Haunting Fear (1990) – Fred Olen Ray.

The magnetic Brinke Stevens delivers another consummate crazy in B-maestro Fred Olen Ray's goofily entertaining adaptation of Edgar Allen Poe's 'The Premature Burial'. Plagued by persistently macabre visions, and finally driven insensible by adulterous husband's cruel machinations (Jay Richardson), Victoria's (Stevens) grave nightmares are brought to monstrous life in Haunting Fear The fundamental difference between A.I.P's 60s Poe Cycle, and their 90s iteration is less refined photography, a demonstrative increase in T&A, additional gore, and a wickedly effective cameo from the charismatic Michael Berryman, so, absolutely no complaints here! Ultimately, a poor man's Poe, nonetheless Haunting Fear has a notable supporting cast, with lissom Scream siren Brinke Stevens vivid performance as the increasingly disturbed Vicki, providing the fearfully beating heart to a B-Horror feature that would otherwise be altogether hollow. Alongside the delectably demented Brinke's ferociously stab-frenzied climax, Haunting Fear! has an atmospheric score, with an especially memorable final credit theme.

 Terror 2000 (1992) Christoph Schlingensief.

I've always been up for the MASSIVELY welcome 'Und Udo Kier' credit, and sublime weirdie Schlingensief's progressively mentalist Terror 2000 remains a pristine example of how 'Und Udo Kier' can exponentially increase the beneficence of ANY film project! Madcap surrealistic satire benefits from unexpurgated scenes of spontaneous alfresco masturbation, arbitrary gun violence, and calamitously ill-conceived motorcycle stunts! I don't actually believe any of Terror 2000's grossly exaggerated protagonists gave the proverbial toss over the fate of social worker Peter Fricke, much less the missing Polish asylum seekers. That being said, I am absolutely convinced by their justifiably vociferous exultation of Fräulein bombshell Wiebke's exquisite bottom!

Like a disturbingly prolonged dopamine burst, director Schlingensief manages to maintain a fascinatingly absurd state of perpetual delirium throughout, Terror 2000 dogmatically adheres to its very own deliciously idiosyncratic rules of dramaturgy! Charged with the very same Dadaist delirium as Monty Python, or Spike Milligan, and imbued with the Divine absence of good taste, exemplified by the likes of revered trash scion John Waters. How is it that Udo Kier can portray the most shrilly grotesque caricature of humanity and remain such a magnetically erotic figure???? It's additionally refreshing to discover an unconventional genre film with so rigorous an abhorrence to quietude, guiltlessly displaying its delightfully prurient predilection for acts of eccentric coitus/bodily functions/secretions etc.!  

 The Haunting of Julia (1977) – Richard Loncraine.

'You're not safe, nice Mrs. Lofting!'

Following the devastating sudden death of her 8yr old daughter, Julia's (Mia Farrow) attempts to restart her life in a new abode are thwarted by the manifestation of a malign ghostly presence. This immersive, tender, beautifully photographed supernatural chiller benefits greatly from the achingly delicate, uniquely expressive performance of Mia Farrow. Her maternal grief quite palpable, even if it is occasionally swamped by Colin Town's strident score! What I find most compelling about Loncraine's deeply melancholic piece is that it plays as a wholly interior work about the psychological discords borne of intense grief, and as a sinisterly simmering, increasingly unsettling suburban spook show.

The Haunting of Julia's strong delineation of characters proves effective, Keir Dullea is perfect as the pinstriped, scheming, cold-hearted husband, and who better to play Julia's supportive, charmingly pragmatic friend than dreamily dark-eyed lovely Tom Conti? Produced in the 70s, arguably cinema's most fertile epoch, this captivatingly 'classic' mode of gradually unfurling spectral mystery remains utterly timeless, bolstered with many fine performances, Julia now sits quite loftily amongst the macabre pantheon of truly great goose-bumpers!

 Graveyard Disturbance (1987) – Lamberto Bava.

Following a larcenous snack raid upon a small greengrocers run by none other than Bava himself, our tepid teenaged tearaways drive their dilapidated van until it breaks down in a suitably isolated backwoods locale. Soon utterly lost, these goobers stumble upon a vast labyrinthine series of cobwebbed catacombs, which spookily provides for some hugely atmospheric, exceptionally well-executed B-Horror content. While the text is dull, doing little to enliven the generic protagonists, Graveyard Disturbance boasts truly impressive production design. This compellingly creepy netherworld is stunningly realised, the dread atmosphere of mouldering tombs, crumbing ladders descending to foul pits of malignant purulence, crepuscular serpentine passages that lead maddening back upon themselves, plus a sinisterly surrealistic tavern, plopped incongruously in the midst of this legion of ancient dead!

While the scenario is somewhat implausible, and the absence of gore belies its TV origins, for the most part, Graveyard Disturbances remains a tremendously engaging smoke-slathered, subterranean romp, providing monster fans with imaginatively designed, expertly created, eerily be-rotted ghouls, zombies, and decrepit-looking vampires. Only the most jaded viewer couldn't fine something of value in maestro Lamberto Bava's Dantean, handsomely photographed, Goonies-esque hell-scapes. Excluding the ceaselessly prosaic chattering of the bland cast, Bava's Teatime terror pic has aged remarkably well, unlike the malign innkeeper who is long overdue a deep-cleansing facemask, plus a goodly few restorative hours of sunlight! Watching the Scooby kids ambling fearfully through these madly oppressive glooms, at times, I couldn't help but recall Fulci's equally nightmarish vistas in The Beyond!

 

 Blood Angel 2 (2005) – Ingo Trendelbernd.

It is entirely fair to say that it won't matter a jot if y'all haven't seen the original Black Angel, as part 2 is a rudimentary retread of 70s sleazoid rape/revenger I Spit on Your Grave. I'm largely indifferent to ISOYG, so I'm game enough to see an even more cheapnis iteration. An attractive young woman Mary (Akasha Jones), travelling alone, is cruelly waylaid by vicious thugs, and horribly violated. Given inexplicably short shift by the local plod, Mary becomes dejected, but upon watching an arbitrary TV screening of I Spit on Your Grave, she swiftly turns all business, becoming a steely, vengefully leather-clad 'They Call Her One Eye' angel of death! Now I'm not saying a preliminary heroic dosing of Gin n' many beers had a major role to play in my appreciation of Trendelbernd's grotty S.O.V chunkblower, but it certainly jollied things along!

To be blunt, the photography isn't altogether graceful, the integrity of the fight scenes leave something to be desired, performances/text are uninspired, but plucky Blood Angel Akasha Jones portrays the aggrieved, righteously revenging Mary with convincing brio! One must be forgiving when viewing micro-budgeted S.O.V exploitation, it doesn't mean you are uncritical, but there's little value drawing attention to the obvious limitations of D.I.Y horror productions. While I can see why some have been disparaging of Black Angel 2's credibility, those more avid S.O.V freaks should appreciate the film's skeevier dynamics. Black Angel 2's score is surprisingly nifty, and Mary's deservedly gory slayings are, perhaps, the film's main saving disgrace. There is no production design to speak of, the practical FX are crude, but bloodily effective, and the film's slavish adherence to the tawdry original ultimately becomes a mite tedious.

 Das Deutsche Kettensegen Massaker (1990) – Christoph Schlingensief.

Following the reunification, former members of the GDR, at least 4% of those crossing the decommissioned border are never seen again, Schlingensief's sardonic splatter film grimly suggests they were captured by crazed cannibals, and rendered into sausage meat! I love meat. I love meat in films. Meat is life. Life is meat. Fliesh ist Fliesh! Meat me in St. Louis is a classic, but Das Deutsche Kettensegen Massaker is meatier! The very wurst thing about Das Deutsche Kettensegen Massaker is that it's just not long enough! Oo-er missus!!! If you took all the high-voltaged eccentricity in DDKM, distilled it into an alcoholic beverage, it would headily provide for a monstrously intoxicating brew! I support inventive approaches to the production of artisan meats, yet the sinister meatology appropriated by those deranged denizens of this wonderfully strange, hyperbolically performed film may prove a little too idiosyncratic!

I know I'm not entirely alone in this, but I'm especially fond of genre films that demonstratively increase the viewer's appetite for meat, acting as a meat-accelerator, if you like, and the generously proportioned meat accelerative properties in DDKM are considerably more potent than most! The wildly off-grid, exhilaratingly singular black comedy stylings of DDKM proved wholly irresistible! In celebration, I'm now going to prepare a stiff bloody Mary, wholly organic, ingredients sourced directly from only the finest heavenly ingredients. If, like me, you sincerely believe DDKM to be funnier than Meat The Feebles, we should absolutely get together and enjoy a heroic dosing of all the finest living meats known to humanity!

 Mordsaga aka Story of a Murder. (1977) – Reynir Oddson.

'The spankings were only a pretext for touching you!!!'

This rigorously compelling Icelandic drama vividly presents a broken upper middle-class bourgeois family, a long-suffering wife (Gudrun Asmundsdottir), and 18yr old Anna (Thora Sigurthorsdottir), both boozily oppressed by a cruel, overbearing, patently incestuous patriarch (Steindor Hjorelfsson). Not only is Mordsaga a genuinely suspenseful family drama, the striking interior décor, appealing period fashions, and time-capsule views of 70s Iceland prove no less fascinating. My knowledge of Icelandic cinema is sparse, but I can't imagine I could have asked for a more delicious entre than Reynir Oddson's Mordsaga.

I've long had a penchant for 1970s era cinema, I appreciate the aesthetic, and the philosophic sensibilities, especially when the bolder film-makers take their sharpened scalpels, exposing the rot fulminating beneath 'polite societies' monied facade. I liked how the director revealed his intent for the film by having one of the secondary characters smugly mansplaining Claude Chabrol's cinematic modus operandi to girlfriend Anna, the innocent victim of her father's worst abuses. The truly fine cast are absolutely superb, and the able director most certainly delivers during his thrilling, intensely dramatic final act.