Bathing in the Glow of Freak Sex

Lately, it has become achingly apparent lately that I have more in common with the late director Teruo Ishii than any other director I can name. Actually, I have no idea what his actual hobbies or outside interests outside of film were, but a filmmaker's chief interests and obsessions can be found in his films. I'm speaking from experience.

The central story in Ishii's ORGIES OF EDO, an anthology, concerns a hideously deformed man who kidnaps an unfortunate waif and subjects her to torture, rape, and sundry forms of abuse and imprisonment. Before the authorities catch up with this fiend, he has tasted every inch of her and salivated over her sweet flesh as only a card-carrying freak can salivate. Essentially, he's a lonely soul, and his only course to ultimate pleasure is a non-consenting one. I pitied him.

Why was my smile so broad while watching this delightful outrage? Why was it so pleasurable to see such a beauty defiled by one so grotesque? Since I was but a single digit human staring at images through large, pre-teen spectacles, I've been fond of malformed men. Perhaps "fond" is the wrong word. The right word is "obsessed". Yes, I've been obsessed with these creatures and their intimate relations -- which are usually rather unconventional. Something happens within me -- something pleasant -- when I'm fortunate enough to witness freaks engaging in activities of the sexual variety. Are their acts the ultimate taboo? Does behavior of this nature please the anarchist inside me?

Clearly it does.


Director Ishii, who was also behind HORROR OF MALFORMED MEN, has a passion for material of this nature, and this passion is salaciously transferred to the screen. In the West, MALFORMED is undoubtedly the director's best known work of freak horror, and was recently released on DVD by Synapse. For my money, it's not as coherent as it could be, and it feels like two films squashed into one, but the Dr. Moreau-inspired freak compound is a wonderful creation and the on-screen roster of malformed exhibits is a pleasure to behold. It deserves to be seen. But it is only one example of Ishii's very specific cinematic obsessions.

Joining my viewing of Ishi's ORGIES OF EDO this week was another Ishii pic with more great freak content.


In the rather excellent LOVE AND CRIME, the director's penchant for the erotic-grotesque (the two go hand in hand!) is pushed to a satisfying degree. The most striking tale involves a remorselessly lecherous victim of leprosy who won't take no for an answer when it comes to bedding down with his wife. Scenes of the hideous freak attempting to kiss and cuddle with his lady are glorious to behold, and once again broadened my smile to the point of cracked lips. When the leper learns that he's being cheated on, he confronts his wife's lover and initiates a brutal confrontation.

Again, I ask why? Why does the sight of a hideous leper attempting to make love to an unwilling partner fill me with such cinematic euphoria? Why does the sight of a grotesque man forcing himself on a pretty woman bathe me in a blinding ball of hot bliss?

Like it or not, Teruo Ishii speaks my language. He dares to tell the untold story.

Does he speak your language, too?

The Rape After

Any film that is big on scabs, sores, scorched flesh, and tragic mutations is for me. The Rape After is no exception. With a title like that, you couldn't be faulted for expecting an orgy of angry vagina violence in the glorious I Spit On Your Grave tradition, but you would be wrong.

Meng Hua Ho and Moon-Tong Lau's '86 flick has more in common with Seeding of a Ghost, Boxer's Omen, and Shaw's Black Magic flicks than other Hong Kong obscuros like The Rapist, Bloody Beast, or Devil of Rape.

Admittedly, it's a more modestly budgeted effort than the Shaw films, and nobody turns in what you'd call a praiseworthy performance.

Still, it's well worth catching if scabs, sores, third degree burns, pus, and reanimated corpses rock your boat.

It's important to make it clear from the get-go that the plot makes little sense. In order for the film to justify its unrelenting onslaught of weirdness, the storyline chops and changes and does impossible somersaults that will leave you slack-jawed and reeling from the implausibilities.That aside, there is plenty of enjoyment to be had for the adventurous viewer.



Melvin Wong, a super-sleazy photographer, lives to bed as many gullible women as possible. Not surprisingly, one gets pregnant.

But being a card-carrying gentleman...

... Mr. Wong arranges for a late night abortion at a spooky house (as you do) for the unfortunate lass. The abortion goes haywire when the unborn asserts its right to life. All hell, naturally, breaks loose.

So does the semi-aborted baby with its umbilical cord in hand.

Still in character, Wong steals a rare statue from a spooky gallery, takes it home, and finds himself cursed.

The rest of the movie is a wild, gory ride that teaches us not to steal old statues of scary looking critters.

Although the opening sequence has little to do with the rest of the movie, it's a ripper.

A woman goes to visit a classroom of deformed, freaky, sore-infested children. The emphasis on scabs and sores in this scene is beyond affection. More a celebration of corrupted flesh.

One pus-faced freak is a relative -- not mine, unfortunately, hers! I was hoping to God that these very special characters, who look like extras from Horrors of Malformed Men, would play major roles in the film.

Unfortunately, they're only there for their good looks, not their infinite storyline potential.

Like other flicks of its moist, bloody ilk, the tone of this is hysterical and unrelenting. Old superstitions win out, of course...

... and every supernatural encounter is an excuse to show zombies, running ghosts, melting faces, monsters groping humans... and more sores and lesions.


For my money, any film that ends on a freeze frame like this one deserves respect.

Shuffle, don't walk, to see The Rape After. And bring a used condom.