Phantom of Pulp
pulp as a way of life
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Zoom Up: Rape Site
This Zoom Up: Rape Site poster is subtly spectacular with its color foreground and chillingly colorless background.
This Koyu Ohara flick, which gave Nikkatsu many headaches, is not on DVD, VHS, or Blu-Ray.
For an enterprising distributor, this is THE pick of the bunch.
Although available in Japan, Ohara's White Rose Campus: Then, Everybody Gets Raped is also begging for broader Western exposure.
The Earliest Works of Toshio Saeki
This had been eluding me for some time, but I finally got my hands on it, and I was not disappointed.
Saeki's very early works lack none of the perverse imagination of his later creations, and it's inspiring to see how themes have remained constant.
For mine, nobody blends the grotesque with the erotic as sincerely as Saeki, although I am certainly not discounting the beautiful and eclectic work of Suehiro Maruo, Jun Hayami, Hiroaki Samura.
Saeki's art, for me, is the purest extension of Japanese woodcuts, and explores the theme of man/woman/beast unions with a commitment that's sometimes dizzying for its freshness.
The best of the best mines the darkest human catacombs and excavates the brittle beauty of fresh experience.
I've written extensively on this blog about Saeki,
so use the search function if you want to see more.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Film Chart Draft
Posted here is the first film chart.
This version is converted from .doc to .pdf. to .png.
In the process, the table's lines got thick in parts and thinner in other parts.
It still needs improvement.
Comments or suggestions welcome from anybody skilled in this area (I am not).
I will leave this post up for three days.
Don't consider this an official chart.
It also lacks the rater's bios and web links to blogs.
Phantom
Happy Bloody Birthday To You, Cunt!
Killer kids were a novelty before they started shooting up schools and acting like pint-sized Charles Whitmans. John Wyndham, who essentially created the killer kid genre with The Midwich Cuckoos, was really onto something, and cinema responded with Village of the Damned, Children of the Damned, These Are The Damned, The Bad Seed, and dozens of variations on little shits breaking bad.
Exported from England recently was The Children, a very decent effort about homicidal rug rats, and let's not forget the wildly entertaining Orphan, a killer kid flick that cheated on its age requirement, but did so smartly What makes a killer kid flick official is the age of its killers. They must be pre-teen.
If you want to see kids killing and maiming and behaving in a way that is consistent with their age, I urge you to RSVP to the retro DVD event that is Ed Hunt's Bloody Birthday (Severin). It is one party that delivers, and the cake they cut will be you (!)
I'm not sure how I managed to avoid this gem for thirty-one years, but I suspect it has something to do with the title. I was never a big fan of Happy Birthday To Me (even though I enjoyed watching 'Mary' from Little House on the Prairie going psycho), so it's possible I avoided movies with "birthday" in the title, even if the birthday promised to be a bloody one. Well, shame on me, because this little number is an exceptional piece of 80's exploitation that never drops the ball.
Bloody Birthday is not a bad title (I vote for California Cuckoos), but it doesn't tell you squat about this movie. There is a birthday party, and it does get marginally bloody, but this flick is about three kids born during an eclipse who grow up to be ten-year-old killers. These moppets want to kill like teenage boys want to masturbate. Every time they turn around, they want to take someone out. When some fuck looks at them sideways, they know they should die. Why waste time doing good when you can do a shitload of bad?
The film is relentless. Once the kids are born in a California hospital, director Ed Hunt leaps forward ten years so the murders can begin. Although it's not a stylish or well shot film, it has a disturbing quality because it's stark. The beating of a cop is particularly grim, as is a terrific scene in which a killer kid opens fire twice on his enemy with a handgun, a gun so big it dwarfs the murderous squirt. A school teacher gets shot, a boy gets locked in a refrigerator, and the film's heroine gets chased through a junkyard by a car; the car is driven by an unlicensed (!) ten-year-old in early Jason head gear.
Does it get any better than this, folks? Can ecstasy this sublime be truly surpassed?
Not really.
What allows the killings to occupy almost constant screen time is the lack of police. The town's top plod bites the dust early on, so that leaves a deputy who looks like he transferred in from 'Hazard County' or Last House on the Left. This ninkumpoop couldn't stop a snail with a jackboot. Which is great, because he's not around to stop the murders.
Because it wasn't enough to make the kids killers, screenwriters Hunt and Barry Pearson make the two males perverts also. The mini-skirted female of the trio charges the junior Larry Flynts a quarter each to peep on her teenage sister through a hole in the wall. They get to see some ass, some bra, some mild nipple action, but no pussy. The hole (the one in the wall) is also used as an opening by the vicious little vixen to shoot innocent people in the eye with arrows.
I could go on and on all day about this charmer, but I'll spare you that and wrap here with a big, meaty, bloody, subversive "Highly Recommended".
Sunday, March 18, 2012
A Hong Kong Cinema Record
I discovered this annual round-up of Hong Kong movies in the early Nineties and often found it helpful.
Although the English synopses were less than truly English, the information on box office grosses, release dates, cast, and Chinese characters was invaluable to anybody covering Hong Kong cinema.
At the time, I was writing my 'Chinatown Beat' column for Michael Helms' FATAL VISIONS magazine and co-contributing (with Frank Bren) to a Hong Kong review column in Melbourne's THE HERALD-SUN newspaper, a position that, in retrospect, I find quite miraculous. Frank and I were quite stunned when an enterprising editor allowed us to run our column in the paper's Thursday entertainment pages alongside regular review Leigh Paatsch.
One of the most interesting aspects of these is definitely the box office grosses. I constantly find myself scanning entries for the lowest grossing movies and then fixating on them.
One of the lowest grossers in the '94/'95 volume is Date in Portland Street (HK$103,255); that's not even US$20,000.
A super-low grosser in the '91 volume is the Ray Lui/Alex Fong film Thunder Run (HK$91094); I recall seeing it with Alien Wife.
I'm not sure if these are still published, but I'd sure like to pick up recent volumes if they're still available.
If anybody else has them, let me know your thoughts.
The Source of Woo's The Killer
Just as John Woo's Bullet in the Head is a very obvious remake of Michael Cimino's The Deer Hunter (right down to its lighting setups), his The Killer is a less obvious remake of Teruo Ishii's An Outlaw and, of course, Melville's Le Samourai. I'd throw Nicholas Ray's truly amazing crime melodrama They Live By Night into the fray also.
I've raved about Ishii before on this blog, usually having unreasonable cinematic orgasms about his freak-oriented material such as Horrors of Malformed Men, Love and Crime, and Orgies of Edo. But Ishii also directed thrillers, outrageous erotic comedies, and torture-themed epics.
An Outlaw, with Ken Takakura, is an Ishii thriller. Takakura plays a killer (very well) contracted to take out a scumbag; turns out the scumbag is a good guy. Angered by this betrayal, the killer sets out to expose the maggot-infested filth behind the ruse. Along the way, he becomes attracted to an innocent girl, helps a pretty prostitute with tuberculosis, and finds he shares a common sense of morality with a cop. At one point, he and the cop exchange gunfire with their common enemy.
Sound familiar? It screams familiar.
Yes, it's The Killer without the heavy stylization, but with the doubledecker trams and visually spectacular exploitation of Hong Kong's Victoria Peak. Mr. Woo must have been quite a fan of the film.
Thankfully, Ishii's bizarre trademarks rupture the film's surface now and then like welcome blisters. An old woman's wonderful facial scar (or is it a tattoo?) is a classic touch. Also true to Ishii is a bloody brilliant scene in which our hero saves a woman from vomiting on her own blood by deep kissing her and sucking the blood from her throat. It's super erotic, loving, and grotesque at the same time. I was in heaven!
I've waited eons to see this film and I was not disappointed.
Another triumph from Toei, the people who would one day bring you Battle Royale.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
The Bunny Game

The Bunny Game is a variation on a well-trodden scenario, but it's elevated somewhat by a stark sense of realism, a solid black and white grade, some inventive editing, and an engaging lead performance.
Recently banned in the UK due, no doubt, to its blending of violence (physical and psychological) and hardcore sexual imagery, it's a worthy addition to a growing sub-genre that is often labeled "torture porn". Patronizing labels undermine the merits of individual works, creating the impression that these films are as generic as porn loops (actually, even porn loops are not as generic as they seem).

Cinema and literature have a rich history of stories involving the capture and ill treatment of human beings for sundry purposes. We can go way back to 1932's The Most Dangerous Game to locate a narrative based on a madman's treatment of compromised humanity. John Fowles' The Collector (film and book) traversed these streets, too, with great success.
Contemporary titles of this ilk such as the August Underground movies, Hostel (I,II,III), Captured, Scrapbook, Mum and Dad, Martyrs, Seed, and Senseless owe as much to Japanese cinema of the 60's, 70's, and 80's as they do to looser Western influences.
Many of Koji Wakamatsu films such as Go Go Second Time Virgin ('69), Diary of a Japanese Rapist ('67), The Embryo Hunts in Secret ('66) and The Man Who Assaulted 13 People aka Serial Rapist ('78) re-drew the parameters of international cinema and were later followed by works sharing the visceral (though not the political) themes of the director.

Titles now familiar to us such as Captured for Sex 2, Wife To Be Sacrificed, Tumbling Doll of Flesh, Lolita Vibrator Torture, Please Rape Me Once More, Assault Jack the Ripper, and the first two Guinea Pig movies owe much to the works of Wakamatsu and directors such as Kinya Ogawa, Mamoru Watanabe, and Hiroshi Mukai. A new generation of cinematic explorers including Hisayaso Sato, Genji Nakamura, and Banmei Takahashi followed these taboo busters.
It would not be accurate to categorize the films of these Japanese directors as "torture porn", despite the fact that much of their work was extreme and confronting.
As in any genre, there are good and bad ambassadors...


Which brings us full circle to Adam Rehmeier's The Bunny Game.
As noted above, the scenario is well-trodden, but the treatment is fresher than some. A prostitute (Bunny), played with extraordinary commitment by Rodleen Getsic, is having a shit of a week. The blowjob she performs in the opening scene seems typical of her day, as does her mean-spirited client. After servicing a variety of vile johns, Bunny is left high and dry when a client rips her off. At a low ebb, it's not surprising that she agrees to jump into a truck with 'Hogg' (Jeff R. Renfro). Her decision is clearly a mistake from the get-go, and how this plays out makes up the bulk of the movie.
Interesting choice of villain here, and clearly influenced by Samuel R. Delany's searing novel, Hogg ('69), a highly controversial and much-banned work (reviewed on this blog long ago). Delany's novel is focused on a perverted homosexual rapist and killer whose average day includes molesting a young hitchhiker, driving with shit-filled pants, and subjecting everybody he meets to his filth and psychotic violence. Only recently, the character's name was also used in Adam Mason's Pig ('10) , a similar film that failed all the tests this one passes.
Although The Bunny Game has its fair share of sexual abuse and mental torture, Rehmeier and his artistic cohorts don't just subject us to to variations of the same sex act. Using an inventive editing style, the film explores Hogg's addiction to the orgasmic euphoria previous crimes created for him, and we're shown his obsessive reliving of the crimes using garments and other objects he's souvenired. The part memory plays for this psychopath and his fetishizing of the tactile adds a layer to the narrative that separates it from swill such as Pig.

Jeff R. Renfro (Hogg), a real truck driver who donated his truck to the cause, is amateur in the best way here because he plays it straight and real. With his performance married to Getsic's, The Bunny Game is an uncomfortable slice of authentic vice in which the line between reality and fiction is difficult to discern. It needs to be noted that Getsic's performance is the primary reason for experiencing this film, and I hope to see more of her (so to speak).
It was a wise move to establish Bunny's character with well directed and cut montages of her at work. The film's stark, black and white imagery, and doom-laden tone recalled, for me, Noboru Tanaka's Secret Chronicle: She Beast Market ('79) (reviewed on this blog), a brilliant Japanese marriage of the erotic and, yes, Italian neo-realism. It was also presented in black and white.

Until recently, The Bunny Game has been available uncut on PAL dvd. In the last few weeks, a company called Autonomy Pictures (its principals being Derek Curl, David Gregory, and Lewis Tice) has picked up US rights to the movie, and will bow it in July, 2012.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Cinema As Punishment
Unavailable on video for a long time, Cornel Wilde's No Blade of Grass finally goes public courtesy of Warner Archives. The film opens with a montage of environmental disasters that, apparently, caused the citizens of the world to riot and abandon civility. Although the logical steps towards such a catastrophe are vague here, you'd better go with it if you expect to survive the rest of the movie. We follow a small group of people who are heading out of strife-torn London to take refuge on a farm in the country. Along the way, some female members of the group get raped, the males shoot at each other, and a gang of outlaw bikers turn up to generate dramatic interest. Oh, yeah, and one bloke gets stuck with a wife who's more passionate about flashing her tits at the other cast members than surviving the disaster.
I first read about No Blade of Grass in Philip Strick's Science Fiction Movies and remained curious about the often-published image of Viking-helmeted marauders on bikes.
It took me until recently to conclude that the bikers in this movie are a bunch of idiots, and purely on board to break up the monotony. In the most pointless sequence, the bikers spot a group of armed civilians and decide to ride near them in a threatening manner. In fact, they ride in a circle so the civilians can shoot them off their bikes. Unfortunately, there's quite a bit of genuinely silly behavior on the loose in this odd science fiction mash-up.
The film has developed a reputation for its explicit violence, a reputation that's undeserved. Yes, lots of people get shot at, and there are a few decent motorcycle stunts, but this '70's effort is neither shocking nor particularly interesting. A terribly unhelpful editing decision here is to include what can only be described as flash-forwards. Now and then, we get tinted frames of red or green prior to more tinted shots of events we haven't seen yet. The colored frames are meant to be some sort of red alert, but they simply serve to undercut any dramatic surprises this film has in store. And it never had many in the first place.
The film must have cost a pretty penny to make. The cast list is considerable, and there are dozens of remote rural settings in addition to impressive riot sequences in London. Unfortunately, the script is obvious and heavy-handed, with Wilde piling on shots of dead animals and chimneys spewing pollution to make his point a hundred times. Although Nigel Davenport acquits himself well as the group leader, even he is betrayed by dialog lacking subtlety.
Also lacking subtlety is a 'No Blade of Grass' folk song that is placed over the opening and end titles. Unless you're a musical masochist, you'll give this charmless ditty a wide berth.
I wouldn't advise against seeing this cinematic relic as it is a curiosity, but I would park your high expectations at the door.
If you really want to see how the world will end, watch Punishment Park, Peter Watkin's masterpiece now on Blu-Ray.
Speaking of punishment, this is it!
Although I'm no fan of contemporary, so-called "extreme" (read: cheesy) cinema (Machine Girl, etc.), I gave Hard Revenge Milly a look because someone recommended it. I shouldn't have bothered. A girl takes revenge on a bunch of guys and gals who've raped her, killed her husband, and burnt her newborn baby to a crisp. Sounds like exploitation heaven, doesn't it? It's not. The over-the-top acting cremates the drama; the gore, inspired by Ichii the Killer, is silly; and the villains are screaming buffoons. Three minutes in, I already knew this was shit. There is a sequel, but I don't care. Keep it away from me.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Rex Miller's Quality Legacy
Not sure how I ended up with this 'preview edition' of Slob, but I love the Ellison quote that concludes with "It pulls a plow, this writing".
Unfortunate that Signet didn't use it on their first official printing in '87 (edition below). Not hard to guess why they went with someone else's quote, though.
The late Miller had a few years in the spotlight with his 'Chaingang' series of books (five in all) and a handful of semi-related novels.
'Chaingang' was Daniel Bunkowski (any relation to Bukowski?), a filthy, fat serial killer. The series focused on a Chicago detective (Jack Eichord) and his exhaustive search for him.
Marketed in some circles as pure, gory horror, the books read more like bloodier-than-usual crime thrillers, and are, for the most part, well written, briskly paced, and buoyed by rich and fruity dialog exchanges.
Slob is broken up into approximately ten sections with names such as 'Jack and the Queen of Hearts' and 'Jack Eichord Meets the Lynch Family'. It's a format that works.
Frenzy, while not a 'Chainsaw' book, featured Eichord again in hot pursuit of killers and pornographers.
Like much fiction centered on the porn biz, the milieu is exaggerated and hysterical. He writes about the kiddie porn biz like it's organized in some sort of official way, and every pornographer is a rapist, scam artist, or personification of brutality.
From my own experiences on the fringes of various avenues of entertainment, I've met more pieces of shit making PG-rated movies than porn. For the most part, the porn people have been straight shooters.
Naturally, it serves the drama to tarnish porn people with a sleazy brush, so I don't fault Miller for his choices.
Note the affectionate review (below) from veteran fantasy author Marion Zimmer Bradley. She's not the type of writer I'd expect such a quote from. Still, good on her for stepping outside her comfort zone.
Slice, Chaingang, Savant, and Butcher completed the 'Chaingang' series in '94.
Other notable Miller titles are Iceman and Profane Men, a favorite of mine.
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