Death Warmed Up (1984)

AKA Death Warmed Over

New Zealand has a pretty interesting pedigree when it comes to horror films. In recent years the island nation has become a hotbed of horror/comedy hybrids with the success of films like What We Do in the Shadows (2014), Housebound (2014) and Deathgasm (2015), all gaining major worldwide film festival accolades. Of course there are other types of Kiwi horror to win international praise such as the serial killer themed The Ugly (1997), which won several awards abroad. Naturally the early films of Peter Jackson immediately spring to mind as films like Bad Taste (1987) and Dead Alive/Braindead (1992) are often the very first titles many think of whenever New Zealand is mentioned within the context of horror films, but just as he was the first in line to put New Zealand on the map as it relates to cult films in general, it was David Blyth who beat everyone to the punch in delivering New Zealand's first homegrown horror film and over the years has proven himself to be the king of transgressive Kiwi horror with more recent films like Wound (2010) and Ghost Bride (2013) being worlds removed from the lighter, more comedic films that the countries horror films have become synonymous with. It all began however in 1984 with Death Warmed Up, a landmark film that served as an unforgettable introduction for Blyth and New Zealand to the horror world.

Michael Tucker, the teenage son of scientist is injected with a serum by Dr. Archer Howell, effectively brainwashing him after Michael's father, a college of Howell's, confronted Howell about his radical brain experiments, Howell's end goal being immortality. Under Howell's control, Michael is ordered to murder both his parents and is sentenced to an asylum. Seven years later, Michael is released and sets out for revenge, taking along a group of friends to a remote island where Howell has been continuing his experiments. An unfortunate encounter with Spider, a henchman of Howell's sets off a chain of events with Spider pursuing Michael and his friends across the island, unleashing a group of Howell's zombied test subjects who wreak havoc on the island and ultimately Howell's clinic.

One of the most inventive and stylish horror films of the 80's, in a lot of ways Death Warmed Up could be seen as a deranged concoction of various horror subgenres all rolled up into one, the end result being something wholly original and Blythian. It's a film that works on a multitude of levels. The first and perhaps most obvious way to read the film would be as a revenge film and on that front it works for the obvious reasons, Michael's quest for revenge against Dr. Howell being engaging enough. The character of Dr. Howell gives the film a science fiction bend and also puts the film into the classic mad scientist subgenre but Blyth takes that a step further with the end results of Howell's experiments. While not “zombies” in the classic sense, the horde of test subjects unleashed later in the the film exhibit enough zombie-like symptoms to place the film into its own unique corner of the zombie subgenre. Howell's clinic and a good portion of the island give the film a very Cronenbergian feel in the vein of Shivers (1975) and Blyth's penchant for kink makes an appearance with Howell's nurses sporting very fetishistic mesh surgical masks. The film also exhibits certain aspects of the teen slasher craze that was hot at the time and Blyth doesn't hold back on the gore either with the films final third containing several displays of blood splatter and a few gruesome brain surgeries are seen up close throughout the film.

The film won the grand prize at the 1984 Paris International Festival of Fantasy and Science Fiction Film where it made a fan out of jury president Alejandro Jodorowsky who gleefully said of the film “It would not be an exaggeration to say that Death Warmed Up has been the shock event of this Festival. It is an apocalypse of slaughter!” The films history on home video is a pretty interesting one. As the story goes, due to a mishap from an intern at the New Zealand Film Commission, the can containing the original film elements ended up being burned and rumors of a print stashed away somewhere in a vault in Los Angeles led to dead ends. The film did become a VHS favorite, however due to censorship several releases were cut and Blyth himself has admitted to spending years haunting video stores and second hand shops snatching up used VHS copies, looking for the best looking tapes in order to splice together a complete, uncut version. Many budget, unofficial DVD's have been released internationally as well. Finally in 2018 the film was restored by the New Zealand Film Commission and hopefully finds itself a new audience as not only is Death Warmed Up one of the finest examples of what made the 80's such a great decade for horror, but given its history, it's an incredibly important film for the genre.

A Woman of Good Character (1980) / Kahu and Maia (1994)

Television credits from directors of the auteurist type are always interesting to look at within the context of their work as a whole. Often considered to be works for hire, there are several instances where the TV work of certain directors does fit right in with the rest of their body of work. Take for example Abel Ferrara's TV film The Gladiator (1986). Despite Ferrara himself saying it was done strictly for a paycheck, the film nevertheless feels like an appropriate follow-up to films like Ms. 45 (1981) and Fear City (1984). Paul Verhoeven's contribution to the HBO anthology series The Hitchhiker, “Last Scene” and William Friedkin's episodes for the revamped Twilight Zone “Nightcrawlers” and Tales from the Crypt, “On a Dead Man's Chest” feature the signature traits of both Verhoeven and Friedkin making them so much more than mere cash grabs. One director who's taken some pretty peculiar trips into TV land is New Zealand based provocateur David Blyth. Looking at Blyth's list of credits, if one thing jumps out at being the most atypical it would be Blyth's stint directing four episodes of Mighty Morphin Power Rangers and four episodes of the White Fang series. Much more in line with the rest of his work however, are two TV projects made years apart, A Woman of Good Character and Kahu and Maia, two of the most curious entries in Blyth's filmography.

Moving out of the suburbs of Blyth's debut feature Angel Mine (1978) for the New Zealand countryside, A Woman of Good Character finds Blyth exploring a different kind of domestic Hell. Lizzie (Sarah Peirse), a young English woman, travels to New Zealand to work on a sheep farm and is immediately confronted with the harshness of her new surroundings and situation when Reginald, the son of the owner of the farm, shoots her small dog out of fear that it would frighten the sheep. It's the first of many confrontations between the two who are constantly at odds, their relationship becoming even more strained after Lizzie refuses Reginald's marriage proposal and later discovers his plot to secretly sell the farm without his fathers knowledge. Obviously being a TV movie and coming after a film like Angel Mine, A Woman of Good Character seems almost quaint at times though it's interesting to see Blyth continue the idea of seeking some sort of comfort in domesticity, albeit in vastly different manner to Angel Mine. Despite the New Zealand countryside being a gorgeous location, the film does an excellent job of making everything seem incredibly sinister and almost immediately establishes the unease of being in totally alien surroundings with no familiarity to be found. Of course the films biggest strength is Lizzie herself, Sarah Pierse, who despite facing one hardship after another is never docile, though her one mental break in the film is certainly memorable, allowing Blyth to show off his more horror-esque stylistic flair.

Fast forward 24 years later to 1994 and Kahu and Maia which found Blyth delving back into the realm of the esoteric with material much more in line with his genre work. Rooted in the mythology of the Māori, the indigenous people of New Zealand, the film is the story of a deadly love affair from centuries past threatening to disrupt the present when Kahu, a philandering wood carver sets his sights on Maia, a beautiful happily married mother, also a talented carver, coming between her and her husband just as his ancestor did before him, which resulted in the death of his mistresses husband. A fascinating and beautiful film, what's incredible about Kahu and Maia is how much it accomplishes in its brisk 45 minute run time. There's quit a bit of backstory to the central plot yet Blyth condenses everything so precisely nothing feels rushed and despite all the exposition throughout the film regarding the more supernatural aspects of the story, the film still retains this mystical aura the way it incorporates dreams, the idea of reincarnation and the predetermined destines of its characters. It also helps that the more magical elements of the story are taken at face value by a lot of the characters. There's hardly any skepticism to be found in the story which is refreshing. Then of course there are the wood carvings themselves, all authentic Māori carvings which play a crucial role in the film, particularity during the tension filled finale, and naturally are quite striking.

Due to the fact that in order to sell a film internationally the run time had to be over an hour to be considered a feature, A Woman of Good Character was later expanded by its producer into a feature and re-titled It's Lizzie to Those Close. Incorporating longer takes and random shots of Lizzie doing housework as well as voice-over narration, Blyth has stated that while he doesn't mind the longer version existing because at least people got to see all the material that was filmed, especially an unusual sequence of actor Bruno Lawrence who plays the mentally challenged brother of Reginald dancing around an idol of sorts constructed out of various pots and pans, the original, shorter cut is his preferred version. The longer cut did make its way to the A&E network in the mid-80's and in fact the story was adapted into a mini-series in 1985 called Ride the High Country. As for Kahu and Maia, Blyth has gone as far as saying that it's his personal favorite film of his. After years of it seemingly being lost to time, the films screenwriter Karen Sidney uploaded it to YouTube, which Blyth fully endorses so it's easily watchable and very much worth doing so as both it and A Woman of Good Character are interesting little detours from Blyth's feature work and set a high quality standard for TV films.

Angel Mine (1978)

Given the worldwide cult following of films like Bad Taste (1987), Meet the Feebles (1989) and Dead Alive (1992) AKA Braindead depending on the territory, its almost a given that whenever New Zealand is mentioned within the context of cult and genre film that Peter Jackson is the first name that springs to most peoples minds, however the true title of king of New Zealand cult film belongs to David Blyth. Best known to international horror fans as the man responsible for Death Warmed Up (1984), the first Kiwi horror film which earned the praise of Alejandro Jodorowsky, who gleefully dubbed the film “An apocalypse of slaughter”, Blyth was transgressing morality and outraging proper New Zealand society and film critics alike a good decade before Jackson arrived on the scene and has created a body of work filled with consistently interesting, often controversial and challenging material in both genre film and in the documentary field as well as some pretty curious television side roads along the way, including of all things, four episodes of Mighty Morphin Power Rangers during its first season in 1993! For his first feature, Blyth came out of the gate swinging in 1978 with the fierce and experimental Angel Mine, a film that was so ahead of its time it wound up working against it when it was first unleashed with many outright demanding stricter censorship because of it.

About as far removed from being conventionally plotted as possible, Angel Mine centers around a young married couple who's lovelife has long passed the dead end point. In a desperate attempt to bring some excitement back to their marriage, the two begin to act out fantasy scenarios inspired by advertisements, all the while their punk alter-ego's are on their way to snuff out their domesticated counterparts.

A thoroughly bizarre and berserk film, Angel Mine clearly has a lot on its mind. The biggest take away from the film would be that Blyth is offering a scathing critique of the idea of marriage but it goes deeper than that. While marriage does seem to be Blyth's biggest target, the film as a whole is an attack on the idea of giving in to society's expectations, when settling for domesticity can lead to banality which in turn leads to desperation. The film is structured in a way that it becomes increasingly difficult to tell what is explicit fantasy, so much so that at a certain point it feels as if the couples entire existence has become one continuous flight of fancy leading to several hysterically surreal moments. It's especially incredible to think the film was made in 1978 the way it accurately predicts the idea of things like reality television/social media and amateur pornography with the couple making and viewing their own sex tape as well as Viagra with the title Angel Mine stemming from a fictional product in the film advertised as a libido enhancing supplement. It's also worth pointing out that the film was five years ahead of David Cronenberg's Videodrome (1983) in its musing on how the public relates to media and how much the media truly influences the lives of everyone that consumes it. The film even takes a few detours from the main narrative in the form of some pretty hilarious and cleverly scripted fake commercials.

Angel Mine was the first film to get funding from the New Zealand Film Commission so Blyth was quite taken aback by all the vitriol hurled the films way by critics who deemed the film obscene and unfit for public consumption and again, some even demanding tighter censorship. While being interviewed for New Zealand's Screen Talk, Blyth admitted “I had no idea that it was going to create so much controversy and the vehemence of some of the critics was quite shocking to me... In a way it set me back and the truth is that after the initial controversy of Angel Mine I put the film in the cupboard so to speak and it was really another 10 to 15 years before I could even look at it again.” The film is also notable for having the brilliant note of “Contains Punk Cult Material” written on its 18A ratings certificate. Fast forward over 40 years and the film is now considered a crucial part of New Zealand film history, an irony that is not lost of Blyth who in the same aforementioned interview described the film as “young but significant”. Indeed, Angel Mine is an important piece of rebellious punk rock filmmaking. A rare instance of a film being literally incomparable to anything else and a film that marked the arrival of one of the most unique voices in worldwide fringe cinema. 

The Zero Years (2005)

Judging the legacy of a filmmaker can be a difficult thing given that any artist's work is bound to be judged differently by each individual, be they fans or detractors. Even among the field of divisive filmmakers, Nikos Nikolaidis is a particularly interesting case in that his work is widely viewed through a Greek perspective, with the majority of his films being underrepresented outside of his home country. Outside of Greece, Nikolaidis is probably always going to be the “crazy” man behind Singapore Sling (1990) but his body of work as a whole is deserving of a more nuanced evaluation. It's going to sound cliché, but like so many individualistic filmmakers, if there's one legacy left behind by Nikolaidis, it would be one of freedom. An extreme personality, Nikolaidis was the type who, when pushed, pushed back even harder which of course did him no favors with the Greek Film Commission who fought to keep Nikolaidis' work hidden. Nikolaidis' defiance won him a loyal cult following which is still strong to this day with a younger generation of Greek film fans discovering his work. Nikolaidis would pass in 2007, but not before completing one last, potent view of the world as he saw it, bringing his career full circle with The Zero Years in 2005, completing the Shape of the Coming Nightmare trilogy which began with his first feature Euridice BA 2037 (1975).

Much like See You in Hell, My Darling (1999), The Zero Years is far from a conventionally plotted film. Taking place entirely within a brothel under nonstop surveillance by a fascistic government, herkening back to the isolated setting as in Euridice BA 2037, the three main residents are soon joined by a fourth who believes her stay will be brief before receiving a transfer. Forcibly sterilized by the powers that be, the girls are ordered to dish out sadistic beatings to costumers and perform solo dances in front of rabid onlookers, only to face more oppression when a costumer goes missing, all the while fantasizing of retreating to “the sea”, the ideal destination of the protagonists of Morning Patrol (1987), the second film in the Shape of the Coming Nightmare trilogy.

Again, the film is Nikolaidis coming full circle as not only does The Zero Years complete the Shape of the Coming Nightmare trilogy, taking place in the wasteland envisioned in Euridice BA 2037 and Morning Patrol, the group dynamic of the four girls gives it much in common with Nikolaids' loose trilogy of The Wretches are Still Singing (1979), Sweet Bunch (1983) and Loser TakesAll (2002) and like in those films, the bond between the characters creates a strong feeling of solidarity, the two standouts of the group being Vicky Harris and Jenny Kitselli who previously stole in the show in See You In Hell and Loser Takes All respectively. The world the film takes place in is yet another example of Nikolaidis' obsession with the idea of purgatory, Harris' character being almost an extension of Euridice with her hopeful, yet ultimately futile promises of a transfer and better life outside the brothel only to feel constantly stuck in the nightmare the outside world has become. While the similarities with Nikolaidis' other films are numerous, one aspect where the film differs greatly is in the visuals. Whereas Nikolaidis' other films are highly stylized, The Zero Years by contrast is as visually morose as its mood, shot on grungy digital video with a washed out and seedy look. The film is also aligned with Singapore Sling and See You In Hell in being one of Nikolaidis' most horror-based with its sadomasochistic imagery and the hints of the girls being visited by violent specters.

Fascinatingly, although the film closes out the Shape of the Coming Nightmare trilogy and Nikolaidis' filmography as a whole, the story was developed even before Euridice BA 2037 and originally was intended to be the middle film in the trilogy with Morning Patrol being the finale and the one to finally show what the outside world had become, though the circling back to one singular interior location ala Euridice BA 2037 made The Zero Years the ideal final chapter. Nikolaidis said of the film “Silence, chemical suppression, state fascism, broken communication, fear and apathy have all been installed for good... It would be a mistake to interpret this as a futuristic story. No matter how harsh it may appear this movie is about the shape of things that are already here and established, along with the set of things that are just starting to be applied, while we already feel their consequences... Any other approach to the meaning of the movie, will fling it to the domain of futurism and I, assisted by the direction, want to talk about a story of today, instead of being misunderstood about describing something that will happen someday, somewhere.” Nikolaidis would also proclaim “...the nightmare evolves to where I had predicted. I have got nothing else to say”, thus making The Zero Years the definitive final statement from one of the most original voices in world cinema.

“I have a faint impression that we’re all heading towards Hell, and that Rita Hayworth will never come to our rendezvous.” - Nikos Nikolaidis

Loser Takes All (2002)

Loose trilogies are interesting in that they allow filmmakers to explore similar ideas in a way so that one film doesn't have to be directly connected to the other. For instance, Dario Argento's “Three Animals” trilogy consisting of The Bird With the Crystal Plumage (1970), The Cat o' Nine Tales (1971) and Four Flies on Grey Velvet (1972) all share, along with the obvious animal references in the titles, certain connective themes while not being a cohesive series as opposed to Argento's “Three Mothers” trilogy, Suspiria (1977), Inferno (1980) and Mother of Tears (2007), the three witches or mothers being the connective tissue. David Lynch's trio of films known as the “LA Trilogy”, Lost Highway (1997), Mulholland Drive (2001) and Inland Empire (2006) also qualifies with all three centering on the idea of a double, or doppelganger without sharing any characters. Underground Greek legend Nikos Nikolaidis seemed to prefer working within the trilogy format with 6 out of his 8 theatrical features forming trilogies. One was deliberate, the “Shape of the Coming Nightmare” trilogy, Euridice BA 2037 (1975), Morning Patrol (1987) and The Zero Years (2005), focused on dystopian society but Nikolaidis also formed a more loose trilogy out of three other films, The Wretches are Still Singing (1979), Sweet Bunch (1983) and his penultimate film, 2002's Loser Takes All, yet another saga on the underdogs dwelling on the outskirts of Greek society.

After his ex-girlfriend Elsa reluctantly allows him to sleep in her apartment, a nameless deadbeat with a pet bird named Belafonte and a tendency to misquote the Book of Revelations (Giannis Aggelakas, frontman for the legendary Greek alternative band Trypes) takes a job from a shady private detective of sorts, surveying the activities of Mantali, a Senegalese stripper. Upon discovering Mantali's role in a drug dealing operation, the man gets the harebrained idea of getting himself involved and much to his own surprise, pulls it off. Confident that he can pull off something bigger, the man hatches a scheme involving ripping off the crime organization Mantali is forced to work for and enlists the assistance of Elsa, her current boyfriend, a young singer/songwriter (Nikolaidis' son Simon) and Odette (Jenny Kitseli), an alcoholic acquaintance all in the hopes of one big score giving each enough money to escape their stagnant lives in the city.

Nikolaidis' most accessible film, Loser Takes All (O chamenos ta pairnei ola, Ο χαμένος τα παίρνει όλα) follows in the tradition The Wretches are Still Singing and Sweet Bunch in that at its core the film is concerned with the dynamics of an eccentric group of outsiders who all feel perpetually stuck and desperate for escape, yet again an example of Nikolaidis' obsession with the idea of purgatory. In a lot of ways the film could be seen as a slightly more humorous Sweet Bunch. While the film gets incredibly heavy, even downright tragic, in the final third, the film is one of Nikolaidis most humorous. A good bit of the humor is incidental, especially as it relates to the nameless man's success at pulling off acts which, for all intensive purposes, an individual such as he should fall flat on his face in such circumstances. Much like Nikolaidis' other two “gang” films, the heart of the film is the characters and just as in Wretches and Sweet Bunch, despite certain traits in many of the characters, Nikolaidis paints them in such a way that its nearly impossible not to quickly warm to them and eventually root for their success in their scheme. Aggelakas is brilliant in the lead with a deadpan nature and perfect timing but its Jenny Kitseli as the terminally drunk Odette, affectionately nicknamed “Miss Raspberry” who steals the show with her constant needing to vomit and staggering that provides the film with a good portion of its aforementioned humor.

An interesting thing regarding the film is that it was made a good few years before Greek's economic crisis which the film seems to predict in certain scenes where the man comments on the Euro as well as the influx of refugees. Another thing regarding the tone of the film is that despite being made in the early 2000's, there is a very 90's feel to a lot of it which was intentional as Nikolaidis stated “I am concerned with the way the movie approaches the nineties generation. A generation that’s growing up within the loneliness of its self-knowledge, looking for values in the past, and trapped in a pointless anticipation of “messages” and “exits”, which are obstructed and lead nowhere. I'm interested in the uncertainty the heroes have... I'm interested in the trap that is laid before them and the romanticism they use to avoid it, in how they laugh at themselves and the establishment, in their beliefs of love and companionship as well as their beliefs of love for companionship...” Nikolaidis summed up the films message by saying “This movie is dedicated to all those kids that come down from the hills at night and walk around the dark alleys of our city... What matters is…Here no more!” A sentiment may can relate to, which makes Loser Takes All, along with possibly Sweet Bunch, the perfect introduction for a Nikolaidis novice.  

See You in Hell, My Darling (1999)

While all the films of Nikos Nikolaidis are connected by a set of key ideas, one of the most interesting things regarding his filmography is how six out of his eight theatrical features form two trilogies. The most obvious being “The Shape of the Coming Nightmare” trilogy, consisting of Nikolaidis' debut feature Euridice BA 2037 (1973), Morning Patrol (1987) and Nikolaidis' final film The Zero Years (2005), all three focusing on a dystopian future with its remaining inhabitants placed under constant surveillance. Another, more loosely defined trilogy forms out of The Wretches are Still Singing (1979), Sweet Bunch (1983) and Loser Takes All (2002) with the focus being on a collective of outsiders on the fringes of Greek society. Nikolaidis' two remaining features stand totally on their own outside of the trilogy concept while still featuring many of the same obsessions that fuel Nikolaidis work as a whole. Singapore Sling (1990), Nikolaidis' most well known film outside of Greece is one such work and it would be nine nears before Nikolaidis would follow it up (setting aside the 1993 made-for-TV curiosity The Girl With the Suitcases) with another film that stands completely on its own. Even in a body of work filled with unique films, 1999's See You in Hell, My Darling manages to stick out just a bit more, so much so that the film could easily be considered Nikolaidis' magnum opus.

Nikolaidis' most surreal and inaccessible film, See You in Hell, My Darling (Tha se Do stin Kolasi Agapi mou, Θα σε Δω στην Κόλαση Αγάπη μου) is in a class of films alongside the likes of Andrzej Zulawski's Possession (1981) and David Lynch's Lost Highway (1997), films that certainty aren't plotless yet any attempt to summarize them is an ultimately futile endeavor. The film focuses one three characters, Elsa, Vera and a nameless man who spends the majority of the film floating face down in Elsa's pool, presumably dead, occasionally joining the two girls. Through Robbe-Grillet-esque fragmentation, Nikolaidis precedes to tell the tale of their doomed triangle while still leaving plenty open to interpretation as to what their current situation is. It's clear that there was a love triangle, with the man and Elsa once married and Vera getting in the middle. Its also clear that there was a robbery and money was to be split between the three. What Nikolaidis leaves out in the open is the exact nature of the relationship between Elsa and Vera. Obviously best friends at one point, the hint of a romantic relationship between the two is there but again, nothing is made clear and the same could be said of the affections of the man as well. The power dynamic between the Elsa and Vera is fascinating, with both alternating between dominant and submissive as well as love and hatred, all brilliantly realized in the performances of the gorgeous duo of Vicky Harris and Valeria Christodoulidou.

The film is, despite the use of the word “Hell” in the title, Nikolaidis' most explicit in the way it explores the idea of purgatory and being stuck, both from a physical standpoint but also in a state of mind. It's as if purgatory for all three characters is their own private Hell's, forever doomed to repeat the same events over and over as a form of otherworldly karma, making the film the most overtly supernatural and horror based of Nikolaidis' works, something which is also apparent from the films visuals which are some of the most astonishing in Nikolaidis' cannon. A stylist from the very beginning from the start black and white photography of Euridice BA 2037 (1975) to the neon colors of Sweet Bunch (1983), See You in Hell, My Darling trumps them all in every aspect from a visual standpoint with a slick, almost erotic thriller type of look to the film, complete with Borowczyk like attention to detail and as well as highly stylized lighting, particularly for every scene involving the pool. Again, the film is Nikolaidis' most abstract with flashbacks to the aftermath of the trio's crime somewhat recalling the bleached out flashbacks from Donald Cammell's White of the Eye (1987), and even feature Disney-esque masks ala the opening robbery in Zulawski's L'amour braque (1985). Nikolaidis also utilizes music in an interesting way, making Etta James' “I Found a Love” the theme of the movie as well as a plot point signaling the man's entrance in a scene.

The film was a personal favorite of Nikolaidis who expressed his love for the world he created in the film by saying “I feel wonderful inside this after-world of guilt, lost time, memories of my past and of my future. Naturally, this is where I seek all of my loves. Besides, the girls of paradise are so boring.” He would also say “This movie is a necro-romance about the darkness and the thrashing humidity of unfulfilled desires and of ghosts. It’s where those marvelous carnivorous flowers of noir film blossom.” In an interview discussing his career, Nikolaidis described the film as an “automated film” as he wrote the script in one go without edits. He went on to call the film “A dive into a foggy, damp and rotten subconscious... very personal film. Not one the public loves... Too damp, this film, and too tender at the same time”. The film was apparently difficult to complete, though in the same interview Nikolaidis said the manner in which he worked on the film was the method he preferred and its hard to argue with the results. Nikolaidis' work as a whole may present several difficulties for those unaccustomed to eccentric films but See You in Hell, My Darling reaches new levels of eccentricity even by Nikolaidis' standards. His most challenging film by far, but also his masterpiece and an essential piece of fringe cinema.

Morning Patrol (1987)

Interesting things are bound to happen whenever an independently minded maverick filmmaker tries their hand at science fiction as for all the successes there are also some pretty legendary horror stories. Chief among them being the Polish government shutting down the production of Andrzej Zulawski's On the Silver Globe (1977/88) and Richard Stanley's unceremonious firing from his dream project The Island of Dr. Moraeu (1996). There's also of course Alejandro Jodorowsky's failed attempts to adapt Dune into a film and David Lynch's subsequent 1984 film, which Lynch himself considers a failure due to his not having final cut. On the opposite end of the spectrum would be Paul Verhoeven, who found some of his greatest success in the sci-fi genre with RoboCop (1987), Total Recall (1990) and Starship Troopers (1997) and even Abel Ferrara who, despite numerous instances of studio interference, delivered a fantastic rendition of Body Snatchers (1993) and later a fascinating adaptation of William Gibson's cyberpunk story New Rose Hotel (1998). The sociopolitical allegories often found in the genre make it tailor-made for many of the aforementioned directors sensibilities, Verhoeven especially, so it made perfect sense for Greek outlaw Nikos Nikolaidis, who had been fighting against the system from the beginning, to step into the sci-fi realm and when the time came he had the perfect material with Morning Patrol, the second film in Nikolaidis' “Shape of the Coming Nightmare” trilogy.

In an unspecified future, a nomadic drifter (Michele Valley) traverses what has become of Athens which is controlled by a totalitarian dictatorship, in hopes of reaching the sea as a means of escape. Traveling at night in an attempt to avoid being caught and shot by the Morning Patrol, the government's police force ordered to shoot any and all persons out in the forbidden zones, the woman finds food and temporary shelter by breaking into abandoned houses. After one such stop however she encounters a Morning Patrol guard and quickly realizes he's as desperate to escape as she. Despite the dangers including other Morning Patrol officers aware of the guards treason and a mysterious illness affecting the guard, the two make a pact to travel west and attempt to reach the sea with the threat of death following their every move.

In Nikolaidis' fist feature Euridice BA 2037 (1975) which was also the first film in the “Shape of the Coming Nightmare” trilogy, Nikolaidis kept the majority of the film confined to the titular Euridice's apartment. With Morning Patrol (Proini Peripolos, πρωϊνή περίπολος), Nikolaidis extensively expands the palate, effectively turning all of Athens into a wasteland, offering a truly nightmarish vision of the future, or possibly the present. Just like in Euridice BA 2037, one of the more curious yet effective things regarding Morning Patrol is the sense of vagueness surrounding everything. It's never explained exactly what happened to make the world the way it is, be it war, disease, nuclear fallout, ect... It just is, which in effect makes the journey of the woman and the guard all the more harrowing, even with the mystery surrounding their characters as both remain enigmatic throughout. The films setting is also interesting. While its clear the film is supposed to be somewhat futuristic, Nikolaidis' aesthetic choices give the film a variety of flavors, at times post-apocalyptic given the sparseness of everything but there are times when the film also feels contemporary which again makes it seem as if Nikolaidis is saying the “future” depicted in the film had already arrived in 1987 and most interestingly, a touch of 1940's noir which fits surprisingly well. Nikolaidis also brilliantly avoids cliché when it comes to the developing relationship between the woman and guard, sidestepping any mawkish Hollywood-esque sentimentality in keeping with bleakness of the world the film presents.

The films biggest strength is unquestionably Michele Valley in her first role for Nikolaidis. A captivating presence who's impossible to look away from, the film wouldn't have been the same without her and the determination she brings to her nameless warrior. She would of course go onto to be one of Nikolaidis' most dependable performers, becoming completely unhinged in Nikolaidis' most infamous film Singapore Sling (1990) and she would appear in a very different type of role in the final “Shape of the Coming Nightmare” film, Nikolaidis final film The Zero Years (2005). Nikolaidis would rightfully proclaim the film to be ahead of its time and admitted being deeply affected by his own work, saying in an interview “Morning Patrol is a film that I still am afraid to watch. For many, its my best film, I'm just afraid of watching it. Because its a film speaking about all the things I was afraid that would come true and they finally all came true. Silence, ice, broken communication, lack of emotions, murder... I don't want to talk about this film. It disturbs me”. Being a Nikolaidis film, Morning Patrol is of course unique in the realm of sci-fi and given how certain things have played out around the globe since the film was made, it fits right in with the likes of On the Silver Globe and Hardware (1990). An essential Nikolaidis title.