Unseen Terror 2016: Day 12

Tourists and islanders residing at a nice resort have been randomly disappearing, and local authorities can not seem to figure out how or why. Suddenly, the....the....

Okay. During the seven years that I have been doing this marathon, I have never quit watching any of the flicks that I consciously pick to be featured. 1979's Up from the Depths, which is yet another "natural" horror flick that exists solely because of Jaws' success, came the closest out of any of these to finally breaking me down. Every time that I got up to accomplish something productive for the day, I had to do my absolute damnedest to convince myself to come back to it. I got up to eat macaroni and cheese for lunch (healthy food, how does it work?), grab a prescription for a sick family member, and do a large load of laundry. Each moment could be considered a "distraction" from my reviewing process, but I cared so little about returning to finish this sorry excuse for a production.


Trying to pick out the biggest flaw found during Up from the Depths' running time is like trying to choose which puddle of vomit you wish to lick. Maybe its worst aspect was the extraordinarily lazy and laughable acting or the dialogue that seems like it was written on a bar napkin in the span of four hours. I felt so terrible for top star Sam Bottoms (Apocalypse Now, The Last Picture Show) having to be stuck with such dreadful material and dialogue, but in my opinion, he didn't get the worst end of the stick. Nope, that unfortunate honor belongs to director Charles B. Griffith (a longtime ally and cohort of B-movie giant Roger Corman), who also wrote notable cinematic releases like Death Race 2000 and the original Little Shop of Horrors. According to interviews that were conducted before his passing in 2007, the entire experience of writing, shooting, and finalizing Up from the Depths was a real nightmare, and he felt that Corman gave it to him as punishment (for what I'm not sure). The idea to retool and re-release the flick as a comedy came up as well, but it seems as though the man did not get his wish.

A very tiny part of me feels rotten for not giving this a proper summation of my thoughts, but seeing how little effort they clearly put into Up from the Depths, I feel that I should return the favor myself by only giving half a shit when discussing it. Aside from the sheer cheapness of the entire thing (this creature's design could have been improved by just having it be a hand puppet ala Lamb Chop), its most interesting fact comes from the revelation that it played on a double bill alongside of David Cronenberg's The Brood. So yes, let this sink in for a bit: a movie that was recently handpicked to be part of the esteemed Criterion Collection was featured alongside of a picture that is currently ranked at 2.6 on the Internet Movie Database. If there was ever the cinematic equivalent of a Minus Five Stars match (shoutout to Bryan Alvarez of F4W), this shamefully awful, boring, tedious piece of crap would be it. A Blu-Ray of the feature is (unfortunately) readily available for purchase from Scream! Factory, and as luck would have it, the film comes packaged with its very loose remake titled Demon of Paradise. And no, I will not be reviewing that aforementioned picture. I think I need a break from ocean-dwelling creatures, thank you very much.



Though I have absolutely no desire to ever revisit this turd again in the foreseeable future, it did get me thinking about something else that came up from the depths. In fact, for tomorrow's entry, the star of said film is thirty stories high, breathing fire, and has its head in the sky......

Unseen Terror 2014: Day 17

Struggling and often-frustrated artist Reno Miller feels his sanity slowly slipping away. He can't pay his bills on time and he can't finish his works before they are due. Even worse is the fact that he is constantly given the cold shoulder by his two female roommates, one of whom is his girlfriend, and another whom his partner is having an affair with. When an up-and-coming band moves into the apartment next door, Reno complains to his landlord, but the man ignores his requests for getting the band to turn down the volume. Feeling fed up, Reno decides to take out his frustration during the evenings, and grabs a power drill and portable battery pack.


Forgive me for not realizing beforehand that The Driller Killer, a fairly infamous proto-slasher picture released in a time where the "video nasty" term was becoming far too frequently heard (just like on here), was directed by Mr. Abel Ferrera, an early purveyor of all things sleazy in cinema. Before he went on to direct pictures such as King of New York and Bad Lieutenant (which is arguably one of the more notorious pictures starring a mainstream actor to come out in the early 90s), he supervised and, using the alias of Jimmy Laine, also starred in this low budget schlockfest. But hey, everybody has to start somewhere, and in the case of his debut, I suppose that there was nowhere to go but up after it wrapped and premiered.


As to why the head of the flick chose to act under a pseudonym for his directorial debut, I am not quite sure, though I'm certain that I could research this and come back later with a definitive answer in less than two minutes. Though I'm well aware that technology back in 1979 was nowhere near as sophisticated as it is now, I can't help but wonder if one certain motion picture was still fresh in the mind of Ferrera and writer Nicholas St. John. Let me think here for just a moment, and see if the clues I've written down in my notes remind me of anything. Outside of our unstable protagonist, and perhaps one other individual, there isn't a single soul to root for. A lot of the scenery and commentary could be seen as too topical, often drawing the ire of our main character, though that is not necessarily problematic. The woman in his apartment who isn't his companion looks frighteningly similar to Mel Smith's albino torturer in The Princess Bride. Okay, that last one withstanding, a lot of The Driller Killer makes the picture out to be a more sadistic, and almost "early punk" version of Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver. There's nothing wrong with this, seeing as how the latter is cited as one of the most influential movies of the 1970s, but what blows my mind is the people who attempt to say that there's something deeper to be found in Ferrera's work. Well, you have the right to call me ignorant and just plain uneducated, because I saw nothing of the sort. Just a sleazy, slightly bloody, and occasionally boring look into the mind of a man sliding down a slippery slope.


I'm aware that this has a nice, devoted following in the horror community, and I agree that having to wait twenty three years for a proper uncut version of the film to come in the U.K. is just absurd, but I'm honestly not feeling too strong about this one folks. Most of the performances, be they in the acting category or even from that really aggravating band that serves as one of the many reasons that Reno has a nervous breakdown (if they wanted you to feel just as insane as he was, mission accomplished), are on the levels of professionals in the pornography industry. From what I have heard, there were plans to remake this back in 2007 with British filmmaker Andrew Jones attached to direct and Ferrera presumably sitting at his home eating a hoagie. Alas, it never materialized beyond the initial planning stages and finished script, so it's sitting somewhere collecting dust. As much as I didn't really care for the original The Driller Killer, I think it's a crying shame that such a project never came to be, as this is just begging to be remade, though I have to admit that going overboard on the budget might remove a lot of what makes it so beloved by its fans.



But they just need to sit down and watch Taxi Driver again anyway. Seriously.

Ten year old Timmy is caught by his mother assembling a jigsaw puzzle of a bare naked woman. Outraged, she slaps the young man and demands that he burn all of his offensive material, but instead, he returns with an axe, using it along with a hacksaw to murder and dismember his parent. When the police arrive, a blood-soaked Timmy hides in the closet, convincing them that he is an innocent, and ensuring that he gets off the hook. Forty years later, female co-eds have begun turning up on school grounds horribly disfigured and missing particular limbs. Local authorities begin to research the possibility of a serial killer being on the loose, and the connection to this past atrocity is stronger than it seems.


You have to admire any horror movie whose tagline reads "It's Exactly What You Think It Is!" and  opens up with the Grindhouse Releasing logo. There is no disguising the fact that Spanish-American slasher Pieces is, well, a slasher picture. It's also unabashedly telling you that it isn't original in the slightest, but it at least knows that you've paid good money to see attractive, occasionally barely-clothed college students die in horrible, bloody, and often trashy ways.


Make no mistake about it, Pieces is forthrightly tawdry, but unlike The Driller Killer, there isn't any sort of fake message that one can attempt to conjure up from beneath the surface. It is about watching dumb caucasian people get slaughtered by a mysterious killer who may or may not be a member of the faculty. This "whodunnit" storyline is nothing new, and if you can figure out the culprit before too long, don't be surprised. Maybe you could explain to me why director Juan Piquer Simon, whose only other work that I recognize is 1988's Slugs (almost made the cut this year!), decided to dub over the entire cast when they are all clearly and proficiently speaking English. The overacting from these voiceovers is so ripe with hilarity that it makes Chris Klein's role in Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun Li look subtle and nuanced in comparison. Still, it helps make the experience that much more enjoyable, especially when Paul L. Smith (Bluto from Popeye) shows up as the bearded and suspicious-looking Redd Herrington.


Despite its simplicity and familiarity in the plot and character department, there are some parts to Pieces (ugh, bad pun) that give it a unique feel, though it may be giving away spoilers if I discussed them in detail. It's easy to see the influence that this had on more modern-day pictures such as Lucky McGee's underrated psychological horror project May and another entry from last year's marathon that also had to do with female-centric mutilation. Outside of motion pictures, it also wouldn't surprise me if comic book author Garth Ennis had been able to catch a glimpse of this during his childhood and written some of the villain's motivation into Odin Quincannon, one of Preacher's several antagonists. And there's a good chance that he would have seen it too, considering that Pieces was one of the few films to escape the BBFC's wrath back in the day, saving it from that ugly label that I've already grown sick of talking about. This shocks me quite a bit considering how much more gratuitous and flat-out gruesome the violence is, especially when you consider that this released a little over thirty years ago. Labeling the picture misogynistic isn't something that I could argue for or against, since save for the final ten minutes, EVERY single human being who is grossly butchered is an attractive, young female. Whatever conclusion that you come to, or end up like me wherein you understand both sides of the spectrum, remember that it's just a movie, and you shouldn't let it bother you a great deal considering that there are at least a good several dozen other pictures out there that will do that trick just fine.


I get the feeling that Pieces is one of those little flicks that you could put on at a Halloween party, playing it on repeat in the background for likeminded people who show up and crave something nasty or gory to keep them occupied when they aren't mingling with others and giving compliments to guests who bought their costumes pre-packaged. Okay, that sounded pretentious and I almost went off on a tangent. How about this? It's a fun little hack and slash movie for those who are avid about the genre and are constantly craving more titles to add to their collection. Speaking of that, I was terribly sad to find out that most of the cast and crew involved with Pieces, which includes director Juan Piquer Simon, have passed away over the last two or three decades. Keeping my fingers crossed for a future release from the likes of Shout! Factory seems like a waste of time now.



Thanks for the memories though folks. You leave behind great sequences involving a waterbed stabbing and strangulation by fishing net. And the best chainsaw kills that I've seen in ages.



Tomorrow, it's back to modern times with Only Lovers Left Alive and *deep breath* Vampire Academy.



Yeah, the latter is going to be rough. I can feel it...