Category Archives: retrospective

50th Anniversary Retrospective: Lisa, Lisa (Axe) (1974)

08 Sunday Dec 2024

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Frederick R. Friedel’s Lisa, Lisa, better known as Axe, is a fascinating artifact of 1970s exploitation cinema. A minimalist revenge thriller, the film has earned a cult following over the decades for its stark brutality, eerie atmosphere, and unflinching low-budget aesthetic. While it lacks the polish or complexity of other genre classics, Lisa, Lisa delivers a harrowing and compact tale of survival and vengeance that lingers in the memory.

The plot is simple yet effective. Three criminals, on the run after a murder, seek refuge at a secluded farmhouse where 13-year-old Lisa lives with her bedridden grandfather. What follows is a tense game of cat and mouse as the intruders push Lisa too far, unleashing her simmering rage. The film’s brevity—running at a taut 68 minutes—leaves little room for filler, keeping the story tightly focused on its grim premise.

What sets Lisa, Lisa apart from its contemporaries is its unrelenting bleakness. Friedel leans into the limitations of his low budget, using the sparse setting and minimal dialogue to create an oppressive atmosphere. The farmhouse itself feels like a character, its peeling wallpaper and creaking floorboards underscoring the isolation and decay at the heart of the story.

Leslie Lee’s haunting performance as Lisa is the film’s centrepiece. Her quiet, almost detached demeanour adds an unsettling layer to the character, making her transformation into an avenger all the more chilling. Lisa isn’t portrayed as a triumphant heroine but as a damaged and dangerous individual, blurring the lines between victim and predator.

The film’s violence, while shocking for its time, is more suggestive than explicit, relying on Friedel’s knack for implication and mood. The gore is sparingly used but effective, reinforcing the grim realism of the narrative. This restraint, combined with the film’s low-fi aesthetic, gives Lisa, Lisa a raw edge that elevates it above mere exploitation.

However, the film isn’t without its flaws. The pacing occasionally feels uneven, and the limited budget shows in the occasionally wooden performances from the supporting cast. Additionally, the film’s lean runtime leaves little room for character development, which might leave some viewers craving more depth.

Despite these shortcomings, Lisa, Lisa holds its place as a notable entry in the revenge thriller subgenre. Its stark simplicity and oppressive tone make it a compelling watch, especially for fans of gritty, no-frills exploitation cinema. Fifty years later, it remains a testament to how resourceful filmmaking can turn limitations into strengths, delivering a haunting and visceral experience.

  • Saul Muerte

1960s Retrospective: The Torture Chamber of Dr. Sadism (1967)

08 Sunday Dec 2024

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Few films embody the phrase “style over substance” quite like The Torture Chamber of Dr. Sadism (1967). Directed by Harald Reinl and loosely inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s The Pit and the Pendulum, this German-Italian co-production takes Poe’s tale of terror and cranks the melodrama up to eleven, delivering a feverishly over-the-top gothic spectacle. While visually striking, the film’s excessive theatrics and lack of narrative depth ultimately keep it from achieving greatness.

The story centres on Count Regula (Christopher Lee), a sadistic nobleman who seeks immortality by performing gruesome experiments on virgins. Executed for his crimes, he rises from the grave decades later to exact revenge and continue his diabolical quest. A lawyer (Lex Barker) and a young woman (Karin Dor) find themselves drawn into his nightmarish world, traversing eerie forests and labyrinthine dungeons to face the undead count.

If nothing else, The Torture Chamber of Dr. Sadism is a visual feast. The production design is suitably gothic, with crumbling castles, fog-drenched woods, and macabre torture devices that feel ripped from the pages of a penny dreadful. The film’s set pieces are undeniably atmospheric, and there’s a dreamlike quality to the more surreal moments, such as a forest filled with hanging corpses or the titular torture chamber itself.

However, these striking visuals can’t compensate for the film’s lack of substance. The plot is paper-thin and feels more like an excuse to string together elaborate set pieces than a coherent story. The characters are one-dimensional, with Lex Barker’s stoic hero and Karin Dor’s damsel-in-distress offering little to engage the viewer. Even Christopher Lee, despite his commanding presence, is given little to do beyond glowering menacingly.

The film’s melodramatic tone is both its greatest strength and its biggest weakness. On the one hand, the over-the-top performances and operatic score lend it a certain campy charm. On the other hand, the relentless theatrics often verge on self-parody, undercutting any genuine sense of dread or suspense.

While The Torture Chamber of Dr. Sadism has its moments—particularly for fans of gothic horror—it ultimately feels like a missed opportunity. The film’s dazzling visuals and promise of Poe-inspired chills are undermined by a lacklustre script and an overreliance on melodrama.

For those seeking an over-the-top gothic romp, it’s worth a watch. But for those hoping for a faithful or genuinely chilling adaptation of Poe’s work, this film falls far short of its potential.

  • Saul Muerte

The Godfather of Gore: Herschell Gordon Lewis and His Macabre Masterpieces

07 Saturday Dec 2024

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When it comes to the annals of horror cinema, few figures loom as large—or as unapologetically blood-soaked—as Herschell Gordon Lewis. Dubbed “The Godfather of Gore,” Lewis carved out a niche in the 1960s for his gleeful embrace of low-budget, high-shock filmmaking, pioneering the splatter subgenre that would influence horror for decades to come. While films like Blood Feast (1963) and Two Thousand Maniacs! (1964) are often cited as his most infamous works, his career is also punctuated by strange and memorable entries like Something Weird (1967), A Taste of Blood (1967), and The Gruesome Twosome (1967).

Something Weird (1967)

Among Lewis’s catalogue, Something Weird stands out for its sheer oddity. Mixing supernatural elements, psychedelic visuals, and a bizarre romantic subplot, the film defies easy categorisation. The story revolves around a disfigured man who gains psychic powers after a brush with death, only to become entangled with a witch who demands his love in exchange for restoring his looks.

Something Weird is less a traditional horror film and more a kaleidoscopic fever dream, complete with eerie electronic soundscapes and disjointed narrative turns. While the gore is comparatively restrained, the film’s weirdness compensates, making it one of Lewis’s most intriguing offerings. It’s a testament to his willingness to experiment, even if the result is more bewildering than terrifying.

A Taste of Blood (1967)

Often referred to as Lewis’s attempt at a “classy” horror movie, A Taste of Blood is a sprawling vampire tale with surprising ambitions. Clocking in at over two hours, the film tells the story of John Stone, a businessman who inherits two bottles of brandy from his ancestor, none other than Count Dracula. After drinking the brandy, Stone becomes a vampire, seeking revenge on the descendants of those who killed Dracula.

While it lacks the frenzied gore of Lewis’s other works, A Taste of Blood compensates with its melodramatic tone and surprisingly involved storyline. The pacing drags in places, and its length feels at odds with Lewis’s usual snappy, exploitative style. Still, the film offers a fascinating glimpse of what might have been had Lewis pursued more traditional storytelling in his career.

The Gruesome Twosome (1967)

Returning to his roots with this lurid tale of scalp-harvesting, The Gruesome Twosome epitomises the gleefully grotesque aesthetic that earned Lewis his nickname. The plot revolves around a mother-and-son duo running a wig shop that sources its hair from murdered young women.

The film’s low-budget charm is evident from the opening scene—a bizarre monologue delivered by two talking mannequin heads—and its over-the-top violence is pure Lewis. While the effects are crude by today’s standards, they have a handmade quality that captures the spirit of exploitation cinema. The Gruesome Twosome is quintessential Lewis: shocking, campy, and unrelentingly bizarre.

Legacy of the Godfather of Gore

Herschell Gordon Lewis didn’t just create films; he created a movement. With his unapologetic approach to gore and exploitation, he pushed boundaries in ways that were both shocking and innovative. Films like Something Weird, A Taste of Blood, and The Gruesome Twosome showcase his range—from the surreal to the ambitious to the outright grotesque—cementing his place as a true pioneer in horror.

Though his work remains divisive, there’s no denying the impact of his vision. Lewis’s films opened doors for countless filmmakers who sought to blend shock and subversion into their storytelling. To this day, his bloody fingerprints can be seen across the horror landscape, reminding audiences that sometimes, it’s not about how polished a film is—but how unforgettable.

  • Saul Muerte

1960s Retrospective: The Spirit is Willing (1967)

06 Friday Dec 2024

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Some films from the 1960s manage to endure as classics, while others remain firmly planted in the realm of passable entertainment. The Spirit is Willing (1967), directed by William Castle, is decidedly in the latter camp—a light-hearted supernatural comedy that aims for charm but lands squarely in middle-of-the-road Americana.

The story follows the Whitlock family as they move into an old seaside home, only to discover it’s haunted by a trio of mischievous ghosts. What unfolds is a series of slapstick encounters and mild frights that lean more on farcical antics than genuine scares. It’s a blend that Castle, known for his knack for gimmicky horror, doesn’t fully commit to, leaving the film feeling oddly safe and uninspired.

The comedy, while present, struggles to hit consistent highs. Much of the humour feels sanitised, playing to an audience that might have been more easily amused in the 1960s. By modern standards, the laughs are few and far between, with the film’s attempts at wit coming across as quaint rather than clever.

What The Spirit is Willing does have going for it is its cast, led by Sid Caesar (best remembered as the coach in Grease—who brings his trademark wry delivery to his role) and Vera Miles, who do their best with the material they’re given. Special mention must go to the young Barry Gordon, who injects a sense of energy into the proceedings. These performances elevate the film just enough to keep it watchable, even if they can’t entirely save it.

Visually, the film boasts some fun practical effects for its ghostly gags, though nothing particularly groundbreaking for the time. It’s all serviceable but lacks the kind of creativity that could have made the film a standout in Castle’s filmography.

Ultimately, The Spirit is Willing is a harmless, moderately amusing romp that never quite rises above mediocrity. While it has its moments, they are too few and far between to leave a lasting impression. For fans of 1960s cinema or William Castle completists, it’s worth a look—but don’t expect to be haunted by its brilliance.

  • Saul Muerte

Roddy McDowall Brings Life to the Lifeless in It! (1967)

05 Thursday Dec 2024

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In the pantheon of 1960s horror cinema, It! (1967) is less a towering monolith and more a crumbling relic, notable more for its quirks than its craft. Directed by Herbert J. Leder and starring the ever-compelling Roddy McDowall, the film is a largely forgettable take on the age-old golem under control story. Despite its shortcomings, McDowall’s eccentric performance breathes a glimmer of life into what might otherwise have been a plodding exercise in horror tropes.

The plot is simple, perhaps too much so: McDowall’s character, Arthur Pimm, discovers a golem—a hulking, indestructible creature bound by supernatural forces—and sets about using it to satisfy his ambitions. As is typical for the subgenre, things spiral out of control, with the golem proving as dangerous to its master as it is to his enemies. The beats are predictable, with little in the way of innovation to distinguish It! from earlier iterations of the golem legend.

What does elevate the film, however, is McDowall’s signature flair. As Arthur, he leans into the character’s unhinged qualities, delivering a performance that teeters on the edge of camp without ever fully succumbing to it. His manic energy provides the film with a pulse it sorely needs, and his interactions with the golem often border on absurd, imbuing the proceedings with a strange, almost comedic undercurrent. It’s a testament to McDowall’s talent that he can command the viewer’s attention even when the script gives him so little to work with.

Visually, It! is serviceable but uninspired. The golem itself is a hulking, imposing presence, though the film rarely exploits its potential for genuine terror. Instead, the creature feels more like a prop than a fully realized character, a missed opportunity in a film that could have used a stronger antagonist.

For all its faults, It! remains a curious artifact of its time, a low-budget horror film that leans heavily on its star to carry the weight of its thin premise. While the film’s narrative and pacing leave much to be desired, McDowall’s performance provides just enough intrigue to keep the viewer from completely disengaging.

Ultimately, It! is a middling effort, an uninspired retelling of a familiar story that offers little new to the genre. Still, for fans of Roddy McDowall or those with a soft spot for obscure 1960s horror, it’s worth a watch—if only for a glimpse of McDowall’s eccentric genius.

  • Saul Muerte

The Shuttered Room (1967): A Decent Attempt That Falters in Execution

29 Friday Nov 2024

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The Shuttered Room, based on a story attributed to H.P. Lovecraft and August Derleth, offers an atmospheric dive into the macabre, set against the backdrop of a crumbling New England mill town. Directed by David Greene, the film’s most notable strength lies in its brooding atmosphere and unsettling locale, which captures the decayed charm of its rural setting. Yet, while the tone and setting intrigue, the narrative struggles to rise above mediocrity, leaving audiences with an experience more evocative than substantive.

Central to the film is the electrifying performance of Oliver Reed as the menacing Ethan. Reed commands the screen with an unpredictable energy, adding a palpable edge of danger that keeps the audience engaged. His interactions with Gig Young, playing the stalwart husband Mike, and Carol Lynley as the haunted Susannah, highlight the clash between Reed’s raw intensity and the more subdued performances of his co-stars. Lynley brings an understated fragility to Susannah, effectively conveying her character’s torment and vulnerability, though her role is often overshadowed by Reed’s larger-than-life presence.

The film’s atmospheric strength is undeniable. Cinematographer Kenneth Hodges crafts a visually arresting aesthetic, juxtaposing the rustic beauty of the mill with its sinister underpinnings. The eerie sound design and haunting score further amplify the sense of unease. However, The Shuttered Room falters when it comes to its central plot. The narrative’s slow pacing and predictable developments prevent it from fully delivering on the psychological horror and suspense it hints at, leaving viewers yearning for a sharper, more cohesive story.

Ultimately, The Shuttered Room stands as a fascinating but flawed entry in 1960s horror. While it showcases an engaging Oliver Reed and an immersive atmosphere, the film’s inability to break free from its languid storytelling prevents it from achieving the impact it so clearly aspires to. For fans of moody, vintage thrillers, this is worth a watch—but don’t expect it to haunt your thoughts.

  • Saul Muerte

The Sorcerers: Karloff and Lacey Shine in a Flawed Exploration of Desire and Control

28 Thursday Nov 2024

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Michael Reeves’ second feature film, The Sorcerers, ventures into the realms of horror and science fiction with a concept that is both intriguing and unsettling. Starring the legendary Boris Karloff and Catherine Lacey as an elderly couple, the Monserrats, the film delves into their dark quest to recapture the vitality of youth through occult science. Lacey’s portrayal of Estelle Monserrat is particularly striking, balancing vulnerability and cruelty as her lust for power spirals out of control. Meanwhile, Karloff exudes gravitas, lending dignity to Professor Monserrat’s conflicting morality as the experiment spirals into chaos. The duo’s performances ground the film, giving emotional weight to their descent into obsession.

Ian Ogilvy delivers a strong performance as Mike, their unwitting pawn and the victim of their telepathic control. Through him, the Monserrats experience a vicarious thrill that highlights the darker sides of humanity—greed, lust, and violence. The concept of transferring one’s consciousness into another’s body was fresh for its time and is executed effectively, especially in scenes where Mike’s inner conflict begins to reflect the fractured dynamics of his controllers. However, the story doesn’t always capitalise on its premise, leaving some potential for deeper exploration untapped.

Though The Sorcerers brims with ideas about the morality of power and the price of human desire, its execution feels uneven. The low budget occasionally hampers the film’s ability to fully realise its ambitious vision, and while Reeves shows flashes of brilliance in his direction, some sequences drag, detracting from the overall tension. Despite these shortcomings, the film’s climax is a gripping resolution, showcasing Reeves’ knack for atmospheric storytelling.

What stands out most about The Sorcerers is its ability to tap into the societal anxieties of the 1960s—the desire for youth, rebellion against aging, and the ethical dilemmas of scientific experimentation. It may not reach the heights of Reeves’ later masterpiece, Witchfinder General, but The Sorcerers still serves as an interesting stepping stone in his tragically short career. It’s a flawed but fascinating film, buoyed by Karloff and Lacey’s stellar performances, which make it a worthwhile watch for fans of 1960s horror and sci-fi cinema.

  • Saul Muerte

Night of the Big Heat (1967): A B-Horror That Fails to Sizzle

23 Saturday Nov 2024

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With the dynamic pairing of Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing at its core, Night of the Big Heat seems poised for greatness, especially for fans of mid-century British horror. Directed by Terence Fisher, a Hammer Films mainstay, the movie adapts John Lymington’s novel about an unexplained heatwave plaguing a small island off the British coast. From the outset, the setup brims with potential: the mysterious weather anomaly and its connection to extraterrestrial forces create an intriguing framework. However, despite the gravitas brought by Lee and Cushing, the film fails to rise above its status as a modestly entertaining B-movie.

The charm lies primarily in its retro appeal, with limited special effects and a tone that leans into the quirks of low-budget 1960s sci-fi horror. Christopher Lee’s authoritative portrayal of scientist Godfrey Hanson adds depth, even when the plot veers into absurdity, while Peter Cushing delivers his signature polish, albeit in a more understated role than usual. However, the movie is let down by a slow pace and underwhelming tension, as well as budget constraints that reduce the alien threat to little more than glowing orbs. The production’s ambition to create atmospheric horror feels stifled by its resources, though the oppressive heat and rural isolation add some unease.

Ultimately, Night of the Big Heat offers mild entertainment but fails to distinguish itself in the pantheon of 1960s genre cinema. For devoted fans of Lee, Cushing, or nostalgic B-horror, it holds some charm, but for broader audiences, it’s more of a lukewarm experience that may not burn bright but flickers enough for the curious viewer.

  • Saul Muerte

Sleepy Hollow: Tim Burton’s Gothic Love Letter to Horror’s Golden Era

17 Sunday Nov 2024

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Tim Burton’s Sleepy Hollow is a gothic horror masterpiece that perfectly encapsulates the director’s penchant for dark, brooding aesthetics and his thematic preoccupation with the macabre. A reimagining of Washington Irving’s classic tale, the film transforms the sleepy, supernatural folklore into a grand, cinematic spectacle drenched in gothic horror. Burton’s love for the gothic era is evident in every meticulously crafted frame, from the towering, skeletal trees that encroach on the titular town to the shadow-laden interiors that seem to whisper ghostly secrets. His flair for eerie visuals is amplified by Emmanuel Lubezki’s stunning cinematography, where shades of gray and muted tones evoke a sense of dread and melancholia, interrupted only by the vivid splashes of blood. The world of Sleepy Hollow feels alive with gothic energy, and the intricate production design, including its Victorian costumes and haunting set pieces, adds a layer of authenticity to the era Burton so deeply admires.

A crucial strength of Sleepy Hollow lies in its cast, which includes legends of British horror, lending the film a rich pedigree. Christopher Lee’s commanding cameo as a magistrate adds gravitas, while Michael Gough and Ian McDiarmid deliver performances that harken back to the golden age of British gothic cinema. Johnny Depp’s portrayal of Ichabod Crane as a quirky, science-driven investigator brings a modern vulnerability to the character, contrasting beautifully with Christina Ricci’s ethereal presence as Katrina Van Tassel. The film also showcases Burton’s regular collaborator, Danny Elfman, whose haunting score weaves seamlessly into the narrative, heightening the film’s blend of eerie suspense and dark whimsy.

Thematically, Sleepy Hollow leans heavily into Burton’s fascination with the boundary between rationality and superstition. The story pits the cold logic of Depp’s Ichabod against the inexplicable terror of the Headless Horseman, culminating in a narrative that embraces the supernatural as an intrinsic force within its world. While some may critique the film for prioritising style over substance, it remains a quintessential Tim Burton offering—visually arresting, rich in atmosphere, and deeply rooted in gothic tradition. Sleepy Hollow stands as a loving tribute to the genre, earning its place as one of Burton’s most iconic works and a cherished piece of gothic cinema.

  • Saul Muerte

Frankenstein Created Woman: Science Meets Soul in Hammer’s Boldest Frankenstein Entry Yet

16 Saturday Nov 2024

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By its fourth entry in Hammer’s Frankenstein saga, Frankenstein Created Woman veered into uncharted thematic territory, exploring the transference of the soul rather than focusing solely on the reconstruction of flesh. The film’s roots trace back to an abandoned concept for the Tales of Frankenstein television series, which was later resurrected as a collaboration between Hammer and Twentieth Century Fox. Loosely inspired by Roger Vadim’s And God Created Woman, the feature delved into theological and philosophical dimensions, examining identity, morality, and the repercussions of manipulating the human essence. This ambitious narrative shift elevated it among Hammer’s catalog and gained recognition from cinephiles such as Martin Scorsese.

Central to the film’s success is Peter Cushing’s commanding reprisal of Baron Frankenstein. Cushing’s nuanced performance lends gravitas to the morally ambiguous doctor, whose unrelenting pursuit of scientific discovery transcends ethical boundaries. Opposite Cushing is Susan Denberg as Christina, a woman resurrected with a fractured identity. The tragic duality of Christina and her lover Hans, whose soul is embedded within her, provides a poignant underpinning to the grotesque premise. Denberg, a former Playboy Playmate immersed in the vibrant “It” crowd of the 1960s, including Roman Polanski, brought an uncanny mix of fragility and menace to her role. To bolster the film’s appeal, she was featured in a high-profile publicity campaign, though her career in film was short-lived. With its innovative focus on the isolation of the soul and a revenge-driven narrative, Frankenstein Created Woman became a bold and emotionally charged addition to the Hammer canon.

  • Saul Muerte