SZAMANKA (1996)

Directed by Andrzej Zulawksi, Poland/France/Switzerland. I love to see hubris skewered. Which is why I like to see films which are so self-consiously “intellectual” and “profound” turn out to be shallow, abject failures. This unintentionally hilarious mess is a good example. It’s like a pastiche of arthouse cliches: no storyline, uninteresting characters, lots of boring sex, and an overall “intensity” intended to make viewers with no sense of critical discrimination stroke their chins and nod, as though they’re witnessing something really meaningful. In truth, of course, it’s not meaningful in any way whatsoever. It’s dull, horribly old-fashioned, empty, and actually quite embarrassing. Unfortunately, I know people who would probably like this because it’s a “foreign language” film, as though that by itself makes it worthy of special attention. Sad, really. 1/5.

INTERRABANG (1969)

Directed by Giuliano Biagetti, Italy. Viewers who restrict their definition of the giallo to mass murder will be disappointed with this one. The more of these films you see, the more you realise that the black-gloved killer is only one possible ingredient in them, and not the determining characteristic. The giallo is, more accurately, a style, rather than a matter of plot-points to be ticked off. Here, a trio of beautiful women on (what else?) a fashion shoot find themselves marooned on a rocky coastline. There may, or may not be, an escaped killer around. Despite that set-up, it’s a million miles away from being a slasher. Instead, enjoy the style: the music, the fashion, the languor, the deception. Oh, and the bikinis. Did I mention the bikinis? 4/5.

CRY OF THE BANSHEE (1970)

Directed by Gordon Hessler, U.K. Completely awful horror which rides hard on the coattails of Michael Reeves’s WITCHFINDER GENERAL. Vincent Price is a Hopkinsesque magistrate whose family is haunted by a curse after he has a coven of pagans put to death. The screenplay’s by Christopher Wicking, which basically translates as meaning it’s really, really bad. (It’s always amused me that, in his later life, this most incompetent of writers actually taught the art of story-telling at various institutions.) Not helping is dire direction by the pedestrian Gordon Hessler and a general atmosphere not of sixteenth-century England, but rather a bunch of amateurs playing dress-up. Absolutely crap. 1/5.

THE CREEPING TERROR (1964)

Directed by Vic Savage, U.S.A. Prepare to be gobsmacked when you watch this incredible chunk of sixties monster shlock! A flying saucer lands in the countryside and out comes possibly the most amazing alien creature in movie history. It’s like a nightmarish version of a pantomime horse, with someone shuffling along at the front and, behind, a whole host of others thrashing around on the ground under a sort of patchwork duvet/mattress get-up. The beast goes around devouring various characters and then (best of all) launches an all-out attack on a dancehall. I loved the way we get to see lots of wriggling legs disappearing into its gaping maw. What the heck: 4/5!

SMILE BEFORE DEATH (1972)

Directed by Silvio Amadio, Italy. After her mother apparently commits suicide, teenager Nancy returns home from boarding school and encounters her bereaved stepfather Marco (who she’s never met before) and her mum’s friend Gianna. It’s a great set-up for a twisty giallo in which no-one can be trusted and nothing is what it seems. It may not feature a black-gloved killer, but this is still classic giallo territory with beautiful women, shifty husbands, funky set design, an insanely hummable theme tune, lesbianism, and, of course, murder. And it’s those beautiful women who really light this film up: the incredible Rosalba Neri (not exactly the “filthy old bag” she’s called at one point!) and the gorgeous Jenny Tamburi are simply incandescent. 4/5.

MADAME DE… (1953)

Directed by Max Ophuls, France/Italy. Here’s an absolute classic, or so we are told by proper critics like Roger Ebert, David Thomson, Andrew Sarris, and Pauline Kael. I’ve just finished the movie and read all their writings on it, but sorry guys, you’re going to have to do a much, much better job at trying to convince me this is one of the finest achievements that cinema can offer. When writing about MADAME DE…, people like to talk about the fluidity of Ophuls’s camera but, come on, this was 1953; there’s nothing especially innovative going on here. If you like cornball melodramas involving rich people agonising about earrings, you may enjoy it. I sniff a case of the emperor’s new clothes… 1/5.

LEGACY OF BLOOD (1971)

Directed by Carl Monson, U.S.A. After family patriarch John Carradine pops his clogs, his crazy children gather to find out who’ll get his millions. As expected, the will is organised so as to give every single character a motive for bumping off the others. Sure enough, the corpses start piling up, but not before we’re treated to lots of hilarious emoting from gamely enthusiastic actors (an amazing collection of has-beens, one and all). Could the killer be the demented brother, driven mad by incestuous lust for his sister? Or how about the chauffeur, who has a lamp made from human skin in his bedroom? Pretty wild. 3/5.

CURSE OF THE DEVIL (1973)

Directed by Carlos Aured, Spain/Mexico. More bullcrap from “the Spanish Lon Chaney” (ha!), Paul Naschy, who returns once again to his recurring werewolf character, Waldemar Daninsky. Naschy’s non-acting style sucks what little life there is out of the threadbare story (for which he was also responsible), which limps along with all the energy of a nonagenarian with gammy knees. I won’t trouble you with plot details, as it just simply isn’t worth the effort. There’s a curse, an awkward romance, and a village mob. I like to think that I love European horror from the seventies, but enduring shambolic nonsense like this might force me to reconsider. Painful. 1/5.

CANDYMAN (1992)

Directed by Bernard Rose, U.S.A./U.K. CANDYMAN is a movie which fancies itself. Not for it, the humble, guilty pleasures of the horror film. No, no. Here we have pretensions to proper cinema: weighty dialogue, nice cinematography, and a score by a proper composer. It is, in fact, a horror movie for people who don’t really like horror movies (much like another misfire released the same year, Coppola’s appalling BRAM STOKER’S DRACULA). Based on a short story by Clive Barker, it tells the story of a researcher looking into an urban legend involving a hook-handed killer, but it rapidly sinks under notions of its own self-importance. 2/5.

GUESS WHAT HAPPENED TO COUNT DRACULA? (1971)

Directed by Laurence Merrick and Mario D’Alcala, U.S.A./Switzerland. “Hollywood” means different things to different people. But this film somehow gives us a glimpse of what I want to call “Manson’s Hollywood.” It’s not just that Laurence Merrick later co-directed the Oscar-nominated documentary MANSON (1973). Plenty of other movies made around this time capture the same feel, by which I mean Hollywood’s “other side”: plain weird film-making, desperate lives, smashed dreams, and real-life horror. This film itself is very silly: Count Dracula runs a nightclub, seduces a woman, boyfriend tries to rescue her, blah blah blah. But its references to mind-control and weird ceremonies seem to touch the chord of the times. Merrick was murdered by a crazed gunman in 1977. 3/5.