INNUENDO - an instant classic of Australian cinema

Innuendo

2017, dir: Saara Lamberg

Tuuli (Saara Lamberg), anxious to escape her oppressive, abusive childhood and adolescence, leaves her remote village in Finland and travels to Melbourne, Australia to start a new life. As part of her journey to find herself she wears brightly coloured wigs and nail polish, gets tattooed and acquires an eclectic hipster-approved wardrobe. She volunteers to pose as an art model in a further attempt of self-liberation. However, despite her inner city chic appearance, Tuuli is socially awkward, unworldly and ignorant or unaware of others feelings and needs. Being raised in a God-fearing family and isolated from society in an almost Amish-like environment has stunted her emotional development. Tuuli gets by though, as the hipsters and artists who flock to her see these traits as part of her ‘quirkiness’.  She meets Ben (Brendan Bacon), a rough-edged but laid back artist/hippy/stoner and quickly moves in with him. It isn’t long before a disturbing other side of Tuuli begins to emerge. Underneath Tuuli’s kooky girl persona is very unbalanced woman. Delusions of grandeur, triggers, past traumas and homicidal urges cause her to act out in unexpected, alarming ways. Tuuli reveals bits and pieces of her background to Ben, but still remains an enigma. The obedient, angelic twin sister adored by her parents. The brutal father who tells her ‘she belongs to Satan’. The cold, distant mother who calls her a whore. The key to the mystery lies in Tuuli’s past. But will Ben find it before events spiral out of control?

Innuendo is director/producer/writer/actress Saara Lamberg’s debut feature film.  And what a triumph of moviemaking it is! Lamberg has helmed all four roles seamlessly with gusto, weaving together what is arguably one of the best Australian independent releases in years. The intriguing, immersive and clever story had me captivated from beginning to end, with enough unexpected happenings and twists to constantly keep me on my toes. Lamberg’s performance as Tuuli is hypnotic, captivating, at times jaw-dropping, and quite simply, brilliant. She does a tremendous job at bringing an incredibly complex character to life effectively. Brendan Bacon contrasts beautifully with Lamberg as the rugged, affable Ben who becomes increasingly befuddled as Tuuli begins to lose her grip on reality.  Accomplished cinematography gives Innuendo a polished, occasionally dreamlike, look. For those who’ve lived the ‘shared household’ experience on a limited budget, the set design conveys this in a knowingly realistic manner with lots of cosy clutter, mismatched second-hand furnishings and stacks of unwashed dishes. 

A wonderfully unique dark psychological thriller, Innuendo is a prime example of the high quality output emerging from the uber-talented new wave of young Australian filmmakers. Saara Lamberg is definitely a name to watch out for, both behind and in front of the camera.

PURGATORY ROAD - Mark Savage's must-see new film

Purgatory Road

2017, dir: Mark Savage

Father Vincent (Gary Cairns), an excommunicated Catholic priest, travels in a mobile ‘confessional van’ around rural Mississippi with his brother Michael (Luke Albright), who acts as his assistant. Both men are still scarred from witnessing their father’s suicide in childhood following a home invasion where the family’s life savings were stolen. Vincent, in particular is racked with guilt that he was unable to help his father. Guilt that has manifested into a psychotic hatred towards anyone who steals, no matter how trivial the offence. Anyone who owns up to thieving in Vincent's confessional box is brutally slaughtered and disembowelled – Vincent's rationale is that he is ‘purifying’ these ‘unclean souls’. Though sickened by Vincent's heinous actions, Michael reluctantly sticks by his brother out of family loyalty. The siblings manage to evade the law due to the sheer incompetency of the state police. However their twisted existence is shook up even further when Mary Francis (Trista Robinson), an eccentric young drifter with a taste for bloodshed that rivals Vincent, enters the scene...

One of Australia’s most successful and accomplished independent filmmakers, Mark Savage has consistently proven himself to be a formidable talent in the horror/cult field since the release of his no-budget wonder Marauders at the age of 24. Savage has pushed the bar even further with Purgatory Road, which may well be his best work to date. An intense, relentlessly brutal tale of retribution and indeed murder and mayhem in spades, Purgatory Road is a tour-de-force for the senses that stays with the viewer long after the closing credits rolls. Visually the film is a knockout – scenes are flooded with stunning compositions of  light, shadows and fog and would certainly not look out of place in a classic Eurohorror film (Savage has openly acknowledged that European genre cinema is a major influence on his work). Nightfall invokes a particularly foreboding atmosphere, the dense, rambling backwaters of Mississippi enveloping the unholy deeds of Vincent in its enveloping darkness, occasionally punctuated with glorious shades of crimson. 

The trio of principal actors all deliver the thespian goods exceptionally well. Gary Cairns as Vincent transforms to and from a mild-mannered, pious and seemingly harmless man of the cloth to a ruthless, sadistic monster seamlessly and convincingly. Luke Albright contrasts well with Cairns in his role as the conflicted Michael who’s at a crossroads in deciding whether to stay protecting his brother, or to flee from the mayhem. As the kooky - to put it mildly – Mary Francis, Trista Robinson is hypnotic and scene-stealing without going too over the top.    

A bravura triumph of indie filmmaking from one of its most dedicated, enthusiastic and gifted specialists, Purgatory Road is an uncompromising no holds barred hell ride into the perverse mindscape of a serial killer, fuelled by the series of dark and disturbing events in the narrative. Mark Savage’s masterpiece is a must see for all fans of horror and extreme cinema.

Storie di vita e malavita/The Teenage Prostitution Racket - Carlo Lizzani's overlooked masterpiece

Storie di vita e malavita/The Teenage Prostitution Racket

1975

Italy

Director: Carlo Lizzani

Amongst the backdrop of a grey, smoggy and relentlessly ugly Milan – the absolute antithesis of the glitter and glamour most associate with the fashion capital – a weathered looking woman hitchhikes with her 13 year old granddaughter on rubbish strewn industrial roads. But, to the surprise of the male drivers who offer them a lift, the pair are not just after a ride into town. The young girl is being offered to men for sexual services by her own grandmother – and unfortunately there’s no shortage of willing motorists. As they flit from vehicle to vehicle, a group of angry pimps are in hot pursuit, enraged that the duo are intruding on their turf.

Interwoven with this scenario are a series of documentary-like vignettes, each involving a teenage girl and how - often nightmarish – life circumstances led them to become entrapped in the horrific world of underage prostitution.  Innocent, naive Rosina travels from Sardinia to find work in Milan – her improvised mother has five other children to support and wanted to marry the sixteen year old off to a family friend several decades her senior. Rosina meets Salvatore at a disco – he sweeps her off her feet with silver tongued declarations of love and plays the devoutly religious nice boy, when the truth is that he’s a slimy pimp involved in the racket, looking for ‘fresh meat’ to recruit. Salvatore quickly proposes to Rosina and manipulates her into selling her body with poor me tales of being penniless and sickly sugar-coated promises, that the customers won’t hurt her, blah blah blah...After endless abuse from clients, including one who dips bread rolls into dirty toilet water and forces her to eat them, and a number of failed escape attempts, Rosina resigns to her fate and has transformed into a jaded, hardened, coarse streetwalker. As they drive into the night, Salvatore asks her “When are you going to introduce me to that little friend of yours?”

Lonely Gisela desperately wants friends her own age. Her stiflingly strict, God-fearing mother forbids her to even look at boys (“none of them EVER just want to be ‘friends’!!!), and her father is too busy working to pay for the latest ‘keeping up with the Joneses’ consumer goods to notice his daughter. Much to Gisela’s horror, her mother hopes to pair her off with the local priest’s nephew, a painfully dull middle-aged lawyer. So when a schoolfriend invites Gisela to a party her older sister is hosting, she happily goes along. But it’s not the kind of party Gisela is expecting. The older sister is part of the sex ring, and  lecherous pigs take photos of Gisela and other girls in compromising positions, then using the photos to blackmail them into attending more of the ‘parties’. Though initially fearful, Gisela becomes accustomed to the sordid lifestyle, as to her she is receiving the attention and companionship lacking at home. But when Gisela goes to live with her female pimp, she has no idea that she will be just as restricted as when she was living with her parents, as she is now ‘owned’ by the sex gang.   

Precocious, educated, upper-middle class Daniela entered the world of prostitution voluntarily as a sixteen year old to rebel against her parents. Sickened when she hears her father recommending to a friend the underage girls he frequents, and knowing that her mother never even wanted her (“she didn’t want her body to fall apart”), Daniela considers this the ultimate act of revenge. Daniela’s parents’ hypocrisy – keeping up appearances as the ‘perfect bourgeois family unit’ to the outside world, while underneath the genteel veneer her father is a deviant paedophile and mother pathetically shallow and vain – revolts her. Her final ‘Fuck You’ to her parents is when she blackmails them to pay her pimps 10 million lire to ‘free’ her from them.

Pregnant fifteen year old Antonietta flees her miserable, poverty entrenched existence when the glamorous Tina returns from the big city to visit their provincial village. Antonietta, relentlessly harangued by her mother who screams that she has brought shame to the family (if only the mother knew that it was her own HUSBAND who impregnated the poor girl), begs Tina to let her work at her ‘hairdressing salon’. Tina agrees and of course the ‘salon’ turns out to be a front for the racket. But Antonietta is just happy to have escaped her hellish family life. Due to her advanced condition, she is only offered to clients with pregnancy fetishes. After a particularly traumatic birth where she refuses to keep the child, she continues to sell herself, her self-worth completely diminished. After she is arrested for soliciting, she suffers a complete mental breakdown and is institutionalised.

Albertina, a prostitute from a poor Catholic family of ten brothers and sisters (do we sense a pattern here?), is arrested and sent to live in a convent. Albertina was originally a nun herself, but turned to a life on the streets after being raped by a male employee. At the convent she meets Laura, whose background is equally tragic. Laura, again from a destitute family from the South, had hoped to attend university. But her thuggish, wife-beating peasant father mocks her ambitions, declaring that “studying is for boys” and that women’s purpose in life is to become housewives and menial factory workers. Still, she tries to study to become a secretary. But things only go from bad to worse for Laura when her mother, the sole breadwinner, becomes ill and Laura can’t afford to complete her course. The first boy she dates is a creep who breaks her heart by just using her for sex, then dumping her soon after. Laura then signs up to a job agency which turns out to be a front for an escort agency. Scarred and repulsed by all men, she becomes a prostitute as her way of getting back at them – she humiliates and rips off her clients. The love-starved Laura falls for Albertina, and the pair abscond from the convent and go on the game together. Laura has finally found some happiness, but one day Albertina unexpectedly leaves her when she goes to live with a wealthy client. The shattered Laura is completely pushed over the edge when she finds her beloved pet dog – now her only friend - killed by the same disgruntled pimps who are chasing the grandmother and her 13-year-old charge, and the defeated girl takes her own life.

Needless to say, if you’re looking for a titillating sex romp, you’re best looking far FAR away from Carlo Lizzani’s devastating masterpiece, because, despite the lurid English re-titling, The Teenage Prostitution Racket was never intended to be that. Thankfully, the version I viewed is without the jarring softcore and hardcore footage which detracts from the film’s disturbing, powerful realism. In regards to the sex inserts, Lizzani had permitted assistant director Mino Giarda to shoot the softcore sequences for foreign markets, but had no knowledge of the additional hardcore scenes, which he was less that happy with.

Some critics see The Teenage Prostitution Racket as another run-of-the-mill slice of sexploitation with some social commentary thrown in as a pretext (I am assuming most of these critics saw the ‘foreign market’ version). But there is much more to ...Racket – it’s much closer than the bleak grittiness of Christiane F or Lilya-4-Ever than some Schulmadchen Report fluff. Aside from the film’s series of documentary-style reconstructions (each based on co-writer Marisa Rusconi's research on real-life case studies), Lizzani has a few points he wants to make and he sure as hell means to get his messages across in as uncompromising and  as harsh a way as possible. Aside from his obvious disgust at the vile underage prostitution rings, Lizzani takes unsubtle aims at the Catholic church (the parents of the impoverished  girls featured all blindly follow this religion, thus avoiding contraception and worsening their situation by creating more and more mouths to feed; Gisele’s devoutly religious mother alienates her to such an extent that she turns to the world of underage prostitution for acceptance and ‘love’);  the hypocritical bourgeoisie who disguise themselves under a veneer of respectability, yet in some cases are just as depraved as the pimps themselves; and boorish, sexist males in general (just about every man in the film is corrupt, depraved, sleazy or violent – often all four of these). A combination of poverty, lack of education and employment prospects leads many of the girls from the often maligned South of Italy to the more ‘urbane, educated’ North hoping for a better life; yet they find themselves enslaved by human garbage that should be drowned in the infinite gallons of lethally toxic waste dotted around the foot of the country.  

It should be noted that in no way does the movie glamorise the lifestyles of the teenage girls, their pimps and clients. Everything is ruthlessly realistic and ugly – the tears, exhaustion and overwhelming depression of the young women, the abuse they endure from their Neanderthal-like keepers, the repulsive and pathetic clients. While The Teenage Prostitution Racket is certainly a passionate film, it avoids over the top melodrama and Lizzani wisely avoids passing judgement. 

Finally, mention must be given to the location settings of mid-1970’s Milan; like other major Italian cities it was under the stranglehold of terrorist attacks, corruption, high crime and unemployment at the time. This downbeat reality makes for the perfect setting, providing the film’s hard-edged, jaded, grungy look. The Teenage Prostitution Racket presents a ruthlessly, brutally honest treatment of its subject matter. Highly recommended – but be warned, this is grim stuff that is light years away from, say, the ludicrousness of Rino Di Silvestro’s brain-fryer Red Light Girls.

R.I.P. Chuck Mosley - 1959-2017

Being a fan of Faith No More since 1990, including both the Mike Patton and Chuck Mosley eras, I was gutted to hear of Mosley's passing on November 9, 2017. Coincidentally I was listening to the We Care A Lot album just before I heard the awful news.

RIP Chuck Mosley 1959-2017, the original FNM frontman/showman.

Faith No More official band statement:

"It’s with a heavy, heavy heart we acknowledge the passing of our friend and bandmate, Chuck Mosley. He was a reckless and caterwauling force of energy who delivered with conviction and helped set us on a track of uniqueness and originality that would not have developed the way it had had he not been a part. How fortunate we are to have been able to perform with him last year in a reunion style when we re-released our very first record. His enthusiasm, his sense of humor, his style and his bravado will be missed by so many. We were a family, an odd and dysfunctional family, and we’ll be forever grateful for the time we shared with Chuck."

Family statement: 

"After a long period of sobriety, Charles Henry Mosley III lost his life, on November 9th, 2017, due to the disease of addiction. We’re sharing the manner in which he passed, in the hopes that it might serve as a warning or wake up call or beacon to anyone else struggling to fight for sobriety."

LOST GIRLS: THE PHANTASMAGORICAL CINEMA OF JEAN ROLLIN - a sneak preview!

Received my contributor’s copy of LOST GIRLS: THE PHANTASMAGORICAL CINEMA OF JEAN ROLLIN, the first publication about Jean Rollin and his filmography written entirely by all women critics, scholars and film historians. Beautifully presented with literally hundreds of colour stills, I’m honoured to be featured alongside some of the world’s best genre writers, including Heather Drain, Kat Ellinger, Samm Deighan and Alexandra Heller-Nicholas. Also...this is my debut of having an essay published in a book : )

Exclusive interview with filmmaker Keith J. Crocker

I’m honoured to present a new interview with Long Island filmmaker, teacher and historian...Mr. Keith J. Crocker. Keith is the director of The Bloody Ape (1997) and Blitzkrieg: Escape from Stalag 69 (2007), teaches adult education filmmaking, genre courses, and regularly does cinema and tv related presentations.  He is also responsible for two particurly important horror/(s)exploitation resources – The Exploitation Journal fanzine and the Cinefear website (http://www.cinefear.com/home.html).

In the halcyon days of horror/exploitation zinedom, Keith co-founded The Exploitation Journal. First published in 1987, what made EXJ a standout from the rest of the pack was that it featured amongst the first in-depth articles on Andy Milligan, Michael and Roberta Findlay, Jess Franco and Joe D’Amato. Back when hardcore fans of exploitation and drive-in cinema had to rely on fanzines for their information before everything could be found in one click, they could count on EXJ for carefully researched material written in an inimitable, entertaining, occasionally hilarious style (as opposed to the avalanche of tedious imitation zines that followed consisting of text ripped off verbatim from mainstream horror mags, repetition of facts everyone already knows ad naseum and sloppily-written film reviews).

Beginning as a typewritten, photocopied zine, The Exploitation Journal gradually transformed into a more professionally produced, desktop-published read, whilst continuing to fill its pages with quality articles on diverse subjects such as Victor Israel and AIP biker films and rare interviews with the likes of producer Don Davison, director Norman J. Warren, actors Mel Wells and Carol Speed, and more). As well as special issues dedicated to Spanish and Mexican horror films, American drive-in filmmakers, and The Last House on the Left. Keith also helms Cinefear Video, one of the longest-running sources for rare and unavailable films, operating since 1992. A collector’s site run by fans for fans, Cinefear is dedicated to first-rate, highly knowledgeable and quality service. If they don’t have it, there’s a 99.99% they’ll find it for you....

Keith’s debut feature film The Bloody Ape is an incredibly ambitious homage to sex and violence soaked exploitation cinema. Shot on Super-8 film, Crocker sticks two fingers up to the ‘keep it safe, keep it politically correct, keep it pretty’ brigade by giving his film an intentionally ugly, flawed, scuzzy look and atmosphere. The authentic no-budget ‘grimy’ look is welcomingly reminiscent of the works of such aueters as Andy Milligan, H.G. Lewis and S.F. Brownrigg, when one didn’t need $100,000,000, CGI every 2 minutes and daddy’s connections to make an entertaining film. Crocker goes to town packing in as much mayhem as possible in its 77-minute running time – the cast of scummy, repulsive charmers  hurl bile-filled insults around whilst the blood and sex-crazed Ape crashes around suburbia tearing limbs and pawing women. Following The Bloody Ape, Keith created a miracle out of a micro-budget again with Blitzkrieg: Escape from Stalag 69. Aside from being a throwback to the short-lived Nazisploitation craze of the mid-late 1970’s (with references to the Ilsa films and The Beast in Heat amongst others), Blitzkrieg was also inspired by the classic WW2 play-turned movie Stalag 17, a character-driven satire.

I first met Keith in 2013 when he found me on Facebook via a then friend of mine, saw that I was a writer specializing in European horror/exploitation cinema of the 1970-80s, and invited me to write reviews of Cinefear product. Along with John Harrison (interviewed elsewhere on this blog), Keith was instrumental in inspiring me to really get back into again (I’d been on a hiatus from 2007-13 due to personal reasons), something which I’ll always be extremely grateful for. Many thanks to KC for taking a break from his busy schedule to answer my questions. And as always, telling it how it is!!!

What is your earliest memory of seeing a movie theatrically, if you can remember the first film you ever saw?

The Albert Finney version of Scrooge (1970), which I actually had seen in 1971. I was six years old. My older brother took me. His girlfriend worked the ticket booth, hence it was a free ride. We sat in the balcony. I was scared to death (the hooded figure of the grim reaper was too much for me to take). The film was on a double bill with Blue Water, White Death (1971), which we didn’t stay for. I also remember seeing an awful Peter Sellers comedy called Undercovers Heroes (1974). It stood out because it was the first time I ever had seen naked women on the big screen (or naked women in general).

How and when did you discover and really get into horror/trash/cult cinema?

As a youth, my family tended to watch TV programming as there was six of us kids to keep amused. We watched Chiller Theater, which showed horror movies on our local station channel 11. This show ran from the 60’s through the early 80’s. The movies horrified yet they stayed in my conscience collectively. They were therapeutic; they helped me get over childhood fears. We’re talking movies like Dracula (1931), Frankenstein (1931). But the movie that scared the hell out of me was The Beast With Five Fingers (1947). That severed hand crawling about sent me over the edge. I swore that hand was going to come creeping up my wall. In the theater I was seeing movies like Burnt Offerings (1976), The Tenant (1976) and Tidal Wave (1975).

Then we got cable vision. There was a channel called Escapade. This channel would later become the Playboy channel, at that point it turned to shit. But as Escapade, it was my film education. They took movies straight out of the drive-in and right into my home. I had a chance to see all the Corman Nurse pictures. I got to see the Russ Meyer films. Italian gangster movies like Ricco, The Mean Machine (1973). Here it was re-titled Cauldron of Death. I got to see the Radley Metzger films. My mind was blown, I wasn’t coming back. Then I had seen a double bill of Night of the Living Dead (1968) and Freaks (1932) in a theater in 1978. I decided I would be a filmmaker from that point on.

When did you first discover a like-minded ‘community’ of fans/collectors of these films whom you could correspond and collaborate with?

Not until I went to college. I certainly had friends in primary school that liked horror and sci-fi, but none that were passionate enough to seek it out or make it. So it was in collage that I really started to meet people who could be called fans. Prior to that I was making films with friends, but you could quickly lose friends putting them in your films (LOL). In college we were all there for the same reason.

What are your fondest memories of your time as co-founder, editor and writer of THE EXPLOITATION JOURNAL, one of the best and most respected genre fanzines of the 1980s and 90s?

I’m very proud of every venture I entered into. The Exploitation Journal is one of those ventures that I’ll adore and hold close to my heart till my dying day. The EXJ started with Joe Parda and myself in 1987. It was our way of informing and lightening up a very close-minded film department. In many ways, when it began, it was the college’s unofficial school newspaper. Finally, the college could no longer ignore it and wanted us to produce it on their grounds provided we open it up to the whole film department. We didn’t want to do that, we felt it would ruin what we set out to do, so we refused. We ran an exploitation film festival at the college. We used a projection unit hooked up to a VCR. The video boom was at its height. We showed Caged Heat, Forbidden World, Erotikill (Loves of Irina) and Night of the Bloody Apes. The folks who attended this festival were gob smacked. They had no clue what hit them. It was truly a highlight of my life. I did 25 total issues of EXJ. The first eight we sold mail order. Then we picked up distribution. Parda worked on issues 1 through 15. George Reis worked on issues 16, then volume 2, 1-7. Then I did volume 3, 1-3 solo. I brought it in for a landing in 2005. All our distributors were out of business. The fanzine was over. It was great while it lasted.

What’s the most extreme reaction to a horror/exploitation film that you’ve personally ever witnessed?

That’s a very interesting question. Movies like Nightmare (in a Damaged Brain) left audiences numb. They walked out like they were run over by a car. I had seen Andy Warhol’s Frankenstein in 3-D in 1982. The audience went nuts, they ate it up. Most of them had remembered the 1978 re-release.  The movie that literally had people walking out of the theater was David Cronenberg’s remake of The Fly. Not since The Exorcist has a movie had that an upsetting reaction from a mass audience. It was one of the last really powerful films I had seen screened in a movie theater.

When did you first cross over from the VHS format to DVD?

I was a die-hard. My first DVD player happened around 2000. I bought it from a friend at work who was getting rid of his first machine. While I certainly grew to accept the world of DVD (I had to if I was going to continue running Cinefear Video), I had become so used to Beta and VHS which held domain for close to 20 years. I was also very leery of laser rot, I had seen what happened to laser discs and figured the same would happen to DVD. I had felt that video represented the types of movies I watched just fine. Certainly there was a lot you could do with DVD that you couldn’t do with VHS (namely all those extras they include). Blu Ray though is a whole other matter. For the type of cinema I like, it tends not to do those films justice at all. I honestly do not believe that exploitation cinema looks better cleaned up. In fact, Blu Ray exposes every fault imaginable in films. It takes away the shadows and often ruins the mood of a film. I’m not saying Blu Ray shouldn’t exist, but it shouldn’t be applied to all forms of cinema. For films already shot in HD, fine. For epics that were shot well, no problem. For Andy Milligan, not really. For H. G. Lewis, not really. Get my point?

How do you find the current genre scene in general as compared to say, two decades ago when it was the early days of the World Wide Web and still largely based around print zines and snail mail correspondence?

The world of fandom is and will always be ripe with assholes. This applies to all forms of fandom, not just film. But a fan base is like a window left open, you have no clue who is going to come crawling in. Pre-internet, you could always escape easier, you could get away from people you didn’t want to deal with. The internet is like an open wound that keeps getting infected. It exposes you to every type of poisonous person out there. Now, because I have to maintain a public profile, I have to be on social networks like Facebook.  Facebook, in my opinion, is a cancer. I have hundreds of followers, yet in all reality I wouldn’t want to know 75% of those people. In fact in most cases I have no clue who the fuck they are. Most of the people on Facebook are false faces, they are full of shit about themselves. Others are chronic complainers; they use Facebook as a therapy session, only no ones getting paid to listen to them. And still others use it to argue politics and religion, two topics that no one dares to raise at a dinner table simply because there is no middle ground there. Facebook confirmed for me my misanthropic mindset. But it also showed me that I’m 100% correct. That said, I honestly miss pre-internet fandom. Everyone was an archeologist in those days; we were all looking for relics. Now we’ve got people who want to be owners only. Fandom belongs to them and no one else. The Internet has made fandom petty.

What are your all-time favorite films (of any genre) and whom do you believe are the greatest directors of all time?

Freaks and Night of the Living Dead both blew my mind. My feet never touched ground again after those two. I had seen a theatrical re-release of the Exorcist in 1978, prior to my seeing it that film was a legend. Regardless of what I had heard, The Exorcist is a very hard act to top. I also had a chance to see a re-release of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre in 1980. I had never seen such an intense picture in all my life. If you notice, these films mean so much more to me because I did get to see them theatrically. The key to me is being able to see these films in a theater. The experience was just so much more intense. I also had the pleasure to see films such as The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly shown at a film festival, same with The Wild Bunch. Again, it changed the way I viewed film. I love too many films to list them all, and I love them for many different reasons. As far as filmmakers go; Alejandro Jodorowsky, Andy Milligan, Stanley Kubrick are just a few of my faves because they don’t compromise with their visions. I thought Mike Findlay was a super unique filmmaker. I love dudes like Chano Urueta, Rene Cardona Sr. & Jr., Rafael Baledon because they were Mexican surrealists forced into making Mexican commercial cinema. There horror films are just completely unique. I also really enjoyed most (not all) of Jess Franco’s out put, as well as Jean Rollin. Anyhow, folks don’t want to be reading weeks worth of my answers so I’ll stop this now (LOL)

You have an incredible collection of both movies and film memorabilia (posters, lobby cards, books, clippings, and much more). What are some of your all-time best bargains or freebies you had with obtaining these?

I was blessed in many different ways when it came to collecting. But first let me state that I never, ever really wanted to collect anything! It’s true, owning things does way you down in many respects. That said, I use my collection when I teach, so in many ways that helps me justify some of what I have. The first genre posters I ever received were giving to me by my brother’s friend, who knew I liked horror films. In that batch of posters were one sheets for Blood Orgy of the She Devils and Shadow of the Cat. We also had a poster dealer who had a shop in East Meadow. He was a gruff old marine who served in WWII. He had no or very little interest in horror film material, but he had tons of it. Of my greatest prizes from him was a one sheet for Snuff, which listed the films premier and the theater it premiered at. The poster cost me $2.50 at the time. Care to guess what it’s worth now? And that was pretty much his price range for movies of that sort; I paid $15.00 for a half sheet of the film The Man Who Could Cheat Death. There was also Big Reel magazine. Both myself and George Reis picked up 35mm trailers for movies such as The Incredible Two Headed Transplant, Lady Frankenstein, Master of Horror and countless others for $5.00 dollars a piece. One of those trailers goes for over $100.00 now. I’m lucky because I happened to be at the right place at the right time.

You’ve been involved with cinema as a director, writer and teacher for three decades now. What are some of your thoughts on the vast technological changes you’ve observed and adapted to in your involvement in these fields during this time?

Film separated the men from the boys. If we were still shooting film, the “Do it yourself” film market would not be over glutted. Any idiot with a smart phone shoots footage of something and then calls themselves “film makers”. Don’t get me wrong, there is a genius out there who more than likely can make a great film on a smart phone, we have yet to find them. I was trained on film, I hated the look of video, so of course my preference is to see film. However, technology and the world have moved on, and now it is actually impractical to shoot film. When digital video came along, I was happy because it was easier to attain a faux film look, hence why I shot my second feature on digital video. I’m not a fan of HD, I believe it is way too clean an image, and hence it’s a lot harder to set a mood when you can’t light a scene the way you’d do it if you were shooting film. That said, HD is a standard now if you want distribution, hence in the near future I will be forced to use it. The biggest problem with all of this home based technology is that a ton of idiots have invaded the arena but have brought nothing to the table. The worst thing in the world of arts is the “fanboy”. Fanboy filmmakers are a product of inbreeding. In other words, because there heads are filled with movies that are not their own, they seek out to replicate the type of movies they are fans of, not for a minute going out of their comfort zone and coming up with anything truly unique. Hence fanboy films have all the nutritional content of vomit. When I hear somebody brag “I’m going to make a slasher film”, the only thing that runs through my head is “why, it’s all been said and done to death”. Come up with something unique for Christ’s sake!

What general advice would you give to aspiring low/no-budget filmmakers hoping to establish themselves?

To be as original as possible, stop over tilling the fields, the field have been turned over too many times, there are no more nutrients left. Stop trying to recreate the past; it’s virtually impossible to do. Go forward, reach out to other subjects, and look to establish yourself as a force to be reckoned with. There are so many genres out there, so many subjects not covered, go out and fill in what is missing. Documentaries are about the only good films being made these days, so many subjects to document, and even more outlets for documentaries than ever before. Don’t go into this business expecting money. Don’t go into this business looking to be a millionaire. Those days are long gone. Go back in for the art of it, not the money end. DVD is virtually dead. Blu Ray is meant for specific titles with specific followings, and those sales suck as well. You don’t make shit with downloads, and downloads are hard to track. The film business has screwed itself royally; making money in it is murder!

What works or projects are you most proud of?

As far as my films go, Bloody Ape is the most popular among fans. I shot that feature on film, it’s had a reputation on the underground since the day it was released. It’s one of my most accessible films in terms of sheer enjoyment. It was basically my first child, and you can’t hate your first child. Blitzkrieg: Escape From Stalag 69 is of course my second feature, and it was shot on digital video. Esthetically it is my most accomplished feature, it miles above Bloody Ape in so many ways, yet it was only my second film. But I made it with my head in a completely different space than it was in during Bloody Ape; hence it’s a completely different film. And so it should. I’ll never make a sequel to one of my own films. I’ll never remake one of my own films. Every film should be different from the last one. Each story should be fresh and new. And of course, I bow my head to The Exploitation Journal. Getting those issues put together and out to the public was just incredible. Any asshole can blog. But not everyone can put together a magazine from start to finish and get it distributed. We did.

What are some of your current and future projects you’d like to mention? What do your foresee for the future of Cinefear?

Cinefear stays alive because I have a small but steady customer base. Most of my clients like to own films on DVD, they don’t want to rely on the world of streaming and downloads. Cinefear Video is 27 years old. I intended to hang it up at 25 years. But because I have no overhead, and because I have enough loyal customers who still appreciate my service, I’ll continue to run provided it never becomes an expense. The next film I’m gearing up to make is called Three Slices of Delirium. It’s based on two Edgar Allan Poe stories and one story from Russian folklore. It’s a fantasy film, very different from the other two I made. It’s also going to be a period piece and very expensive, hence crowd funding, something I’ve been looking to avoid. The other film I want to make is Rasputin on Campus. I’ve had this idea since the 1980’s. It will be my masterpiece if I get it off the ground. I have every intention to do so. But I am getting older and lazier, so lets see if my artistic side wins out or my lazy side takes over. Because I do have a fan base, and because my films have played theatrically, I do believe I can get both of these films sold. Also, I have an unfinished documentary on being a projectionist in neighborhood grindhouses. We interviewed quite a few industry people for it (folks like Jamie Gillis, Joel M. Reed and Carter Stevens among others). The documentary kind of debunks the fact the 42^nd St was the only entertainment center of it’s kind. The truth was that wherever you go, every town had a grindhouse, every town had an area that catered to peculiar tastes. This documentary proves that theory. And yes, I’m already in the process of shooting what needs to be shot to finish that film.

Finally, name three individuals in the public eye, living or dead, who you’d invite to dinner and/or get blind drunk with?

Jess Franco (who I had met), Don Davison (who was my mentor, but I never did get to drink with him) and Ed Wood Jr (during those years where he was making porno loops). Each of those guys represent various facets of my life in some way shape or form, and I’d actually love to get them together for one huge party and let it all rip. But since they are all no longer with us I’ll have to dream on this….

THE PYJAMA GIRL CASE (1977) review

The severely burned and mutilated corpse of a young woman clad in yellow pyjamas is discovered in an abandoned car wreck on a Sydney beach. Her face has been disfigured beyond recognition, and the only clues remaining which could possibly identify her are the pyjamas and a few grains of rice found nearby. Retired but restless Inspector Timpson (Ray Milland) is intrigued by the case, and sensing that the enquiry undertaken by his former colleagues is going nowhere – as they are more concerned with beating confessions out of potential suspects and wrapping things up as quickly as possible - he joins the investigation. Timpson's old-fashioned, methodical detective work turns out to be much more fruitful than that of the younger officers, and his efforts lead to piecing together the identity of the woman, Glenda Blythe, and unfolding the mystery of her tragic death.

Glenda (Dalila Di Lazzaro), a beautiful but troubled Dutch immigrant, has a rather complicated love life – she is having simultaneous affairs with fellow recent arrival Antonio (Michele Placido), a penniless but hardworking Italian; Antonio's best friend, slimeball Roy (Howard Ross); and the cashed-up Professor Douglas (Mel Ferrer). Glenda eventually marries Antonio, hoping that their union will lead to the happiness she desperately seeks. However she quickly becomes disillusioned as she sees herself and Antonio tied to their menial waiting jobs and living in a cramped Kings Cross apartment forever and resumes her liaisons with Roy and the professor. Glenda's impulsive desires for love, attention and the trappings of a comfortable lifestyle lead to her life spiralling out of control, humiliating sexual degradation…and to her brutal death. But who committed the horrific crime? Inspector Timpson knows the answer – but will he survive to see Glenda's killer brought to justice?

A stylish, unique murder mystery from former art director Flavio Mogherini, The Pyjama Girl Case is loosely based on a true crime that took place in Australia in the 1930's. Though often catergorised as a giallo, the film is one of the more unorthodox entries of the subgenre as it steers clear of expected key elements – there is no rampaging black-gloved killer, no trail of bloody, over-the-top murders and no baroque Italian architecture (the story is set in contemporary 1970's Sydney). Despite its lurid title, those expecting a sensationalistic, gory late entry in the giallo cycle might be let down by The Pyjama Girl Case, but the film is actually a highly ingenious 'whodunit', a fascinating character study, a police procedural, and a visually striking experience.

The plot is split into two halves; the first is the investigation into Glenda Blythe's murder, and the second is the story of the doomed woman’s life up until it ended (which is revealed in flashbacks). The pleasant, sun-drenched cinematography of Sydney's landmarks, beaches and parks contrasts sharply with the film's downbeat and occasionally voyeuristic and sleazy tone (including a memorable scene of the baffled authorities putting Glenda's naked corpse on public display in a glass case, attracting hordes of sweaty, morbid curiosity seekers). A subtext of the movie is isolation – in Glenda and Antonio's case having to adapt to a new, unfamiliar country (wonderfully realised in shots of the couple wandering around the strangely underpopulated city streets and Opera House, creating an alien, lonely atmosphere and dwarfing the characters by their surroundings).

The Pyjama Girl Case features a solid cast, the standout being Oscar winner Ray Milland as the cantankerous, world-weary Inspector Timpson. Milland steals the show by injecting humour into his character - his expressions and mannerisms when having to deal with a procession of oddball and sexual deviant characters are priceless. Dalilia Di Lazzaro is excellent as the doomed 'Pyjama Girl' Glenda; a former model usually cast as decorative eye-candy, clearly relishes the chance at actually being required to 'act' and though Glenda is often impulsive and irresponsible, Di Lazzaro manages to bring depth and sympathy to the role. Also worth mentioning are Michele Placido as the gullible, hopelessly lovestruck Antonio  and Howard Ross in typical oily form as meathead Roy, who gives the naive Antonio helpful pointers on women such as : "If you want their respect you have to slap them around a bit, treat them like dogs and let them know who their master is".

The Pyjama Girl Case is an innovative and successful rework of the giallo genre with an uncharacteristic plot structure, intriguing twists, and above-average performances, as well as an air of morbidity and quiet desperation that tends to creep up on the viewer rather than immediately pack a punch.