The Night Porter (1974)

Call me jaded if you must, but more often than not whenever I hear about how “shocking” or “controversial” a film is these days I usually take it with a grain of salt, as more often than not all the hype ends up being just that, hype and nothing more. I’m sure most would agree with me when I say that if the strength of your film relies solely on how “shocking” it is, chances are it’s severely lacking in other areas. Yet, there’s a reason why some of the most notorious films also happen to be some of the most memorable. Films such as Pasolini’s Salò (1975), Borowczyk’s The Beast (1975) and Cronenberg’s Crash (1996) immediately spring to mind. All are unquestionably provocative, but also offer so much more than just lurid subject matter making their impressions all the more lasting,  and as a result all are still being discussed, debated and still provoking polarized reactions to this day. Liliana Cavani’s 1974 classic The Night Porter defiantly fits into this category. With a film like this, it’s not hard to understand why some would take issue with it. The Holocaust can be a pretty touchy subject, and adding sex to the mixture is taking it to another level of transgression, and I’ll wager a mere glancing of the synopsis would be enough to make any boring member of polite society run as far away from the film as possible. The fact that it was directed by a woman probably turned a fair share of heads as well. I first became aware of The Night Porter about 10 or 11 years ago. It wasn’t long after Criterion put the DVD out as I discovered it while browsing through their website. The first thing to immediately catch my attention was naturally, the enticing cover art. The more I read about the film, the more I became intrigued and got the DVD soon after. I’ll fully admit to not nearly “getting” the entire film after my first viewing,  but the more I watched it over the years and the older and wiser (fell free to roll your eyes) I got, the psychology of the film and the brilliance of the performances from it’s two leads became more and more apparent, and The Night Porter now stands as one of my favorite films, regardless of genre.

13 years after World War II, Max (Dirk Bogarde), a former SS officer, is now living a quiet life working as a night porter in a fancy hotel in Vienna, Austria. Max is soon set to stand trial in an attempt to clear his name of past actions. All of Max’s former Nazi comrades have gone through the process, and plan on helping Max achieve the same outcome by burning all documents and “filing away” as they put it, any potential witnesses. Max is thrown for a loop when one of the guests at the hotel happens to be Lucia (Charlotte Rampling), a concentration camp survivor who was involved in an ambiguous sadomasochistic relationship with Max during the war, with Max acting as her dominant tormentor yet also as a protector of sorts, and it isn’t long before the two sre back to their old habits. Max’s friends view Lucia as a serious liability, although Max vehemently refuses to give her up. Fearing the potential harm that could come to Lucia and himself, the two lock themselves away in Max’s apartment with limited resources, essentially shutting themselves off from the outside world, all the while being closely observed by Max’s former SS cohorts.

The Night Porter may feature Nazi sex and scenes of S&M involving chains, broken glass and even some good old fashion wound licking, but if you’re expecting something along the lines of an Ilsa film you’re liable to be disappointed. At it’s core, The Night Porter is a love story. Granted it’s probably the most demented love story ever brought to the screen, but a love story nonetheless. Admittedly, the film is a bit of a slow burn, but if you’re willing to fully invest in these characters the film becomes more fascinating as it goes along. Through flashbacks we witness the development of Max and Lucia’s relationship with Cavani only letting us in just a bit, always leaving the full evolution of the relationship a bit vague. Lucia remains a complete mystery throughout the entire film. It’s never really revealed how she came to be this masochistic, not only accepting, but craving this type of treatment from Max, which I always thought was wise on Cavani’s part, as I feel an explanation would have cheapened the film. She is that way because she is, and I think that’s a major aspect of the film that a lot of people found hard to take. One of the most interesting things about the film is how the argument could be made that the dominant/submissive roles have been reversed, at least mentally. For Max, it’s no longer about getting off on the power he holds over Lucia as it was during the war. He may still be the psychically dominant one, but he’s now legitimately, hopelessly in love with Lucia, as he admits to her and to others. The feeling is obviously reciprocated, as Lucia fully goes along, no questions asked with the extreme measures taken by Max in order to protect themselves from his friends, right down to being chained in his apartment. He even tells her she can be free of all the isolation whenever she pleases, yet she stays. Watching these two lock themselves away and starve is disturbingly touching in a way. Say what you will about how their relationship started or how “unhealthy” it may be, their committed to each other, no matter the cost.

There’s a few different ways to look at the whole former Nazi group of friends subplot. It’s true that it’s a bit far fetched (although you could say the exact same thing about the main plotline as well) but I’ve always seen it as a vehicle to look deeper into Max’s character and how he truly feels about his past. Pay close attention to Max’s demeanor  whenever his friends (who by the way are more than proud of their SS credentials) are present and when his upcoming trial and the war are discussed. Max may be the one to initiate a group sieg heil in one particular scene, but one gets the strongest impression that it’s all for show. Max claims to be content living like a “church mouse” as he puts, it, but when Lucia re-enters his life he becomes determined to stay that way, for his sake and hers. But even before he is reunited with Lucia it’s clear that he’s uncomfortable with the thought of going through the trial, yet is it because he’s nervous about the outcome or is he truly ashamed of his Nazi past (the obvious exception being Lucia) and wants to avoid it at all costs? It’s this ambiguity that makes The Night Porter so much more than meets the eye. It’s also what makes Bogarde’s performance so brilliant as the second you start to feel sympathy for this man you can never forget his actions of the past, no matter how he may feel about them in the present. It’s important to point out that there during the majority of the time Bogarde and Rampling are on screen together there is hardly and dialogue, and honestly there didn’t need to be any. The looks on their faces when they recreate their favorite “games” of the past says it all. What’s even more incredible is the way the two instantly switch moods with ease, going from desperation due to their self imposed isolation to passionate love making in the span of seconds. In all honesty Rampling could have never spoke a word and still would have knocked it out of the park. This lack of dialogue works wonders during the flashback sequences as Rampling really gets to show what she‘s made of, conveying what appears to be Lucia’s fear and confusion while all the while retaining her characters aura of mystery.  

Even if you’ve never seen The Night Porter chances are you’ve seen the now iconic poster art featuring that still of Rampling from the legendary flashback scene in the film wherein she dances seductively for Max and his fellow officers (and is rewarded with a severed head for her troubles). Hell even if you’ve never seen the poster you’ve probably seen an image inspired buy it in one way or another, it’s a look that’s been copied countless times by innumerable fetish models since the release of the film. More than just an excuse for a catchy looking poster, the scene in question sees Cavani flexing her artistic muscle, as it always appeared to me as a sort of surrealist paining come to life, what with the musicians playing, the strange masks a number of people in the scene are wearing and the overall hazy nature of it. It also carries over the dank, cold grayness the other flashbacks have. While we’re still on the subject of the flashbacks, there’s one that still sticks out for me as it remains a part of the film I could never comprehend. One of Max’s Nazi friends is a ballet dancer, and when he dances in private for Max the film cuts back to war time and he is seen doing a dance for his entire Nazi troupe. I really have no idea what purpose those scenes serve. If anybody reads this maybe they could shed some light. I know I’ve used this phrase on here before (like I’m so above repeating myself) but with a film like The Night Porter, there really doesn’t seem to be a grey area as far as I can tell. People either love it or despise it. As you can tell, I happen to belong to the former. It’s a lot of things to different people, tasteless, depraved, brave, ultimately incredibly sad, but one things for certain, this is filmmaking at it’s most audacious and regardless of your opinion on the film you have to applaud Liliana Cavani for taking on such, if you’ll allow me to say so, ballsy material that, along with pushing thematic boundaries, is filled with psychological complexity and striking, haunting imagery. Love it or hate it, you won’t forget it.

Eugenie... the Story of Her Journey Into Perversion (1969)

*Not to be confused with the similarly titled Marquis de Sade adaptations Eugenie de Sade (1970) and  Eugenie (Historia de una perversión) (1980), also directed by Jess Franco.

1969 was quite the year for Jess Franco and producer Harry Alan Towers. Without question Towers defiantly seemed to “get” Franco and the type of films he made, even helming the scripts for most of the films (oftentimes under the pseudonym Peter Welbeck) and 1969 saw the two get on one hell of a role. Any Francophile will tell you that this period saw Franco direct some of his most memorable and highly regarded films, such as 99 Women, which many feel to be the quintessential women in prison flick, and the jazz influenced psychedelic mindfuck Venus In Furs, widely considered to be his finest hour. 1969 was also the year Franco brought the Marquis de Sade’s notorious novel Justine to the screen. As I said in my write up of that film, the material couldn’t have been more suitable for Franco, as he was an admitted reader of Sade since his teenage years. He would return to Sade for inspiration many times during his career, and while I feel that his other Sade adaptations are great films, for my money, he never approached the material of the infamous Marquis with more success than when he made Eugenie… the Story of Her Journey Into Perversion, his highly unique take on Sade’s Philosophy in the Bedroom. It was actually part of the first batch of Franco films I ever watched, and I was hooked. It was inevitable that I’d write about the film at some point as I fell in love with it instantly and it’s tide alongside the brilliantly bonkers Lorna The Exorcist (1974) as my absolute favorite Franco film, and if I were ever to make my definitive “top 10 favorite films” list, it would defiantly have a secure spot on it.

Much to her excitement, young Eugenie (Marie Liljedahl), a typical bored, innocent teenager craving excitement is invited to spend the weekend at the private island estate of Madame Saint Ange (Maria Rohm) after Saint Ange “persuades” Eugenie’s father in her own unique way to allow the invitation. Upon arriving, Eugenie is introduced to Mirvel (Jack Taylor), Saint Ange’s stepbrother/lover, who is obsessed with Eugenie. Unbeknownst to Eugenie, Saint Ange and Mirvel are perverted libertines, belonging to a group of cult like sadists who take the work of the Marquis de Sade literally, gaining inspiration from his writings and using them as a guide to their practices. Under the direction of the menacing Dolmance (Christopher Lee), the leader of the group of Sade disciples, Eugenie was invited to the island as merely a plaything for Saint Ange and Mirvel, who plan on corrupting her innocence for their own amusement, introducing her to their world of sex, sadomasochism and murder.

Much like his previous Sade adaptation of Justine, Eugenie, for obvious content reasons couldn’t be a 100% faithful screen translation of Philosophy in the Bedroom, yet it stands as one of the most original and creative interpretations of Sade’s infamous book, by updating the story to contemporary times (well, “contemporary” for 1969) and actually having the characters acknowledge Sade, mentioning him several times throughout the film. “No modern home is complete without the works of the Marquis.” opines Mirvel to Eugenie. As evidenced in Justine, Eugenie also proves that even while taking some liberties with certain elements of the story, thematically Franco probably understood Sade better than any other director that brought his writing to the cinema (the obvious other being Pasolini). By having Saint Ange and Mirvel belonging to a group of Sade devotes was a brilliant move as it allows for the main characters and overall ideas of the book to remain in tact while Franco puts his own unique spin on things. In Sade’s original writing, Eugenie embrases the world of libertinage almost instantly after her “teachings”, yet in the film it’s a tad more ambiguous. Not long after arriving on the island Eugenie exclaims to Saint Ange she’s “ready to learn” as long as Saint Ange is the teacher, and she is rather quick to jump into acts of lesbianism with Saint Ange, so it’s implied that she’s had some “curious” thoughts for some time, and she at least had some idea as to what her purpose was in going to the island, while still being incredibly naïve when it comes to her “true” purpose. Dolmance praises Eugenie’s “aptitude to learn” during one of his ominous voiceovers, but again this “aptitude” isn’t so clear cut given the nature of the scene in which the voice over is heard. The Sade cult, along with Mirvel’s obsession with Eugenie were two great vehicles for Franco to take the story into directions you’d never expect a film like this to go, leading up to a climax that some have complained jumped the gun regarding Eugenie’s character, but I’ve always been of the mindset that given the context of the events, it’s completely plausible. Not to mention that fact that how the events unfold is pure Sade through and through.

For Eugenie, Franco assembled one of the best ensemble casts of his career. Marie Liljedahl fit the part of Eugenie to T. Along with being a natural stunner, she’s quite well rounded in the role, perfectly conveying Eugenie’s youthful innocence (I believe she was 19 when the film was shot) as well as her more hidden, tempted side that Saint Ange and Mirvel are dying to bring out in her. She’s at her best when she’s letting her character’s naiveties show, although I’ll always defend her evolution as Eugenie, as it’s something that a lot of people have singled out, calling it unconvincing, but like I said above about the climax, when you put it all in perspective and consider how the events unfolded, she handles the material just fine. Maria Rohm was always one of the most dependable actresses to have worked with Franco and I personally consider her performance as Madame Saint Ange in Eugenie to be her best, along with her portrayal of the deadly seductress Wanda in Venus In Furs. Rohm possesses an undeniable seductive quality and it’s not hard to understand why it was so easy for Saint Ange to convince Eugenie’s father to allow her invitation to the island, or coax Eugenie into making out with her. With this role, Rohm really gets to show off her range, by playing the friendly mentor role with Eugenie, and the perverted libertine driven by lust with Mirvel. Despite the nature of her character, you can’t help but be drawn to her, she‘s probably my favorite character in the film, along with Dolmance of course. Jack Taylor, another frequent Franco collaborator, has some of the most piercing, expressive eyes ever to be photographed. His frame may be slender, but he has a presence about him that is uniquely his own. There’s always a sort of awkward tension whenever he’s on screen, as we know just how he feels about Eugenie, and his stalker-eqsue glances and mannerisms couldn’t make those feelings, or his intentions anymore obvious. Legitimately creepy. Then of course, the man, Christopher Lee. His screen time may be brief, but his sheer presence more than makes up for it, as he radiates authority, looking absolutely threatening in that red smoking jacket. Lee also puts his great voice to use acting as the films narrator, and those sinister sounding voice overs of him reciting Sade leave quite the impression.

Original vinyl (left) and CD (right) versions of the soundtack

Eugenie looks, feels and sounds like a psychedelic dream. Right from the murderous ritual that opens the film, Franco hits us with pure style. The film is visually stunning, from the look of the estate and it’s island surroundings to the shots of the ocean and the exquisite use of color, all of Franco’s directorial strengths are on display here. Now there are a lot of out of focus shots in the film, some say that Franco went a bit overboard with them here, but they do serve an important purpose of giving off that classic Franco hallucinogenic, hazy dream state, and some are used quite ingeniously. Franco uses other techniques such as bathing entire scenes in red light, creating an otherworldly feeling of surreal eroticism that is entirely his own. The sequence of Dolmance and his gang of libertines entering the estate while Saint Ange, Mirvel and a drugged Eugenie go at each other, and what immediately follows is a shining example of Franco’s ability to come up with incredibly bizarre yet compelling visuals, as the libertines, with the exception of Lee, all dress in traditional 17th century clothing as a tribute to Sade (“In tribute we wear the costume of his time”, as Dolmance explains). It’s really an unforgettable sight, brilliantly staged, filmed and edited, being one of the aforementioned moments where the out of focus shots are put to great use. The feeling of the film would have been drastically different without Bruno Nicolai’s phenomenal score, one of the main selling points of the film, which I consider to be his best work, and the best score for any Franco film. Sometimes poppy, often trippy, always sexy. A good portion of the music has a very eastern flavor, as Nicolai makes heavy use of the sitar, which does wonders in putting off a vibe working hand in hand with Franco’s stunning images. The Franco/Nicolai team is one of the most unheralded cinematic director/composer collaborations, and the soundtrack is more than worth picking up if you’re able to find it for a reasonable price.

On the “Perversion Stores” short documentary chronicling the making of the film featured on Blue Underground’s great DVD of the film, Christopher Lee recounts the comical story of how he learned of the film’s erotic content. It’s well known at this point but still worth repeating. After Lee had completed his two days of work on the set, that’s when Franco filmed the more racier scenes. Lee had no knowledge of any of this until he got a call from a friend telling him they just saw his name on the marquee of an adult theatre where the film was playing. Harry Alan Towers agrees that Lee was duped a bit when he was asked to play the part of Dolmance. Lee goes on to joke that he really has appeared in every kind of film in one way or another, During the same interview he rightfully praises Franco, stating he’s underrated, and when given the right amount of time was capable of greatness. He couldn’t be more right. Lee stared in several other Franco films such as The Blood of Fu Manchu (1968), The Castle of Fu Manchu (1969), The Bloody Judge (1970) and Count Dracula (1970), which (here’s another captain obvious moment for you) Lee has stated that his portrayal of the Count in that film was the closest to Bram Stoker’s original character. Though his performance in Eugenie may be short, of all the films he did with Franco it’s defiantly one of the most memorable. If you’ve never seen a Franco film and are curious about his work, Eugenie would be a perfect place to start as you’ll get a prime example of the type of aura that surrounds the very his best films. It stands as one of his best acted, looking and sounding films. A certifiable masterpiece.

eXistenZ (1999)

While the majority of the films of David Cronenberg are very visual affairs, any fan will tell you that they’re equally as cerebral, as he’s able to not only blown your mind with radical images, but with ideas as well. Idea’s that will be lingering in you brain just as long as the amazing visuals. While the metaphors in his films are unquestionably extreme, the more the surface is scratched the more water the ideas hold, gaining even more potency throughout the years. Given his unique treatments on revolutionary   technologies in past films, it made perfect sense that Cronenberg would tackle the topic of video games with eXistenZ. Think of how far the world of gaming had come when this film was released in 1999 and compare it to today, with all the advancements made in terms of game play, graphics and characterizations, not to mention the massive popularity of online RPG’s (that’s “Role Playing Games” for you squares out there) and the communities that form as a result. The difference is night and day. When this film hit video stores I was still spending quality time with the classic consoles (countless hours were lost in the 90’s thanks to the NES, Super Nintendo and original Play Station, but that’s another story onto itself) and was already a confirmed Cronenberg fanatic, so it goes without saying that I was all over this film. I’ve always found it to be one of Cronenberg’s most underappreciated works, and after having recently revisited it twice in the last few months, I now find it be an even more important entry into his filmography, as it not only found him going “back to his roots” so to speak, but the case could be made that some of the more psychological elements of the film foreshadowed what was to come with his next few films.

During a demonstration for the new virtual reality video game “eXistenZ”, an assassination attempt is made on the life of the games designer Allegra Geller (Jennifer Jason Leigh). The attempt fails and Geller is rushed to safety, wounded, by her assigned security guard, marketing trainee Ted Pikul (Jude Law). Geller’s game pod, which contained the only copy of “eXistenZ” was badly damaged during the attempt on her life, and the only way she can survey the damage is to play the game with someone trustworthy, Pikul. Despite Pikul’s initial hesitation, he and Geller finally play “eXistenZ”, and the further the two advance in the game, the more the game play beings to mimic their real life dangers, gradually confusing the two as to which world they’re actually inhabiting as the lines between virtual and actual reality become more blurred by the minute.

eXistenZ has been dismissed by some as a mere rehash of Cronenberg’s earlier masterwork Videodrome (1983) (I’ve even seen it referred to in some places as “Videogamedrome”), and while it’s true that the common themes of both films do mirror each other, even some of the slogans heard throughout the film are somewhat similar (“DEATH TO THE DEMONESS ALLEGRA GELLER!”) simply writing the film off as a rehash is an unfair assessment. A more accurate description of the film would be a compilation of expanded upon idea’s that Cronenberg has explored in the past using video games as the catalyst, such as the relationship between the human body and technology previously touched upon in Videodrome, The Fly (1986) and Crash (1996), the identity crises of Dead Ringers (1988) and there were even certain portions of the film where I was reminded of the surreal Interzone of Naked Lunch (1991). With eXistenZ, Cronenberg takes the concept of video games as escapism to it’s most extreme, by having players not just wanting to play the games, but to actually “live” them. It’s suggested at one point in the film that Geller would rather have no contact with the outside world at all, preferring to sit in a room all day designing games, in her own world (I can relate), the world that she created, and it’s a world that the majority of the people in this odd universe that Cronenberg has created would rather spend their time in. Another telling moment regarding the escapist mentality of the players of Gellar’s game comes when the character of Gas exclaims to Pikul that he’s a gas station attendant “only on the most pathetic level of reality”, and it’s interesting to observe the people attending the game demonstration at the beginning of the film, as a good number of them appear to be middle aged, and even some much older. This says less about the age of the people actually playing video games, as age obviously isn’t a factor when it comes to enjoying games, but rather it’s Cronenberg saying that there are people of all age groups wanting a way out of the mundane reality they live in. It’s this idea of having two separate “realties” where eXistenZ really shines, as once Geller and Pikul enter the game, the film becomes a twisted mindfuck.

Like any great video game, eXistenZ might start off relativity simple but the further along Geller and Pikul get in the game, it becomes increasingly more complex in terms of deciphering what’s real and what’s the game, as elements from both worlds begin to intertwine and Cronenberg yanks us out of one world into another and back again to the point where we’re just as perplexed as Geller and Pikul, and like the best video games, despite the level of difficulty, it‘s all to easy to get sucked in very quickly, and you’ll want to follow Geller and Pikul all the way to the film’s cryptic end. Unlike a lot of films that deal with this type of material, eXistenZ doesn’t rely on computerized images, which was wise on Cronenberg’s part, after all the purpose of Geller’s games is to present the player with a more exiting extension of their own existence, plus the “real world”-eqsue presentation of the game makes it all the more ambiguous as to which world the audience as well as Geller and Pikul are experiencing. Having game characters stand idly by until the right game dialogue is spoken to them was a nice touch as well, something gamers will no doubt pick up on instantly. The classic Cronenberg theme of technology fusing with the flesh, which was pushed to it’s logical, ultimate extremes in Crash (in a non “fantastic” way, IE no virtual reality or things of that nature) comes into play by having the game literally plug into the player’s body via an umbilical cord attached to the game pods, which themselves look like thick mounds of flesh (Geller even refers to her pod as her “baby”, even treating it like it was a newborn). This idea is taken even further by having the game run on the body’s central nervous system, and Cronenberg once again finds a secondary use for anatomical parts with the organic, human teeth shooting gun made from bones used in the attempt on Geller’s life. Although nowhere near as sexually transgressive as Crash, there does appear to be some of the tech fetish from that film carried over into eXistenZ, given Geller’s euphoric writhing while plugged into the game, not to mention some bio-port licking thrown in for good measure. This is a Cronenberg film after all.

Is it just me or did this film totally fly under the radar when it was released? I don’t recall ever seeing any TV spots or any other kind of promotion for this film during it’s theatrical run, only finding out about it when it became available for rental, probably due to a certain other film dealing with a similar topic having been released around the same time hogging all the spotlight. It got pretty good reviews all around but it’s still a shame it didn’t get more recognition back then as it’s got pretty much everything going for it. The word “chemistry” comes to mind when it comes to Leigh and Law, who are fantastic together, playing off each other perfectly. Along with being mind numbingly beautiful, Leigh brings just the right amount of reservation to her performance as the introverted Geller and Law’s awkward apprehension about everything leads to some light comedic moments, especially the moments with Dafoe. Speaking of, although his screen time is brief, any Dafoe is good Dafoe, especially when he’s playing such an odd part. Cronenberg regular Robert A. Silverman also makes a memorable appearance and naturally his character is just as weird as Hans from Naked Lunch, plus the aforementioned Ian Holm in a minor role as Geller‘s mentor. eXistenZ actually wouldn’t be a bad place to start for someone who’s new to Cronenberg. It’s an overall great representation of what to expect visually and psychologically from his films, complete with all the trademark bizarreness fans know and love intact. Whether or not you know anything about video games won’t hinder your enjoyment of the film, but if you have an interest in such topics, consider it a bonus as you’d be hard pressed to find a film with a more original and creative take on such things. eXistenZ” IS PAUSED!

Torn Curtain (1966)

The mid to late 60’s weren’t exactly the best of times for Alfred Hitchcock in terms of critical response and box office recipes. In all honestly, a part of me feels that after the success he had with Psycho (1960) and The Birds (1963), a lot of critics were just waiting to pounce on him for something, and they’d soon get their chance. From 1964 to 1969, Hitchcock would helm three films, Marnie (1964), Torn Curtain (1966), and Topaz (1969), films that to this day seem to divide fans and always seem to spark up interesting debates. For whatever reason audiences and critics just didn’t seem to take to 1964’s psychosexual puzzle Marnie (which I consider to be a misunderstood masterpiece, although it seems time has been much kinder to that film than the others Hitchcock made during this period) so Hitchcock would again try something different with 1966’s Torn Curtain, a return to the espionage genre, a field in which he had found great successes in the past. Although Torn Curtain was a significantly more successful film than Marnie financially, his highest grossing film since Psycho in fact, critics still ravaged the film. The timing of the films release couldn’t have done it any favors with the press. At the time the market was flooded with spy films, what with the Cold War in full swing and the James Bond films being worldwide blockbusters, perhaps people thought that Torn Curtain was just one spy film to many, regardless of who the director was, which is interesting when you consider how many of the espionage films of that era blatantly ripped off elements from Hitchcock’s previous work. Whatever the case may be, I’ve always been under the impression that the film got the red headed step child treatment upon it’s initial release, and it still does. It’s a film that I’ll always consider one of Hitchcock’s most underappreciated and unfairly tarnished works, and one that I’ve always be quick to defend ever since I first saw it.

While attending a scientific conference in Copenhagen, renowned American physicist Michael Armstrong (Paul Newman) begins to act strangely after his assistant/fiancé  Sarah Sherman (Julie Andrews) receives a message that was meant for him. When she asks him about his suspicious behavior, he tells her that he must fly to Stockholm, and that she should return home. Although upset, she agrees, but upon making an inquiry about his flight to Stockholm, she discovers that he’s not flying to Sweden, but to East Berlin, behind the Iron Curtain. Unbeknownst to him (and much to his dismay when he finds out), she hops on his plane and follows him to Berlin, where he publicly announces his defection to the east, citing his disappointment in the American government after the cancellation of his missile research project. In reality, he isn’t defecting at all, it’s a ruse in order for him to obtain top secret scientific information from Germany’s leading scientist for the American government and plans are in order for his escape with the help of an underground network known as Pi. His plan, and the Pi network are put in serious jeopardy when he is found out after his government appointed shadow Hermann Gromek follows him to the home of a contact in Pi (The Farmer), resulting in Armstrong and the farmers wife murdering Gromek, and Armstrong’s loyalty being questioned later on due to Gromek’s mysterious “disappearance”. While meeting with a top German scientist, it’s announced via loud speaker that searches are being conducted for Armstrong and Sarah for questioning, forcing Armstrong to hastily memorize as much information as possible and make a daring and dangerous escape with Sarah, facing obstacles at every turn.

Of the three films Hitchcock made during his so called “down period” ( a term which I completely disagree with, by the way) Torn Curtain seems to be the one that gets the most mud slung it’s way (even more so than Topaz) and honestly, I just don’t get it. I know this writing will hardly change anyone’s opinion of the film, but I will say to it’s detractors that it deserves a serious reassessment. Judging from all the negative reviews I’ve read of the film over the years, the number one issue that the majority of the films opponents bring up is the casting, claming that Paul Newman and Julie Andrews were miscast and didn’t fit their roles at all. I happen to disagree (shocking I know). The classic Hitchcock theme of someone getting involved over their head in a serious situation is applied in this film, and while I’ll grant you that Newman’s character isn’t exactly an “everyman” in the traditional sense like a lot of Hitchcock protagonists had been in previous films on account of being a well known scientist, the general idea remains the same. I bring up that motif because Newman has that everyman quality about him, although his likeability isn’t instant. His character of Armstrong comes off as a bit of a selfish jerk in the beginning, the way he goes about handling his situation, keeping Sarah in the dark about the whole thing, yet it quickly becomes apparent that he is a good man, he knows full well the dangers of what he’s doing yet he feels it’s the right thing to do, so he becomes easy to root for. As for Andrews, were people expecting her to break out into song or something? You’re watching the wrong film. She’s easily the most sympathetic and likable person in the film. We instantly feel for Sarah, as she has yet to find out what the audience already knows, and Andrew’s handles the emotional material quite well. I’ve also never agreed with the claims that Newman and Andrews have no chemistry together, especially when you consider that their scenes together in the early parts of the film are supposed to come off as a bit awkward, what with Sarah questioning him about his odd behavior and him dancing around the issue of why he really wants her to go back home, plus the tension between the two after she follows him to Berlin and him finally telling her the truth about what’s really going on. As is the case with most Hitchcock films, it doesn’t take that long to become fully invested in the characters, and as the film moves forward and the more threatened they become, the more you’ll care about them and fear for their safety, making the events in the later part of the film all the more engaging and nerve wracking.

If Torn Curtain is remembered for one thing, without question it’s the murder of Gromek. Even the films naysayer’s have to accept defeat when it comes to this particular scene and admit it’s brilliance. Hitchcock deliberately made the scene as long and drawn out as possible, wanting to prove to the audience that killing a man isn’t as easy as it looks in the movies, it takes a bit more work, and indeed we see Armstrong and the farmer’s wife’s struggle in completing the act, as a knife, a shovel, and finally a gas oven are put to use. The fact that there is no music during the scene makes it even more excruciating to watch. We hear nothing but the noises of Gromek and Armstrong wrestling about the room, the sound knife breaking off in Gromek’s chest after he’s been stabbed and of course the noise of the oven. Even with the visceral nature of the scene, Hitchcock still found a way to inject some humor into it, with Gromek making the sly remark “Tell the cookie she should put that down, she’s going to cut your fingers off” after noticing the farmer’s wife coming at him with a knife. Hands down it’s the best moment of the film, just a masterfully constructed sequence, one that’s more than deserving to stand alongside scenes such as the finale of Saboteur (1942) on the statue of liberty, the Mt. Rushmore scene from North By Northwest (1959) and the shower scene from Psycho, amongst other iconic Hitchcock moments. The brief exchange between Armstrong and Gromek before the murder is smothered in tension, and speaking of intense, the second half of the film couldn’t get anymore. With a film like this there is always a sense of danger hovering above every scene given the subject matter, as it’s always a possibility that Armstrong’s cover could be blown at any moment. This is especially the case when Sarah is being interrogated, and keep in mind this is before Michael has told her the truth, so there’s always that element to keep us on edge, but it’s when the two try to make their escape when Hitchcock really lets us have it. Almost immediately after getting out of one dangerous situation, they’re yanked right into another. From their almost unbaringly tense ride on the supposed “safe” bus run by Pi, where along with being followed by the military they face other hang up’s such as belligerent passengers and checkpoints, to the scene in the theatre, (which is pure Hitchcock through and through) and the finale involving a very creative use of prop crates of all things, we barley get any breathing room, Hitchcock is in full control. Like any good spy movie, there’s plenty of intrigue to go around in terms of the inner workings of the Pi network, can this or that person be fully trusted, who is this or that person really working for and other things of that nature, so the suspense certainly isn’t in short supply.

Torn Curtain seemed to get the short end of the stick even before the film went into production. Numerous re-writes had to be done to the script and even when filming began things didn’t get any easier. It’s been said that both Newman and Andrew’s high salaries ate into the films budget, plus it’s well known that Hitchcock and Newman didn’t get along all that great. Newman was a method actor which drove Hitchcock crazy, and the two had many disagreements over the script, as Newman would later put it “"I think Hitch and I could have really hit it off, but the script kept getting in the way”. Throwing another wrench into the proceedings was the fact that longtime Hitchcock collaborator   Bernard Herrmann, who’s score for the film was written before filming ceased, left the project when the music he composed for the film wasn’t upbeat or “pop” enough to Universal’s liking, and they’re were no opportunities for Julie Andrews to possibly sing in the film. (I realize that the studio heads were thinking economics here, wanting to make whatever aspect of the film as commercially appealing as possible, but come on. A “pop” score for an intense spy thriller? The genius of Hollywood at work folks). Hitchcock replaced Herrmann with John Addison who rewrote the score (I love the film’s main theme by the way). Even with all the hassles that went into getting the film made, I still say it deserves far more credit that it gets. Am I saying it’s one of Hitchcock’s all time greatest films? No, but it’s nowhere near what it’s reputation would have you believe. If anything it’s a prime example of Hitchcock’s persistence as a filmmaker. Even with all the elements seemingly working against him, he was still able to deliver an incredibly gripping film that’s more than worthy your time that holds up well on repeated viewings (dated politics aside, but that goes without saying), one that I’ll continue to stick up for.

Man Bites Dog (1992)

Just like the last film I wrote about, Hitchcock’s Shadow of a Doubt (1943), this was another film that I attempted to “review” way back when and the same thing ended up happening, my brain stalled and it ended up being a half assed paragraph. Links need not apply. So consider this a second attempt at me trying to redeem myself, as this is another film that most defiantly deserves a more valiant effort on my part. Man Bites Dog is one of my favorite films ever. I’ve been a fan and champion of this film since the 90’s, matter of fact I have 3 copies of it, a VHS I recorded off if IFC way back when, an official VHS and the Criterion DVD. I’ve watched it so many times that it’s to the point now where I think I could probably recite the entire script in French. Or at least watch it without any subtitles. If I were ever to make a “top 10 of all time“ list, it would easily have a secure spot. It’s a film that, no matter how many times I watch it, the impact it had during the first viewing is never lost. Truth be told I’d say that over the years it’s become even more potent, especially when you compare the media and “reality” TV obsessed culture of today with what it was like back in 1992, the fact that this film turns 20 years old this year makes it all the more endearing. Not to mention that with all the “found footage” and faux documentary styled films being hot commodities these days, thanks in part to the success of one particular franchise (the name escapes me at the moment, something to do with extracurricular activates I think), a film like this was way ahead of it’s time and then some, and 20 years later it still stands as one of the most unique and original, not just mockumentaries ever, but films in general.

Man Bites Dog (C'est arrivé près de chez vous, “It Happened In Your Neighborhood“) follows young filmmakers Remy and Andre (the films actual writers and directors Rémy Belvaux and André Bonzel) as they film a documentary on their subject Ben (Benoît Poelvoorde, also the films third writer and director), a serial killer. The crew films Ben practicing his “trade” while he describes his preferred methods, what works, what doesn’t, what victims are more profitable, things of that nature. Along the way we’re introduced to Ben’s friends and family, while Ben waxes philosophic on life, poetry, boxing, and pretty much whatever else is on his mind when the camera’s are rolling. He also helps fund the low budget production with the money from his victims. At first just mere observers, simply filming Ben, Remy and Andre become increasingly more involved in his actions, while other complications and occupational hazards arise as a result of the dangers of making a film about a subject like Ben and his line of “work”.

Much more than just a mockumentary, Man Bites Dog is a film that wears a lot of hats, and they all fit quite nicely, as this is a film that works on so many different levels,  mockumentary, black comedy/media satire and as social commentary. As a mockumentary it works because of the overall presentation. Shot in grainy black and white, featuring interviews with Ben’s family and friends, the constant sight of the crew and film equipment, plus the fact that everyone involved in the production uses their real first names, it all adds to the sense that this could be a legitimate documentary, filming this mans day to day life in real time, while also giving us a glimpse at some of the hassles that filmmakers go through while going into an under funded production. What’s even more unique about the film is, without giving too much away, as the film moves forward, certain events unfold that make the later part of the film starts to play out like more traditional, dramatic narrative, all the while the documentary aesthetic is never lost. I always thought that was a pretty neat way of telling the story of it‘s subject, and Ben is quite the “subject”. Violence aside, I think one aspect of the film that disturbed people the most was (and I’m only guessing) they found themselves getting to like Ben a little. If you take away the fact that he’s a murderer, Ben comes off as a pretty likable guy. He fancies himself to be fairly sophisticated, writes and recites poetry, plays music, he’s funny and charming, loves his family and treats his mother with the utmost respect. He defiantly loves the camera as well, and is charismatic enough that even him spouting off about something as benign as the look of public housing is never dull. Of course there is an obvious arrogance about him, and it’s impossible to forget what he does for a living, as we could be seeing him and the crew drinking and having a good time yet seconds before he was shooting someone in the head, and there are parts of the film where you’ll start to feel very nervous for the filmmakers, wondering what Ben’s reaction will be if he get irritated at something, no matter how friendly him and the crew might be. One of the more fascinating aspects of Ben’s personality is the way he views killing. A lot of what he does is for profit, a big reason why he prefers to target the elderly (they‘re “loaded“, according to him), and the reason he avoids young couples and suburban homes. After he murders an entire suburban family, upon realizing there’s nothing of any value in the home and after a crew member mentions they’re running out of cash for film Ben comments “The problem’s not cash. That, I have. It’s those three innocents. There oughta be a law. Well, I’m… I’m not… I’m not a lunatic.” Consider it a twisted sense of morality.

As a black comedy, Man Bites Dog works because well, it’s frankly quite hilarious. Obviously it’s not everyone’s style of humor, but there is something morbidly humorous about Ben describing his techniques or the way he so casually talks about how he usually starts off the month by knocking off a postman, the bone density of midgets, or how “scaring” an elderly woman to death by inducing a heart attack seconds after the act was easier on her and her neighbors, as it saves them from the noise, and saves him a bullet. One of the best lines in the film comes after Ben shoots a night watchman at a construction site, and after complaining about the cheaply made concrete says “I once buried two Arabs in a wall over there... facing Mecca, of course.” One of the more infamous scenes comes when Ben is trying out a gun holster the crew has bought him for his birthday, he accidentally shoots a guest at the table yet immediately resumes eating and asks for more champagne like nothing has happened. As a whole the films general premise could be seen as a parody, albeit an extreme one, on the media’s fascination with violence and the public’s consumption of it. This idea is expanded on when Ben and the crew run into another killer who’s being followed by a film crew of his own. There are actually a few instances where they run into other killers, and these run-in’s lead to some of the more dramatic moments of the film as crew members are accidentally killed during Ben’s shoot outs, but they also give way to more darkly comical moments, as after a member is killed, we see Remy making a tearful statement to the camera, dedicating the film to them, claiming to be thinking of their girlfriend Marie-Paul, who’s carrying their child. Later on when another crew member is accidentally shot, Remy makes the exact same statement, complete with the mentioning of Marie-Paul, the only difference being the name of the recently departed. Of course there are lighter moments of humor in the film, such as Ben getting knocked out via one punch during a boxing match, and his old man roommate during his hospital stay who, according to Ben, does nothing but “shit and sing” all day long. The man’s ensuing argument with his nurse after he “makes caca” as well as him singing out loud “I shit for nights, I shit for days, I shit all over, I shit always” is comedy gold. It might work better if your actually watching it as apposed to just reading it but if you’ve seen the film you’ll know what I mean. I’m laughing as I type this just thinking about it.

It’s been suggested that the filmmakers becoming more and more involved with Ben’s activates was a way of asking just how complicit we are when it comes to violence. Is simply viewing it too much? Or how about the crews filming of it in the first place? How far is too far? If that was truly the case, I can honestly say that the film never once comes across as “preachy”. According to the filmmakers during an interview done about a year after the film was released, it was never their intention to make any sort of statement whatsoever on violence, they simply wanted to make a film about making a film. Andre Bonzel, one of the films creators stated in the liner notes of the Criterion DVD that essentially the exact same film could have been made had even if Ben was a door to door salesman, except that wouldn’t have been nearly as interesting, and killers are typical characters in fiction, so take that as you will. (By the way, the term “Man bites dog” is a journalism term in case you didn’t know) Feel free to call me jaded and cynical all you like, but if you ask me, the idea presented in Man Bites Dog doesn't seem all that far fetched these days, especially when the internet comes into play. I often wonder if the film were to be released today what the overall response would be, both from critics and the general movie going population. Would it be as controversial and still be considered as shocking as it was back in 1992, or not so much when you consider what’s come after it in terms of content? My best guess would be probably a bit of both, with the former viewpoint most likely coming from media outlets in denial of some of the more sensational things they broadcast. Whether or not you “get it” and regardless of what your interpretation of the film is, one thing is for certain about Man Bites Dog, it’s sure to stir up a reaction and bound to leave a strong impression, one you won’t soon forget after watching.

Shadow of a Doubt (1943)

Years ago I attempted to “review” this film for a forum I frequent and the results lets say were less than stellar. The problem was I couldn’t think of anything to say and pretty much gave up and it ended up being a half-assed paragraph. Pretty embarrassing to say the least, going back and reading it all these years later. Well I owe it to this film to try again, it deserves it. Now that that’s out of the way, when it comes to Hitchcock’s it’s virtually impossible for me to pick an absolute favorite film. Even making a top 10 list would be incredibly difficult, as he’s one of those filmmakers, where, to me at least, you’ll be watching a film and be so wrapped up in it you’ll think to yourself “ Now THIS is my favorite!”, then you’ll watch another and think the exact same thing. While Hitchcock wasn’t immune to missteps, as no filmmaker really is, his consistency was quite staggering, plus it’s been said by many that even one of his lesser films is better than most directors at the top of their game, so I’m defiantly guilty of referring to a good majority of his films as “one of my favorites”. Now if I were to ever attempt to make said top 10 list, 1943’s Shadow of a Doubt would be sitting near the very top. Shadow of a Doubt was part of the first crop of Hitch flicks I watched way back when I was first getting into his work. I’ve stated before on this very site that I started watching Hitchcock films at a pretty young age, so naturally I wasn’t so quick to pick up on all the subtexts and things of that nature happening in the films, it was all about the story for me back then. As I got older and wiser to the ways of the world, with each subsequent viewing the more things jumped out at me and I began to appreciate the films much more and on an entirely different level. Case in point, Shadow of a Doubt. While the story of uncle Charlie will never fail to grip me no matter how many times I watch it, it wasn’t actually until a few years ago until I fully grasped just how dark this film really is, and while I may have a hard time determining just what my favorite Hitchcock film really is, the master himself certainty didn’t, as he believed Shadow of a Doubt to be his finest work, and it’s easy to see why.

Young Charlie Newton (Teresa Wright) is an average bored American teenager. Nothing ever exciting happens in her small town of Santa Rosa, California and in her mind her life is just spinning it’s wheels and her family is going to pieces. On a whim she decides that the one person who could cheer her up and bring excitement back to the family is her uncle Charlie (Joseph Cotton), whom she was named after. While sending her uncle a telegram she finds out that uncle Charlie is actually on his way to Santa Rosa from Philadelphia to stay with the family for a while. Upon hearing the news young Charlie is ecstatic as she absolutely idolizes her uncle, and indeed when he arrives in town young Charlie and the family seems to be rejuvenated. But uncle Charlie left Philadelphia for a reason, and he didn’t come alone. He’s being trailed by two men, men who trick the Newton family into thinking their survey takers in order to get closer access to uncle Charlie. One of the men takes a liking to young Charlie and during a night on the town reveals to her their true motives. They’re detectives and her uncle Charlie is one of two men suspected to be a serial killer known as the Merry Widow Murderer, a stranger of wealthy widows. Young Charlie of course refuses to believe it, furious that anyone would even think that about her uncle, but the detectives words do leave an impression and after doing a little detective work of her own she uncovers a sinister side of her beloved uncle that she wished she never found out about, and uncle Charlie is determined to keep it a secret.

Very early on in the film, Hitchcock gives us a brief overview of the town of Santa Rosa. It’s quintessential small town America, the kind of place where everybody knows everybody, idealistic and picturesque, a great place to raise a family it would appear. But that picture soon turns incredibly bleak. Like I said above, Shadow of a Doubt is a dark film, one of Hitchcock’s darkest in fact, as the façade of small town USA is peeled back, presenting a frightening possibility of what could lurk beneath the surface of such a place, and the idea of the happy all American family is totally perverted. It’s defiantly the family element that makes the ideas present in the film so effective. Anyone can imagine young Charlie’s horror of finding out her uncle, isn’t who she thought he was at all, and in that sense the film is almost heartbreaking, as this is a person she thinks the world of, someone who brought her out of her slump and brought some life back into her and the rest of her family. Not only does this revelation completely shatter young Charlie’s image of her uncle, it would appear that the way she views the world and others is tainted as well. For the first half of the film, the suspense element comes not in wondering whether of not uncle Charlie is the Merry Widow Murderer, but wondering if and when young Charlie will find out his secret, and what will come of it.  (a type of tension building that Hitchcock would brilliantly return to with James Stewart’s character in Rope (1948). Despite the films title, there really isn’t a whole lot of “doubt”, as right from the first shot of the film it’s obvious that uncle Charlie is a shady character, being followed by the two men trailing him, pretending to be ill during his train ride to Santa Rosa plus his eccentricities after his arriving, such as vehemently refusing to be photographed by the two men when they pose as survey takers and tearing an article out of a newspaper, acting more than a bit defensive when young Charlie finds said article. It’s actually after young Charlie finds out the truth that Hitchcock really cranks up the intensity by making uncle Charlie a serious threat to his niece. Without giving anything away, you won’t believe what he does to try and keep her (very) quiet, and the way he acts so “concerned” about all the “accidents” his niece is suddenly having, one after another, and the matter of fact way Hitchcock presents it makes it all the more chilling. A lot has been said over the years about the actual look of the finale on the train (it was 1943 folks, movie making technology wasn’t what it is these days) but the scene itself is one hell of a nail biter, and as short as it is, you’ll be out of breath by the time it’s over. Pure Hitchcock through and through.

If all that weren’t more than enough to make for an unforgettable film, what really seals the deal are the performances of Joseph Cotten and Teresa Wright. I believe that this was one of the few, possibly only time Cotten played a bad guy (correct me if I’m wrong as there are others who know more about that stuff than I do) and he relishes every moment of it. It’s Cotten’s performance of uncle Charlie that makes Shadow of a Doubt as unsettling as it is, because if you strip away all the widow murdering, uncle Charlie seems like a pretty good guy. He’s well traveled, sophisticated, and comes across as the consummate, loving family man, even bringing expensive gifs for the entire family (his gift to young Charlie becomes a major plot device by the way). He manages to pull the wool over the entire town of Santa Rosa’s eye as he’s well liked by seemingly the whole community. Uncle Charlie’s real personality comes out in the form of two brilliant monologues wherein he opines on his nihilistic views of life, women and the world in general. Cotten’s delivery is astoundingly sinister, and it’s after the second monologue, when it’s clear to him that young Charlie knows the truth, we no longer see the man with a secretive side, only the monster that young Charlie now sees, yet at the same time there is a slight sense of shame in self-loathing in uncle Charlie, as he pleads with his niece to never let her mother find out the truth, knowing full well it would devastate her as much as it does his niece.  In sharp contrast to Cotten’s menace is Teresa Wright’s youthful innocence and naivety, making young Charlie an instantly likable character, and it’s these qualities that make it incredibly easy to sympathize with her as it’s is quite troubling to see this young girls ideas of her uncle smashed, and you’ll be wishing for her safety for the majority of the later part of the film. The two of them together is the definition of chemistry, both before and after the truth about uncle Charlie is revealed, and there is always this odd tension between the two, which brings me to something that’s always stuck with me about this film. Is it just me or is young Charlie a bit too enamored with her uncle? I mean, she even says at one point in the film (and I’m paraphrasing here) that she’s always viewed them as so much more, claiming she loves being seen with him in public, gushing at the fact that all her friends fawn over him when they see the two together. Maybe I’m the weird one for even thinking about it, or perhaps it was Hitchcock’s way of darting around a taboo without spelling it out completely, but regardless it’s just another aspect of the film to creep you out.

Of course with material like this the opportunity was prime for some of Hitchcock’s trademark black humor in the form of little Charlie’s father Joe (Henry Travers) and his best friend, the Newton’s neighbor Herb, played by Hume Cronyn. The two are avid murder mystery readers and spent most of their free time discussing crime (they even bring up the Merry Widow case) and how they would murder the other and get away with it and which methods were more effective than others. This is Hitchcock so naturally one such discussion is had at the dinner table (a running joke in the film is Herb always showing up at dinner time), much to little Charlie’s dismay. My favorite discussion of theirs is when Herb asks Joe if he tasted the soda he put in his coffee, about the same amount he would use if it were poison. Both men have great comedic delivery (Cronyn especially) and their scenes are always fun. There’s also the great “I’d die for a ring like that” remark made by young Charlie’s waitress friend after seeing the ring her uncle gave to her as a gift. The Newton family is quite the quirky bunch, especially Charlie’s bookworm little sister Ann, so Hitchcock does make time for some light humor along with all the doom and gloom going on in the film. One more note about the whole small town aesthetic, there’s a big reason why it feels as authentic as it does, the film was actually shot on location in Santa Rosa, California, and like I stated above it’s pretty much your average, Norman Rockwell-esque community. The perfect place for a killer to hide out with complete anonymity it would see. Just the right subject matter for Hitchcock. The idea of seedy characters existing in suburbia has been a theme for many a film over the years (Blue Velvet immediately springs to mind) and you can clearly see Shadow of a Doubt’s influence in such films. Like so many of Hitchcock’s works, the more you watch Shadow of a Doubt, the more little things pop out making you appreciate the film even more so, while the storyline remains as captivating as it was on the first viewing. It is absolutely an essential Hitchcock masterpiece, and it just might make you think twice about putting people on pedestals, no matter how well you think you know them.

Countess Perverse (1973)

If you were a fan of Jess Franco during the early 70’s you were lucky. While Franco was always a prolific filmmaker, often helming several films a year, the 70’s found him taking on a work load that even by his standards seemed a bit extreme, hell in 1973 alone he managed to complete 12 feature films. TWELVE, and there were others that for one reason or another were never finished. No matter what your opinion on Franco is, you can’t help but admire the man’s work ethic, it never ceases to amaze me, and personally speaking it’s one of the main reasons I hold him in such high regard as a filmmaker. I mean think about some the long lapses in time certain directors experience in between films, sometimes 4-6 years (not to mention the waiting impatient fans like myself endure). Not Franco though, finish one, move onto the next. Now, obviously when you work at that kind of a pace the results tend to be hit or miss, and even devout Francophiles will admit the man has had his fair share of misses, but a good number of the films that Franco directed during that time period turned out to be real good. Great in fact, as several of them are now considered to be some of his most essential, must see works. Films such as (but obviously not limited too) The Sinister Eyes of Dr. Orloff, The Other Side of the Mirror, Female Vampire, Sinner: The Secret Diary of a Nymphomaniac, Plaisir à trois, and Countess Perverse. Countess Perverse was one of a few films Franco worked on that featured principle cast members Alice Arno, Howard Vernon, Robert Woods and of course Lina Romay. Out of the all the films he worked on with that motley crew, for my money, it’s Countess Perverse that stands out as the best.

Countess Perverse (original French title La comtesse perverse) is essentially Franco’s own unique take on the classic Most Dangerous Game hunting humans theme. Countess Ivanna and Count Rador Zaroff (Arno and Vernon) are two extremely wealthy debauched libertine aristocrats who live on their own private island of sorts, which they’ve turned into their own personal hunting ground. After wining, dining and “entertaining” (read that as being seduced by Ivanna, sometimes Rador joins in, other times he watches astutely from the sidelines) a guest, their true motives are revealed to their unsuspecting victim, and the next morning the victim is given the chance to escape the island while Ivanna hunts them down like a wild animal with her bow. If the attempted escape is unsuccessful, the head of victim becomes another trophy on Ivanna’s wall and the rest is cooked and becomes Ivanna and Rador’s dinner, and is served to the next unknowing player in their game as well, and they’ve just found the perfect victim in the young Sylvia (Romay).

Filled to the brim with sex, sleaze, beautiful uninhibited women, cannibalism, rampant lesbianism and black humor, Countess Perverse is defiantly Franco at his Francoiest. There’s no pretense when it comes to a film like this, it knows what it is and proudly flaunts it, making no apologies for it. More than anything though, it’s just damn entertaining. Countess Perverse is really a blast to watch, and if I have to make one complaint it would just be that I wish it were longer because at a short running time of only 78 minutes it’s over before you know it and if your anything like me you’ll want more. For starters the tight knit cast Franco assembled for this and some of the other previously mentioned films couldn’t have been more perfect. Arno and Vernon make for the perfect disturbed cannibalistic couple, and both are the personification of presence. Vernon has a way about him, that was tailor made for horror films and the deranged faces he makes in this film are almost worth the price of admission alone. He’s a magnetic figure in that black suit and glasses, no doubt. I don’t even need to mention just how dead sexy Arno is, simply a stunning, alluring woman and it’s impossible to take your eyes off her. Dangerous and seductive, she made the titular Countess a more interesting character. Did I mention she hunts her prey totally nude? Having her and Lina on the screen together almost seems like Franco challenging the viewer to see which one you can drool over more. Along with all the human hunting and flesh eating, Franco even finds room for some drama near the end when one of the procurers of the Zaroff’s victims, played by Robert Woods decides he has a heart and tries to put a stop to the Countess’ game. Admittedly this does turn into melodrama, but Franco quickly shifts the mood and ends the film on a darkly comic note. The morbid humor is one of the films definite highlights, the good majority of Vernon’s lines are real gems, one of the most popular being “She's dim, but she's certainly juicy.” referring to Sylvia after having passed out from the shock of discovering the Zaroff’s love of human flesh. One of my personal favorite scenes in the film is the dinner scene where the Zaroff’s share their favorite food with Sylvia. The dialogue between the three is pure gold, and the wide eyed look of bewilderment on Lina’s face the entire time is priceless

Ivanna: Do You like our favorite meat, Sylvia?
Rador: Don’t ask the sweet girl to lie. This meat is rather tough. Not up to our usual standard. But next time… Oh, sorry - you won’t be here.
Sylvia: Why? Am I upsetting you?
Rador: On the contrary.
Ivanna: Just that you will have left by the time we start cooking.
Rador: Oh yes, that’s a fact. Already left indeed. 

I’m going to sound like a broken record here because just as I did when I reviewed Lorna the Exorcist (1974) and Justine (1969) I have to point out Franco’s knack for getting the most out of a location, using every possible resource at his disposal to his advantage. You’d never would have guessed how low the budget was for a lot of Franco’s films just going by the scenery alone, and Countess Perverse is no exception. It goes without saying that the island setting is gorgeous but it’s the way Franco uses his surroundings to give off this incredible atmosphere that fans know all about but first time Franco viewers might have never expected to feel in such a film. Early on there in the film there is a flashback segment where a woman recounts her voyage to the island while Franco focuses the camera on the massive rocks surrounding the water and island. The woman describes the fear the rocks instilled in her by claiming that the rocks warned of death, and therein lies Franco’s genius. There is indeed something oddly menacing about those monstrous, natural formations, and the thought of being surrounded by them in the middle of the water does give off some odd sensations. The incredible eerie organ theme enhances the scene tenfold, and it’s a theme that’s heard numerous times throughout the film to great effect. You can’t talk about this film without bringing up the Zaroff’s house, as it‘s an unforgettable sight. (Francophiles will instantly recognize the house he previously used it in She Killed In Ecstasy (1971)) The best way I can describe the look of the house is an Escher paining come to life, and the bizarre architecture gives off a real unsettling aura, as Lina’s character of Sylvia exclaims “This house scares me.” as the aforementioned organ theme plays. Just as visually stunning are the interior shots taking place within a set  of huge red stair casings (which were filmed in the building right next to the main house), which, just like the exterior of the house have a very surreal, nightmarish quality. The overall oddness of both not only bring forth a disorienting sense unease, but also allow Franco to conjure up that hallucinogenic dream like state he creates all to well.

Once again, Mondo Macabro proves to be at the top of their game when it comes to the world of DVD. Their treatment of Countess Perverse is every bit as impressive as their previous Franco releases of The Diabolical Dr. Z plus the previously mentioned Sinner and Lorna. The transfer is the best this film has ever looked, and probably will ever look, now it’s a full screen picture as originally intended which might irk a few people but honestly will that really hinder your viewing experience? It shouldn’t, as it looks fantastic. Another brilliant restoration from Mondo. Once again included is an interview with author and Franco expert Stephen Thrower which is great as he throws out quite a bit of information about this particular period in Franco’s career as well as some tidbits about the famous house used in the film (named Xanadu) it’s architect, and late Lina Romay. The most fascinating part of this segment to me though, is where he makes the connection with some of Franco’s work with that of the Marquis de Sade. While Countess Perverse isn’t one of Franco’s Sade adaptations, the thematic influence of the Marquis is ever apparent. Thrower will have an in depth book about Franco and his films published sometime later this year. That will be a must buy for sure. Also included is an interview with actor Robert Woods who reminisces fondly about his time in Europe and his work with Franco, nothing but nice things to say about the man. Good stuff. As an added bonus Mondo threw in a nice write up about the films colorful post production history which is fascinating to say the least, plus some cast bio’s. I’m not sure how many people actually read those but they’re nice additions, the one on Arno especially. This was one my most anticipated DVD’s of the year and without question it’s worth every penny. A fitting treatment for one of Franco’s most fun and best looking films. An absolute must have.