La belle captive (1983)

As one of the innovators and leaders (if not THE leader) of the “new novel” or nouveau roman movement, Alain Robbe-Grillet along with a handful of other radical literary thinkers completely changed the perception of the novel and what could be accomplished within the medium in terms of style, narrative (or lack thereof as it perhaps appeared to many) and characterization. Its no surprise then that when Robbe-Grillet began to work in film his attitude towards screenwriting and directing was essentially the same as his approach to literature which resulted in his Oscar nominated script for Alain Resnais’ Last Year at Marienbad (1961), a work which still manages to perplexe to this day. Just like his novels Robbe-Grillet’s films defy any sort of genre categorization. His films are often labeled “erotic”, certainly not inaccurate as his films do feature plentiful amounts of eroticism, more often than not sadomasochistic in nature, however its impossible to classify his films as straightforward “erotica”. The same goes for the “fantasy” label, or “horror” tag when films such as Eden and After (1970) or Successive Slidings of Pleasure (1974) are in question, or “thriller” when speaking of a film like witty self aware Trans-Europ-Express (1967), a “film within a film” unlike any other of the sort. Then there’s 1983’s La belle captive, a bewildering blend of surrealist mystery, fantasy and horror that’s as masterful as it is mystifying.  

Walter Raim, an agent working for a secret police origination of sorts encounters a mysterious, nameless blonde woman in a nightclub and is soon dancing with the beautiful stranger before being called away by his boss, the enigmatic Sara Zeitgeist. After receiving his job instructions from Sara, Walter discovers the prone body of the woman he was dancing with earlier bound in the road and drives to the nearest house to look for help, only to encounter a group of ominous men. One claims to be a doctor and escorts the two to a room which they soon find themselves locked in. The next morning, Walter wakes up to find the house empty and in ruins and the blonde woman missing. Utterly confounded, Walter sets out on the odd and potentially dangerous task of uncovering the identity of the blonde woman and figuring out just what happened on that night.

Almost impossible to mistake for the work of any other filmmaker, La belle captive (The Beautiful Prisoner) is a quintessential Robbe-Grillet dreamscape inspired in part by the works of Belgian surrealist painter René Magritte. Immediately after the opening credits Robbe-Grillet establishes a mood that gives off the sense that what is happening is happening outside of time in another dimension and the further Walter gets in his investigation of the mystery woman the more pronounced that mood becomes. Robbe-Grillet’s languid pacing and Walter’s noirish voice-overs heard throughout the film also add to the films already ethereal abstractions as well and give parts of the film a kind of 1940’s detective story feel. As bizarre as the film is, its must be emphasized that the film is far from being weird for weirdness sake, the central mystery is legitimately intriguing and the stranger it gets it only becomes more so with all the left curves Robbe-Grillet throws in from the added subplot of a murder investigation, the detective always on Walter’s trail, the idea that the blonde woman may or may not be the dead daughter of a man who see’s spirits and the suggestion that she may be a vampire. Of course Walter’s occupation and boss Sara Zeitgeist also come into play which give way to one of the films reoccurring visual motifs, postcards featuring a seaside landscape, just one of many Magritte inspired pieces Robbe-Grillet features prominently throughout the film which in turn also lead to several archetypal Robbe-Grillet beach set pieces.

Robbe-Grillet's novel

Despite the title, La belle captive the film is not an adaptation of Robbe-Grillet’s 1975 novel of the same name. Adding to this confusion is the Magritte influence as the book is illustrated by Magritte’s paintings strategically placed thorough the book. Of course exactly how they relate to the story Robbe-Grillet leaves open to interpretation. As for the film, it was hardly the first time nor would it be the last Robbe-Grillet turned to painting as in influence. Perhaps the most famous example of this is the iconic moment in Successive Slidings of Pleasure where Anicée Alvina channels Yves Klein by recreating one of Klein’s  Anthropométries on the walls of her convent prison cell, albeit in red naturally which was appropriate considering the film whereas Klein preferred blue. There are several references to painting in Eden and After as well with Robbe-Grillet even staging a real life recreation of Duchamp’s “Nude Descending a Staircase, No 2” and Robbe-Grillet found a muse in Eugene Delacroix for his final film Gradiva (2006). Robbe-Grillet also found an interesting inspiration for the character of Sara Zeitgeist’s name which was taken from the titular character Phoebe Zeit-Geist from the comic book The Adventures of Phoebe Zeit-Geist. Certainly an interesting combination of influences, Magritte and comic books yet its perfect for a visionary film like La belle captive, a film that like Robbe-Grillet himself, belongs to its own genre.

Gradiva (2006)

It was a long time coming, but as of June 2014 the majority of the films of Alain Robbe-Grillet, the brilliant novelist turned filmmaker are finally available on DVD in English friendly restored versions the exceptions being Playing With Fire (1975) and 1995’s The Blue Villa (Un bruit qui rend fou). As is all to often the frustrating case when it comes to many of the films by the masters of European cult cinema, for the longest time fans had make due with bootleg copies of Robbe-Grillet’s films until Kino/Redemption and BFI (in the form of a box set) released L'Immortelle (1963), Trans-Europ-Express (1967), The Man Who Lies (1968), Eden and After (1970), Successive Slidings of Pleasure (1974) and N. Takes the Dice, an alternate cut of Eden and After. Originally it was announced that Mondo Macabro was going to be the company to release those six films until the films eventually went to Redemption. Mondo Macabro however were one of the first in line when in 2009, one year after Robbe-Grillet’s passing they released his final film Gradiva making them the second company to release a Robbe-Grillet film on DVD, the first being Koch Lorber with La belle captive (1983). Robbe-Grillet may have only directed nine films, but those nine films are some of the most unique and thought provoking works in all of cult cinema and Gradiva is certainly no exception.

While studying the works of Eugène Delacroix in Morocco, art historian John Locke receives a package of slides featuring never before seen sketches done by Delacroix all featuring the same woman. Locke is determined to uncover the history behind the sketches and who the woman is and not long after he beings to have visions of the woman in the sketches wandering about the medina. Locke soon becomes obsessed with discovering the identity of the woman and her connection to Delacroix, and despite the constant warnings of his servant Belkis, Locke keeps searching which leads him into a mysterious and dangerous fantasy world of sadomasochism, doppelgangers and murder.

Whether or not Robbe-Grillet intended Gradiva (C'est Gradiva qui vous appelle, “It's Gradiva That is Calling You") to be his cinematic swan song it nonetheless made for a very fitting farewell featuring all the trademarks that his previous films employed as well as references to his past films even featuring some spliced in footage from Eden and After and Successive Slidings of Pleasure. Comparisons have been made to Hitchcock’s Vertigo (1958) which are fitting considering the films obsessive theme, although at the same time Gradiva takes places in a singular universe that is quintessentially Robbe-Grillet and if there were any other films to compare it too, the two most apt would be Robbe-Grillet’s own L’Immortelle and La belle captive. To those uninitiated with Robbe-Grillet’s style or those who have a low tolerance for fragmented “narratives” the film has the potential to frustrate in that in pure Robbe-Grillet fashion time and space seem to be alien concepts in this dream world. Fantasy sequences bleed into reality and back again so much so that the two become one and the same featuring characters, oftentimes portrayed by the same actor, with multiple identities. Its a truly bewildering and intoxicating experience, one that becomes even more so when considering the delirious bursts of S&M, exotic Moroccan locations (much like he did with Istanbul in L’Immortelle, Robbe-Grillet essentially makes the medina its own character) and fantastic interior sets, including some extravagantly decorated hotel rooms which serve as the perfect backdrop for some of the films more hallucinatory moments.

Again, Mondo Macabro essentially beat everyone to the punch when it came to Robbe-Grillet with their release of Gradvia. Aside from looking amazing the DVD contained a great interview with Robbe-Grillet who discussed a variety of topics including his cinematic influences, the Marquis de Sade, the different ways he approached literature and film, his distaste for realism in film and perhaps most intriguing, his thoughts on eroticism. This leads to some particularly interesting anecdotes where Robbe-Grillet recounts his observations on how certain members of the audiences in French cinemas reacted to the erotic content of Trans-Europ-Express which also segues  into a hilarious story of how Successive Slidings of Pleasure sold more tickets in one Paris theatre than the theatre had seats. When one person would walk out of the film whoever was manning the box office would sell a ticket for recently vacated seat until eventually there would be two lines of people, one going out the exit and the other going in. Aside from Robbe-Grillet’s entertaining banter, the interview is an invaluable insight into one of the most brilliant minds in both literature and film. It can be somewhat difficult to suggest just where to begin with Robbe-Grillet due to the potentially alienating nature of his films, but for those interested or for fans who’ve yet to get to it, Gradiva is unquestionably essential. One final fever dream from a master transgressor.

Frustration (1971)

AKA The Chambermaids Dream

The term “rebel” tends to get thrown around rather liberally and in the case of cinema its often a bit questionable whether or not some of the people who are labeled as such are truly deserving of the tag. When the major figures of European cult cinema are discussed however, the term is more than accurate with filmmakers such as Jess Franco and Walerian Borowczyk amongst several others that made films (for the most part) on their own terms with no attempt to pander to the critical establishment. If there’s one Eurocult auteur who defines words like “rebel” or “maverick”, its José Bénazéraf. By his own admission Bénazéraf was the type of person who, if told not to do something would react by doing that thing in question ten times as worse, something which landed him in hot water with the French censors which eventually led to the banning of his 1966 film Joë Caligula the night before its intended premier. Aside from royally pissing Bénazéraf off that stunt by the censorship board cost him some serious coin and would play a major role in Bénazéraf eventually getting fed up with making “normal” films and eventually crossing over into full on hardcore territory. Prior to taking the hardcore route Bénazéraf helmed some truly unique films all of which bare the trademarks of a defiant artist with 1971’s Frustration easily being Bénazéraf’s undisputed masterpiece.

Adelaide (Janine Reynaud) is a single woman living with her sister Agnes (Elizabeth Teissier) and Agnes doctor husband Michel (Michel Lemoine) in their secluded countryside home. Along with being a bit socially awkward, Adelaide is sexually repressed and frustrated and constantly witnessing the affection between Agnes and Michel isn’t helping. Its apparent that Adelaide is attracted to not only Michel but her sister as well and soon her sexual frustration begins to manifest itself in the form of bizarre hallucinations which become increasingly more violent and sadomasochistic as Adelaide slips further and further into sexual psychosis.

What on paper might sound like a so called “Euro trash” riff on Polanski’s Repulsion (1965) quickly reveals itself to be something much more. Frustration is one of the best examples of Bénazéraf’s mastery of mood resulting in a film that implants itself not just in the psyche but under the skin as well which might not have been the case had it not been for the brilliant performance of Janine Reynaud. The film is light on dialogue so Reynaud’s performance is all about body language and facial expressions. Her strong presence coupled with the films lack of dialogue along with the sense of isolation from the films setting make for a fairly original type of unease. Its as if Bénazéraf’s intention is for the discomfort to be felt while watching the film is not simply psychological but physical as well. To literally “feel” Adelaide’s repression. Frustration is also one of the most imaginative films to come out of the golden era of Euro sex and horror films with Adelaide’s fantasy’s ranging from a sequence of a series of seemingly endless doors being opened revealing Agnes and Michel in variety of sexual positions to a scenario being played out in a medieval dungeon. Bénazéraf's presentation of Adelaide’s hallucinations, often loud and energetic, provide a nice jolt due to their abrupt change in tone from the majority of the films unsettling quietness. Amazingly Bénazéraf even found a way to sneak in a brief political discussion. It just wouldn’t be a Bénazéraf film without one.

One of the most frustrating aspects regarding Frustration, and for that matter the majority of Bénazéraf’s films is its current English friendly home video status. Several of Bénazéraf’s films have official DVD releases in France, Frustration included but in America currently the only film of Bénazéraf’s to have an uncut release is Sexus (1965). His debut film L'éternité pour nous (Eternity For Us, 1963) is available on DVD-R from Something Weird in its English version known as Sin on the Beach, the only issue being that its around 20 minutes shorter than its original French version. His follow up film Le concerto de la peur (The Concert of Fear, 1963) also received a release in its English version entitled Night of Lust which is an edited 58 minute cut. Irritating to say the least. Frustration did get an uncut VHS release back in the day on the Private Screenings label under its absurd alternate title The Chambermaids Dream (surly one of the most ridiculous re-titles a Euro film has ever gotten) and thankfully DVD-R’s are easy to track down and most seem to be sourced from that tape so until Frustration finally gets the proper North American release it deserves those curious about the film would be wise to seek out the DVD-R, as Frustration is easily Bénazéraf’s best film. As far as this type of cinema is concerned, Frustration is required viewing.

La muerte incierta (1977)

One of the things that the majority of the most well known films from José Ramón Larraz are known for is their high level of sex and violence, particularly Vampyres (1974) but what’s interesting about that is Larraz went on record several times (including during his often hilarious commentary track on the DVD for Vampyres which also featured producer Brian Smedley-Aston) claiming to not be a fan of having a lot of blood in his films. Larraz was also quoted in Pete Tombs and Cathal Tohill’s 1995 book Immoral Tales: European Sex & Horror Movies, 1956-1984 that his debut film Whirlpool (1970) perhaps wasn’t the best choice for a debut feature as it pigeonholed him in the eyes of many as strictly a sex film director. While its true that Larraz’s films had a tendency to be quite visceral at times, anyone who’s seen a handful of his films will attest that Larraz was much more interested in the psychological as the sex and violence in his films was balanced out nicely by the unique psychology Larraz brought to his films. This is especially evident in his early British thrillers like Whirlpool, Deviation (1971), Scream and Die (1973) and Symptoms (1974), although there is considerably less violence and overt sexuality present in that film. La muerte incierta, one of Larraz’s Spanish films, is a perfect example of Larraz’s creative psychological approach to horror.

Clive Dawson, a wealthy English plantation owner returns to his estate in India with his new bride Brenda (Mary Maude). Prior to leaving India and getting married Clive had ended his relationship with Shaheen (Rosalba Neri), a native girl who felt used and thrown away by Clive’s ending of the relationship, promising to place a curse on Clive and all who lived on his plantation. Shortly after arriving Clive is informed by his son Rupert that while he was away Shaheen commited suicide and most of the superstitious servants have left in fear of Shaheen’s curse. Clive remembers Shaheen’s curse threat very well and not long after settling in his own superstitions take hold as Shaheen’s presence begins to be felt all over the plantation.

In the hands of a lesser director a film like La muerte incierta (The Uncertain Death) could have easily been turned into a lazy and pedestrian ghost story but in the hands of a master like Larraz it becomes a brilliant supernatural psychological thriller. While the film does make use of certain ghost story tropes it really isn’t fair to label the film simply a “ghost story” as the places Larraz takes the film travel far outside that one subgenre. Larraz makes things ambiguous early on and the film becomes even more so as Larraz delves deeper into the Dawson family history which raises the question of whether or not the plantation is really haunted or what Clive is experiencing is the result of paranoia. This exploration of Clive’s past also gives Larraz license to create a fascinating mystery involving superstition, mental illness and murder all of which make the curse angle all the more intriguing not to mention create some incredibly tense moments. The subplot involving Clive’s past also serve some of the films more supernatural elements which are in turn aided immensely by the films Indian settings with the surrounding jungle becoming a character in itself, which Larraz puts to use masterfully during one of the films most memorable moments involving a tiger hunt which ends with a truly innovative visual metaphor. On top of all that Larraz even throws in a seriously uncomfortable semi-incestuous side plot involving Brenda and Rupert, a quintessential Larraz character, as most in the film are.

There seems to be a bit of confusion as to when the film was actually made. IMDb lists the film as having a 1973 release while the Immoral Tales book claims it was 1977. Considering the amount of research that went into that book plus the actual time the authors spent interviewing Larraz 1977 would seem like the more likely release year. That would also place it alongside The Coming of Sin (1978), another film dealing with familial curses and superstitions so it makes sense if the film was made around then. For the longest time La muerte incierta was a pretty hoarded film until it became more widely circulated among collectors. When the film was first unearthed the print had turned completely red until a fan color corrected it and English subtitles were added. Most of the DVD-R’s seem to be sourced from the color corrected print although some of the red does make an appearance on occasion. Watching it is another one of those cases of just knowing how amazing the film would look if given a proper restoration. Still though the film is available which has to count for something, and although Rosalba Neri technically isn’t in the film for long the fact that a film exists that was directed by Larraz and features Neri, two giants of European cult cinema, that alone should make La muerte incierta required viewing.

Rest in Pieces (1987)

When talking about the films from the major figures in European cult cinema, more often than not the majority of the discussion is rooted in the films from the 70’s. Not surprising in the slightest seeing as said decade was easily the golden age for the style of filmmaking perfected by directors like Jess Franco, Walerian Borowczyk, Jean Rollin and José Ramón Larraz amongst several others. While the films to come from the 70’s were unquestionably important, some of the later output to come from these transgressive auteurs is equally worthy of the same attention and unfortunately has a tendency to get dismissed. The most obvious example would be the later digital films from Jess Franco with only the most devoted Francophiles coming to their defense. José Ramón Larraz is an interesting case. Larraz basically retired from feature filmmaking in 1992 so the late period films from him to get somewhat swept aside would be his last three horror films, 1987’s Rest in Pieces, Edge of the Axe (1988) and Deadly Manor (1990). The main criticism of these films seems to be that Larraz was trying to cater to the American rental market. Really a perplexing critique especially when the film in question is Rest in Pieces, one of Larraz’s most unusual and wacky horror films and a film that is certainly unlike any American horror film to come from the late 80’s.

Following the death of her Aunt Catherine, Helen and her boyfriend Bob move into the estate of the recently deceased Catherine which Helen has inherited along with Catherine’s remaining fortune. Almost immediately after arriving however strange occurrences around the house begin to plague Helen including seeing visions of her aunt. The odd behavior of their new neighbors, all of whom were very close with Catherine don’t make things any easier for Helen either. Bob however isn’t content with giving up his new life of luxury and talks Helen out of leaving, although he too becomes suspicious of the neighbors when questions are raised regarding Catherine’s money and their behavior becomes increasingly more antagonistic making it clear that there something the neighbors aren’t telling them, and Aunt Catherine has plans for Helen from beyond the grave.  

Aside from sharing a few very faint thematic similarities with films like Carnival of Souls (1962) and Jess Franco’s A Virgin Among the Living Dead (1971), Rest in Pieces is really incomparable to anything else. A strange meeting of supernatural and slasher components rounded out with instances of oddball humor, Rest in Pieces represents Larraz as his most offbeat while working in a genre. Obviously the film doesn’t take itself 100% seriously but it wouldn’t be fair to label the film as a true “horror comedy” as the horror elements far outweigh the comedic but when the film does go for laughs it works, particularly because most of the films humor is rather absurd and fits right in with the horror story. Even one of the films most memorable violent moments has somewhat of a comical tone to it due to the utter randomness of it. The story itself is quite original and becomes quite ambitious with Larraz throwing in all sorts of bits about suicide, cannibalism, and even a side plot involving a slight mystery dealing with the mental health history of Helen’s family similar to what he had done previously in La muerte incierta (1977).  At times it might seem a bit convoluted especially later on in the film but it takes some creative twists and the way Larraz eventually brings it full circle in the end is pretty unique and despite the films very slim budget Larraz was also able to conjure up his typical atmospheric artistry in select scenes.

It has to be mentioned that two of the neighbors in the film are played by (American born) Eurocult legends Jack Taylor who portrays a blind man with a retractable blade at the end of his walking stick and the late Patty Shepard. Unsurprisingly, whenever Shepard is involved in a scene she’s the most magnetic presence on screen. Shepard’s last role was in Larraz’s Edge of the Axe which also features Taylor although both are in considerably smaller roles. Edge of the Axe is also the one film Larraz’s last run in the horror genre to have been rediscovered as of late and has gained a decent fan base. What’s also interesting about Rest in Pieces is that it was the first time Larraz worked with Brian Smedley-Aston since Vampyres (1974) who edited the film. Aston of course was the editor on Symptoms (1974) and the producer on Vampyres and would go on to produce Larraz’s last horror film Deadly Manor three years after Rest in Pieces. With Rest in Pieces being a Larraz film obviously it doesn’t have a DVD release but it did get a VHS release and low priced used copies are fairly easy to find as are DVD-R’s. Its not Larraz’s best film to be sure, but it’s a fun and fairly creative horror film that not just Larraz fans but horror fans in general should give a chance.    

Stigma (1980)

Earlier this year, January 12th to be exact, cancer sadly took the life of actress Alexandra Bastedo who was 67. A classic beauty if there ever was one, Bastedo is perhaps best remembered by mainstream audiences for her role as Sharron Macready in the British sci-fi spy series The Champions which ran from 1968 to 1968. To fans of European horror however, Bastedo is legendary for her role in Vicente Aranda’ brilliant Le Fanu inspired The Blood Spattered Bride (1972). She also had a role in the 1975 Peter Cushing vehicle The Ghoul. On two occasions Bastedo served as the muse for the late, very great José Ramón Larraz, first in Larraz’s 1977 marital drama El mirón (The Voyeur) and again in 1980 for Stigma. Along with Bastedo, Stigma is also notable for being the first Larraz film to feature Eurocult goddess Helga Liné whom Larraz would cast again as the titular Madame Olga in Madame Olga's Pupils (1981) and more infamously in Black Candles (1982). When compared to some of the more well known titles from this mid-point in Larraz’s directorial career, namely The Coming of Sin (1978) and Black Candles, Stigma seems to have gotten lost in the shuffle a bit. Like the majority of Larraz’s films, Stigma is yet another deserving of more recognition, a fascinating little film and one of the most original horror films to come from Larraz.

Following the accidental death of his father, José, the older brother of Sebastian (Christian Borromeo) expresses concern to their mother (Liné) over Sebastian’s lack of empathy for their fathers death and Sebastian’s odd behavior in general. Sebastian is indeed not like other teens as he has the ability to cause death with his mind. All he has to do is wish it and the target of his thoughts perishes, an affliction which causes him to bleed from the lower lip once the death has occurred, as well as hallucinations, a stigma  Sebastian claims to neither understand or accept, although it doesn’t stop him from using it whenever he feels wronged. After being introduced to José’s girlfriend Angie (Bastedo), Sebastian is immediately taken by her and the two immediately hit it off, so much so that Sebastian confides in Angie about his condition who agrees to try and help Sebastian discover the origin of his curse.

Far from the derivative Carrie (1976) riff that most would assume due to the troubled teen with supernatural mental abilities angle, Stigma (Estigma) is a rather ambitious film in the way it presents itself. There are essentially three stories going on at once in Stigma. The first obviously being Sebastian’s ability to murder with his mind. The second being Sebastian’s relationships with his mother, José and Angie and the third being the actual cause of Sebastian’s titular stigma which Larraz uses to craft a mystery that becomes more and more bizarre with the inclusion of psychics and hypnosis until Larraz really turns the tables and eventually has the film switch time periods! Par for the course with Larraz, Stigma is as moody as they come, especially when dealing with Sebastian’s contentious family life with Larraz throwing in some seriously uncomfortable incestuous overtones which also play a major hand in the films central mystery, and Larraz’s trademark atmospherics coming into play during the hallucination sequences. The films third act also sees Larraz channeling the threatening countryside aura found in previous films such as Scream and Die (1973), Emma, puertas oscuras (1973) and Symptoms (1974). Of course also at the heart of the film is the believable friendship between Sebastian and Angie and the film wouldn’t have worked nearly as well as it does without the casting of Borromeo and Bastedo. Dubbing aside, Borromeo is fantastic making Sebastian much more than just a one note teen with issues and he and Bastedo were perfectly matched.

Astonishingly Stigma did have a DVD release at one point in time as part of a 3 disc, 5 film set released as “Crypt of Terror: A Collection of Nightmares” along with Black Candles, the Tiny Tim (who happens to grace the sets box art) film Blood Harvest (1987), Evil Eye (1975), which was also released as a double feature with Black Candles, and interestingly Naked Dreams which is an alternate version of Black Candles. This set seems to have gone out of print almost as fast as it was released and is now damn near impossible to find for a decent price. For a while Stigma was also made available on DVD-R from Amazon made on demand via Mr. Fat-W Video, the same as Black Candles and Larraz’s final horror film Deadly Manor (1990) although Amazon no longer seems to be selling it, and the instant video streaming option is no longer available for the film either which is a shame seeing as those were the easiest ways to get a hold of the film. Surely there must be some other way of tracking this film down. Euro horror fans, and Larraz fans especially are a persistent bunch so if there’s another way of discovering the film they’ll be the ones to do it, and it’s a film that’s well worth discovering, one that showcases just how versatile a director Larraz was.

Serial Mom (1994)

John Waters has certainly made his fascination with true crime no secret. In addition to having a massive collection of true crime books and various items of memorabilia which includes a jar of dirt that allegedly came from John Wayne Gacy’s crawlspace (which he proudly displayed during for the camera during the episode of The Incredibly Strange Film Show UK documentary series dedicated to him), Waters has also shown his films in several Baltimore, MD jails and has admitted to being an audience member at many a trial, although he admits that came to an end once he started becoming more recognizable. In addition Waters has also been a vocal advocate over the years for the release of former Manson family member Leslie Van Houten. While the concept of criminal as celebrity was nothing new to Waters, having brilliantly utilized the idea in Female Trouble (1974), the concept for a film like Serial Mom couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. 1991 saw the debut of Court TV which meant constant trial coverage in real time and the more sensational the trial the better and sure enough thanks to the trial of the Menendez brothers ratings were through the roof and America couldn’t get enough, naturally making it the perfect fodder for Waters to lampoon. The result was 1994’s Serial Mom, one of the funniest and most spot-on parodies to come from Waters.

On the surface, Beverly Sutphin (Kathleen Tuner) appears to be the archetypal suburban housewife. Loving mother to her son Chip (Matthew Lillard) and daughter Misty (Ricki Lake) and devoted wife to her dentist husband Eugene (Sam Waterston), Beverly is small town USA personified. There is however, a hidden side to Beverly, and for those who slight her family in any way or offend her high standards of decency the consequence is death and when more people turning up murdered in the Sutphin’s Baltimore suburb, Beverly becomes the main suspect, is eventually arrested and her subsequent trail becomes a media sensation drawing attention from across the nation as the public just cant get enough of “serial mom”.    

Along with sharing a kinship with the previously mentioned Female Trouble due to the celebrity criminal angle, Serial Mom could in some ways be considered Waters’ over the top riff on ideas found in films such as Hitchcock’s Shadow of a Doubt (1943) and Lynch’s Blue Velvet (1986). To go along with poking fun at America’s obsession with high profile trials Waters also satirizes so called boring suburban “normalcy” and the hypocrisy that is normally associated with such, all done with a sarcastic wink of the eye naturally. Of course this being Waters behind the camera the film as a whole is absolutely hysterical for those who share Waters deranged sense of humor and even those who haven’t seen the film should by now be well aware of the driving force behind the film, that being the performance of Kathleen Turner. Without Turner, who for lack of a better term “kills” every aspect of Beverly Sutphin, from enthusiastically singing along to Barry Manilow or bludgeoning someone to death with a leg of lamb, there would be no Serial Mom. Alongside Turner is one of the most impressive casts Waters ever assembled including the rest of the Sutphin clan, that being Sam Waterston who nails the “proper” suburban dad role, Ricki Lake and Matthew Lillard. Also making appearances are Waters regulars Traci Lords and Patty Hearst and the amazing Mink Stole who’s character of Dotty Hinkle lends herself to one of the most hilarious and quotable scenes of crank calling in all of cinema.

As if all that weren’t enough to make Serial Mom a perfect film, the great L7 even make a memorable appearance as “Camel Lips” performing “Gas Chamber”, a song the band wrote with Waters. Waters also pays tribute to H.G. Lewis by making Chip a fan of gore films and clips of Lewis’ Blood Feast (1963) are seen in the film which gives Waters an opportunity to take a jab at hyper moralists who feel horror films are a bad influence on kids. There is also an entire special feature on Universal’s fantastic DVD release of Serial Mom dedicated to Lewis and producer Dave Friedman with both men discussing their history and legacies with Waters chiming in on their influence. One of the most interesting things regarding Serial Mom mentioned by Waters on one of the features on the DVD is again, how perfect the timing was for a film like this to be made as it almost seemed to predict the fiasco that was the OJ Simpson murder trial, and there’s one particular scene in the film where which would come to resemble Simpson’s infamous Bronco chase witnessed on live TV, the irony of which was not lost on Waters. Any fan of the film should have the disc in their collection as its a more than commendable release for one of Waters’ best films. Absolutely brilliant satire from an undisputed master.