Hell of the Living Dead (1980) A Nostalgic Mess

Hell of the Living Dead.

Night of The Zombies.

Virus.

Zombie Inferno.

Zombi 4.

These are just some of the titles this wild mess has gone under, like a sneaky con-man sliding from alias to alias.  I can almost envision this movie sitting in a dark corner, cackling over its latest grift, looking all disheveled and wild-eyed.  It not only lifted things like incidental music - which I'll get to later - and documentary footage, but it may also steal your soul.

And yet there's an odd, nostalgic feeling to this strange movie.  As funny-awful as this movie is, there is a sense of carefree abandon about the experience.  At the time, it was certainly the goriest picture I had ever seen in my then-sixteen years.  My summers in the 80's were usually pretty fun and free-wheeling, what with no Internet and massive video games to keep me inside all the time.  Time spent indoors was either with reading, watching baseball, or watching movies I rented or borrowed.  I can remember friends of mine lending Hell of the Living Dead to me in 1984, recorded on VHS off of a movie channel which I couldn't get living in the woods.  I recall thinking to myself that I was ever quizzed on what the plot was, I'd be stumped.  But one could get extra credit in the "gratuitous cheesy gore" section of the test.

Ah, enough metaphors.

You want to know a clue that this movie is up to something?  It's co-written and co-directed by Claudio Fragasso.  You may remember him from my reviews of Troll 2 and Best Worst Movie as the director and co-writer of that vegetarian goblin cult classic.  When you see Troll 2 and you listen to his rants in Best Worst Movie, then things fall into place about Hell of the Living Dead.  It all makes sense.  Well, sort of.

Rrrrgh - I want my ICE CREAM!

Hell of the Living Dead seemed doomed from the start.  Like now, zombies were a hot commodity back in the 70's, with George A. Romero's Dawn of the Dead (released as Zombi in Italy under Dario Argento) and Lucio Fulci's Zombi 2 splattering screens in the latter part of that decade.  Italy became a breeding ground for quick, inexpensive zombie flicks, and Hell of the Living Dead was barely given a budget.  Not to mention, much of the footage shot by director Bruno Mattei (credited as Vincent Dawn) was apparently not up to snuff, so they pieced together a mish-mash of already-shot footage and clips from a documentary about native rituals.  Then there's the issue with the music.  When you pop in Hell of the Living Dead, you may see that the soundtrack is by none other than Goblin, the same group that provided the now-legendary score to the original Dawn of the Dead.  After a few minutes, you'll soon realize that not only is Goblin doing the music...it's the exact same soundtrack as Dawn of the Dead.  They didn't even bother to get new music.  Hell, Goblin apparently didn't even allow it, but hey, what's a little legal trouble to a juggernaut like this movie?

Despite what I said before, there is a plot.  An accident at a chemical plant in New Guinea lets loose a contagion that causes living things to become sadistic, flesh-eating automatons.  It also causes their faces to take on a weird shade, but that's neither here nor there.  After foiling a terrorist takeover of an embassy, a crack military unit is sent to New Guinea to find out why communications with the chemical plant have been lost.  The unit is comprised of stock characters:  the hunky hero guy, the almost-hunky guy, the crazy guy, and the goofy guy.  They meet up in a seemingly-abandoned settlement with some people trying to escape the land:  the half-tough/half-screamy woman reporter, her half-brave/half-nauseous cameraman, and a family of three with a sick child.  The settlement is a wash, as the family is slaughtered by an infected priest and their now-bitey child.  The other six take off further into the jungle, offering the reporter an excuse to suddenly remove her shirt and claim she can communicate with the indigenous people.  The dead rise at the village, so the crew must bug out again, finally stopping at a plantation in the middle of nowhere.

Why, oh, why did I wander near a window?

The plantation offers very little in the way of answers, but a whole lot in the way of infected, gore-hungry former residents.  The team's Goofy Guy is killed - wearing a dress, no less - and the team fights their way out, finally heading for the chemical plant.  Once there, they discover that the chemical was meant to be used as Third World population control, but it got out of hand.  Cameraman, Almost-Hunky Guy, and Crazy Guy are all killed before Reporter Girl and Hunky Guy meet their grisly fate in the bowels of the plant.  The epilogue shows a young couple on the toothy end of some zombies in a metropolitan city.  Dun-dun-DUUUN!

Wow, what a journey.

The expression that says, "Dude, I told you."

Let's see:  the acting is fairly average to over-the-top, thanks to the Crazy Guy.  The dubbing is tremendously awful, and the movie is such a scattershot affair that your brain will stop trying to figure it out after about ten minutes.  Possibly sooner than that.  There are plenty of chuckles and winces whenever you see the gore, and there is a lot of it.  Lacking the gritty realism of Tom Savini's special effects work, it appears as though they effects team had a ton of raw meat and, by the power of Greyskull, they were going to use it.  The ending gore is so blatantly insane, it's laughable yet memorable.  Tongue!  Eyes!  Everything!

I also love the lack of basic reasoning that takes place in the film.  Once the team figures out that to stop the creatures, they must be shot in the head, they continue to waste ammo by spraying them in every area below the head.  "They just won't stop!"

Hell of the Living Dead is just not a good movie.  And yet, somehow I've seen it four or five times.  It's like I forget how painful it is, rent it, and say to myself, "oh, yeah, now I remember."  A cult film?  One could argue that it is.  There are plenty of people who do like it.  I'm nostalgic about how I first saw it - that lazy, sunny summer day back in '84 - but beyond that, I don't think I could ever own it, ever see it being the beloved center of attention like Troll 2.

If you don't mind a meandering film with plot holes the size of Florida sinkholes that's worthy of a Mystery Science Theater 3000 or RiffTrax treatment, this is your film.  Don't take it seriously, and you may be able to have some fun with it.  It will never go down as a serious classic of the genre, yet it somehow gets noticed.  In a roundabout way, it did that one thing - getting noticed - right.

Until next time, dear readers, beware of chemical leaks. They might cause bad movies.

Troll 2 (1990) It's...It's Like A Gift (plus a bonus review)

There comes a film.

There comes a film each generation that...simply defies logic.  It transcends the simple words "good" or "bad."  Its very existence beckons you to judge it, then spits Gatorade in your face before cartwheeling away.  You're left confused, bewildered, somewhere between horrified and amused, and smelling of lemon-lime.

This, my friends...this is the magical experience that is Troll 2.

I...I almost don't know where to start.  First off, its name implies a sequel.  It is nothing of the sort.  In fact, and this is not a spoiler (spoilers just don't even apply to this thing), there isn't a troll to be found in Troll 2.  Saying you have to see Troll before Troll 2 is like saying you have to eat a Filet-O-Fish before you eat a bag of Skittles.  Does that make sense?  Of course not.  Nothing about this movie does.

It's an Italian film made in rural Utah, directed by the one-of-a-kind Claudio Fragasso (under the name Drake Floyd) and written by Fragasso and his wife, Rosella Drudi.  Fragasso used to write along with Bruno Mattei in such films as the wildly awful-good Hell of the Living Dead (aka Night of the Zombies), and then directed his own fare, such as the strange 80's Alice Cooper vehicle, Monster Dog.  To understand the mind of Fragasso is one of life's grand mysteries.  He considers Troll 2 to be a social commentary masterpiece.

Anyway, the story goes that a bunch of weekend actors showed up at auditions hoping to be extras and were cast as the main characters.  People hoping to be in the next blockbuster, hoping to get their acting careers off the ground, honestly trying to just make it.  Little did they know what they were in for then, and little did they know how some 20 years later, what they were in for in an insanely different direction.

So there is a plot, so let's get right to it.  The Waits, a nice suburban family, have decided to vacation in sunny Nilbog, a remote rural town in the middle of nowhere.  They're exchanging houses...wait...exchanging houses?  Okay...wait...yeah, exchanging houses with a Nilbog family.  Wow.  Along for the ride, sort of, is daughter Holly's boyfriend, Elliot, and his three buddies as they tag along in an RV.  Because RV's were considered cool in the late 80's.

"You can't piss on hospitality!"

Oh, one thing I should mention is that the youngest Waits, Joshua, has regular conversations with his late Grandpa Seth, who was incidentally wise to the ways of magic.  The Astounding Seth, who's sort of a cross between Doctor Strange and Burl Ives, warns Joshua that he must convince his family to leave Nilbog by any means necessary.  Even if it means stopping time so Joshua can position himself to pee all over the food the previous family left, leading to the infamous "you don't piss on hospitality" monologue by papa Michael.  But that urinary spritzer did postpone what the nefarious townspeople have in store for the Waits:  they're really a town full of goblins (Nilbog = goblin...get it?) who are...steady yourself...vegetarian goblins.  The tainted food will magically turn the humans into plants so they can be eaten.  Yeah, you read that right.

Meanwhile, one of Elliot's buddies, Arnold, ventures out and runs into a woman trying to escape a mob of veggie goblins.  After a nasty run-in with the darling little scamps, they make their way to an old house/church where they meet the delightfully wacky druid queen, Creedence Leonore Gielgud, whose monologues ooze with villainous relish.  Some bizarre hospitality later, and the damsel-in-distress is a puddle of chlorophyll goo and a gaggle of goblins is chowing down on her, forcing Arnold to utter - nay, say loudly - the now-infamous "Oh, my God!" line.

"Oh, my GOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDD!"  And yes, that's a scene-stealing fly on his forehead.

Some time later, another of Elliot's buddies, Drew, goes off in search of the town, where he meets some awfully friendly and interesting residents, like the store owner, played by a legitimate patient from a nearby mental hospital.  The store has no meaty foods, but lots of creepy milk.  Drew takes off, but since he has eaten something from the town, he gets fatigued and his shirt magically changes.  Seriously, watch for it.  Before long, Drew stumbles across the same house/church and sees his friend now literally a potted plant.  Most people would probably point, laugh hysterically, and say "Dude!" but Drew tries in vain to drag Arnold out but Creedence rears her verbose head once again.

Hilariously, Grandpa Seth's ghostly head appears to Holly in a "oops, wrong room" moment and later warns Joshua to seriously get the family out of there.  Joshua destroys all the food in a non-urinary way and must later accompany his father to town to hopefully buy more of what passes for food in Nilbog.  While there, he meets the lovely congregation, led by a preacher who looks like Kalibak from Jack Kirby's Fourth World saga from DC Comics...oops, sorry, crossing the streams here.

Kalibak, as created by the honest-to-God genius that was Jack Kirby.

Only now does Poppa Waits start to suspect something's not quite right in Nilbog.  Joshua already had it confirmed when he saw the name of the town reflected in a mirror.  Go ahead, you try it.  When they return home, the entire town is there to greet them with a party of whimsy and vegetable dishes.  Joshua freaks and tries to call Seth but is attacked by Creedence in her less-Tim-Burton-y goblin form.  Wizard Seth shows up, lops off Creedence's hand, and chases her away before instructing Joshua on the fine art of making a Molotov cocktail.  After a little scuffle, the Kalibak-like preacher is killed in the ensuing magic battle, reverting to his own goblin form...finally convincing the family that hm, something's up.  They hole up in the house and try to ride out Hurricane Nilbog.  Oh, yeah, forgot to mention Elliot's with them now.  Why bother with details?

Elliot's last surviving buddy, Brent, has the most un-sexual sexual encounter with Creedence, who puts on her best face and black stockings, and seduces him with an ear of corn.

AN EAR OF CORN!

Kind of like 9 1/2 Weeks, only wackier.

They kiss and popcorn explodes everywhere.  It sounds like a dream I once had.  With Brent now trapped, Creedence can join her little helpers in capturing the Waits, who have summoned The Stupendous Seth with a seance.  Seth is able to pass him an all-important bag that apparently has an "ultimate weapon" in it.  Joshua shows up at Creedence's pad and touches the piece of Stonehenge that provides her power.  Then, with goblins closing in, he reveals the secret weapon:

A BALONEY SANDWICH!

They're vegetarian goblins, remember?  They can't eat meat, so Joshua chows down, chasing off his pursuers.  The Waits and Elliot escape Nilbog and return home for one of those "or is it?" endings that you can file under "funny" and "say what?".

And...scene.

I wanted to stand up and applaud as the end credits ran.  I don't know why.  By all rights, this movie should have made even one of my even temper angry.  But I wasn't angry.  I was astounded at the pure audacity of the movie.  The moxie, if you will.  It shouldn't exist.  But it does.  And it does so with renewed energy.  Though it was released in 1990, it has that distinct 80's "let's make a movie" straight-to-video spirit.  You can't help but chuckle at the script, the delivery of the lines, the "one take is good enough" acting, the costumes, the sets, the evaporation of logic, and priceless presentation.  Troll 2 is now an icon of anti-cinema, beloved for its badness.  And it's something everyone should experience once in their lives.

Now, I alluded to a bonus review.  You can't see Troll 2 without seeing the documentary Best Worst Movie. Released in 2009, nearly 20 years after its magical subject, Best Worst Movie lovingly looks back at Troll 2, headed up by someone who knows the film better than most:  Michael Stephenson, who played young Joshua.  He set out to document the phenomenon of a film considered so incredibly bad, yet finding its cult audience many years later.  He also set out to reconnect with other stars of the film, with some results proving fun and positive, to others revealing a touch of sadness.

The film documents how modern audiences have grown to accept just how bad the film is, and yet love it anyway.  It shows Troll 2 viewings across the nation, from a traveling exhibit by the Alamo Drafthouse to small gatherings to a reunion set up by the Upright Citizens Brigade comedy troupe in New York City.  One of the highlights of the film is surely Alabama dentist George Hardy, who played the father in the film.  He's gone on to be a successful, beloved member of his community and has an undeniable charisma and likeability about him.  Never bitter about the experience, he does grow tired of the attention...but only just a little.  On the other end of the spectrum, Margo Prey (the mother) and Robert Ormsby (Grandpa Seth) seem overwhelmed and lonely in their lives, despite the good memories of working on the film.  Somewhere in the middle, with feelings of happiness and bitterness mixed with some delusion, is director Claudio Fragasso.  He truly believes the film is a masterpiece of social commentary and a true cinematic classic.  Perhaps he's a mad genius all along?

Along with some lovely goblins, you see Robert Ormsby (Seth), George Hardy (Michael Waits), and Michael Stephenson (Joshua Waits).

Best Worst Movie is an interesting and entertaining - and quite positive - companion piece to Troll 2.  Watch one...recover...then watch the other for a well-rounded dip into the wackiness of cult movies, Italian filmmaking, post-80's direct-to-video, and wild cinema abandon.

And if you go to the town of Nilbog, just pack a few baloney sandwiches, and you'll be okay.

The House By The Cemetery (1981) House-Sitting, Fulci Style

I always know with Lucio Fulci, I'm getting both the expected and the unexpected.

Fulci will always bring the weird, the technicolor-bloody, and quite often, some kind of eye trauma. I know I'm going to get atmosphere, perfect lighting (or perfect lack of), and a spooky soundtrack with slithering electronic sounds. But I never know exactly how Fulci is going to bring it to me. He might bring buckets and buckets of stomach-churning gore, like he did in City of the Living Dead. He might go with a bleak, atmospheric mind-twister like The Beyond (which was pretty gory in its own right).

With 1981's The House By The Cemetery, Fulci didn't disappoint in either the atmosphere or the gore factor. While not as in-your-face with the blood and guts like in the other two films I mentioned, Fulci doesn't short the viewer on mood and ambiance. There is that familiar feeling of dread, that itch that makes you want to look under your own bed for some monstrous Fulci creation that wants to eat your soft bits in order to live an unholy long life of some sort. While some of his other films like the aforementioned The Beyond and City of the Living Dead, as well as Zombi 2, get more attention, The House By The Cemetery is a little gem that deserves a piece of that attention pie.

Here, you've got a prologue featuring a woman wandering an abandoned house, searching for her previously amorous boyfriend before running afoul of a mysterious, knife-wielding person, who performs amateur acupuncture on her head before dragging her off. Cut to a little girl crying out a warning from a window in said house, seen in a photograph by little Bob (whose dubbed voice is...well, you have to hear it to appreciate it). Bob and his family, college professor Norman and his wife Lucy (Fulci regular Catriona MacColl), are in the process of moving into that same house. Seems Norman had a colleague who killed himself while living there, and he's going to finish the research project.

Moving in is easy, but weird. The townspeople seem to recognize Norman, no one wants to acknowledge who previously owned the house (a kooky doctor named Freudstein), and Bob makes friends with the little girl from the picture, Mae, who may or may not be a ghost. Even the babysitter (Ania Pieroni, the foxy Mother of Tears from Dario Argento's Inferno) is a little bit of an oddball. The house itself isn't much help either. There's a tombstone laid into the floor in one room, for crying out loud. Tell me that wouldn't put you off just a tad.

Upon investigating the previously nailed-shut basement (thanks for opening it, babysitter), the family is attacked by a very bite-y bat and that ends up being the guano that breaks the camel's back as Norman insists to the realtor that he wants his family moved to a different house. When the realtor visits later, she's attacked by the stabby guy from the prologue, only he uses a fireplace poker to give her an unwanted tracheotomy.

After dutifully cleaning up the blood, the babysitter's head is soon separated from her body while in the basement. It's around this time that Norman finds out a little more about this Doctor Freudstein, who conducted some funky experiments. Funky as in painful, deadly, and illegal. Bob takes it upon himself to go search for the babysitter in the basement, but meets Dr. Freudstein and despite Norman's best attempt at an axe-aided rescue, is carried off by the strange doctor. Turns out the doc has been "living" in the basement for some 150 years or so, killing people and using their parts to keep himself alive. That is, if his present state of half-decay is considered "alive." Norman and Lucy descend into the basement to save Bob, but are each killed by Freudstein. Bob makes it out in the nick of time, thanks to Mae, who accompanies him along with the spirit of Mrs. Fruedstein into an uncertain, but probably very bleak future.

Fulci relies much more on atmosphere in this one, but all you sickies out there will be pleased with the bat biting, head stabbing, neck poking, and maggot pouring the director throws into the mix. The creepy sounds, ghost appearances, and who's-there shadow play will satisfy the horror mood lovers out there. If you like Fulci, I don't doubt you'll like The House By The Cemetery. Made in the same vein as his "buildings on the gates of Hell" films, it's not in the same canon as those movies, but just like them, the menace hides and does its most terrifying work in a subterranean area. Fulci may hate eyes in some of his films, but he does love himself some spooky underground rooms and basements.

If you're looking to start watching Italian horror movies, you can do much worse than The House By The Cemetery. It's not the top of my own list, but it's definitely worth a look.

So, my fellow survivors, just remember: read the fine print next time you rent an old house. Trust me on this.

Mother Of Tears (2007) I Want A Monkey Helper

I was really rooting for this movie. Honestly, I really was. Mother of Tears has a tremendous pedgiree: it's the final chapter in a trilogy that put director Dario Argento in the pantheon of legendary directors. It should been the climax of the trilogy that started with 1977's Suspiria and continued with 1980's Inferno. But it seemed like a modern shadow, a ghost dressed up in sparkly 21st century clothes. The previous two had something about them; an atmosphere or a "feeling." Mother of Tears left me feeling like I'd seen a pretty good modern movie about a powerful, evil witch, but didn't leave me feeling like I'd experienced it.


Sarah Mandy (Asia Argento) aids in the investigation of a strange box dug up in a graveyard in a small Italian villa. The box contains several items connected to a powerful witch known as Mater Lachrymarum or Mother of Tears. She is reputed to be the last survivor of a trio of witches called The Three Mothers. In Suspiria, we met Mater Suspiriorum and in Inferno, we met Mater Tenebrarum. If you've seen those movies, you know how those two panned out. Mater Lachrymarum, however, is the most powerful of the three. When the box is opened, demons and the Mother of Tears herself descend on the poor woman helping Sarah, and she dies a rather grotesque death. Sarah escapes the demons, the Mother, and the most adorable evil monkey ever thanks to the disembodied voice of what she later finds out is her own mother, a white witch of considerable power.

Much like the other films, from here on out, disaster follows Sarah wherever she goes. The son of her boyfriend is kidnapped and well...let's just say he doesn't make it. Rome falls into a state of chaos, with people randomly committing acts of mayhem and murder. Sarah is pursued by the police, who think she murdered her poor friend at the museum. Sarah's boyfriend - the one with the missing son - runs afoul of some of the young witches gathering in Rome to celebrate Mater Lachrymarum's rise.

Sarah takes a train to meet with an experienced exorcist (Udo Kier), but that trip is fraught with craziness. Several arriving witches and the police chase down Sarah, who is told by her mother's disembodied voice that she has the ability to turn invisible. Pulling a Harry Potter, Sarah escapes the police, but ends up brutally smashing a witches head in a bathroom door.

The priest tries to help, but the infection of insanity has spread to his door. His assistant goes on a mini-killing spree, taking out her own son and the priest before offing herself. Sarah and Marta, a visiting psychic who provides a lot of answers about Sarah's past, escape the compound, but just barely. Marta invites Sarah to stick around, but pretty soon the cute little monkey familiar shows up with magical wacko. Sarah runs outside and tries to call Marta and her lover, but they are dispatched with horrible gusto.

Sarah runs into her lover, Michael, but he's too far gone, having been killed and reanimated for the Mother's purposes. Sarah gets away, thanks to the Jedi apparition of her helpful mom. Sarah then seeks out the help of a powerful alchemist, who gives her a copy of the book, The Three Mothers. If you recall in Inferno, that book is trouble. But it does help Sarah uncover some of the clues as to where the Mother of Tears is hiding out: an old mansion in Rome designed for her by the alchemical architect Verelli, the man who designed the dance school in Suspiria and the apartment building in Inferno.

Sarah heads deep into the catacombs below the mansion - a running theme through the three movies, that the protagonists must face the evil in subterranean surroundings. With the help of the policeman in charge of her pursuit, Sarah confronts the Mother of Tears in a short battle that ends much like the first two movies. You could say it's a tried and true ending, but in keeping with the symbolism of the number 3, this Mater is taken out in a very similar way with very similar surroundings.

There were some good things about the movie, I can say. Asia Argento is easy on the eyes, so I'll get that out of the way first. Delving deeper, the connection to the previous two movies is made quite clear in such a way that you don't have to have seen the first movies (you should anyway) to get what's happening in this one. The heroine of Suspiria is mentioned by name, and the buildings where the first two witches lived are illustrated in The Three Mothers as a bit of nostalgia. A reason is also given for Mater Suspiriorum's relatively easy defeat as well, and her role in Sarah's life brings it full circle.

But what's missing are the things that made the first two movies so special to me. The color palette I loved so much isn't there. It looks good, but it doesn't have that emphasis on moody color - the stark and rich reds and blues - the first two movies have. And where's that crushing atmosphere? The one where, even in open spaces, there's a feeling of being trapped or crushed or boxed in. The heavy atmosphere that no matter what the hero did, you really weren't quite sure if they'd make it because hey, the evil they're facing is just so freakin' strong.

There weren't any cats in this movie - a good thing for cat lovers, given their role in this trilogy - but monkey fans will find their hearts stolen by this little guy:

You take a size 4 or 5, lady?

I really wanted to love this movie, but it gets a lukewarm "OK" from me. That's my opinion. Compared to a lot of modern attempts at artsy horror, it did hold up fairly well. In most circumstances, it's unfair to hold a film up to its predecessors, but the way I see it is that it's part of a high-profile trilogy by a hugely renowned director.

Nobody's perfect, though. And I still love Argento's work.

Until next time, fellow survivors, remember that a monkey helper is nice, but they might betray you to a powerful witch, so keep that in mind.

Inferno (1980) Don't Touch That Book

Watching a good Dario Argento horror movie is like a big colorful funhouse. Some of the images thrown at you are ridiculous and scary at the same time in a way that is entirely unique and never boring. A lot of people hold Argento in high regard, and it's no surprise he's one of the fathers of modern suspense and horror - well, the good parts of it, anyway.

Starting with 1977's Suspiria, Argento set out to tell the story of The Three Mothers, three immensely powerful witches hidden throughout the world, manipulating reality. He would begin with the aforementioned Suspiria and finish it with 2007's Mother of Tears. Bridging the gap would be 1980's Inferno. Where Suspiria introduced the Mother of Sighs, Inferno brought us the Mother of Darkness and despite all the darkness in the film - nearly the entire film takes place at night - there are rich palettes of color throughout, something I always find to be a treat in Argento's films.

Photobomb!

The story finds an old book, The Three Mothers, falling into the hands of Rose, who thinks she may be living in one of the witches' houses as described in the book by an architect named Varelli. Rose sends a letter about it to her brother, Mark, then descends into the basement to investigate. She finds a hidden underwater room containing a portrait titled "Mater Tenebrarum" (Mother of Darkness) and is startled by the surprise howdy-do by a rotting corpse. She escapes, but already, the eyes of evil are upon her - somebody's watching the girl. In Rome, Mark reads the letter from his sister, then is distracted by a smokin' fellow student holding a cat and practicing a silent charm like Snape in the first Harry Potter movie:

Hubba-hubba. Wait...did you just curse me?

The woman - who is quite possibly the third Mother, the Mother of Tears - disappears and Mark wanders off to search for her, leaving the letter behind. Inquisitive friend Sara reads the letter and stops off at a local library to further her research of The Three Mothers. She gets lost in the bizarre basement of the library before escaping back to her apartment, where she asks a fellow tenant to stick around and keep her company. He's thinking, "Sweet. Score!" until right about the time he gets a knife through his neck. Sara doesn't get too far before she's murdered as well.

Mark starts putting pieces together and attempts to get a hold of his sister, but neither he nor Rose can hear each other on the phone. Rose is then pursued by some mysterious figures and gets repeated shots of a glass panel against the throat for her troubles. Seriously, that book...just steer clear of it.

Mark arrives and finds that Rose has disappeared. In the meantime, he meets several of Rose's neighbors, including elderly Professor Arnold and his nurse, the Countess Elise, and the book store owner who sold Rose the book in the first place, the detestable Kazanian (the guy likes to drown cats, so yeah, detestable). Mark gets all fainty when he finds some blood spots and is set upon by a shrouded figure, which turns its attention to Elise, who is watching from a window. Elise runs, but is attacked by SUDDEN CATS* before she's stabbed.

The nurse and the building's caretaker take care of Mark until he decides he's with-it enough to ask Kazanian some questions. The book proprietor remains tight-lipped about Rose and Mark gets nothing. Later that night, during one of his gleeful cat-drowning sessions, Kazanian is attacked by rats and a possessed hot dog vendor in the park. At this point, I began to wonder if the evil was truly evil for offing the sadistic Kazanian.

People continue to drop like flies as a butler is terminated, and the caretaker inadvertently causes a fire and falls to her death. Mark, much like Suzy in Suspiria, explores deep into the bowels of the building where he uncovers some shocking truths about the building and about the tenants he meets. I won't spoil it here, but it's safe to say he meets Mater Tenebrarum.

Like many of Argento's movies, Inferno is beautifully shot and framed with meticulous care. Angles and colors play important parts; the way the blues and the reds stand out, as well as how a hallway or a sidewalk scene is shot. I don't know if I'm the only one who feels this way, but I'm going to take a stab - no pun intended - in the dark here. Inferno has a "claustrophobia in open spaces" feeling to me. I don't really mean "agoraphobic," I mean it manages to create a weight even in scenes shot in large rooms or outside. This bizarre world crushes down on Mark, and in turn, us. There's no escape for anyone who's even remotely associated with The Three Mothers. I don't know...I just got that sense of every angle of every area as unforgiving or heavy. I liked it. Just goes hand-in-hand with how Argento conducts a movie.

So that's two of the three "Three Mothers" movies down, one to go in Mother of Tears. We'll get to that crazy bridge when we get to it. Until then, survivors, if you see that accursed book in your local antique book store, run like the wind, I tell you. Run. Wind.

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*It's actually a sudden swarm of angry cats, but SUDDEN CATS is more fun to say.

Suspiria (1977) Creepiness Never Looked So Good

I've always found that each country that contributes a substantial amount of horror films to the waiting community has its own identity. It's not always easy to identify it, but Japanese horror films are different from French horror films, which are different from Spanish horror films. As far as I'm concerned, diversity is an enormous strength. There's a little for everyone. Italian horror films have long been entrenched in the upper echelon of filmmaking. Often referred to as giallo, Italian horror films combine elements of - among other genres - horror, mystery, and visual artistry. Arguably, the reigning king of giallo has to be Dario Argento.

Argento's been making movies for a long time, and when he isn't making his own, he helps with others. He's often credited as playing a huge part in the making and European distribution of the original Dawn of the Dead, even helping add the distinctive music with the band Goblin. He's made some of the most influential films in the horror and mystery world, and continues to inspire directors, actors, and filmgoers.

Suspiria is considered Argento's greatest film (although many will have their own preference) and is a bizarre, twisty, gorgeous mystery with healthy doses of occult shenanigans and beautiful shots that lend to an ethereal experience. It's not full of savvy teens cracking wise and throwing out ironic quips. Instead, it's more of a dream-like walk through an old building lit up with primary colors. Oh, yeah, and with unsettling, wildly creepy music blaring at you from all sides.

It goes a little like this:

Young American dancer Suzy (Jessica Harper) lands in Austria one rainy, windy night, arriving at a prestigious dance school just in time to see a frantic student named Pat argue with someone, then run away through the woods. Suzy heads to town when she isn't allowed in, and Pat heads to her apartment where she is stalked and brutally murdered - emphasis on "brutally" - by an unseen attacker who seems to be able to operate at great heights. Maybe even fly. All Pat ever really sees are the eyes.

Suzy returns and meets the staff, plus the makeshift roommate she'll have until her room is ready at the school. After staying with her new friend Olga, Suzy tells the staff she'd rather stay with her, but they insist she move into the dorm. Suzy has a weird moment with the school's cook, causing her to pass out. When she awakens, all her stuff has been moved into her new room whether she likes it or not. Regardless, Suzy becomes fast friends with the girl in the room next door, Sarah.

In a strange turn, maggots begin to rain from the ceiling, thanks to some rotting food in the attic. Forced to sleep in the gym (shades of Revenge of the Nerds), Sarah is put off by the strange snore of the school's director, who isn't supposed to be present. All we see is a silhouette behind one of the shades, presented in stark red light.

Sarah is convinced that the staff slips away to some secret room when they claim to leave every night. Suzy is perpetually confused by the weirdness of the school, but is probably the only one who would listen to Sarah.

Oddly, the next morning, the blind piano player for the dance classes is abruptly fired when it's claimed his seeing-eye dog attacked Madame Blanc's (Joan Bennett) young, weirdo nephew. For you comic book fans, the nephew Albert (Jacopo Mariani) reminded me of DC Comics' boy-witch Klarion:



I don't know. He could've been the same kid. Crazy little witch boys. The pianist threatens to expose the school for what it is and leaves to have a beer at some Oktoberfest-ish bar. Crossing an empty plaza at night, he is spooked by strange sounds before having his throat ripped out by his trusty dog.

Turns out Sarah and Pat were friends and they took notes on the strange behavior of the school's stafff. Suzy recalls Pat saying the words "secret" and "iris" that first night, but has no idea what they mean. Sarah can't find her notes, but Suzy, still feeling out of sorts since that fainting spell, passes out in her bed. An intruder enters the room, and then gives chase to Sarah, who ends up in a room full of razor wire before having her throat slit by the attacker. That room - coils of razor wire everywhere - has always stuck in my memory.

Suzy meets up with Sarah's psychologist, Dr. Mandel (the ever-present Udo Kier, looking really young here), to get some clues as to where Sarah may have gone. Mandel and his friend Professor Milius reveal that the school may have ties to a very old witch, who apparently founded it.

Counting the footsteps she and Sarah would hear every night, Suzy finds herself in the headmaster's office, a strikingly painted room that sported flowers everywhere. Including painted irises.

Suzy finds a secret area of the school, and discovers that the entire staff is there, plotting as a coven to have her murdered since she's finding out too much. She also meets the original woman who founded the school, and I think it's safe to say she's rather...supernaturally based. She appears only as an outline of a person sitting on a bed and threatening Suzy. The woman, Helena Markos, even reanimates Sarah's corpse, who comes charging in for a reunion with Suzy.

A bloody, eyeless, knife-y reuinon.

Suzy reacts by stabbing the outline of Helena with the glass feather of a piece of peacock artwork present in the room in a bit of a reference to an earlier Argento film, The Bird With Crystal Plumage. Helena dies loudly, causing tremors to rumble through the school and the rest of the coven to writhe in pain as Suzy escapes into the night.

Suspiria ends there, but the story continues as Argento laid it all out as a trilogy, with the films Inferno and Mother of Tears following in 1980 and 2007, respectively.

While the dubbing is sometimes...interesting, and some may find the pacing to drag some, Suspiria is a beautiful film. I mentioned those primary colors. You see stark renditions of red and blue, from the blood to the lighting that are both sharp and dream-like. After some reading around, I found out that Argento used "imbibition Technicolor prints," which was a technique used in films like The Wizard of Oz and Gone With The Wind that causes the primary colors to appear more striking than usual. This, combined with the angles that Argento used, created something like artwork. Argento used space like a stage, with the actors sent perfectly across each scene as if they were part of a painting.

Now, the soundtrack is crazy. Goblin, who first captured my heart in Dawn of the Dead, performs a stranger bit of music here. Yet, it seemed as though the copy of the movie I got had problems with the audio channels as I kept having to fuss with the volume to either soften the music or turn up the dialogue. Don't let that stop you from seeing this. Suspiria is considered one of horror's classics, and while everyone has different tastes, one should see it at least for the experience.

Well, that's all for now, fellow survivors. Until next time, be careful out there, and be wary of weird dance academies.

Lucio Fulci's City of the Living Dead (1980) Dunwich Seems Like A Happenin' Town

After watching The Beyond, I fell into a Lucio Fulci kind of mood, so I moved City Of The Living Dead up on the ol' Netflix queue. I expected gore, surreal imagery, and bleakness. Yes, yes, and yes. Fulci never disappoints in that. While I didn't enjoy it as much as The Beyond, it was still a trippy, blood-and-guts-filled ride. Fulci crafted dark, forboding horror films that were part David Lynch, part Herschell Gordon Lewis. The plots aren't hard to follow, no matter how non-linear he gets with them, but they are filled with images and events that cause me to say "What the what?" And sometimes, I like being a little puzzled.

City of the Living Dead was part of a loose trilogy of movies (along with The Beyond and The House By The Cemetery) that dealt with supernatural death and the gates of Hell being manifested on Earth. Where The Beyond featured the gate in one house, City of the Living Dead is just that: a city. Or town, really, as in the town of Dunwich.

Do NOT steal from his collection plate.

The prologue sets up by introducing the wonderfully creepy (if not slightly derivative) music of Fabio Frizzi. I'm really going to have to find some of his soundtracks - I absolutely enjoy the atmospheric, John Carpenter-meets-Goblin of his music. We're privy to a seance at the beginning, where a few psychics, including Mary (Catronia MacColl), have visions of a morose priest, Father Thomas (Fabrizio Jovine) methodically hanging himself. Mary goes into screaming fits and apparently dies of fright. At the graveyard, she suddenly awakens inside the coffin and engages in the appropriate response: blood-curdling screams and frantic pounding. Lucky for her, newspaper reporter Peter (Christopher George) hears her and uses a pick axe to open up the casket.

Once she's calmed down and recovered a little, Mary explains that something horrible is happening in a small town named Dunwich. The Night of the Dead is coming on All Saint's Day, and the gates of Hell that have been opened by the priest's suicide, and that will lead to the dead rising from their graves possessing demonic powers.

And some towns just have a fair.

Back in Dunwich, the townsfolk are noticing some strange things. Bob, the local ne'er-do-well who's mostly harmless, discovers the rotting corpse of an infant in an old house, just as he was about to deflower a random blow-up doll. I'm not joking. Three local yokels are spooked by a mysteriously shattering mirror at the town watering hole. While treating his patient Sandra (Janet Agren), psychiatrist Gerry (Carlo De Mejo) witnesses Sandra's pet cat go a little bonkers and scratch her out of fear of something. Yeah, there's a bit of a stink of evil in Dunwich. That happens when you're sitting on top of a gate of Hell.

Emily, Gerry's young girlfriend and assistant, heads out to meet Bob, who she sees as a lost soul in need of some help instead of the constant persecution he gets in Dunwich. When she finds him in a rundown garage, he's spooked by some weird noises and dashes off. Emily is attacked by the late Father Thomas, who shoves a handful of wormy, maggoty dirt in her face.

Oh, but Father Thomas isn't done yet. Making out in a car is fun. Making out in a car in a town that's burping up undead priests with superpowers is just asking for trouble. Father Thomas harasses two lovers in a car first by appearing to them as his hanged self - which is brilliantly spooky on its own - then by showing off his new ill-obtained telekinetic magic powers. While he stares at the girl, she begins bleeding from the eyes and then - in the most infamous scene of the movie - literally puking up her guts. Keep in mind, Fulci didn't care if you were offended, so he's not going to turn that camera away. It's easily one of the most disgusting scenes you might see, but if you rented his movie, then you know what to expect. Father Thomas apparently then has a pressing appointment elsewhere, so he just squeezes the brains out of the back of the hapless guy's head and bounces.

Emily's body is later found, apparently dead of fright. The townspeople are quick to blame poor Bob, who's really just been running scared from place to place. Meanwhile, Mary and Peter travel to Dunwich, hoping to stop the infestation of undead before Dunwich becomes...that's right, a city of the living dead. It's getting down to the wire, though, as more strange things happen: Bob sees an apparition of Father Thomas, an undead Emily appears in her little brother's window, bodies blink in and out of rooms, a mortician is bitten by the corpse of an old lady. Well, he was trying to steal her necklace, so that one was fair.

And poor Bob. He hides in a garage but is discovered by the daughter of the family there. As he tries to explain his fears, the father rushes in and brutally attacks Bob. The handy dad then starts up a drill press and - you guessed it - runs it through Bob's head in a fit of rage. It isn't quick and clean, I'll tell you that.

Finally, Mary and Peter arrive in Dunwich, and while searching for Father Thomas' grave, they meet Dr. Gerry and Sandra. After exchanging information, they settle for a good old-fashioned team-up to remedy the pesky undead problem. They even endure a blast of maggots through a window.

That problem is getting worse, though. Emily's little brother reveals his parents have been killed. There's been a slaughter at the local bar. Sandra has her brains squeezed out of the back of her head by a now-evil undead Emily. Wow, even in death, she didn't like anyone messing around with her man.

With the undead now roaming the streets, Peter, Mary, and Gerry find Father Thomas' tomb and discover a ladder leading into deep caverns. Things are getting hairy as it's noted that All Saint's Day has begun. Time may be running short, and evil isn't known for playing fair. Sandra returns to the party, but now she's evil, too. Instead of a friendly greeting, she plays Squeeze The Brain with Peter's head before getting impaled by a distraught Gerry.

Now the last line of defense, Gerry and Mary meet the elusive Father Thomas in his hellish hideaway. Father Thomas tries the Jedi Eye Bleed Gut Puking Trick on Mary, but Gerry's not taking any more of these shenanigans, and rams an old wooden cross through the priest's midsection. The advancing undead burst into flames as Gerry and Mary escape back to the surface.

Now, the ending's a little sketchy to me. They emerge from the tomb to see the little kid, John-John, running happily towards them from the protective arms of the police. As the kid runs closer, Gerry and Mary's smiles turn to grimaces of terror. Mary screams and...that's it. There is no indication as to what may have happened. It could be said that the horror wasn't over, but we were given more of an indication that it had. Maybe something grabbed the kid, but an establishing shot would've made all the difference there.

I enjoyed The Beyond more simply because of its wackiness, and it just seemed like a movie with ...if you'll excuse the term...more life. City of the Living Dead didn't have many characters I could really feel for - instead, I saw them as somewhat likable characters waltzing their way through ultra-creepy scenes of undead brain squeezing. Still, it was pretty fun. Any scene with Father Thomas is worth the price of admission. Creepy dude, especially when he's shown hanging from random places.

To balance out the gore, here's a picture of a sorry puppy.

Well, until next time, fellow shelter residents, be careful out there and be thankful the living dead we deal with don't have superpowers.

Yet.

Lucio Fulci's The Beyond (1981) This Movie Just Hates Eyes

In honor of the city of New Orleans and their NFL championship team The Saints, I bring you this tale of gory wackiness from famed Italian director Lucio Fulci. Actually, it was just a coincidence since I had watched this the Saturday before the Super Bowl and would have reviewed it anyway.

You've got to love Lucio Fulci. The late director is still considered one of the forerunners of gory filmmaking and he never shied away from thrusting bloody images into your eye-space. Speaking of eyes, everyone, no matter how tough, is vulnerable in the organs through which we see. They're squishy, usually moist, and absolutely vital to the senses. A gore master is always going to go straight for the eyes, and Fulci doesn't disappoint in The Beyond. In fact, seriously, this movie hates eyes.

The movie's prologue starts in 1927 as a lynch mob closes in on Schweik, an artist accused of being a warlock. They smack him up with chains, crucify him against a wall with spikes, and douse him with limestone acid. A young lady elsewhere in the hotel reads from The Book of Eibon, then bursts into flame. Seems it might be possible this hotel was built on one of the seven gates of Hell. Forboding...you know things might not end well, and Fulci will make sure you know the hell out of that fact.

Jump ahead to 1981, and we're introduced to Liza, a young lady who has inherited the hotel, and Martin, her architect friend. It doesn't take long for strange things to start happening. One of the handymen sees a white-eyed figure through a window and falls off a scaffold. Joe the Plumber (no, not that one) arrives, meets creepy caretaker Martha, and sets about his work. Doesn't take long before something emerges from the wall, grabbing Joe by the face and squeezing his eyes out. I mean, literally squeezing his eyes out. Later, Martha finds the poor guy along with what turns out the be the corpse of Schweik.

Meanwhile, Liza meets an unusual woman named Emily, who seems to be the woman who burst into flames in the prologue. Emily sports mysterious cataracts in her eyes and depends on a sweet German shepherd to get around. She seems to know Liza and after taking her back to her New Orleans home, tells her to get out while she can.

Cut to the hospital and Dr. John McCabe, who treated the handyman earlier, is performing the autopsy on poor old Joe. After he and his excitable assistant Harris leave, a machine in the morgue picks up possible signs of life coming from Schweik's corpse. Right about this time, Joe's wife and daughter, Jill, show up to see Joe's body. Mrs. the Plumber goes inside, leaving skittish Jill in the hallway. While tending to her husband's body, Mrs. Joe is spooked by something off-screen and somehow ends up under a gentle drip of powerful acid, which eats away her face in unwavering, bloody detail. It's like Fulci grabbed the back of our collective heads and said, "look at it, damn you, look at it! her head is melting!" Jill investigates but is reasonably freaked out by the sight of not only her dead mutilated father, but her dead acid-soaked mother and the advancing puddle of blood and goo. She tries to get away, only to run into a room full of dead bodies. Well, it is a morgue, after all.

When the funeral for Joe and Mrs. Joe occurs a few scenes later, we are privy to the fact that Jill now has those milky eyes. Eyes! See?

Emily tries to tell the story of Schweik to Liza, but the self-professed city girl doesn't buy it. Emily runs out after finding out that touching a Schweik painting causes hand bleeding. Despite the warnings, Liza goes to room 36 anyway just to see if Emily was telling the truth. Liza finds her opinion shifting when she not only finds the Book of Eidon, but sees a vision of the crucified artist hanging on the wall. She runs out into the arms of our rugged Dr. John, who helps her investigate. Sure, the spikes are still in the wall, but no body. Oh, and the book is gone.

Later, in New Orleans, Liza and Martin walk the streets, discussing how to renovate the hotel. Liza spies the Book of Eidon in an antique book store and rushes in to snag it, only to find it's somehow changed in those few seconds into another book. According to the creepy, giggling store owner, it was always the book she picked up and not what she thought.

Meanwhile, Martin arrives at City Hall to inspect the records of the hotel. He uncovers the secret of the hotel, but a lightning flash startles him off the ladder and he crashes to the floor. Now, I know some of you get the heebie-jeebies from certain things, and Fulci introduces one common cause right here: an army of tarantulas. They converge on Martin...well, more like on his face...biting everywhere, even that little bit of skin that separates the nostrils. Face-eating spiders. Don't blame me for the nightmares.

Catching up with Dr. John, we find that he intends to confront Emily so he goes to her house, which as it happens is abandoned, and has been for a while. On the upside, he does find the Book of Eidon.

Back at the hotel, Martha tries to clean a tub in room 36, but finds that somehow, Joe's body is there. It rises and attacks her, shoving her head against one of the spikes in the wall. What part of the face do you think is the spike's exit wound? That's correct: the friggin' EYE!

What's happened to Emily? Well, she's visited by the corpses of everyone killed so far but she's not willing to meet her fate with any kind of resignation. She's been under Schweik's employ the whole time, but isn't quite ready to die again apparently. Commanding her dog to attack, she cowers until it's silent and the dog returns to her...now one of the undead. The faithful canine rips her throat out in glorious Italian horror film color.

Liza tries to investigate the hotel basement, but is attacked by the corpse of the other handyman, Arthur. She runs into Dr. John again, who tells her that Emily was probably a figment of her imagination. Liza starts to doubt her own sanity, but the pair go into the basement to check it out again anyway.

I've said it before: never actually say anything about being in one of the seven gates of Hell while standing ass-deep in it. The hotel bugs out while the two escape, and if the shadows drifting by the windows are any indication, Hell is puking up the undead at an alarming rate.

To the hospital they go, only to find the dead have risen and are everywhere. In the ensuing melee, they get separated. Dr. John runs into good ol' Harris, who's alive and afraid. Liza finds Jill cowering in the morgue, but doesn't see her creepy, milky eyes. They rejoin and attempt an escape, but an exploding glass door sends shards of glass into Harris' face, killing him. Well, back to the morgue for the other three. From one flying pan into another frying pan.

Cornered in the morgue, a door opens and Schweik finally RSVP's his own party. Jill suddenly shows her true undead colors and attacks Liza, but Dr. John manages to ventilate the zombie girl's brainpan with a well-placed shot.


Nowhere else to go, Dr. John and Liza enter the door Schweik arrived through and find themselves suddenly back in the hotel basement. They shimmy through a portal and are transported to a desolate, corpse-filled world. Hell? Purgatory? Safe haven while the real world is decimated? Fulci leaves that your imagination. Dr. John and Liza could only stare while their eyes turn a milky white as the movie ends.

What a party.

The gore is unflinching. When Fulci dares you to look at something, he doesn't give you a chance to hide your eyes. And yes, hide your EYES! Like I said, this movie hates eyes. It's a creepy movie, to be sure. A couple flinch moments aside, it isn't really jump-start scary, but that's okay. The atmosphere is quite enough to satisfy. And you know, I laughed quite a bit, but not at it being silly or stupid. See the simile above: what a party. I could see this movie being a comfort horror film for someone in my horror fan family.

Oh, and I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the outstanding, atmospheric soundtrack by Fabio Frizzi: creepy, delicate, choral, and forboding all at once. Perfect compliment for what was shown on the screen.

Have some fun with this one. Watch it late at night, or with another Fulci feature like you're in your own personal grindhouse cinema. If you take it too seriously, you'll miss the fun. Just kick back and enjoy the sickness.

Speaking of sickness, the undead outside my own walls are getting loud, so I'm going to turn up some music and get ready to turn in. Remember to think of happy places when you hear the groaning. It's been known to drive the steadiest person batty.

Until next time!

Demons (1985) Good Mindless Rock N Roll Fun

People supernaturally trapped in a theater face off with bloodthirsty demons.

That pretty much sums up the plot of Lamberto Bava's Demons from 1985, but really there's more to it. You've got Lamberto, the son of famed Italian director Mario Bava (who helmed the crazy 60's thief fantasy Danger: Diabolik, which has the distinction of being the final "Mystery Science Theater 3000" movie). You've got a script and a production credit by film great Dario Argento. You've got a soundtrack that includes not only Motley Crue, but tracks by kick-ass hard rockers Accept and Saxon, and also Rick Springfield. Wait, what?

That's not me in the shades but I scream like him when in pain.

It doesn't sound like much, but for me, it's one of those movies I've seen several times that has become a bit of a comfort film. If I was a bon-bon-eatin' guy, I'd chow down on bon-bons while watching this. As it is, I like cake so hey, to each his own.

The beginning of Demons introduces us to one of our main players, Cheryl. While in the subway station, she receives a free ticket to a movie at The Metropol from a bizarre man in a metal half-mask. Intrigued by the idea of a free movie - as many of us are - she snags another ticket for her friend, Kathy, who hopes it's not a horror movie. Yeah, hope all you want, lady.

Those lucky ticket holders later file into the Metropol, hoping for a glimpse of the hermit Willy Wonka...oh, wait, wrong movie. They'll later wish this was a friggin' chocolate factory, though. In the lobby, we're introduced to all manner of cannon fodder movie patrons including the older couple, the pimp and his two ladies of the evening, the blind man and his daughter, and two young, wild and crazy guys on the make, George and Ken. George and Ken, meet Cheryl and Kathy over a defective Coke machine. Meanwhile, one of pimp Tony's ladies goofs around with the demonic mask on display and gets a little cut on her face. This will not turn out good for this hooker's future cash flow.

Do NOT take a ticket from this guy. Trust me on this.

The movie begins and it appears to be about a group of young folk checking out a grave reported to be Nostradamus'. They find a mask eerily like the one in the lobby. And...hey, wait a minute, that strapping young actor looks like the dude passing out the free tickets. As the movie progresses, this same actor gets his face scratched and slowly turns into a murderous demon. The unlucky hooker excuses herself to go through the same transformation in the ladies' bathroom. When Tony gets impatient, he sends Hooker #2 after her. Not a good idea for that poor girl.

Raise your hand if you've ever felt like this after a night on the town.

Scratched, Hooker #2 stumbles into the theater and falls through the screen, causing the patrons to rush to her aid. But it's definitely too late for her as she transforms before their eyes, causing a panic to take over. Rushing to the front doors, everyone suddenly discovers that they are not only locked inside, they're bricked in. The building has magically bricked itself up, and the demon disease is spreading quickly through bites and scratches. The blind guy's daughter and her secret lover participate in what I would call a "death by making out." Still, worse ways to go. The poor blind guy gets insult upon injury and his eyes poked out. The filmgoers barricade themselves in up on the balcony, and even that's a risky proposition.

In what seems almost like an unrelated plot thread, we meet a bunch of new wave punks (as only 80's Europe could present) out for a joy ride in a stolen car. They run afoul of some cops and make their getaway in an alley behind The Metropol. They sneak inside when a door mysteriously opens, allowing a hunched figure to sneak out. The cops check on the figure, but it's the blind old man, now a demon. And he lunges...

Back inside, the demons rise and give chase. More and more fall to them, and it's carnage at the theater. Cheryl, Kathy, George, and Ken make it out of the actual theater but Kathy is acting weird. Her eyes change color and her voice changes faster than Peter Brady's. She attacks Ken, scratching him before he wails away on her with a vent cover. An actual demon climbs out of her spine and dances off into the dark in a lovely, surreal scene.

C'mon, give us a kiss.

Ken begs George to kill him with the prop sword in the lobby and just after he turns, he gets his wish. George and Cheryl hop on the motorcycle that's there and frantically tool around the ruined theater, dispatching demons at top speed while insane 80's metal plays...just the way life should be.

In college, we called this a Saturday night.

In a scene that screams WTF when first viewed, a helicopter falls through the ceiling. It makes sense later, but when one first sees it, you're already having so much fun with the guitar-riffing and demon-killing that you begin to wonder if you secretly desired it. George rigs the winch to carry them out to the roof, where they're attacked by the half-mask ticket actor guy. After impaling him eye first on a rusty piece of metal, it becomes clear what has happened: the demon virus has spread to the outside world. George and Cheryl run for a bit before they are picked up by a family on the run out of the city. Ah, rescue has come at last. Surely this will be a happy ending.

As the credits roll, the camera slowly zooms on Cheryl. She whips around to reveal that she has now turned, freezing poor, sad George. That future with the white picket fence and two-point-five kids? Blown to hell, quite literally. Cheryl is shot and left in a pile on the road as the family, with a dumbstruck George, drives off into the sunset.

Demons is a bit of a goof, but one that doesn't care, and therein lies the charm. The gore is explosive and in-your-face sadistic, the soundtrack is metal one second and Go West pop the next, and the plot is delightfully linear and simple. Many horror films that try - or any genre, really - can't pull off that kind of fun abandon. It's a party movie. Enjoy it with a heaping plate of nachos.

Great, I've got zombies to worry about and now a demon plague? It just doesn't end, so be careful out there, dear readers.