The unsettling nature of these deaths becomes all the more apparent when Gillis accidentally collides with someone as he is called out to deal with yet another attack. As he gets out of his squad car to examine the scene, he is shocked to find a severed arm enmeshed in the front grill, which will not stop twitching. In the resulting confusion the man he has just knocked over attacks him then retrieves his dismembered arm before taking off into the night. Dobbs later reveals the severed arm had come from someone who had to have been dead for more than four weeks. The sheriff is dumbfounded but his enquiries soon reveal his coroner to have a shady past; he was dismissed from his job many years before for carrying out a series of unauthorized autopsies. Dobbs then reveals his theory on reanimation and we learn the truth about the townsfolk of this idyllic locale.
Eight years after directing Death Line (1973), Gary Sherman returned with his eerie zombie movie Dead and Buried, which included the names of Alien’s Dan O’Bannon and Ronald Shusett among its writers. A surreal ambience pervaded his atmospheric direction as this ill-lit, fogbound coastal haven slowly began to evoke a cloying sense of claustrophobia while a deranged mob revelled in the slaughter of those who innocently set foot in this town. The pacing was often dreamlike, but this was punctured by a series of horrific and closely observed murders, including a hacking by fish hooks, burning by acid and death by embalming, each cleverly handled by special effects man Stan Winston. Stan had already acquired a formidable reputation having designed the Wookie costumes for the Star Wars Holiday Special (1978) and would go on to ply his craft on Aliens (1986), Edward Scissorhands (1990), the Terminator series (1984–2009) and Jurassic Park (1997) among many, many others. Willy Wonka’s (1971) kindly Jack Albertson took on a morbidly eccentric role as the town’s coroner and mortician, with a predilection for syringes. The young Lisa Marie, prior to her appearances in Mars Attacks (1996) and Sleepy Hollow (1999), played one of her earliest roles, and among the rampaging townsfolk, Robert Englund was also to be found, three years before he was set loose in A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984).
Gary Sherman had assembled a very respectable team, but Dead and Buried could have drifted into almost obscurity if it hadn’t been for the public outcry in the UK during the early 1980s, when the video nasty became the scourge of the country. On its low-key UK release in 1981, the film was given an “X” certificate, and at that time remained uncut. This was altered when it was released to video and then lambasted as a shameful video nasty in November 1983, before being dropped from the list in January 1985. When it was presented to the BBFC for release to video in 1990, thirty seconds of cuts were required before it could be passed as an “18”. On its return to the cutting room the attack and burning of the photographer by a mob of zombies was edited, as was the deletion of a hypodermic syringe being plunged into the photographer’s eye and the bludgeoning of a hitchhiker with a rock. Finally, in 1999 Sherman’s film was passed by the BBFC to appear as it had on its cinematic release and, as with many other features of the period, this unusual zombie feature went on to attain its own cult following.
ASCIENTIST AND his daughter cower in mortal terror; he is about to pay the greatest price for his heinous experimentation in resurrecting the dead. In the town of Akron, Ohio, zombies are then seen overrunning a video store with one of the corpses shuffling up to the counter intent on taking a copy of Dawn of the Dead.
A few years later, that one foolish act has placed humanity in a desperate fight for survival as they battle the ever-growing zombie multitude. The Zombie Squad, an elite tactical team, has been trained by the government to put an end to these putrescent creatures, but even as they slaughter the mindless enemy, one of the team suffers a bite from a zombie’s decapitated head as it lies on the floor. Unfortunately a cure for this virulent contamination is yet to be discovered. The Squad’s brief is to move on and return to the source of the contagion in Akron, Ohio. Once they arrive, they disperse to retrieve the documents left by the scientist whose experiments unleashed this deathly host. Their examination of the area uncovers a zealous religious cult, a group committed to the new dominion of the zombie. In a turn so very reminiscent of Dawn of the Dead, the brethren reveal they will sacrifice the living to satiate the zombies’ craving for warm flesh. The cult, led by Reverend Jones, is fervent in the belief that it is God’s will that the dead have arisen to punish the whole of mankind for their misdeeds. However, it soon comes to light that the Reverend’s son was savaged by a zombie, and now takes his place among the shambling throng. The Zombie Squad are left to counter the serious threat posed by the cult and stave off the relentless tide of zombies as they race against time to locate the scientist’s notes.
The Dead Next Door is the perfect example of how a youngster with an enthusiasm for filmmaking can get his work out there alongside the best, as long as he has belief and can capture the imagination of a man like Sam Raimi. Sam had enough faith in J. R. Bookwalter to finance this feature with his fee from Evil Dead II. Bookwalter’s labour of love has its detractors; the Super 8-mm film certainly doesn’t help, nor does some of the acting, and Bruce’s Campbell’s dubbing of two of the protagonists’ voices has raised more than a few eyebrows. It should be remembered that this feature was shot when the man in the director’s chair was only nineteen years old, with precious little experience in professional film production, and he had to wait another four years before his endeavour released to video. The volunteers in Akron provided their services for free during the shoot as well as post production. The film recalled the years of fan-film production as evidenced by the characters’ names, Raimi, Carpenter, King, Savini and Romero. At the heart of Bookwalter’s film was a craving for blood and guts and the application of gore was surprisingly effective, with decapitations and disembowelments aplenty, as were the zombies, which exhibited some rather ingenious design. Sam Raimi’s faith was vindicated for this was only the beginning for the dedicated Bookwalter, who has since gone on to a highly successful career in directing and film production.
A FRIGHTENED WOMAN chases through the snow-covered woods only to be trapped and graphically devoured by Nazi Zombies. Oblivious to this gruesome tragedy a group of medical students travel to this snow-laden retreat intent on a long Easter weekend of fun, fun, fun, not to mention the obligatory tumble between the sheets. Their cabin is located high up in the snow-bound mountains, far from the prying eyes of civilization and a perfect setting for something to go disastrously wrong. The youngsters don’t share these concerns; they are here to enjoy themselves, unwinding with snowball fights and speeding around on a motor sled. As they take delight in their short vacation, a mysterious hiker arrives and tells the group of the region’s bloody past and the years of Nazi occupation. When they later uncover a box of Nazi gold, this is the moment when the film takes a far darker course. Over sixty-five years ago the Nazis occupied the area, and prior to leaving for the Fatherland they slaughtered the local populace and looted their homes; as the tide of war changed some of them never made it home and eventually perished in the snow, taking their ill-gotten gold with them. However, in making their discovery, the students awaken the dead and the Nazis arise from their frozen burial ground, still attired in full military regalia. Death hasn’t cured this silent troupe of Schutzstaffel zombies; they march towards the hapless revellers with one thing in mind. Only the strongest will survive as the students attempt to escape their bloodthirsty onslaught.
While the storyline is somewhat basic, Død Snø engages virtually every aspect of the zombie and splatter films of twenty years past to magnificent effect. The influences are all too apparent, but instead of just copying the likes of Messrs Romero, Raimi and Jackson, Tommy Wirkola pays homage to their sanguinary accomplishment and then throws in something of his own. He takes great care to balance the humour and horror in his film before ripping out intestines, severing heads, gouging out eyes, splattering brains as well as indulging in some penis munching. Per Steinar Hoftun, Shino Kotani and Steinar Kaarstein wer
e each deservedly lauded for their exceptional work, which was hampered by the cold and, as ever, limitations with the budget. While the Norwegian heavy metal soundtrack ground away, the effects team used over 450 litres of fake blood as the Nazi menace returned from its icy grave. Their presence would garner mixed reviews from the critics at home but across the globe Dead Snow made such an impact a sequel is now in preparation.
A PROMINENT CIVIL SERVANT is observed furtively pursuing his predilection for sleaze amidst Soho’s seedy back streets. A young couple, the antagonistic Alex (David Ladd) and his pretty girlfriend Patricia Wilson (Sharon Gurney) soon after find him unconscious on the steps of a tube station. When they return with a policeman his body has disappeared. Such a senior figure just can’t go missing on the streets of London and the acerbic Inspector Calhoun (Donald Pleasence) and Detective Sergeant Rogers are soon on the case. This isn’t the first disappearance in the area and very soon Gary Sherman’s picture observes a change to its tenor to become far more than another murder mystery.
Towards the end of the nineteenth century, eight men and four women were buried when a tunnel collapsed during the excavation of the London Underground. They were able to survive by eating the dead and reproduced offspring in the grimness of this dank subterranean world. Deep in the labyrinthine tunnels, hidden away from the city’s daily commuters, the last of the descendants (Hugh Armstrong) weeps over his love’s (June Turner) deathbed. In an uninterrupted shot, his grisly lair is exposed, revealing dismembered body parts strewn across the floor and partially eaten corpses suspended from the wall. With the death of his love, the cannibalistic creature returns to the surface to find a new mate and in his search abducts Patricia. A frantic Alex makes Calhoun aware of her capture and then ventures into the warren of tunnels to rescue his girl. Meanwhile, Calhoun and Inspector Richardson (Clive Swift) continue in their search for the missing civil servant’s body. Their investigations take them into a part of the underground not seen in over seventy years.
Gary Sherman’s forgotten gem is essentially one of human survival, and has also gone by the name Raw Meat. In his debut as a director, this quirky low-budget feature encapsulated much of the feel of the London of the early 1970s, with its groovy gear and often grimy backstreet locales, before descending into the bowels of the earth. In these darkened tunnels, his team created an oppressive domain and in their day the effects they created were considered utterly repulsive, at least for a British audience. Donald Pleasence fairly revelled in his role using the acid tongued wit of the police inspector to his own advantage in scenes that were alleged to have been adlibbed. It was Hugh Armstrong’s heartfelt portrayal of the cannibalistic monster from below though that went on to garner the viewer’s attention. The gruesome scene in his bloody lair was forgotten when the tragedy surrounding his plague-ridden existence was revealed. While the audience was never left in any doubt as to his vicious nature, his motivation was never one of pleasure; rather, it was instinctive, allowing him only ever to survive on a day-to-day basis. The audience were forced to consider who the monster truly was. The esteemed figure of Christopher Lee also made a cameo appearance as an MI5 agent, who is certain the missing civil servant had more to answer for than drooling over Soho’s peep shows.
IN A BAR in Austin, Texas, four vapid girls meet for a drink and look to score some weed. As their conversation becomes more boisterous, Julia announces that earlier in the day she appeared on the radio, offering a free lap dance from another of the gang, Arlene; all the lucky fellow has to do is address her as “Butterfly”, offer her a drink, and recite a verse from a poem. In the shadows lurks a sadistic mind, veteran “Stuntman” Mike (Kurt Russell), who has the girls firmly in his sights. He follows Julia’s instructions from the radio show and charms his way to a dance. As the girls leave the bar, one of their acquaintances, Pam (Rose McGowan), accepts a lift home from the stuntman. As he drives Pam off in his death proof Chevy Nova, the audience knows he intends to kill her and very soon so does she. When he slams the brakes on in his stunt car, her head is smashed straight into the dashboard. He takes off and on a quiet road finally comes upon the girl’s car. Calculatingly he puts his foot down and as he picks up speed hits them head on, killing all four women, but never offers an explanation. Only Texas Ranger Earl McGraw is certain that Mike is the culprit, but he has no evidence with which to prove his suspicions.
Fourteen months later, Mike turns up in Lebanon, Tennessee, now with a Dodge Charger at his behest. Three similarly tasteless girls, who have caught the attention of the cold-hearted Mike, are on their way to the airport to collect stuntwoman Zoë Bell. She is hell bent on test-driving a Dodge Challenger and playing a game they call “Ship’s Mast”, where she rides on the bonnet of the car with only leather belts to hold onto, while one of the girls drives the vehicle at speed. The girls are having a fun time, until Mike turns up and rear ends the Challenger when it has seriously kicked into gear. As the cars chase at speed Zoë holds on for dear life until she is hurled from the bonnet. In the ensuing fracas, one of the girls wounds Mike with her gun as he exits his car and as he makes his getaway, the girls vow to exact their revenge. When they catch up with him, their onslaught is vicious; they drag him from his car and rain blow after blow to his head until he falls to the floor unconscious. After the credits, Abernathy kicks Mike to the head one more time and just for good measure crushes his skull.
This wasn’t the first time in his career Quentin Tarantino had divided his audience as on this occasion he attempted to create a retro homage to the exploitation cinema of three decades past. Fans of these movies would have understood the awkward switch in caption at the beginning of his film, swapping from “Quentin Tarantino’s Thunderbolt”, to the crude title card announcing “Death Proof” along with the appalling errors in continuity, the poor film stock and the jumpy editing. He referenced several car chase classics from the past, among them Vanishing Point (1971), Two-Lane Blacktop (1971) and Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry (1974), each providing his film with a sense of perspective, but his critics persisted in giving him a hard-earned lambasting. They poured scorn on the meaningless dialogue, which seemed to slow the movie down, forgetting the fact that exploitation cinema was characterized by these often uneventful sequences. At the box office, Death Proof struggled, proving just how difficult it is to recreate the grindhouse of the past and revealing how modern cinemagoers have little appreciation of this sleazy low-budget phenomenon.
DAVID NELSON’S ENTRY to the slasher mayhem of the early 1980s also went by the names of House of Death and Night Screams. As with so much of its ilk it offered nothing new to the genre, but it was a fitting example as to how the formulaic slasher had very quickly become embedded into the psyche of the American horror film industry. Nelson’s film adopted the modus operandi from the very opening scene, set late at night with a couple in the full throes of passion, this time draped over a motorcycle. The fun and games are interrupted as a train rolls by on the bridge above them and before you know it, their lustful embrace is no more, their dead bodies hurled into the river.
And so it continues in a vein with which you will be completely familiar. In a long sequence of frequently creepy scenes, the locals make merry at the closing night of carnival in Shelby, North Carolina. While this is in full swing, several high school seniors decide to spend the night down by the river, excitedly anticipating their new lives at college. They are an easily recognizable crowd, the protagonists who regularly turn up in these films, the nubile teen queens one of whom was a former Playboy Playmate of the year (Susan Kiger), the loudmouthed party animals and the quiet girl of the piece. And as teenagers do, although some of them look a little older than teenagers, they are keen to party. They might have reconsidered their late night jaunt if anyone in the area had reported the fatal events from a few nights before, but nobody did. The gang have to make the obligatory trip to the cemetery and deliver a series of one-liners and jokes you will have heard before, but they probably contained an el
ement of originality back in 1982.
Hidden amidst the carnival revellers lurks the shadowy figure of the person responsible for the murder of the love-makers by the river. This troubled individual appears scarred by a trauma from the distant past, the memories of which have once again come to the surface. Garbed in blood-stained black, the killer follows the group as they amble towards the riverside, taking in the cemetery. Here he reveals a taste for the machete, which really comes to the fore when the kids enter the so-called death house, for all of twelve minutes at the end of the film. The gore fan does get to savour a couple of decapitations, a disembowelment on the stairs, a hack to the throat and one girl after being viciously attacked finds herself the unfortunate recipient of an arrow wound. In shock she stumbles onto an abandoned carousel, which surprise, surprise begins to move; with nowhere to run she is suffocated as a plastic bag is pulled over her head.
There’s more nudity than gore, but Nelson’s film will appeal to those enthusiasts who relish the machete murder. To his credit his portrayal of small town life with the killer hiding in the shadows is suitably eerie and he builds on this to create some effective shots of the dark mist-enshrouded woods and the timeworn cemetery.
THE TUNE TO a nursery rhyme haunts the opening sequence as two darkened figures tussle with a knife, with one of them suffering fatal injuries. This simple score will serve for the duration as the killer’s calling card as Argento’s film follows murder upon bloody murder. Having witnessed the killing of Helga Ulmann (Macha Méril), a psychic who had picked upon the murderous intentions of someone sitting in her audience, piano teacher Marcus Daly (David Hemmings) sets out to bring them to justice. Minor details will have a bearing on later events, but Daly never quite grasps this, convinced the killer’s face hides among the pictures adorning the walls of the victim’s home. However, the clue doesn’t fall into place and when Detective Giordani arrives on the scene he is unable to identify the offending visage.
The Mammoth Book of Slasher Movies (Mammoth Books) Page 16
