...way too easy...yes, folks, it's way too easy!! Way too easy, these days, to meander through the specializing websites, find that rare and obscure underground cult film from days gone past, click on 'pay', and wait a relatively short time for that cult film goodness to make it's way to the mailbox. Hardly the patience-testing chore that it once was...say, back in the window of opportunity of about mid '80's to mid '90's, when the Internet was in it's infancy, and considered pretty much exclusive 'geeksville' territory. Oh, yes...those splashy one-page ads, in one's favorite horror magazine (...oh, thank you, Fango, for taking a chance on those)...with the advertising, creatively barnstorming the small-time, minor-league video distributor and it's enticing wares...said advertising, taking up a good chunk of the overall cost of whatever film it was toting; oh heck, sometimes there wasn't even an advertisement, to that full-blown extent...just a mere squeak of a few words, tucked away in the back-paged classifieds. But oh, for the purveyor of shoestring budgeted, independent cinema, those 'few words' stood out and shone like gold...well, make that 'gold' that's been dipped in maggot-populated putridity, and reeked of still-festering 40-year old snot from a 20-year old corpse...
...ah yes, but for us more courageous devotees of this uniquely particular cache of horror cinema, at that time...well, (...chorkle)
that's the way we liked it. Yes, it was the time of snail mail...a check or money order, tucked away & secured in an envelope, stamped and eagerly sent out...and of course, there was the nail-biting anticipation of waiting for that oh-so 'forbidden' underground guerrilla film, which seemed to rally out to us, like a freak show barker...'to hell with the mainstream, my fine people; you want the
real stuff??
This is the
real stuff, man...100% USDA Prime Chuck, yeseree, Bob'...which all the more gave us that sense of excitement, as well as that feeling of 'good gawd, what are we getting ourselves into?' Oh hell, we knew that
were the exclusive ones...covertly privy to a brand of horror cinema, which the average layman horror film fan was totally unaware of, or perhaps
were aware of, but far too fearful of what they might have considered way too over-the-top for their tastes. That's OK, though...eh, let them average Joes and cronies ween themselves on the watered-down, big screen horror antics of the 'Freddy's, 'Jason's and 'Michael's; man, they're the
wusses of the horror film fans, and clearly don't know what they're missing (...uh, my humblest apologies to the spectrum of horror film fans out there; yes, those
were the...uh, thoughts of someone much recklessly younger than now, and since then...heck, even the some of the most basic of horror film aficionados have become much more appreciative of these more obscure films, even if it's out of sheer curiosity, alone)...
...we all remember the distribution companies, as they became as much household words in our horror genre watcher
slash collector's world, as the big studios. E.I. Entertainment...Moore Video...Suburban Tempe Company...Shock-o-rama, amongst others...and later, Brain Damage Films, as well as the above mentioned SRS Cinema. And the standout filmmakers of that time, who just felt ever so comfortable, working within the confines and limitations of the independent film production arena...y'all remember some of the names...the likes of J.R. Bookwalter...Andreas Schnaas...Brett Piper...Todd Sheets...Leif Jonker...amongst many, many others...
...and then, there was Tim Ritter, and
this little bitty horror ditty...
...have his wife work?? Oh hell, no!! 'Not on his life', swears a disgruntled Tom Russo, who has pridefully and doggedly struggled & etched out a meager, albeit respectable, above-water living for himself and his doting & beautiful wife, Lisa. As weary and angst as Tom often is...and as much as he's wrought a great home, and a respectably happy life, accompanied by his wife...well, one cannot help but notice, at times, that Tom exhibits a sightful measure of paranoia and insecurity. And so, soon after adamantly putting his foot down, when Lisa, herself a struggling writer, argumentatively suggests that she get a job, to help out with expenses, Tom resigns himself with relative satisfaction that he got the upper hand, in that particular marital debate, even as Lisa sighingly backs off the argument, seemingly defeated, and loses herself, once again, in her writing...
...the next day, Tom comes home after yet another tiring day at work, and finding Lisa having gone out, grocery shopping, an insatiable curiosity coerces him to check out the diary, which Lisa is always scribbling in, and of course, he just happens to find, tucked away. And like a shock to the system, Tom finds himself slammed with a wave of unbridled, teeth-gnashing rage, when he reads of what appears to be hot and steamy sexual escapades between her and his best friend, Ben; that rage goes unchecked, though quite well shrouded and masked, when Ben and his main squeeze, Angel, stop by for a visit. And before the cordial, albeit hapless visiting couple realize what's happening...why, ol' Tom has brutally bashed Ben's head in, outright cleaves Angel's head from her body, and as quickly as possible, before Lisa returns home from the market, Tom cleans up the mess, and buries the two corpses in the backyard...
...feigning an almost forced 'used car salesman's look of ignorance and innocence, while Lisa is with him, Tom lets his rage ebb...at least for the moment. However, once Lisa has gone out again...well, Tom finds little resistance and self-control in picking up Lisa's diary again...and once again, ragefully finding out that Lisa has had other hot and heavy tristes with various others, including an electrician, called called over to the house for a repair...a gardener, tending to the property yards...a TV repairman...and a message boy. Once again masking his bloodthirsty rampage of jealousy, Tom abruptly whisks Lisa off to her mother's house, while he plots and plans and executes the wanton slaughter of all of Lisa's supposed 'lovers', all in rather unique, inventive and oh-so gratuitously gruesome manners...one of which involves replacing the wooden blades of a ceiling fan, with machete blades, as sharp as...well, as the saying goes, 'as sharp as the devil, himself'...
...now, (...in hushed whispers...SHHHHH) unbeknownst to Tom, who has once again thoroughly cleaned up the bloody aftermath of his vengeful acts, and buried the evidence...including that of a pesky spinster neighbor next door, who in sticking her nose where it doesn't belong, winds up getting her lower jaw ripped from her face with a claw hammer, before herself getting buried in the back...and awaits the return of his supposedly lustfully wayward spouse...Lisa herself, returns home with her diary in tow, as well as a hefty paycheck advance, quite proud of herself in having had a successful interview with a local 'steamy romance' publishing company, who wants to publish her stories...her mind, elatedly flooded at the financial prospects for her and her loving husband. Least to say...oh man, does she have a wonderful surprise for Tom...
...now, surprisingly enough...in much the same way that this viewer became privy of the 1990 experimental horror excursion, "Begotten" (...rewind, six review previous from
this, if you please)...this viewer's introduction to Tim Ritter...setting the wayback machine to some 25-plus years ago...was through a collage of seemingly random and nameless underground gory horror clips...with Ritter himself, represented by
this very movie, in fact...gritty, scratchy, fifth generation footage of the more gruesome and blood-spraying bits of carnage...splice together, and sandwiched between equally barely watchable clips from Jorge Buttgereit's corpse-f**king chunkblower, "Nekromantik" and Giovanni Arduino's maniacally grotesque, albeit laughable "My Lovely Burnt Brother and His Squashed Brain", amongst others. And as much as the whole of the compilation was mind-numbing, it was Ritter's 'contribution' to this array of gore clips (...and yes, as this hodgepodge cavalcade of splatter
was a bootleg VHS, and hardly professionally done, it's painfully obvious that Ritter hadn't willingly 'contributed' to the lot) which genuinely stood out amongst the gore-slopping dreck, in this viewer's mind. And as such...well, this guy's stuff just cried out for further scrutinization...and man, was I hardly disappointed...
...for those well in the know, Tim Ritter has saddled a fairly impressive body of work, well within the independent horror film genre, with 30-plus years of splatter film goodness (...the "Truth or Dare" series, the "Twisted Illusions" anthologies, and a recent collaborative effort in the recent "Hi-8: Horror Independent 8" anthology, just to name a mere few). However, if one was to pick a particularly embraced favorite, amongst the blood-spattered lot, it would most assuredly be "Killing Spree"...
...and there is a lot that makes
this one stand out from the rest...and the cleverly conceived, brilliantly executed and viscerally unbridled & raw visuals, is but merely the tip of this crimson-soaked heap. Most independent horror films tend to keep things fairly simple, as far as storytelling, which typically take a back seat, in favor of the special effects make-up; however, in the case of "Killing Spree", director Tim Ritter, story-wise, seemed inspired to do a sort of twisted and demented 'Gift of the Magi' rift, crossed with a sinister, over-the-top EC Comics type of 'bad guys always get their just rewards' approach...especially the outrageous ending, which does a 180-degree turn from the 'rageful vengeance' motif, and takes on a more, uh...Oh, no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no!!! You're not gonna get
that out of me,
that easily...no freakin' way!! And the melding of these concepts works quite brilliantly, which is actually saying a lot, considering the forgivable micro-budgeted production, scantly rendered set design, as well as the relatively expected, hokey and 'meh' standard performances...
...wait!! Did this viewer say
all 'meh' standard performances?? Whoa!! Back the f**king truck up!! Actor Asbestos Felt (...damn, what a cool name!!) is, without a doubt, the riotously standout performer, in these ghastly and gruesome proceedings. Just looking at the guy, this viewer was quickly reminded of way angrier, freakishly wide-eyed and wildly frizzier version of the late freelance horror auteur, Chas. Balun (...who actually championed
this film, back in his day). Trust this viewer, folks, please...when Asbestos puts on the maniacally driven rage, in his role as Tom...you, the viewers will most likely be checking the locks on your doors and windows, 'cause his level of rage is so outrageously over the top, you may well be fearful of looking too long at the guy on your TV screen, for fear of him looking back at'cha. Y'all think you know rage?? The aftermath reaction of Kal-El, angrily taking to the skies, after cradling Lois Lane's dead body, in "Superman"?? Nicholas Cage, wildly going off on a would-be assassin, in the jaw-droppingly violent opening moments of David Lynch's "Wild at Heart"?? Thyme Lewis' out-of-control and blindly enraged 'Elvis', bashing a shady drug dealer's head in, with a gore-caked Campbell's tomato soup can?? Ha!! All child's play, as compared to Asbestos Felt's insanely maddened and unbridled performance...
......and considering all that we've mentioned here, as well as taking into account that most folks may well have already forked over their hard earned samolians on one of the two previous DVD releases of this movie (...you got your Eden Entertainment version, one of several titles released under their 'I Will Dance on Your Grave' banner...and of course, there's the Camp Motion Pictures' edition, one of several SOV titles, which they stamped their 'Retro '80's' moniker on), is it really worth the effort and cost to triple dip on this delightful dreck of a film, now represented by the crazy insane folk, over at SRS Cinema?? Uh, what?? Are you kidding?? Oh hell, yes!!! And by virtue of the truckload of extra shit on this super-wham-a-dyme DVD/Blu Ray mega set, with a 'you snooze, you lose' limited pressing of (...chorkle!!) 666 pieces. There's the remastered director's cut of the film, which re-incises an additional fifteen minutes of wholesome gory greatness.We also get the original cut of the film, which...although shorn of the extra minutes...is still nonetheless pretty damn impressive, in all of it's gore & grue flicking glory. And there's director's commentaries on
both cuts of the film. and some boss-looking original cover artwork, including a mini-poster of the same. And what's this...a radio show spot, with Tim Ritter and the 'godfather of gore' himself, Mr. Herschell Gordon Lewis?? And hell, yes...bloopers, music cuts, and alternate scenes, too. But wait!! We're not even close to being finished, folks...for tying all of this coolly cadaverous cavalcade together, is a feature-length documentary...presenting, "Blinded by the Blood: The Making of 'Killing Spree'"...
...and with all the already advance word about audio and video compression problems with this release (...though, I hadn't noticed such a thing, myself, in engaging the films), the obvious question dangles there...irresistible to put forth: Is this one-of-a-kind, super ultra mega Blu Ray edition of "Killing Spree" really worth it's muster?? I mean, really...come on...this oh-so cheezy, albeit gore-drenched, low-grade, independent SOV horror production, culled from the bygone days of underground '80's mail order archives?? Is "Killing Spree" truly worthy of such high-definition mantle?? Is it actually...
...reaching over, and turning the TV channel knob...click...click...click...
..."...duh, oh what a cute little pink bunny rabbit!! Just what I always wanted...my own little bunny rabbit!! I will name him 'George', and I will hug him and pet him and squeeze him..."...
...uh yes, folks!! Are you kidding?? It's insanity, at it's finest.....
No comments:
Post a Comment