WICKED WICKED

Richard L. Bare, 1973

Starring: David Bailey, Tiffany Bolling, Randolph Roberts, Edd Byrnes

“Wicked, wicked, that’s the ticket!”

The majestic Grandview Hotel in California has become the site of several murders. Blonde female visitors check in, but then never check out. The hotel’s detective, Rick Stewart, is on the case, but is distracted by the arrival of his ex-wife, Lisa, who shows up to perform as a singer. He believes Lisa is in danger, particularly because she wears a blonde wig during her performances and the hotel’s quiet, awkward handyman, James, has begun to pay a lot of attention to her...

Written and directed by Richard L. Bare, Wicked Wicked was shot in what Bare called Duo-Vision, a split screen technique that allows two different visuals to be shown at once. Brian de Palma more famously used the split screen the same year in Sisters and later in Carrie. I really enjoyed the Duo-Vision. Though Bare doesn’t have the technical artistry of someone like De Palma, he is clearly having a great time applying the script concepts to the split screen. One interesting use of the Duo-Vision is when characters discuss their pasts and the split screen shows the actual events. They are often lying or exaggerating, such as when an older woman says she was abused by her husband (we see her killing him) or when Lisa says she used to be a ballet dancer (it was really burlesque). Often these scenes are very humorous and are an effective use of the split screen.

A lot about this movie fits into the realm of “so bad it’s good.” The dialogue, for starters, is hilariously unbelievable, which fits in perfectly with some of the performances. Soap opera actor David Bailey was cast as the plucky, yet downtrodden hotel detective, and his role often veers into the ridiculous. B-movie actress Tiffany Bolling (Kingdom of the Spiders, The Candy Snatchers) is memorable as his obnoxiously singing ex-wife/love interest. A young Vietnam vet, Randolph Roberts, was cast as the killer. Unsurprisingly, this is his only role of note. Edd Byrnes (77 Sunset Strip), Madeleine Sherwood (Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, The Flying Nun), and Arthur O’Connell (Anatomy of a Murder) also appear. 

This campy slasher flick has an equal focus on music, comedy, and violence. Regardless of how you feel about horror comedies, Wicked Wicked has a feeling of freshness and excitement. Director Bare, mostly known for directing television shows like Green Acres, The Twilight Zone, and Lassie, really tried to do something unique and different, and though he doesn’t entirely succeed, he made a wildly entertaining film that has been seen by far too few people.

The film has an air of absurdity, but also charm, and will appeal to fans of B grade horror. The humor feels unintentional - everything is very straight-faced - but I expect Bare knew what he was getting himself into. There are certainly some flaws and the film does drag, particularly during the middle and we are forced to endure a lengthy scene of Tiffany Bolling single the catchy, but annoying title song. Another issue is that there is really no mystery who the killer is and, like a sloppy version of Psycho, we see why Jason has such blonde women/mommy issues. It’s a shame his identity is revealed so quickly, because the film introduces a number of oddball characters that could have been further explores.

There is a pleasant amount of gore and the effects hold up reasonably well. The lag in the middle of the film - plus that dreadful song - are easily forgotten by the film’s enjoyable conclusion. The ending is delightfully grotesque, as we glimpse Jason’s lair full of doll-like corpses. It’s clear the set designers were having a lot of fun that day, as well as Roberts, who is allowed to really go off the rails at the end of the film. 

Wicked Wicked wasn’t successful upon its theatrical release, so Bare’s planned follow up film, which was supposed to be another Duo-Vision film focusing on a plot to assassinate Fidel Castro, was cancelled. The film has been shown on Turner Classic Movies a few times, but has not yet released on DVD. I had the fortune to see it at a cult film screening. Though the theater is the best place to see Duo-Vision, you can find decent bootlegs floating around online. Wicked Wicked definitely comes recommended. 

LET'S SCARE JESSICA TO DEATH

John Hancock, 1971

Starring: Zohra Lampert, Mariclare Costello, Barton Heyman, Kevin O’Connor, Gretchen Corbett

Jessica has recently been released from a mental institution and she, her husband Duncan, and friend Woody travel to the New England countryside to a live in an isolated farmhouse. When they arrive, a pretty red-haired woman, Emily, has been staying at the house. She offers to leave, but Jessica invites her to stay, soon regretting this decision because Duncan is obviously interested in Emily. Jessica observes a number of strange things and fears she may be losing her mind again. She hears the story of Abigail Bishop, a young woman who lived in the farm house in the previous century and drowned before her wedding day. 

After she becomes increasingly disturbed, Duncan tries to tell Jessica to go back to her doctor. He has an affair with Emily and heads to town to call Jessica’s doctor. She is left alone in the house with Emily and notices how much Emily looks like Abigail Bishop. She becomes afraid, but can’t refuse when Emily convinces her to go swimming. Emily tries to down her, saying it was a joke, but then emerges from the water wearing Abigail’s wedding dress and tries to bite Jessica’s neck. A terrified Jessica hides all day, first in her bedroom and then in the woods, until Duncan finds her that night. He is unusually affectionate and she notices that he has a cut on his neck. She runs from him and finds other dead bodies around the farm. Will she ever escape Emily? Will she be able to tell what is real?

Let’s Scare Jessica to Death, despite its lurid title suggesting a riff on The Cat and the Canary, is one of the most subtle and genuinely scary films of the ‘70s. It is also one of the most underrated and it’s a shame it hasn’t reached a wider audience. It borrows a little from Rosemary’s Baby in terms of an isolated female character and her growing sense of paranoia, but this is really rural horror and celebrates its pastoral, lonely setting at every opportunity. Stripped of most gore, violence, nudity, and even sexuality, Let’s Scare Jessica to Death relies solely on mood and atmosphere.

Director John D. Hancock also made Bang the Drum Slowly (1973) and a number of mostly unknown films. He did an incredible job with Let’s Scare Jessica to Death and it is definitely his masterpiece. The cinematography from Bob Baldwin is excellent, playing up the spookier elements of the farm and woods. The real star of the film is the truly incredible soundscape, which moves from eerie sounds of the forest, wind, and old farmhouse to the acoustic soundtrack music, to the disturbing whispering that is all in Jessica’s mind. Walter Sear contributed some creepy ambient, electronic sounds, making this one of the most effective soundtracks in ‘70s horror. 

Zohra Lampert (Splendor in the Grass, Exorcist III) is perfect as Jessica. She constantly hovers on the edge of anxiety - or outright madness - but for most of the film has a big, innocent, and infectious smile that helps make her character so sympathetic. Lampert never succumbs to cliche to portray Jessica and helps the audience to remain unsure whether the unfolding events are real or imagined. Her voice overs may come across as a bit silly, but I found them effective. The idea of an unreliable narrator that was so popular in Lovecraft’s writing can be tricky to pull of in a film, but works very well here as it becomes immediately apparent that Jessica was recently released from a mental hospital and may not have a solid grasp of reality. 

The two male characters, her husband Duncan (Barton Heyman from The Exorcist) and friend Woody (Kevin O’Connor, not to be confused with Kevin J. O’Connor from Lord of Illusions and The Mummy) are not particularly memorable and feel very generic, but this somehow works. They are both overshadowed by Jessica and Emily. The lovely, charismatic Mariclare Costello nearly overwhelms Lampert, but this shifting balance is effective because of the dynamic between the two characters. Costello is quite a presence here as Emily and it’s a shame she didn’t have a more robust acting career. 

There is, of course, the question of whether or not Emily is a vampire. I would only loosely call this a vampire film and I really enjoy the effort to keep things as vague as possible. Emily does try to bite Jessica, but most of her victims are covered in cuts, implying a knife or razor is used and not teeth. Her victims also act more like zombies than vampires, which makes me think more of ghouls than anything else. Speaking of zombies versus ghouls, Let’s Scare Jessica to Death certainly has a connection to Messiah of Evil. While they don’t share many plot elements, both are low budget, unexpectedly scary films with thoroughly weird, vague plots and centered around a female characters. 

A subtle film with moments of genuine horror, Let’s Scare Jessica to death is ultimately about haunting, both in Jessica’s mind and in the more literal story of Emily’s death and her obvious return. The film also uses horror cliches to its benefit quite frequently. Jessica arrives to the farmhouse in a hearse and stops at a cemetery to do grave rubbings, which she uses to decorate her bedroom. She sees a chair rocking itself, shadows move, they hold a seance, and she finds a corpse. Jessica’s tenuous optimism and joy keep these scenes from descending into predictability and though the plot may be a bit slow moving for some, the film is a fresh take on both female madness and vampirism. 

Let’s Scare Jessica to Death is available on DVD and comes with the highest possible recommendation. Hopefully it will receive a special edition Blu-ray release sometime soon and receive the wider audience it richly deserves. 

NOSFERATU THE VAMPYRE

Werner Herzog, 1979

Starring: Klaus Kinski, Isabelle Adjani, Bruno Ganz

A German estate agent, Jonathan Harker, is told by his boss, Renfield, that he must leave his home town of Wismar and travel to Transylvania to help a mysterious nobleman buy property in Wismar. Harker obeys, but laments that the long journey will separate him from his beautiful wife, Lucy. The Transylvanian villagers are suspicious of the nobleman, known as Count Dracula, and believe him to be a vampire. Harker ignores them, but is repulsed by the strange Count. To his horror, the Count becomes obsessed with a picture of Lucy and wants to buy property in Wismar just to meet her. Lucy and Jonathan both experience disturbing nightmares and Renfield is sent to an asylum. 

Harker learns Dracula really is a vampire and nearly dies trying to escape from the castle. Dracula travels by boat to Wismar, along with his coffins. When the journey is complete, he kills the crew and makes it look like the plague. Abraham van Helsing and other doctors examine the corpses, but the plague spreads through the town. Jonathan arrives home, ill and in a state of delirium. Dracula is desperate for Lucy to love him, but she refuses and tries to convince the townsfolk that a vampire is in their midst. She is ignored and decides to take matters into her own hands and lures the Count into her bedroom, hoping to keep him there till dawn when the sunlight will destroy him. 

Mixing art house and horror, Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht has plenty of grim moments, mixing death scenes, depictions of corpses, rats, and more with director Werner Herzog’s trademark sense of atmosphere. As with Murnau’s original Nosferatu, Herzog’s film is based on Bram Stoker’s novel. One major different is that Murnau made his film without permission and Stoker’s widow tried to have every copy of the film destroyed. When Herzog completed his adaptation in 1979, the novel had entered the public domain, so he was able to restore more of the original plot and names. For some reason, as other directors have done, Herzog chose to rename Mina’s character Lucy, who is her friend in the novel.

Herzog remade Murnau’s classic, because he considered one of the greatest German films ever made and wanted to do his own take on it with presumably the only living actor -- Klaus Kinski -- who could convincingly do a rendition of Max Schreck’s rat-faced Count Orlok. Though I’m generally the first in line to declare my hatred of remakes, particularly horror remakes, this is certainly one of the finest. Much of this is due to the excellent casting, headed by Herzog’s long time collaborator, Klaus Kinski. Kinski is truly terrifying as the Count, but manages to keep his normally unbridled energy carefully controlled. 

Beautiful French star Isabelle Adjani (Possession) is perfect as Lucy Harker and her wide, round eyes are particularly adept at expressing the terror she experiences throughout the film. Bruno Ganz, one of Germany’s finest actors, also shines as Harker and is responsible for much of the film’s sense of unrelenting gloom, impending sickness, and utter exhaustion. His Harker is a good-natured, but flawed man and the film charts his painful descent into madness. His part in the bleak twist ending also sets this film apart from other adaptations of Dracula and it remains one of the most nihilistic. French writer by way of Poland, Roland Topor, also known for working with Alejandro Jodorowsky, is excellent as a very bizarre Renfield (which is saying something, considering the history of Renfield performances).

Another memorable element of Nosferatu is the cinematography from Jörg Schmidt-Reitwein, another regular Herzog collaborator. The rich colors of the film and natural settings do not present the ripeness and bounty of nature, but rather its decay and rot. Herzog depicts desiccated Mexican mummies from the Guanajuato museum, crumbling Czech castles, Carpathian mountains, a plague festival, and other atmospheric locations around Europe, making this perhaps the most visually sumptuous Dracula adaptation in existence.

Herzog’s Nosferatu is different than Murnau’s in several ways, despite the fact that Herzog changes very little from the original, capturing some scenes shot for shot. First and foremost, it lacks Murnau’s expressionist style and puts an emphasis on realism, but also manages to be more surreal. The normally volatile Kinski was apparently well-behaved on set, despite the fact that he had to spend hours having his make up reapplied every day by Japanese make up artist Reiko Kruk. This effective, creepy make up is one of the few ways the film abandons realism. The mood and tone are also completely different, partly due to the carefully measured pacing, which is much slower than Murnau’s, and the grim twist ending. The figure of Dracula is also explored in further depth. While Kinski’s portrayal is as animalistic as Max Schreck’s, if not more so, there is also an emphasis on the emotional elements of the story. He is an isolated, lonely figure searching for love, though he only finds death.

Commercially successful, this was one of five films directed by Herzog and starring Klaus Kinski. It comes highly recommended and is an excellent place to start if you’re a genre fan hoping to explore more of Herzog’s excellent films. Nosferatu is available as a 2-disc, special edition DVD, which comes recommended due to some lovely special features. On a final note, the film was made in both English and German at the insistence of the studio, but I recommend the German version. 

Jean-Pierre Melville (1917-1973)

Born Jean-Pierre Grumbach, the great director took his stage name, Melville, from the time he spent serving the French Resistance during WWII. Melville was his code name and reflects his love of American culture. The fact that he continued using the name after the war also reflects the importance of his Resistance experience on his life. His family were Alsatian Jews and he was forced to go into hiding during the war. Though his films Le silence de la mer and Léon Morin, prêtre were both set during the war, only his classic, L’armée des ombres, gives an accurate glimpse of his WWII experiences. After the war, when the French government turned down his application to become a director, he took matters into his own hands and was one of the first French filmmakers to create his own studio. 

Between the late ‘40s and early ‘70s, Melville made 13 feature films. Most of these are crime films with a focus on police, gangsters, and capers, though a handful of his early films are meditative dramas. He was heavily influenced by the American noir films of the late ‘40s and early ‘50s. In turn, he deeply influenced if not outright began the French New Wave/nouvelle vague, as well as later crime and heist films. He was one of the first French directors to break out of the studio and use real locations, as well as an almost magical realist sense of space, lighting, and geography. Notably, he helped popularize the stylish criminal with most of his characters - as well as himself - regularly donning sunglasses, a trench coat, and Stetson hat. 

Melville was truly an auteur, not only directing his films, but writing most of them, becoming involved in set and costume design, cinematography, etc. He regularly worked with the same actors and his most famous stars include Jean-Paul Belmondo, Lino Ventura, and Alain Delon. Much of his incredible lighting and cinematography is due to Henry Decaë, who he worked with throughout his career. Melville was not only a director and appeared in some notable films as an actor, such as Jean Cocteau’s Orphée (1949), Eric Rohmer’s Le signe du lion (1959), Jean-Luc Godard’s A bout de souffle (1960), Louis Malle’s Zazie dans le métro (1960), and Claude Chabrol’s Landru (1962), among others.

On to his films. 

Le silence de la mer (1949) aka The Silence of the Sea

Melville’s first feature length film took me completely by surprise. Jess Franco regular Howard Vernon stars as a charming Nazi officer who boards with an elderly French man (Jean-Marie Robain) and his young niece (Nicole Stéphane) in their country home. They are not pleased to have him and revolt by maintaining a stubborn silence, despite his daily monologues about his love of France and French culture. He feels affection for the small family and firmly believes that the war will unite France and Germany. 

This meditative, bittersweet film kicked off Melville’s main theme of characters who are drawn together, but remain fundamentally at odds. He would also go on to make a number of films about WWII and it is surprising to see such a sympathetic, charismatic Nazi character so soon after the war. The cinematography is some of his most beautiful and pastoral and the film revolves around daily domestic activities, another theme Melville would regularly explore. 

Les enfants terribles (1950)

Based on Jean Cocteau’s novel of the same name, Melville’s second film concerns the unhealthy relationship between brother and sister Paul (Cocteau’s paramour Edouard Dermithe) and Elisabeth (Nicole Stéphane). A series of unfortunate events - an accident at school, the death of their mother, the death of Elisabeth’s wealthy new husband - brings them closer together and removes all obstacles from their increasingly internalized lives. 

Though made up of selfish, frustrating, and unlikable characters, Les enfants terribles is one of Melville’s most psychologically complex films and Bernardo Bertolucci’s celebrated film The Dreamers steals unmercifully from it. Stéphane, returning from Le silence de la mer, may not have been Melville’s most beautiful lead actress, but she was definitely his most compelling and carries this film with a steely gaze and varied performance. Cocteau, a director in his own right and screenwriter here, commissioned Melville to adapt his very popular novel. Their working relationship was somewhat troubled and the film suffers from Cocteau’s insistence on casting Dermithe, who simply cannot compete with Stéphane. But the finished film is clearly Melville’s work, further developing themes from Le silence de la mer and introducing new visual concepts - such as black and white tiled floors - that would appear repeatedly in his later work. 

Quand tu liras cette lettre (1953) aka When You Read This Letter

This melodrama about the fraught relationship between a con man and an ex-nun is perhaps my least favorite Melville film, but still has plenty to offer fans of early romantic drama. French pop idol Juliette Gréco stars as Thérèse, an aspiring nun who leaves the convent when her parents die in a car crash and she must care for her teenage sister, Irène (Yvonne Sanson). After a chance encounter, the innocent and lovely Irène develops a crush on Max (Philippe Lemaire), a boxer, mechanic, and con man. They have a second chance meeting where Max rapes Irène and she tries to kill herself out of shame, but survives. Thérèse tracks down Max and blackmails him into marrying her sister, who loves him despite the rape. Unfortunately for all involved, Thérèse and Max develop a poisonous love-hate relationship that will effect the happiness of all. 

Too melodramatic for my taste, Quand tu liras cette lettre is an interesting film because it contains another of Melville’s most powerful female characters, Gréco’s Thérèse. Though she intended to take religious vows at the start of the film, Thérèse is anything but sweetness, light, or naive; she is cold, independent, and ruthless. The frustrated romantic struggle between two opposing characters introduced in Melville’s first two films continues here and is further complicated by a moral debate.  

Quand tu liras cette lettre is not currently available on region 1 DVD. 

Bob le flambeur (1956) aka Bob the Gambler

Melville’s first film to be openly influenced by the American noir genre, Bob le flambeur relates the tale of an aging gambler, Bob (Roger Duchesne). He has mostly given up on the criminal life, though he maintains a passionate gambling habit and still interacts with the Parisian underworld. Tired of always being broke, he and a few colleagues decide to rob the Deauville casino, but things go wrong and the police get wind of their plans. On the night of the robbery, Bob gets to the casino early and begins to gamble...

Influential to both the French nouvelle vague and contemporary gangster films, Bob le flambeur presents sympathetic underworld figures, friendships between crooks and cops, and a sense of whimsy that would not appear in any of Melville’s other films. The particular sense of morality exhibited by Bob would reappear in nearly all of Melville’s gangster films, though Bob le flambeur is the most lighthearted of these. Elements of the heist planning scenes would certainly resurface in future crime movies, such as The Italian Job (1969).

Deux hommes dans Manhattan (1959) aka Two Men in Manhattan

Though this is one of Melville’s least popular films, it’s among my favorite, probably because of the pronounced involvement of Melville himself. In addition to directing, he stars as Moreau, a dogged reporter on the trail of a missing United Nations delegate from France. Along with an alcoholic photographer (Pierre Grasset), Moreau spends one long night following the only available leads - several pictures of women who may be the delegate’s girlfriends - to track down the missing man.

His first film shot in America, Deux hommes dans Manhattan may not be the most complex mystery, but it perfectly captures Melville’s love for cities, his passion for America, and his interest in early American noir and gangster films. Melville’s on screen charisma was a surprise and remains the most delightful aspect of this odd film. Lacking some of Melville’s more pronounced themes, it prefigures Léon Morin, prêtre in the sense that it is essentially a lengthy moral argument disguised as a detective story. This straightforward tale of the reporter, photographer, and missing politician is really an unfolding debate about private versus public life, individual and family identity, and an examination of privacy and moral responsibility. 

Léon Morin, prêtre (1961) aka Léon Morin, Priest

Melville’s most subtle and enjoyable exploration of morals and identity is this unusual tale of an atheist communist and a country priest debating their individual belief systems in the Nazi occupied French countryside. Barny, played by the lovely Emmanuelle Riva (Hiroshima, mon amour) finds herself attracted to the young, handsome Father Léon (Jean-Paul Belmondo, in his first role with Meville). Though she initially resists, Léon wins her over and their weekly debates about the folly of religion turn Barny into a devout Christian. 

In the most female-centric of all Melville’s films, Léon Morin is one of the sole male voices - particularly attractive young male voices - in a small French Mediterranean village and naturally all the town’s available women are hot on his trail. Though Melville could have easily made this into a tale of lurid, forbidden romance, as with Le silence de la mer, Les enfants terribles, and Quand tu liras cette lettre, this is really a film about longing, repressed desire, and the endless search for identity and personal freedom. Though this is perhaps the least action packed of all Belmondo’s films, he and Riva are a compelling pair and make this quiet, personal film an undeniable success. 

Le doulos (1962) aka The Finger Man

Jean-Paul Belmondo returned to star in this dark, twisting tale of heists, gangsters, murder, theft, and betrayal. A thief named Maurice (Serge Reggiani) kills his acquaintance Gilbert (René Lèfevre) and steals a number of jewels and cash Gilbert was hiding after a recent robbery. Maurice plans a new heist with his friend, Silien (Belmondo), but is determined to get revenge after it seems Silien double crossed him. 

Le doulos is the first of several dark-toned gangster films Melville made after the light-hearted Bob le flambeur. Boasting some truly incredible cinematography, Le doulos is primarily concerned with the world of male gangsters - female characters in his next six films would be sparse - and focuses on the meaning of friendship and loyalty. This is also the first of several Melville crime films where any notion of black and white morality is quickly abolished. The script subtly, gradually unfolds the parallel plots of Maurice and Silien, constantly reforming what we think we know of the two characters, their motivations, and what they are capable of. This is also the first in a long series of films where nearly all the major characters would die at the end of the film. 

L’aîné des Ferchaux (1963) aka Magnet of Doom aka The Eldest of the Ferchaux

Belmondo returns again for this strange road trip film about a downtrodden young boxer who takes an impromptu job as secretary for a corrupt banker (Charles Vanel) on the run from the French police. After flying to New York, they try to collect all of Ferchaux’s savings in the U.S., but meet with some difficulties and are forced to hide out in swampy Louisiana. There the banker falls ill and tensions between he and the young secretary are at their most volatile. 

Melville’s first color feature and second film shot in the U.S., L’aîné des Ferchaux is also concerned with male friendship, loyalty, and identity. Though the banker Ferchaux and his secretary come from opposite walks of life, they are inherently similar. Greedy, corruptible, and selfish, Ferchaux and Maudet are dependent on one another and their relationship becomes increasingly bitter. While the two lead actors give strong performances, as always (Vanel was known for The Wages of Fear, To Catch a Thief, and many more), and there are some captivating set pieces, L’aîné des Ferchaux exposes some of the pitfalls of the road trip film, such as plodding travel scenes and the constant interruption of the film’s building tension. 

Le deuxième souffle (1996) aka Second Breath

In my opinion, Melville’s first masterpiece is this carefully paced, gloriously shot film about Gu (Lino Ventura), an aged gangster who breaks out of prison and escapes to Paris, into the arms of his patient, faithful mistress (Christine Fabréga). She devises an elaborate plan to help him escape to the countryside and out from under the noses of the French police, where the two of them will live out the remainder of their lives. But Gu can't resist taking part in one last heist, though things to do not go as he hoped...

Despite some great male leads in Melville’s other films, the gruff, Italian Lino Ventura is my absolute favorite. He is perfect as Gu, a character who elegantly sums up Melville’s ideal protagonist. Gu may be a denizen of the criminal underworld and can clearly not resist the adrenaline rush of a final heist, but his oddly moralistic personality is a blend of fiercely loyalty and doggedly independence, coldly rationality and warm generosity. Le deuxième souffle is also noteworthy for two incredible sequences - the first during a lengthy heist scene and the second where opposing character case a room that will be a future meeting place - that have undeniably influenced future crime films. 

Le samouraï (1967)

Melville’s second masterpiece and perhaps his most popular film is this bleak, stylish gangster flick starring Alain Delon as Jef Costello, a successful assassin. His luck changes when he is hired to murder a nightclub owner and is almost caught by the police. He’s temporarily saved by an alibi from his prostitute girlfriend (Delon’s then wife Nathalie Delon) and a false statement from the only witness, a nightclub singer (Cathy Rosier). Costello must figure out who contracted the hit before he is the next victim or the police close in on him.

In many ways, Le samouraï is the culmination of all of Melville’s gangster films and blends a well-written, simple script with a great leading performance, excellent overall casting, dazzling visuals, and a carefully constructed soundscape. Though Melville would play with dialogue, silence, and soundtrack in his other films, here sound is at its most precise, including a lengthy opening sequence with no dialogue. Delon, with his handsome face and icy, assured stare, regularly asserts that he does not need dialogue to play a convincing, sympathetic Costello. Melville enhances Delon’s largely non-verbal performance with close up shots of Costello’s pet canary, either peacefully resting or anxiously flapping its wings and rustling its feathers in a small cage. This is the ideal place to begin for Melville novices. 

L’armée des ombres (1969) aka Army of Shadows

Melville’s most perfect, accomplished film is this dark, nihilistic tale about the French Resistance, based on Melville’s own experiences with the Resistance. Lino Ventura stars as Philippe Gerbier, commander of a branch of the Resistance. L’armée des ombres catalogues his various adventurous, including his arrest, time spent in a prisoner of war camp, escape, punishment of an agent of the Resistance who betrayed him, and traveling to London with the secret head of the Resistance (Paul Meurisse). When Gerbier’s second in command is imprisoned and tortured, he and his accomplices must organize a dangerous rescue mission from which they may not return. 

This biographical film was not popular upon its theatrical release, but has since become considered a classic. It is my favorite of all Melville’s films and provides a bleak look at life during the French Resistance. Melville incorporated many of the elements from his previous crime films - incredible cinematography, powerful performances (Simone Signoret and Jean-Pierre Cassel are wonderful in side roles), themes of loyalty and underground societies - though the heist scenes are replaced with rescue missions and anti-Nazi actions. This deeply personal film expresses both the necessity and futility of the Resistance movement, outlining its minor successes and pervasive frailties. Lino Ventura gives the best performance of his career and one of the finest in ‘60s French cinema. While L’armée des ombres comes with the highest possible recommendation, it is a devastating film and left me unable to watch anything else for a few days afterwards. 

Le cercle rouge (1970) aka The Red Circle

Alain Delon returns as Corey, a recently released criminal who becomes involved in the planning of a jewelry heist. He happens to cross paths with Vogel (Gian Maria Volonté), an escaped murderer. The two men team up and Vogel puts them in touch with an alcoholic ex-cop and sharp shooter, Jansen, who agrees to help them with the heist. Though the robbery goes off without a hitch, the police are hot on Vogel’s trail and the mob is after Corey. 

By now, I have to admit, I’m tired of this being the sixth Melville film in a row where basically every major character dies at the end of the film, generally in a shoot out. Aside from the fatalist, if repetitive ending, Le cercle rouge is another of Melville’s classic films, mostly thanks to three great performances from Alain Delon, Italian actor Gian Maria Volonté (A Fistful of Dollars), and Yves Montand (Wages of Fear). Volonté and Delon in particular and wonderful together and their combined charisma drives the film forward and provides an emotional and moral center. Though both Corey and Vogel are criminals and murderers, they are loyal to one another and share the excitement of the heist and the drive for freedom. 

Un flic (1972) aka A Cop aka Dirty Money

Alain Delon returns in Melville’s final film, another tale of illicit heists and cops versus robbers. Delon plays Commissaire Coleman who is on the trail of three men that have robbed a local bank. One of them is hospitalized, but the three survivors use the loot to fund an even more extravagant heist. Coleman has his eye on one of his close friends, Simon (Richard Crenna), a club owner and the prime suspect. Coleman and Simon also share a mistress, the double crossing beauty Cathy (the sublime Catherine Deneuve). 

Though this last film of Melville’s may not be his best, it is still well worth watching for fans of the director or the crime genre; I don’t think you can really enjoy the genre without a healthy appreciation for Melville’s influential work. Delon was excellent as a criminal in Le samouraï and Le cercle rouge and also shines as a slippery police commissioner, willing to bend laws and manipulate the women in his life. It also curiously presents on of Melville's most interesting female characters, a lovely transvestite working as a police informer who seems to be in love with Coleman. Un flic also marks somewhat of a change for Melville, as not everyone dies at the end of the film. It would be interesting to see what he would have come out with next, but he died of a heart attack when he was only 55.

Though I watched all of his feature films, Melville made a short at the beginning of career that I was unable to find. I think it’s a little strange that Vingt-quatre heures de la vie d’un clown (1946) aka Twenty-four Hours in the Life of a Clown hasn’t been included as an extra on one of Criterion’s many Melville releases, but hopefully that’s planned for the future, as several of their Melville releases have fallen out of print and either need to be reissued or released on Blu-ray

For more about Melville, there are a lot of great resources, including an enjoyable article from Senses of Cinema. Rui Nogueira’s important book Melville on Melville is sadly out of print, but will hopefully see the light of day again at some point. Your local library may have access to a copy. Check out Ginette Vincendeau’s Jean-Pierre Melville: An American in Paris, the only English language book on the director that is currently in print. Also look for the documentary Code Name Melville, available as an extra on the region 2 Blu-ray of Le samouraï.

I could not possibly say enough good things about this master of French cinema and innovator of the crime genre. His work comes highly recommended and, I think, it is best viewed as a group to observe the development of his many ongoing themes. For a visual example of the clear themes throughout Melville’s films, check out this video essay, which shows common strains like characters smoking, domestic activities, men with hats, black and white tiled floors, characters looking into mirrors, etc.

MARTIN

George A. Romero, 1978

Starring: John Amplas, Elyane Nadeau, Tom Savini

A young man named Martin sedates a woman on an overnight train and slits her wrists in order to drink her blood. Martin believes he is a vampire and must do this in order to stay alive and quench his unholy thirst. It seems that Martin’s family in Indianapolis has died and he is traveling to Braddock, Pennsylvania to live with his suspicious granduncle, Cuda, and young cousin Christine. Cuda earnestly believes Martin is a vampire and promises to stake him through the heart if anyone in Braddock is found dead. Martin is forced to travel to Pittsburgh to find new victims, but begins his first affair with an older local woman in Braddock. After the woman kills herself, Cuda believes Martin to be responsible and prepares to punish him by staking him through the heart...

Allegedly George Romero’s favorite of his own film, he wrote, directed, and edited this very personal, unique film that deserves a wider audience and better reputation. Martin is very low budget, but makes the best of a number of real locations around Pittsburgh and Braddock, Pennsylvania. Supporting cast members were made up of Romero’s friends and family members, which is a bit rough, but John Amplas gives a compelling, memorably strange enough performance to distract from any bad acting or stilted dialogue. Amplas went on to work with Romero several times, including appearances in Dawn of the Dead, Day of the Dead, Knightriders, and Creepshow. Martin also marks Romero’s first collaboration with make up artist Tom Savini. Though Savini crafted the minimal amount of blood, gore, and violence depicted in Martin, he also appeared as Christine’s deadbeat boyfriend. 

Martin is connected to Romero’s more popular films with a heavy, sometimes awkward dose of social commentary and satire. It seems that he tried to retread and further develop the themes of suburban anguish from Season of the Witch. In that, he definitely succeeded, as Martin should be counted as one of his classics, whereas I found Season of the Witch to be an interesting attempt, but mostly a failure. In that film, the protagonist comes to believe she is witch, though Romero never confirms or denies this. 

Romero’s use of vampire lore is interesting and borrows some elements from other films, such as Larraz’s Vampyres. Martin is not a classic vampire. He has no fangs and must use knives or razors to get blood. He’s not affected by sunlight, garlic, or crosses. His flashbacks - or possibly flights of fancy - are divided from the regular film with black and white scenes and it is unclear whether his vampirism is real or imagined. Martin is the opposite of what we think of as a vampire; he’s cowardly, weak, socially awkward. His floundering attempts to subdue women interestingly make the film feel like a bleak slasher or thriller at times.

This dreamlike, poetic film is about suburban isolation and the blurred lines between humanity and monstrosity, fantasy and reality. Martin comes highly recommended and is available on DVD. As with Dawn of the Dead, there was a version of Martin edited for European audiences. Known as Wampyr, it has a Goblin score, but is generally only available as an Italian dub. 

LIPS OF BLOOD

Jean Rollin, 1975

Starring: Jean-Loup Philippe, Annie Belle, Nathalie Perrey

Frédéric is at a party when he sees a picture of some castle ruins by the sea. This triggers a powerful memory from his childhood where he entered the castle and met a beautiful young girl locked up there. He tells his mother about the memory, but she denies that it was real and becomes anxious and angry. Determined to find the girl, Frédéric tracks down the photographer of the photo, which leads him closer to Jennifer, the girl from his childhood. He has a series of visions about her during his journey and encounters a cemetery with coffins full of bats. By opening the coffins, he releases four female vampires, clad only in see-through gowns, who wander the town at night, occasionally feasting on its citizens. 

His mother has him committed to a mental hospital and almost killed, but the female vampires help him to escape. He learns about the location of the castle and journeys there, discovering Jennifer’s coffin. Before he can open it, his mother intercepts him and it seems that she holds a horrible secret... 

Jean Rollin directed a number of erotic, surreal films in the ‘70s - vampire movies Le Frisson des Vampire (1970) and Requiem pour un Vampire (1971) - as well as the dreamlike Iron Rose (1972), The Demoniacs (1973), one of his classics, Grapes of Death (1978), as well as Fascination (1979). As I’m doing a series on 100 important films in ‘70s horror, I tried to only pick one Rollin film. I plan to do a blog retrospective of all of his work sometime in the future, but it was difficult to narrow down my choice as I’m a huge fan of his work and the ‘70s was the most creative decade of his life. 

Lips of Blood treads odd ground in the Rollin canon as it is one of his most accessible films. Flawed, but still enjoyable, Lips of Blood really shines thanks to the work of cinematographer Jean-Francois Robin (Betty Blue). Rollin felt that Lips of Blood had some of his favorite locations and Robin captures their magic - cemeteries, beaches, old areas of Paris, etc. Though there are plenty of poetic scenes and locations, Lips of Blood is one of the few films set in contemporary reality and star Jean-Loup Philippe penned the flawed, but relatively solid script.

It’s not a perfect film and there are moments that lag, clear budget and production issues, and an ending that feels a bit silly after all the build up throughout the film. The vampires’ fangs look pretty awful and the effects in general are very cheap. The film was a financial failure, undoubtedly because it attempted to blend erotica, mystery, horror, and art house. Rollin’s films in general have never been popular, though they’ve steadily developed a loyal cult following over the years. Lips of Blood, like many of Rollin’s other films, may disappoint horror fans because, at its heart, it is a romantic tale of memory and longing. There just happen to be vampires, coffins, bats, and crumbling castles by the sea. A coffin floating out to see is one of the film’s most poetic images, which is saying a lot considering Rollin’s body of work as a whole.

A few of Rollin’s regulars turn out some good performances here, such as twins Catherine and Marie-Pierre Castel, star Jean-Loup Philippe (Rape of the Vampire, writer of Lips of Blood), Nathalie Perrey (The Nude Vampire), and Willy Braque (The Demoniacs), among others. There are some other genre regulars, such as Annie Bell (House on the Edge of the Park), and actresses Martine Grimaud, Sylvia Bourdon, and Claudine Beccarie would go on to develop careers in a number of French adult films after Lips of Blood.

As with most of his other films, this one has plenty of nudity, male as well as female. The four vampires barely wear clothes and when they do, the material is see through. There are no explicit sex scenes, though some more romantic, softcore elements appear. There is actually another version of Lips of Blood - Suck Me, Vampire - that contains hardcore inserts Rollin was forced to shoot at a later date. 

Lips of Blood is one of my favorite Rollin films and it’s also one of his most accessible. It’s a great place to start for newcomers to the dearly departed director and has more solid plot elements than many of his other films from this period. It’s available on DVD and Blu-ray from Kino Lorber, who have thankfully released many of Rollin’s films at this point. 

NIGHTMARE CITY aka CITY OF THE WALKING DEAD

Umberto Lenzi, 1980

Starring: Hugo Stiglitz, Laura Trotter, Mel Ferrer

Raro Video’s U.S. label has recently released Umberto Lenzi’s zombie extravaganza Nightmare City (1980) on Blu-ray for the first time. Starring Hugo Stiglitz and Mel Ferrer, this over the top, blood and gore soaked B-movie classic looks better than ever and, though it is not strictly a zombie film, will delight fans of Euro-horror and ‘70s undead cinema. 

Incubo Sulla Cittá Contaminata aka Nightmare City aka City of the Walking Dead concerns Dean Miller (Hugo Stiglitz), a TV reporter waiting at the airport for a scientist he is hoping to interview. Instead, he witnesses the arrival of a military plane that makes an emergency landing. Its passengers are a number of zombie-like humans that attack and kill anyone they can get their hands on. They soon swarm a TV station and hospital, killing and infecting anyone they encounter. General Murchison (Mel Ferrer) refuses to let Miller share the news with the general public, though Miller flees to the local hospital to find his wife Anna (Laura Trotter), an employee there. They escape to an abandoned amusement park, hoping to be rescued even though the place is full of the zombie-like creatures.

Lenzi did not intend that Nightmare City should be a straightforward zombie film; his creatures are actually humans suffering from a rabies-like radiation sickness, which is why they are able to use weapons and operate machinery. The weaponry is a bit absurd and includes machine guns, knives, machetes, clubs, and really any potentially lethal blunt object. They creatures do eat human flesh, but only after they have killed their prey with the variety of weapons. The radiation sickness angle is also Lenzi’s attempt at expressing an anti-military message that is further expressed in the character of General Murchison. 

This Italian-Spanish-Mexican co-production was initially intended to star a bigger name Italian actor like Franco Nero (Django) or Fabio Testi (Four of the Apocalypse), but the Mexican and Spanish investors wanted a Mexican star, thus resulting in the casting of Hugo Stiglitz. Stiglitz is primarily known for a series of films with Mexican director René Cardona Jr., namely Night of a Thousand Cats and Tintorera: Killer Shark. As with those films, Nightmare City has many unintentionally hilarious scenes, such as when a horde of zombies break into a television station and attack women dancing through an aerobics program. Stiglitz is a strange mixture of awkwardness and charisma and, as with his performance in Night of a Thousand Cats, it is impossible to take your eyes off of him, even though he often descends int the truly absurd. 

There are some decent supporting performances from a number of Italian film regulars such as Francisco Rabal (The Rebel) and Eduardo Fajardo (Django). Laura Trotter (Frivolous Lola) is memorable as Dean’s wife and prolific American actor Mel Ferrer (War and Peace, Eaten Alive) puts in a dependable appearance as the hard-headed General who wants to keep the zombies a secret for as long as possible. 

Director Umberto Lenzi is known for gory cannibal films like Eaten Alive and Cannibal Ferox, as well as a series of somewhat more obscure giallo films like Seven Blood-Stained Orchids, Eyeball, and Spasmo. Nightmare City has all of his major trademarks: graphic violence, explicit nudity, and a love of the bizarre if not the outright silly. Many throats are slit, there are a number of decapitations, eyeball trauma, a nipple is cut off by a machete-wielding zombie, etc. Though the film isn’t as serious as some of its zombie brethren, the gore is certainly plentiful and Lenzi makes every attempt to be creative with it. 

Nightmare City may be too rough or slipshod for some horror fans and seems to delight in its own badness at times. There is some very poor pacing, moving back and forth between dramatic action and slow, dialogue heavy scenes. If you’ve seen enough B-grade Italian horror, Lenzi films, or movies starring Hugo Stiglitz, this should come as no surprise. The healthy amount of gore more than makes up for some of the questionable plot elements and Lenzi has a number of original set pieces that help Nightmare City to be more than just another Night of the Living Dead or Zombie clone. 

Raro presents a new high-definition transfer of Nightmare City in 1080p with a 2.35:1 aspect ratio. Taken from the original 35mm negative, the transfer looks great, particularly compared to the VHS I grew up watching. Bold colors, clear details, and an appropriate, though minimal level of grain ensure that the film looks better than it ever has. The dark or nighttime scenes in particular lack any of the previous muddiness. Both LPCM 2.0 Italian and English tracks are included along with optional English subtitles. I believe the film was shot in English, so, for once, that is the superior track. The enjoyable score from Stelvio Cipriani (Bay of Blood), effects, and dialogue are all clear, even though some silly dubbing remains. 

Though there aren’t an overwhelming amount of extras, included is a lengthy, English language interview with Umberto Lenzi from 2000 that covers the production history of Nightmare City. There’s also an English trailer and an Italian trailer, as well as an illustrated booklet with an informative essay about the film from Chris Alexander, editor of Fangoria. I believe the interview was included in the earlier Anchor Bay DVD release of Nightmare City and it’s a shame Raro couldn’t have included a few more extras, possibly with the involvement Hugo Stiglitz. 

If you’ve never seen Nightmare City and you love ‘70s zombies films, especially along the lines of Burial Ground or Zombie, then you owe it to yourself to pick up this new Blu-ray from Raro Video. They’ve been putting out some great stuff lately, though generally with more of an emphasis on Eurocrime films and spaghetti westerns than horror, so this is a welcome addition to their line.