From Zombos' Closet

Love-Slaves of the Amazons (1957) Pressbook

Curt Siodmak strikes again. He can't seem to stay out of the jungle. Surprisingly, this movie gets a 6.5 rating on IMDb. Ah, I miss the good old days of cinema where savage women captured men to make them their love slaves, deep in some jungle somewhere. Ancient civilization, current civilization, no matter; everyone needs some love-slaving at some point, jungle or not. This one was paired with The Monolith Monsters on a double bill. Now that's some date-movie combo if ever there was one. 

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My Gun is Quick (1957) Pressbook

I bet his gun is short too. My favorite Hammer movie (no, not THAT Hammer) is Kiss Me Deadly. I guess most men would love to have million dollar dames, a gun, and an attitude to make the other two work well together, but that age of movie mystique, with girls swooning over a macho macho man who hits as hard as he can take it, doesn't quite work with today's audiences unless the name is Bond, James Bond. The "Spillane Dames" are no longer a natural for excitement, and I can't say that's a sorry-to-see-that-go thing. As a period piece, it's engagingly "huh, they got away with that?"; as a plot enticement for today's audiences, it no longer has any worth or should have. But I still like to watch Mike Hammer bust it up with his fists and red hot lips.

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The Gay Ranchero (1948) Pressbook

I'm not sure how gay the ranchero can be when crooks try to take over the local airport, but I'll let you determine that when you see the movie. What I like about cowboy movies in the 1930s and 40s is how they meshed home on the range with planes, trains, and automobiles on the tarmac. Most of us forget the transitional time between the wild wild west and the mild mild urban and suburban sprawl that moved America past the plains and into the asphalt age. If you haven't caught the movie serials, The Phantom Empire and Undersea Kingdom, they take the technological swing to meld the more mechanized cowboy with an ancient civilization that itself was mechanized with cheeky robots and death rays. And a cool wheeled-ride that purrs like a dinosaur.

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Abbott and Costello Jack and the Beanstalk (1952) Pressbook

One of the best parts about my growing up was watching Abbott and Costello movies every Sunday on WPIX Channel 11 in New York City. That was back in the 1970s. I miss the 70s. It was a wonderful time for pop culture fans, with conventions and the rediscovery of movie serials, meeting with comic greats, and participating in a growing fandom. You could say it was our low-tech methods for streaming and social media. Interesting items in this pressbook include the tie-ins to poultry and the glamazon hunt. While I didn't realize it at the time, women in many movies back then seemed to only be there for eye-candy. Pressbooks would hype their fashions, their makeup, and their bodies, but not much else regarding their talent or character development in the story (though with exceptions, of course). Film noirs deviated somewhat from that mold when it came to storyline characters, but just about everything else was guy-focused with a helping of woman in distress, woman in need (of a man, usually), woman clinging on a guy's arm, woman fainting, tripping, screaming, or arguing, woman watching guy(s) get beat up, woman being manhandled, woman doing the manhandling, and bunch of woman doing any of the previous stuff. Fee fie fo fun, indeed.

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Rovin' Tumbleweeds (1939) Pressbook

You can't get more American than singing cowboy Gene Autry in a Republic picture. Add Smiley Burnette for comic relief and your Saturday matinee is complete. Westerns and horror movies have been a staple popcorn machine's worth of box office tickets for many studios, helping to pay the bills that made some of those A-listers possible, even though they may not have been so capital A with audiences.

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Rock, Paper and Scissors (2019) All in the Family

Zombos Says: Good (Though it unfolds like a slow pull on a rubber band that's suddenly let go).

Macarena Garcia Leniz and Martin Blousson's Rock, Paper and Scissors is a psychological horror movie. It unfolds like a long group session with a distracted therapist where little backstory tidbits play out in the current moments as the patients act up for attention, with both past and present thoughts mixed together as if they were one and the same. The pacing can be slow for Americans who are used to fast food cinema, but the performances razor-line on a mounting sense of odd behaviors, and the slow pull on a rubber band storyline builds the tension and guesswork as to who is being truthful and who isn't, then suddenly snaps when let go toward the end. Warning! One scene made me close my eyes. It happens with little forewarning. You may need to close your eyes, too. It brings new meaning to the saying "if the shoe fits."

In this story there are three patients: Jesus ( Pablo Sigal), Maria Jose (Valeria Giorcelli),  and Magdalena (Agustina Cervino), and their group session begins when Magdalena pays a visit after a long absence.  Unfortunately for Magdalena, she doesn't fully know what she's in for. Their father has died and she has come to put the estate in order and sell off shared assets like the house that Jesus and Maria have isolated themselves in. Of course, Magdalena's unexpected arrival is not really welcomed, but they smile and invite her in. The relationship between the three becomes more ominous and more convoluted the longer she stays: and worsens when she can't leave.

I saw the word "masterful" used in some of this movie's reviews I've glanced over. That's one word that really needs to be stricken from the lexicon of critics and reviewers. It has little meaning or weight anymore due to pandering misuse. The direction here is not masterful, it is carefully measured. So much so that you don't realize the subtle shifts going back and forth in the relationships between Magdalena and Jesus, Magdalena and Maria, and Jesus and Maria. Perhaps the oddest relationship is between Jesus and Maria, but it is disrupted as Magdalena struggles to find a way out of her suddenly dire situation as Jesus is helpful at first, but begins to fixate on his home movie. A weird movie that has Maria dressing up as Dorothy Gale and treating a little furry animal as Toto.

With the three of them wrapped tightly into this small world of rooms and eccentricities, the story relies heavily on their interactions, us inferring their intentions, and the sudden twists taking place as each struggles to remain the same or to escape. Oddball snippets of Jesus' movie  appear as the story develops along troubling moments. Maria is endlessly watching The Wizard of Oz, imagining herself to be Dorothy Gale, and even dressing up as that little girl from Kansas, waiting to be whisked away to Oz. Jesus fixates on making his version of the movie, but Magdalena's arrival and subsequent stay has him putting her into the movie too, much to Maria's annoyance. But is she annoyed? Is Jesus really the saner person in the house? Or perhaps a better question is who is the craziest?

A turn for the worse happens when Dorothy's ruby slippers are too small for Magdalena to wear as she is pushed into the role. I say Dorothy's slippers because the meaning behind them revolves around being able to leave the closed-off world of Jesus and Maria. A turn for the worse happens when Jesus pulls out a rifle, seemingly annoyed that his movie cannot be completed as he wants it to be when Maria rethinks her relationship with him and his movie and where her home really lies. 

For the story we see there is little backstory given, though it is implied from the long absence of Magdalena, the stifling home that Jesus and Maria have sequestered themselves in, and the death of their father. They may like to play games, but their preference had been for only two players. Having a third to contend with changes the rules of the game, making who wins a matter of life or death.

The Final Ride (2019) A Cheap Fare With Some Tongue in Cheek Scare

Zombos Says: Fair+ (assorted cardboard acting and sub-basement budget levels (though the splatter effects are a hoot) level all to home movie status, but this anthology horror has an artful 1970s and 80s patina and tongue in cheek sensibility that cries out for love: a festival-fan winner for sure).

Let me state up front that the sizzling poster has nothing to do with the movie. It's a great poster, don't take me wrong, but my guess is they spent more money on it than the movie. But if you ride along with this 79 minutes worth of three stories that kick off with a hop in the car, you may find some artful recapturing of the 1970s and 1980s grit and cheapness which is nirvana for true believers. Of course, you'd have to be older, like me, to fully appreciate the camera work and tongue in cheek style that harkens back to that rush you got when perusing the video store shelves--not Blockbuster, I mean the mom and pop stores with the beaded curtained off areas--but that's the fun of festival-tour movies: they always mix it up for the old, the young, and the true savant of genre terrors.

After a montage of questionable fares, irritating our driver Jean (Keegan Chambers), the first nightmare kicks off with a couple hopping into the backseat as they decide on their new home; which, of course, has a sordid history that a neighbor relates, eventually, (and barely, as his acting effort was just as sordid) after strange things and behaviors are seen. What's really strange is how Peter (Matthew Chisholm) still has a video tape player so he and his wife, Monica (Annette Wozniak) can watch the box of VHS tapes found in the new house's basement. The tapes show Jimmy, a fitness masochist (best performance award to Ry Barret, for sure), pumping and sweating with Hulk Hogan gusto. Here's where the vibe capturing both 1970s street-level slackness and 1980s superficial slickness shines through in both camera work and overreaching tongue outside of cheek. That vibe turns video nasty when Jimmy works himself out of the tapes and into prime time, featuring bargain-basement blood splat that is so bad it's completely lovable in effect and in keeping with the 70 and 80s tone and mood.

The pace (and acting chops) picks up some speed as the second couple joins Jean, two guys boozing it up (J. Robert Bellamy and Brent Baird), daring each other to get tats (is daring still a thing?), choose the wrong tattoo parlor. Their friendship heads to a blowout as one gets the tatting of his life. One well-placed hilarious moment comes when the regretful tat man meets his girlfriend's parents. Yes, we've seen this black inked nightmare scenario before--actually, a lot--but our duo and their predicament has enough emotional and comic appeal propping it up--except for the wax figure lacklustre ending. Whoever did the set dressing for that one must have been sick that day.

The last outing for Jean comes with a worrisome fare hopping into the backseat but making moves to the front seat, and Jean finds out what's in her trunk the hard way. The usual switcheroo occurs, then the guns come out to determine who the real badass is. The novelty here is who does the shooting. If you are thinking of driving for Uber or Lyft, best not to see this movie or just skip the last story. 

While not as completely off the wall watchable as The Video Dead or Spookies, The Final Ride keeps the pace moving just enough, and the storylines watchable, just enough, to make it a fun ride. Just keep in mind that Nicholas Cage is not in this one, so don't be looking for him (even if the poster shows Ghost Rider driving a car instead of his motorcycle).

 

Too Late (2021) When Comedians Die Off Stage

Zombos Says: Good (slow art house pace and limited budget keeps the camera tight, but dialog is enjoyably crisp, which helps keep the story creepy and droll).

There is a slow, droll, one-joke told too many times standup delivery going on with Too Late, but like that budding comedian you suddenly discover, it grows on you. You would think comedian Steven Wright directed this one, given it is so deadpanned-droll, but D.W. Thomas did, and he keeps the camera budget tight, the main players sedate but copacetic, and the colors and lighting subdued. The most energetic spot can be found in the opening credits, done with a Beetlejuice-styled motion and mood-setting music by Mikel Hurwitz. Tom Becker, writer, takes the slice of her life (Violet's) approach with  dialog and situations thick in irony, weirdness, and a sardonic twist on the saying "dying is easy, comedy is hard" as some comedians find dying off stage quite easy. 

Assisting in their demise is Violet (Alyssa Limperis), who aids the digestion of one Bob Devore (Ron Lynch), a long in the tooth comedian who really is older than he looks. Apparently Violet, yearning for her big break, assists Bob with winnowing the competition by the light of the full moon.

Not much is explained about Bob's eating habits or his pedigree, but the closing credits hint at a backstory, so do not miss them. I wonder if the choice of Bob's last name was a take on devour? Which he does, never seeming to bite off more than he can chew, to Violet's growing exasperation. When he goes after a comedian she really likes, Jimmy, the fur flies. 

Jimmy (Will Weldon), newbie in comedy and love, also ruffles her fur a bit too as Bob sets his sights on him (or his diet, take your pick). When stardom beckons, their relationship hits the skids and Violet must decide whether to feed Bob's appetite or Jimmy's ego or her own long-overdue freedom from late night dinners by moonlight. While she makes up her mind, Bob decides to play rough after she and her friend, Belinda (Jenny Zigrino), try to play rougher by changing his sleeping arrangements. 

Fredo (Fred Armisen) provides some comic relief as he tussles with Bob's endless demands for lighting gels and a few comics strain at their routines in brief--thankfully--moments. Will Fredo ever find the right lighting gel for Bob? Will Violet end up as the main course after serving so many? Will Bob need to reach for the Pepto-Bism0l? It's never too late to find out.

Gaia (2021) This Ecological Horror Has Deep Roots

Zombos Says: Good. Slow pacing and an artful but ponderously delivered ecological-warning weigh it down.

Gaia's body and ecological horror elements can be found in earlier movies such as Matango and The Ruins. At this point in time, given the intensifying global climate, the bitter taste of pandemic disruption, the continuing extinction of many species, the endless pollution of our oceans, and how little we have done to address it or even freak out about it, I am not sure that more two-fisted messaging about an ecological apocalypse is anywhere near a priority for most movie audiences. On a personal note, perhaps a little less we-know-we're-in-deep-shit movies and a lot more of what-do-we-do-about-it movies would be encouraging, at least for this reviewer. 

We tend to close the barn door after the horses have fled and yell fire after the barn has burned down. Repeatedly. Given that, this movie should be scary first and then hit us hard with its didactic ecological doomsday messaging through that horror. Jacob Bouwer (director) and Tertius Kapp (writer) prefer it the other way. Their direction makes Gaia a more polished and visually-confirming art house take on a truly terrible environmental and body horror that overwhelms its four characters, but underwhelms our emotions as we watch it unfold. In other words, Gaia aims for the head, not the palpitating heart.

Perhaps the direction is too documentarian and the characters too pensive? Brooding is not what is needed here, yet brooding we get. Even after a blind creature crashes into the cabin, it feels more like a nuisance than an actual threat. Gabi, who should be freaked out by the sudden appearance and anxious to get out of there, instead becomes more determined to stay. What gives?

What should be gut-wrenching moments to watch are delivered as artfully poetic annihilations instead. And, of course, there is the mutated, personal religion (every pre and post apocalyptic movie needs one, of course) to complicate things and that's where the horror festers in this story. It affects each character, especially the patriarch with the cliff-fall from sanity, but Gaia weighs down his and its manifesto with overly long excursions into dreamscapes and not enough of the truly frightening tree that mothers too well (depicted with excellent imagery and mood). The malevolent denizens of this strange forest, clearly having stayed too long in the woods, create little tension or threat--especially when given the overused clicks and ticks that many apocalyptic monsters seem to suffer from in these movies--and everyone goes about their day without much apprehension. Except for Winston. He's the lone black guy, so you know how he will wind up.  The characters worry about the forest creatures as much as one would for an overstayed houseguest.

Two park rangers, making their rounds, step into the singular lives and forest of two isolated hunters, primitively living  off the land. An errant drone sends one of the rangers, Gabi (Monique Rockman)--against the warnings of the other, Winston (Anthony Oseyemi)--to find it. He eventually chases after her when she fails to make it back to the river at the appointed time. She finds the drone and Barend (Carel Nel), and his son Stefan (Alex van Dyk). Both men are survivalists, but Stefan grew up in the forest while his father chose to live there. What happened to his mother is the root to what happens with each of them, and the underpinning of the connection between Barend and the land, and the ecological horror growing there. Instead of the science that Barend once followed, he now exists in a quasi-religious and crazy-state abandonment, making his altar at the strange tree bearing even stranger fruit.

Gabi upsets the balance of this isolation and religious manifesto folie a deux, and weakens the father and son relationship to force the story's path to the usual downbeat conclusion. One can question the choices she makes as her reluctant helpers try to get her out of the forest so they can return to their normal survivalist routine, but she tries to understand them and what is happening to and around her. Every action, every conflict, is photographed with an overarching gloom that permeates the forest, the simple cabin, and Gabi's dreams. Barend, with his frail body and intense stare, is gloom and doom personified, even revels in it as he writes his manifesto by candle light. His son is no longer so sure of his father's intentions or authority, now that Gabi has entered their solitary existence to awaken sexual feelings that were unknown to him before her arrival.

Visually, Gaia is a treat. Story-wise, it needs more bite for greater emotional impact. If you are looking for a cerebral ecological horror movie, it is for you.

Untitled Horror Movie (2021) An Enjoyable (and Remote) Horror Romp

Zombos Says: Good+. A fun, light, horror romp that shines mostly because of the actors involved.

Watching the volley-balling egos, the gee whiz let's put on a show attitude, and the slow intrusion of an evil spirit that knows a lot about communicating remotely (in this case supernaturally, no Zoom needed), makes Untitled Horror Movie an enjoyable horror-lite watch.  

Vanity Fair did an article on the making of this movie during its covid quarantine production last year. With everyone in lockdown, the actors went old school, learning how to do their makeup, hairdressing, gaff taping, lighting, camera work; in essence, putting on a one person show that could be edited  into an ensemble later. Zoom handled the conference calls, directions, and how-to videos provided the spot training.

The undertaking reminded me of one of those Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland backyard musical movies where the kids pitch in and put on a show. No one sings or dances in this digital age version though, and Mickey and Judy didn't have to deal with demonic possession (though, looking back, that would have been cool), or do their own makeup and lighting. Having experienced the horrors of lighting, sunlight and drapery, and webcam positioning for too many Zoom meetings, I can tell you it is a miracle this movie got made at all.

Untitled Horror Movie has a slick slacks gloss to it, with a humorous crease running its entire length. It could have used more horror-tense moments, but inside jokes and the Hollywood tinsel digs and jibbing from person to person is mesmerizing. Given that you need to watch six talking heads most of the time, those heads better be connected to some lively and watchable characters: no problems there; the facial expressions, the verbal jousting, and the clean editing makes for a lively display of talent and humorous dialog with the building malevolence. 

It starts with six actors (Claire Holt, Katherine McNamara, Darren Barnet, Emmy Raver-Lampman, Luke Baines, Timothy Granaderos) in search of a project after they fear their television series is cancelled. Using a found footage approach, video chatting, and in one instance a paired meeting (still done with quarantine in mind), they banter with stereotypical personalities, that may not be so exaggerated, as one would think. Lesly Kahn provides the funniest moments or should I say her dog does? Tough call there as she coaches one intrepid actor into his character for the horror movie the group decides they should make. Unfortunately, Chrissy (Katherine McNamara) is into pendulum crystals to help her make decisions. She said she got it at the Rose Bowl where nothing bad happens. Someone points out it's like a little Ouija board of badness, but a banishment curse is easily found on the Internet and their off and running--into trouble. 

The curse, of course, kicks in and one by one they're zoombombed by the supernatural. While more visual terror would have been a plus, the vivid characters keep it mesmerizingly funny, aided by the crisp editing. One would wish all Zoom meetings were this enjoyable.

Note: As always, I receive screener links, book copies, and other stuff for review. But I still review 'em as I see 'em. So there.

Return of Chandu Movie Herald

Here's the promotional herald for Return of Chandu starring Bela Lugosi (he played the villain in the first movie). The blank space on the back was for the theater to print their advertising and location information. It is approximately letter-sized when unfolded. Mexican Lobby Card for Chandu.

Publicity Pressbook for Return of Chandu.

 

 

Digging to Death (2021) Not Quite Enough Digging or Is It?

Zombos Says: Good-. Not quite good enough, but worth your attention if you like art house style with your horror or just something different. Add a good wine--a sweet one would be best--and you're aces.

The IMDb rating is 4.8 and Rotten Tomatoes is not on the meter yet due to insufficient reviews for Digging to Death. That is a shame. While the acting is a tad as slow as the pacing, this art house styled entry in psychological horror that wraps itself around the Jungian Shadow of the poor programmer, David (Ford Austin), who finds three million bucks in his back yard is rather engrossing. Sure, you'll watch it thinking it will neatly wrap up the plastic bags (body bags that is) eventually, but it doesn't. And sure, you'll think back and forth on whether he did or he didn't, it was or it wasn't, and who the hell puts in their own septic tank anyway?

The puzzle starts with what's found in the basement. Yes, I know, there's the corpse and the money, but the real puzzle begins in the basement, when he pulls the keys off of the corpse to open the small door in his closet that leads to the basement steps. How did they get there? Who put them there, the corpse guy? It's all sort of like a cart before the horse problem or maybe more like a Japanese-styled horror element of recurring terror like The Grudge. Only you never will quite know, which can be a bummer; but we do know the problem is not just the plastic bag filled with lots of hundred dollar bills. 

More questions arise: was the production budget so lean that they couldn't actually bury the damned box that held the money and the corpse? The corpse, by the way, is makeup-fresh straight out of Carnival of Souls. Wonderful job there and perfect for the tone of this movie. I mean, who sinks a huge box like that, with lots of money and a fairly fresh corpse, so close to the surface? 

Either way, David, who works for Mind Crash, the software game he's managing the programming on, keeps returning to the box and the money and the corpse. It's when he takes a few hundred dollar bills that things start to really sink a lot lower than that box. The corpse apparently wants to break that old adage of not being able to take it with you. David's daughter, Jessica (Rachel Alig), is worried about him after his divorce, and David is more worried about paying for his new home, helping her with her medical bills, and moving up in his long-held job. And he needs to put in the septic tank and finish his software project sooner than later. When that money shows up he was already all over the place mentally. The money just moves him more into all over and further from a mentally safe place. 

Let's be clear about one thing up front. This is not a horror-comedy. There are some black comedy bits tossed in, some social commentary about working your ass off for a job that only cares about what you did for them in the last hour, and how really annoying it is when you just want to spend a lot of hot hundred dollar bills and even the bank says to open a trust fund or the feds will wonder where all the cash came from. Oh, and that corpse (Tom Fitzpatrick) that keeps showing up, who turns out to be more lively than David, makes digging a septic tank a cakewalk. 

Being a geek, David fights back with tech. But is he fighting an ambulatory corpse wanting its money back or is he fighting himself? Or both? Depending on how you look at it, the ending scene either puts this movie firmly into The Grudge or the shadow territory. Either Michael P. Blevins, the writer and director doesn't write good screenplays, didn't have enough money to show us everything, or he is showing us just enough to keep it vague or abundantly clear (unless you're a horror buff overthinking everything), I can't say with certainty. 

But I do like horror movies that make me think this much about their stories. I hope you find it as engagingly puzzling as I do.