screaming, and bleeding hardly lets up. While [Rec] gave the inhabitants of the building some screen time, nearly all of those character moments are ditched to make room for more violent set pieces. There are several important points where the film deviates from the original, and almost all the additions take away from the “reality” of the story. The worst example of this is a scene in which Scott beats back one of the monsters with the camera– honestly, for me this scene destroyed any sense of credibility the film had created up to this point.
For anyone who hasn’t seen [Rec], Quarantine is a reasonable facsimile, but it’s clearly weaker than the original. They’re both interesting takes on the “handheld horror” or “first-person horror” subgenre popularized by The Blair Witch Project but only recently picked up by more mainstream films such as Cloverfield. For anyone who has seen [Rec], however, Quarantine doesn’t really bring anything new to the table– the big scares are replicated almost shot-for-shot, and what little is new is of dubious quality. Still, there aren’t many horror films out right now for the Halloween season, and Quarantine will do in a pinch. Just remember to check your brain at the box office.
The Unrepentant Cinephile Page 58