The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh (1971)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh (1971) – S. Martino

Italian giallo films are not for everyone.  Wikipedia suggests that they are “murder mystery horror-thriller” films and they are not without sex and violence.  The classic format is a black-gloved sex killer on the loose in some Italian city, a killer who wears a mask and who is not unmasked until the very end of the film, revealing one of the central characters.  In Sergio Martino’s first giallo, that’s exactly the formula.  Poor Julie (Edwige Fenech) feels she is being gaslighted by her ex-lover Jean, seemingly a sadistic creep, who might be stalking her, leaving roses with cryptic notes, even though Julie is now married to a diplomat whose work at the US embassy in Vienna keeps him away all the time.  This gives Julie the opportunity to meet and fall in love with “Australian” George Corro (George Hilton) who is in Italy to receive an inheritance from a long lost uncle (that he will share with one of Julie’s friends, his long lost cousin Carol).  All the while, Vienna is prowled by a black-gloved sex killer and Julie may be his next target.  When she’s blackmailed by someone threatening to reveal her affair to her husband, she sends Carol to the rendezvous instead – and of course she’s murdered.  At this point, I felt the film was pretty straightforward and I also felt that I knew exactly who the killer was.  However, at this point, I was very wrong and a plot-twist (or two or three) lay just ahead.  I won’t spoil them for you but if this is possibly your cup-of-tea, this was a more enjoyable (less confusing, better dubbed) giallo than some others I have seen. Also on Tubi. (Oh, and the h was added to Wardh after a real Mrs. Ward threatened to sue the producers!).

The Touch (1971)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

The Touch (1971) – I. Bergman

Bergman’s first English language feature (that still takes place in Sweden and with Swedish spoken when English-speakers are not around) focuses on a messy extra-marital affair. Bibi Andersson is a housewife married to doctor Max von Sydow. He is a loving husband and they have two early teen children but perhaps her life feels boring to her (we are not really given any intimations of this but Bergman offers a sardonic view of her daily routine).  When she meets archaeologist Elliott Gould (a patient of her husband’s working on renovating a medieval church), he is full on and doesn’t hold back on his attempts to seduce her.  She gives in and they have an affair, despite his manic-depressive and violent behaviour. It goes on for a while until inevitably von Sydow finds out. Gould leaves for England and Andersson follows but does not find him, returning to Sweden to pick up her life. Late in the film, we are given some explanations about the causes of his erratic behaviour but they don’t feel satisfying. Nor does the incredibly abrupt ending. That said, Andersson’s performance is brave and subtle; Gould is loose and modern (but seems miscast). The film is endowed with some beautiful autumnal cinematography (albeit in some grubby locations). Not quite as harrowing as other Bergman films in this vein, so this may or may not be the right place to start with the Swedish master, depending on how intense you like your films.

 

A New Leaf (1971)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

A New Leaf (1971) – E. May

Walter Matthau has blown through the trust fund that he inherited and suddenly finds himself in debt.  The only way to continue the lifestyle to which he has become accustomed is to marry rich. So, he borrows $50K from his uncle to be paid back in 6 weeks (presuming he can spend his wife’s fortune) just to keep himself afloat until he can find a willing bride. After a few mistakes, he discovers Elaine May, a nerdy and clumsy botany professor with a very large fortune. Let the courtship begin!  Of course, Matthau is thinking dastardly thoughts about what happens after the marriage… and he wouldn’t be the first to take advantage of helpless May (who also wrote and directed, her first feature, after great success on stage in a comedy duo with Mike Nichols). The film is somewhat episodic (despite a linear plotline), sometimes broadly funny, sometimes even tender, with some intriguing impressionistic shots thrown in for good measure. By the end, we find ourselves charmed by the transformation in the characters, despite themselves, and there’s a warm feeling as a result.

 

Duel (1971)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Duel (1971) – S. Spielberg

Dennis Weaver is a travelling salesman who finds himself chased by a vengeful (perhaps evil) petrol tanker (the driver is never seen), along a very long stretch of California desert highway. The story is by Richard Matheson (Hell House, I am Legend, The Incredible Shrinking Man, etc.). This is, of course, Steven Spielberg’s first feature film (albeit, a TV movie) and it is a carefully controlled exercise in montage (with the occasional longer take), that demonstrates the director’s Hitchcock influences and concomitant manipulation of the audience.  Except, perhaps, he hasn’t quite mastered the latter, as there are only so many scenes of a truck and a car on a road that an audience is prepared to bear.  That said, this film is a bit of a master class in editing (by Frank Morriss) where shots of the truck, shots of the car, shots of Dennis Weaver, and long shots have been expertly stitched together despite having had to have been shot at different times from different angles.  Of course, various pit-stops along the way do break up the action and add suspense which keeps us there until the explosive finale.  

 

Daughters of Darkness (1971)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

Daughters of Darkness (1971) – H. Kümel

Euro-horror that is less trash and more arthouse than most, with a dream-like visual sense and eerie soundtrack. A recently married couple visits a Belgian resort in the winter, finding themselves the only ones in the hotel until Countess Elizabeth Bathory (Delphine Seyrig) and her lesbian lover/assistant/slave turn up.  Of course, the Countess seems likely to be a vampire and a series of unexplained murders are currently in the news.  But the film is all cat-and-mouse with the Countess stalking the couple and the new wife discovering that her husband may be harbouring secrets (I’m not sure what to make about his strange call to his “mother” who appears to be a man in drag) including violent tendencies of his own. The movie moves slowly to its conclusion which seems inevitable until a sudden twist and epilogue.  Some haunting visuals adorn this finale.

  

The Ωmega Man (1971)

 ☆ ☆ ½

The Ωmega Man (1971) – B. Sagal

If I wasn’t already familiar with the Vincent Price version of Richard Matheson’s novella “I am Legend” (entitled The Last Man on Earth, 1964), then perhaps I would have enjoyed this Charlton Heston version a bit more. There are some differences in the plotlines with Heston battling a religious cult of albino survivors of a virus spread by biological warfare and Price dealing with more traditional zombies (also created by a virus). Perhaps, yes, the middle of a pandemic is not the right time to watch this – or perhaps it is an especially right time?  Whereas Price had to contend with family members and former friends turning into zombies, Heston is more of a lone gun (foreshadowing his NRA affiliation?), a military scientist now on a vendetta to destroy the mutant cult.  Both are safe during the day (roaming the burnt-out city and “stealing” supplies) but in danger at night (when their foes wake up and attack). The very Seventies atmosphere here, including relevant cultural talking points such as an inter-racial love affair, made me think of TV shows like the Six Million Dollar Man, Bionic Woman, or similar – the special effects and costumes are, uh, that good. But at the end of the day, for all its weirdness, the Ωmega Man just isn’t as good as the similarly low budget (though B&W) earlier film.  

 

Straw Dogs (1971)

☆ ☆ ☆

Straw Dogs (1971) – S. Peckinpah

Holy hell, what happened here?  I suppose I knew what I was getting myself into, given the rating and notoriety – but Sam Peckinpah’s look at rural England is darker and more violent than I expected.  Dustin Hoffman, a math/astrophysics researcher, and his English wife Susan George, travel back to her hometown when he gets a grant that allows him to study independently.  He may be fleeing something (workplace politics, perhaps) but the locals do not make him welcome either.  Worse, there seems to be an increasing barrier between Amy (George) and David (Hoffman), reinforcing his separateness as an American outside of his own culture.  A bunch of handymen hired to put a roof on the garage start to menace them, including one who knew Amy in the past.  They kill the cat and then there is a horrible, even worse than usual, rape scene.  Peckinpah came under fire for this and there doesn’t seem to be any justifiable reason why one would film it.  Certainly, it increases the tension – but it isn’t clear that Hoffman ever finds out and thus the threat to his masculinity (which must be Peckinpah’s theme) isn’t clear either.  Except these local rapists really do taunt him and her and also an intellectually disabled man (David Warner) who is possibly a pedophile – their desire to lynch the latter sets the final showdown in motion when David seeks to protect this problematic character from the gang.  Then further intense brutality ensues as they lay siege to the house and David must find his masculinity (including slapping Amy around) to fight them off.  Given Peckinpah’s reputation for drinking and womanizing, it is hard not to think that he approves of this change in David.  But let’s hope that, close to 50 years later, this championing of a “masculinity contest” (there is new social psych research on this) can be seen as the catastrophe it really is.  It can’t solve interpersonal problems and the consequences for society can only be dire.  Peckinpah doesn’t stick around to show us.

The Blood on Satan’s Claw (1971)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Blood on Satan’s Claw (1971) – P. Haggard

Part of the so-called “Unholy Trilogy” of folk horror films that also includes The Wicker Man (1973) and The Witchfinder General (1968) by other directors.  The genre also could be stretched to include Curse of the Demon (1957) or The Devil Rides Out (1968) and newer films such as The Blair Witch Project (1999) and The Witch (2015).  It is a genre I like very much, full of uncanny creepiness in natural surroundings and an older paganistic (Satanistic/left-hand-path) challenge to reality as we know it.  The films ask you to accept that evil is real and terrifying supernatural forces are at work in our world, sometimes brought to bear on our lives by those humans who learn the magick needed.  In The Blood on Satan’s Claw, it is a group of teenagers who discover an evil creature that can be fed by unspeakable evil acts -- murder and rape – presented unblinkingly here in all their horror, enacted by little more than children.  So, with its nudity and violence, the film is also an exploitation flick, borne of its time, and ready and willing to shock the midnight movie crowd.  But if you can put the awfulness of the acts aside, the atmosphere created by director Piers Haggard and his team, depicting life in a rural English village in the 17^th century is spellbinding.  It is a time when witches were believed to be real and among us and witch-hunters sought them out.  The true history of these events is horrible and sad but the film shows us a world where black magic is real, violent, scary, and anarchic.  You really never know what can happen next. 

The Andromeda Strain (1971)

☆ ☆ ½

The Andromeda Strain (1971) – R. Wise

Perhaps in 1971, soon after the Moon landing, this was astounding.  Just thinking about possible viruses brought back from outer space must have been scary (and author Michael Crichton capitalised on that fear with his book).  But now in 2018, the film just seemed long and drawn out and dull.  Director Robert Wise spends a lot of time on the procedures that need to be undertaken to identify, understand, and counteract the virus – the science of it all – which is normally a good thing but it isn’t gripping cinema here.  (A few rats and monkeys die to help humans, but apparently this was carefully staged – remember this was the age of analog). Still, the film did win awards for its set design and it is very futuristic, if you can buy the green-text computer screens.  The cast of unknowns probably doesn’t help matters although at least they aren’t all men, as was the case in the book, apparently.  Of course, it isn’t outside the realm of possibility that we will all be killed by a new and deadly virus and perhaps a president (this president?) would consider nuking an American town to eradicate it.  But let’s hope our science has improved in the past 50 years to offer a better solution.

A Bay of Blood (1971)

☆ ☆ ½

A Bay of Blood (1971) – M. Bava

I keep hoping that I will find another good Mario Bava film.  There is a big cult around him but they seem to be primarily focused on Bava’s ability to stage a gruesome (and bloody) murder, rather than my interest in the creepy/spooky mises-en-scene he was able to create in such classics as I Vampiri (1957), Black Sunday (1960), Black Sabbath (1963), and even Planet of the Vampires (1965).  I suppose his success with Blood and Black Lace (1964), which saw fashion models in an elite agency picked off one by one, encouraged him in this direction.  A Bay of Blood is supposedly the progenitor of the slasher film, inspiring Friday the 13^th (1980) and apparently being ripped off directly in Friday the 13^th Part 2 (1981).  I wasn’t a big fan of that genre (although I did see Friday the 13^th Part III (1982) in the theatre in 3D), so why did I watch this?  I guess I am still hoping to find a clearer missing link between Bava the mentor and his protégé Dario Argento (who took the giallo form to higher heights with The Bird with Crystal Plumage and then creeped/grossed me out with Deep Red, Suspiria, and Inferno but has recently made nothing but crap).  Anyway, A Bay of Blood does capture some spooky feeling out there by the lake (I mean, bay) where a few lonely houses stand and Bava’s prowling camera peers at and stalks the cast.  An initial murder planned to spur an inheritance leads to a virtual killing spree (not all by the same murderer, it seems) and a lot of opportunities for Bava to go grand guignol (including with some young people who stumble into the action and get naked and dead).  But, in the end, I guess I’m telling you that late Bava doesn’t seem to be worth it -- unless you are a part of the gore cult (and I’m not).      

The Deadly Trap (1971)

☆ ☆

The Deadly Trap (1971) – R. Clément

René Clément (Forbidden Games, 1952; Purple Noon, 1960) directs Fay Dunaway and Frank Langella as a couple with two children (Cathy, 8, and Patrick, 4) who have relocated to Paris.  He seems to be a science writer and she is an amateur painter.  They have a close family friend, Cynthia, who lives in an apartment on the floor below them.  The plot is very vague.  Langella seems to have previously been a spy and he is being pursued by “The Organisation” that wants to sign him up for a long-term contract of some sort.  But he is uninterested.  Dunaway is plagued by failing memory, which may be the result of gaslighting (by friends and acquaintances but not Langella).  Then, their children are kidnapped, presumably by members of The Organisation.  The children’s experience reminds one of Forbidden Games but we don’t spend enough time in their world.  Details of all these events seem very sketchy, as we are given only hints about what is going on – and then there is a “reveal” that doesn’t seem earned at all.  Perhaps parts of the film were edited out?  More likely, the intent was to keep details obscure to heighten suspense, which doesn’t really work.  Finally, the colours in the print were so muted, that I suspect the film is in need of repair.  But why bother? Not worth your time.   

Minnie and Moskowitz (1971)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Minnie and Moskowitz (1971) – J. Cassavetes

Unmistakably a Cassavetes picture, shot in that vérité, quasi-improvised style that he made his own, Minnie and Moskowitz follows two odd characters (played by Gena Rowlands and Seymour Cassel, respectively) as they meet and fall in love.  If that sounds like straightforward romantic comedy, the actual film is anything but.  In Cassavetes’ universe, people seem to have serious problems with their emotional regulation.  Moskowitz especially runs hot and hot, while Minnie tends toward cool (so much so that she wears her sunglasses indoors and at night).  And whether this is a comedy at all is an open question:  I found the interactions between people to be predominantly tense, probably because of all the norm violations by Moskowitz.  Minnie seems to have a similar reaction but comes around to his honesty and openness.  What you see is what you get.  Apart from the central duo, we are also treated to a number of bizarre monologues from character actors such as Timothy Carey (a well-known weirdo) and Val Avery – these do verge on the comic.  Cassavetes also makes a sly reference to 2001: A Space Odyssey.  In other words, the film is looser and less serious than the tougher dramas Cassavetes is known for (Faces, A Woman Under the Influence).  As it careens to a conclusion, things fall apart a bit, as the actors break character to show the making of the film to have been a fun family affair (Rowlands and Cassavetes, who also makes an appearance as a true heel, were married and their mothers appear in the film).

Shura (Demons)(1971)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Shura (Demons)(1971) – T. Matsumoto

Shot in strikingly low-key (high contrast) black and white – where the darkness threatens to overtake the light in almost every shot.  Truly, the film is dark, both in terms of being set predominantly at night (or so it seems) and in terms of its content.  Katsuo Nakamura plays a ronin samurai who is actually seeking to become part of the famous 47 ronin who carried out a surprise revenge attack after their lord was forced to commit sepukku.  However, he spends all of the movie slumming it under the name “Gengobe”, wasting his time with geisha and ne’er-do-wells.  In fact, he is soon conned by a geisha (Yasuko Sanjo) and her husband (Juro Karo) into parting ways with the funds needed to join the ronin group.  This leads to a very bloody attack on his part (shot gruesomely) but only the various accomplices are killed.  His pursuit of the trickster couple uncovers an ironic relationship between all three once their true identities are revealed.  But it is too late to stop an even more grotesque and gruesome fate!  The film takes its time, moving leisurely, and director Toshio Matsumoto uses a number of strategies to disorient viewers; such as restarting several scenes from the beginning but from a different perspective – or with different content -- contrasting dreams/anxiety with reality. Since both are dark and violent, it is hard to know which is which; later in the picture, some dreams seem to become reality.  Rather stagebound but verging on hallucinatory at times. 

Trafic (1971)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Trafic (1971) – J. Tati

M. Hulot is back and he is an automobile designer. Of course, he gets into many jams (not all of them traffic jams).  Tati’s fifth and final outing as Hulot is gently humorous as in M. Hulot’s Holiday, Mon Oncle but not as ambitious or abstract as Playtime.  Still, it is a “nonverbal” comedy that features sound effects cranked up high on the soundtrack and dialogue kept relatively low, as if it were unimportant.  The plot involves getting a special camping car from Paris to Amsterdam for an auto show.  Unsurprisingly, Hulot and his crew don’t make it on time. The movie is all about the predicaments that they find themselves on the way.  While not uproarious, Trafic is wry and amusing and French.  Nevertheless, I think it is advisable to start in the beginning with Tati and move forward to see his development over time; or in fact, to see how Hulot remains the same as the context around him changes.

The Stalls of Barchester (1971)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Stalls of Barchester (1971) – L. G. Clark

The first of the BBC’s classic Ghost Stories for Christmas series, featuring dramatizations of tales by M. R. James.  The best versions of James that I have seen so far are “Whistle and I’ll Come to You” (1968) and “A Warning to the Curious” (1972) for TV and, of course, Curse of the Demon (1957), one of my all time favourite films.  The Stalls of Barchester is in the same tradition, as an archdeacon who may have murdered his predecessor is mysteriously haunted by a cat and other shadowy figures.  This has something to do with the carved figures in his stall of the church, the wood for which was apparently taken from a famous hanging tree.  The story involves a framing device (two scholars are reading the archdeacon’s diary) which allows the “truth” of the story to come out.  Not quite as spooky as others but if you imagine yourself alone in the house at night, it just may give you the creeps.    

Twins of Evil (1971)

☆ ☆ ½

Twins of Evil (1971) – J. Hough

70’s Hammer film that sees Peter Cushing still chasing vampires – only this time he is a puritanical witchfinder who burns poor women at the stake when they are suspected of evil.  Unfortunately for him, he is soon visited by twin nieces who attract the attention of the wicked Count Karnstein.  Naturally, before long, one of them is a vampire and Cushing must defeat the correct twin without getting confused.  Although decked out in the usual Hammer atmospherics, the film plods a bit, leers a lot, and doesn’t really seem exciting or even scary until the final minutes when the vampires are dispatched.  Kathleen Byron (a favorite of Powell and Pressburger’s) is here in a support role as Cushing’s wife, doing her best to maintain her dignity. Probably not worth your time when there is much better Hammer horror out there.

The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971)

☆ ☆

The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971) – R. Fuest

Is this the film wherein Vincent Price crosses the line from horror to camp? At first, proceedings are rather dull, with a series of creative murders taking place in a low budget bare bones looking 1920’s Britain.  Scotland Yard are called in and muddle through until rubber-masked Vincent Price drops them a clue.  He’s using the Biblical plagues of Egypt as a theme to kill the surgical team involved in the death of his wife, although everyone believes he died in an automobile accident years earlier.  At a certain point, the movie starts to smirk and perhaps wants us to laugh at Price/Phibes’ diabolical schemes.  But the murders are more gross than interesting and our brief glimpse at Price’s real visage isn’t enough to evoke either horror or amusement.  Somehow this spawned a sequel.  I haven’t seen it in a while but I suspect Theatre of Blood, wherein Price silences his critics with theatrical murders might be more gruesomely funny.