Demonoid (1980)

The first and last time I got stitches was before I hit double digits.  I was bitten by a dog (which wouldn’t be the last time), and had to get four sutures in my right bicep (when you’re that age, it’s not a lot, but it sure as hell feels like it).  Since then, I’ve had injuries to my hands that I probably should have had stitched and didn’t, because that first time was more than enough for me.  While working at a fast food restaurant in my teens, I was hauling a box of shortening up from the basement, and my hand got caught on the hook end of an electrical junction box cover.  While working on a dryer, I split a knuckle open.  While removing a water valve from a washer, I gouged another knuckle on the same hand.  To this day, I maintain that the actual bone was bifurcated, but since no doctor was consulted, I guess we’ll never know.  Needless to say, I’m sure these injuries will come back to haunt me in short order, as I can already feel how arthritis is and will set in on my joints (not good for someone who works with their hands).  If you’ve ever stared at your hands for any length of time (like Felix Unger did in the “Odd Monks” episode of The Odd Couple), you really do discover what a marvel these appendages are.  They are one of the hardest parts of the human body to draw, too.  The things we can do with them are amazing, and, more often than not, we truly do take them for granted (until, of course, we are without their use, partially or in total).  I wonder, then, why, for as “important” a purpose as he has and as much work as he has to accomplish in a given day, Satan would cut off his left hand and send it to Guanajuato, Mexico, as he does in Alfredo Zacarias’ Demonoid (aka La Mano Del Diablo aka Macabra aka Demonoid: Messenger of Death)?  You don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone. 

Visiting her husband Mark (Roy Cameron Jenson) at their Mexican mine, Jennifer Baines (Samantha Eggar) uncovers a chamber previously used for Satanic rites.  She and her husband remove a tiny “coffin” shaped like a human hand from which escapes the titular Demonoid (no one calls it that in the film; it just sounds neat).  The avaricious anatomical appurtenance proceeds to wend its way through a series of victims, all the while setting its sights on the woman who freed it (this becomes a rather perplexing point, as the entire film could have been about thirty minutes long, realistically).

Aside from telepathic/telekinetic heads/brains-in-tanks, the most filmed disembodied human limb has to be the hand (I know of no film where an evil foot attacks people, and even the penis got its own cinematic sojourn in Doris Wishman’s The Amazing Transplant).  Whether they are grafted onto some hapless sap or scuttling about under their own steam, hands just have a greater visual appeal than any other body part.  Plus, they’re really good for strangling (and crushing skulls from the evidence presented here; I had to resist saying “on hand”).  What the idea of a lone hand causing malfeasance does is brings up a discussion about accountability.  If the hand is attached to a person who then turns to evil (Mad Love, Hands of the Ripper, The Hands of Orlac, etcetera), we, as an audience, have to consider whether the flagitiousness is located in the hand or in the person it wields.  If it’s all in the hand, then the person abrogates their role in any villainy.  They are no more than another victim or a fall guy.  This additionally raises the question of where consciousness resides; in the mind, in the spirit, or in every part of the body (the last two being easily tied together)?  Like the alien in John Carpenter’s The Thing, maybe every microbe has an instinct for survival.  This is fine for straight forward horror/monster movies.  You have the good guys, you have the bad creature.  You don’t need any more.  

However, if we deem that the evil is inside the person and not the part, we have more possibilities to work with, a more nuanced premise.  Now, it’s the person struggling with the evil within them, the transplanted appendage being just an excuse for them to exercise their darkest desires.  We can even postulate that, even if the hand or whatever is, indeed, evil, its influence brings out the worst in its host rather than working strictly toward its own purposes.  In this sense, the chicken and the egg come into existence at the same time.  In Demonoid, we can say that Mark always wanted to blow up his mine with all his workers in it.  We can say that he always wanted to run away from his wife and head out to Vegas.  We can say that Father Cunningham (Stuart Whitman) always wanted to attack a woman.  They simply never had the stones/opportunity to do it.  Even when the Demonoid does things after its host has apparently died or is moribund, we can still say that the person’s psychosis is so deep-seated that they do these things subconsciously in order to keep their mental narrative going.  Bear in mind, I am in no way saying that the hand in this film isn’t its own thing.  We see it do plenty while unattached to anyone, and it clearly has an agenda (though said agenda is unclear; does it want to rule the world?  To just get joined up with Jennifer?  To play Craps until it runs out of money and credit?).  But we can still consider its host’s responsibility in the proceedings, the same as if they were being controlled by the “injecto-pods” in Zontar: The Thing from Venus or somesuch.  Just something to think about, I suppose.

What I find special about this film is not that it’s especially well-written or well-shot or well-acted (though all three jobs are performed competently enough).  Rather, Demonoid is mindful of its mindlessness.  It knows that the premise is silly, but it plays it straight.  It disregards the common theme in films like this of a crisis of faith (sure, Father Cunningham has a few scenes regarding this dilemma, but they never develop into anything all that important, and the idea of the power of God defeating in the power of Satan never plays out except on a surface level).  The filmmakers understand that all they have to do is say that this is Satan’s hand without any other background information and let it ride.  There is a gleefully grimy aura on the film.  It is utterly unafraid to go for the gore, and said gore is usually accompanied by/women with copious amounts of cleavage.  The big “shock” ending is as predictable as that of an EC Comic.  The film stands there in front of the viewer, warts and all (but especially warts), and it couldn’t care less if you believe in it.  It believes in itself.

MVT:  The serious/not serious attitude allows the film to keep going and drag you along with it.

Make or Break:  The vague prologue that kind of sets up the story but is really just a small showcase for some tits and blood.

Score:  7/10      

Strange Brew (1983)

Directed by: Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas
Run time: 90 minutes

A clause in the Canadian Broadcasting Act that, in theory, ensures a certain percentage of all public broadcasting is content made in Canada. In practice this clause is sometimes used by narrow minded bureaucrats license to be narrow minded twits. Case in point Second City Television. SCTV was filmed in Canada and the majority of the cast and crew were Canadian. The only way the show could have been any more Canadian by making your TV bleed maple syrup when the show was on. The Canadian Broadcast Company (CBC) didn't see it that way.

SCTV was set in the fictional American city of Mellonville and the CBC wanted a segment that was easily identified as Canadian. In response Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas slapped on some toques, moved the empty beer bottles from the writers room to a set, and inadvertently created two iconic characters. This led to the characters becoming the most popular segment on SCTV, which led to a couple of comedy records that sold well, and they were successful enough to get their own movie. But how do you make a feature length film centered around two joke bit characters? By borrowing the narrative from Hamlet and making Bob and Doug McKenzie the bit characters of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

The movie opens with Bob and Doug showing off their new set. Which is the old set but filmed with a wider lens so you can see all the empty beer boxes in all their glory. They also got a full orchestral version of The Great White North theme song but Doug still has to preform it. With the technical improvements and useful life hack of bringing moths to a movie theater it's time to start the movie. An eight millimeter no budget sci-fi epic that only runs for a minute before breaking down. In the theater showing this movie, the audience is enraged by the obvious rip off of a movie.

Bob and Doug McKenzie were in the audience and use the chaos to escape the angry mob. They almost escape but are stopped by protagonist kryptonite, a pair of crying children who had used their allowance to see the McKenzie Brother's movie. Feeling sorry for the kids Bob hands over fifteen dollars, their Dad's beer money, to the kids so they can make their escape.  Without beer and the money to get more beer the Brother's are forced to part in the actual plot of the movie.

There is something rotten at the Elsinore Brewery and the Brewmaster Smith (Max Von Sydow) is somehow behind it. The brewery has fired nearly all the staff, installed extensive surveillance system, and the Brewmaster is conducting bizarre experiments. Worse, the president of the brewery died in a tragic accident and the leftovers from the funeral feast have been used for the wedding banquet for the president's brother and his widowed wife. To complicate matters the president's daughter Pam now owns fifty one percent of the brewery and has left school to sort out what evil is afoot at the brewery. With the aid of the brewery foreman, a former hockey star that had a nervous breakdown, and the McKenzie Brothers they stumble about and solve who is behind the Elsinore brewery foul state.

It's a fun movie. The material doesn't take itself too seriously and the cast are acting as if this how reality works while the most surreal things happen all around them. Also the McKenzie Brothers characters are not unnecessarily padded to make them the center of the movie. The only complaint I have is how the film tends to drag when the McKenzie Brothers go over board with how stupid they are at some points. It happens at a few times and is more of a personal issue than anything else. This is a solid rental and or streaming film and worth watching if it shows up on cable and the like.

MVT: Bob and Doug taking turns using the electroshock therapy machine on each other.

Make or Break: What made it for me was the McKenzie Brother accidentally drive their van into Lake Ontario. When the police diver discovers they have been using empty beer bottles to store air he doesn't try to get them out of the van. Instead the police diver hits them up for driver's license and registration.

Score: 7.5 out of 10

8 Man After (1993)

It’s been a while since the original 8 Man disappeared.  Now, psychotic criminals dubbed Cyber Junkies are grafting cybernetic parts and weapons onto their bodies and running amok.  Private dick Hazama (Jurota Kosugi) finds himself embroiled in this conflict between humans and cyborgs while searching for a missing scientist.  And just in the nick of time, 8 Man returns, but is he the same man he was before?

8 Man was created in 1963 by Kazumasa Hirai and Jiro Kuwata.  It jumped from manga to anime to live action and back again.  Originally aimed at kids, the character moved more and more into violent vigilante territory, and that’s where 8 Man After lands.  The first thing that pops out to the viewer while watching this movie (actually a collection of four OVA episodes edited together) is that it hews very closely to Paul Verhoeven’s Robocop (other hyperviolent cyborg anime, notwithstanding).  The initial 8 Man was a cop like Murphy.  Mr. Daigo fills the Dick Jones spot, and his Bio Techno company mirrors OCP, in presence, if not specificity.  He even has a scale model of the utopian city he wants to build on top of the scummy city that currently surrounds him.  After Hazama is killed in a violent altercation with a criminal (the film’s Clarence Boddicker), he is transformed into the new 8 Man.  The violence itself is incredibly bloody, and the villains are all out of their minds (though here there is no sense of humor about any of it).  8 Man has flashbacks to his past life as a normal human and the trauma that he suffered.  There are a handful of 8 Man POV shots in Heads-Up-Display style that waver as he fights against his urge to kill.  Sachiko (Mika Doi) is the Officer Lewis character but only in the sense that she’s female.  She was the wife of the first 8 Man and is the ostensible romantic interest for Hazama, but, oddly enough, both of these roles are hardly explored at all in the story.  In fact, most of the elements that make this interesting (those that are different from Robocop) are barely touched on.  

Directors Sumiyoshi Furakawa and Yoriyasu Kogawa and company felt it more important to focus on the livelier aspects of the premise (read: the violence), though there are still things here to talk about other than its mimic origins.  One of the biggest, for me, is the idea of violence as a way of life.  This is a world steeped in violence on both sides of the law.  The first time we meet Hazama, he is causing a ruckus at Bio Techno and leading the company’s security guys on a merry chase through the streets (which ends abruptly).  There is a shootout between the cops and a Cyber Junkie at a market, and the bodies of innocent bystanders lie around the scene in pools of blood.  Tony, 8 Man’s nemesis, rips open Sachiko’s blouse and pokes her throat with his arm blade, causing a trickle of blood to flow down between her breasts and soak into her bra.  8 Man doesn’t just defeat or incapacitate his enemies.  He literally tears them apart.  With his super speed, he slashes at their arms and legs, disabling them.  Then, he squeezes their cybernetic extremities until they explode in geysers of blood and metal.  Intriguingly, this concept of ingrained cultural violence is best exemplified in the football sequence (ironically, the part I like the least because the subplot that it follows up on is superfluous and a little irritating, and I just don’t care about sports, anyway).  The local team is loaded up with cybernetics and drugs (an anti-rejection number that has the unintended/intended consequence of making its users go batshit).  They not only destroy their opposition but also turn on the audience, tearing into them.  They are inflicting violence on the people who came to watch violence, turning the spectators into unwilling participants.  There is no escape from violence in the world of 8 Man After, directly or indirectly.

There is also the concept of the corruption or failure of good intentions.  The cybernetic parts were originally developed to help people.  They were meant to be prosthetic replacements for amputees.  But instead of new limbs for misfortunates, they became a go-to enhancement for violent criminals so they could rule the streets.  Now, they can shoot bullets from their palms, missiles from their backs, and rockets from their knees, and the drugs they have to take to maintain their grafts only enhance their madness.  O’Connor, the missing father that young Sam hired Hazama to find, is one of the cyber-football players.  He sees this as a last chance to make it big and provide for his boy.  Instead, he becomes a demented cyber-thug, even striking his own flesh and blood.  Though Hazama doesn’t exactly volunteer to become 8 Man, he wants to do good as the cyborg.  However, his emotions are a drawback for him.  According to the Professor who created him, Hazama’s feelings “contaminated” the 8 Man cybernetics, and Hazama himself is considered a “system failure” that makes 8 Man go berserk, the same as those he opposes.  He is the anti-rejection drug with the horrible side effects.  To be more efficient, more obedient, he must lose his identity to the 8 Man, become a synthesis of the two rather than one who changes into the other.  The road to Hell is paved with good intentions and robotic body parts.

The animation in 8 Man After looks very good, and the action sequences shine.  The central conflict of the story is compelling, and there are more than enough crazy things to maintain interest (like a talking brain in a jar, say).  The main problem is that the narrative is overly convoluted.  This is compounded, I’m assuming, by its original episodic nature.  By that, I mean that it is too willing to develop various subplots that don’t tie into the main story strongly enough, are dismissed before being satisfyingly tied up, or are poorly integrated in terms of pacing, forgetting what the core story is about.  In my opinion, this would have worked better as a tightened down, ninety-minute feature rather than a sprawling, four-episode series.  Still, it’s entertaining, and I enjoy watching it from time to time.  You might, too.

MVT:  The 8 Man is nicely designed and animated, and it’s fun seeing him do his thing.

Make or Break:  The introduction of hip, young Sam may push some folks over the edge.

Score:  6.75/10       

Calamity (1976)

I have always meant to try my hand at sculpting.  I still might.  The closest I ever came would likely have been either assembling monster models as a kid or painting tiny Dungeons and Dragons miniatures with a toothpick (a paintbrush just seemed too unwieldy for my chubby, little fingers), and, yes, I know that neither of these comes even close to the orbit of actual sculpture.  I think I would like to try doing mini-maquettes or mini-busts of different characters or maybe just full-size busts.  Stuff like the Creature from the Black Lagoon or the Hulk or something.  Stuff that’s in my wheelhouse.  None of that enigmatic modern art sculpture for me (maybe if I’m feeling lazy).  There will be growing pains, to be sure.  After all, I have zero experience sculpting anything, unless you count using Play Doh, but that was some time ago and nothing to write home about.  Time would also be a huge factor, since I don’t have enough of it to do the things I like to do now (like sleep, eat, and so forth, and you should see the hoops that have to be jumped through to get these reviews done on the regular), but I’m sure there are those who would also say that the time should be made for it (like time is a sheet cake or something).  I think I would likely stick to clay, as sculpting in mediums like stone or wood is (A) less forgiving/fixable, and (B) I would be less likely to inflict grievous bodily injury to myself with chisels, etcetera.  Who knows?  Maybe I’ll sculpt the most perfect statue of General Guan Yu, like Uncle Chao (Yu-Hsin Chen) does in Hung Min Chen’s Calamity (aka Zhan Shen aka War God aka Kuan Yu Battles with the Aliens), and it will come to life and defend the Earth.  But in all likelihood, I’ll just wind up throwing out stuff I think turned out like crap.

Martians land in Hong Kong and give humanity an ultimatum: Die on your feet or live on your knees.  No human steps up, so Uncle Chao’s statue takes matters into his own hands.

Calamity is a film whose existence was ineluctable.  By that same token, that it exists at all is nothing short of miraculous.  Considering the levels of insanity to which the Japanese Tokusatsu genre climbed by this point (and, it can be argued, all of Japanese genre cinema), it was only a question of time before someone came up with this idea of giant gods battling Brobdingnagian Martians (and very well may have much earlier than this).  This is the sort of film where “space scientists” work in science fiction labs and call themselves “space scientists.”  Where Martians come in trios like the Three Stooges.  Where nothing is impossible, including Guan Yu inhabiting a wooden statue and becoming a real god, like Pinocchio (or Jet Jaguar, take your pick), because nothing in this world is improbable.  For example, Chao-Chun (Ming Lun Ku) creates a laser/heat gun that can melt steel, but no one ever thinks to use it on the aliens (or if they did, they either dismissed this idea straightaway or I just missed it).  Yes, this is a world of fantastic imagination, but it’s more like the cover version of a Tokusatsu film than one in its own right.  Is it in the realm of reason to criticize Calamity for this photocopy quality when so many of its Japanese counterparts do the exact same thing?  I would suggest yes, because those Japanese fantasy films of the Moiré Pattern Effect variety are just as bland and characterless.  What’s good for the goose…

The film also deals with science versus religion.  Uncle Chao believes with all his heart (bolstered by the imaginary, remembered voice he hears from the photo of his dead wife) that Guan Yu will possess his statue if the god deems it perfect.  Bear in mind, this is before the Martians land, so one has to wonder what Uncle Chao’s end game is prior to the invasion?  Maybe he feels that too many people have turned away from the gods, like his son Chao-Chun.  Maybe he’s just fulfilling the promise he made to his wife, and that’s all.  Either way, it’s science-minded Chao-Chun who is forced to accept a deity into his mode of thinking.  Chao-Chun even says, “There is no power of god in the world,” so you can see the lines of demarcation drawn clearly (sort of).  Likewise, the Martians belong to the realm of science or, to be more precise, science fiction.  They are technology and machinery incarnate.  They even have electronic BEM eyes that light up.  Guan Yu must teach them the lesson that gods are no laughing matter (take that how you will in this context).  

By that same token, this conflict reflects the struggle between traditionalism and modernity.  Uncle Chao carves wooden statues using nothing but his chisels, his hands, and some elbow grease (by the way, he is functionally blind with Glaucoma, making his efforts even more preternatural).  He knows that there is value in taking the time to do things by hand and do them right.  Apparently, his whole life has been a progression toward the perfection of his craft, a quasi-Nirvana.  Chao-Chun uses scientific tools, largely automated, and he even adds in the science fiction go-to of radiation (in another experiment [this one involving bees] which goes nowhere).  He laments the hard path scientists have to trod (“If everyone was like you, we’d still be primitive”), because it has to be worth it.  According to this film, however, not so much.  Guan Yu is, naturally, the most traditional of traditional symbols, and the Martians the ultimate symbol of contemporary man (even though they’re not human).  They, like Chao-Chun, have a hard time grasping how tradition can be so powerful when it’s so archaic.  And this is why they fail or are useless to the film’s narrative, such as it is.

It’s not unfair to ask how the special effects in a special effects film fare.  So, how do they fare in Calamity?  Sadly, not so well.  Aside from a handful of decent matte shots, they’re pretty threadbare across the board.  The miniatures are as simplistic and undetailed as it’s possible to be.  The Martians look bad (in an Irwin Allen television show sort of way, but cheaper), especially when compared to the rather ornate Guan Yu costume.  But these things could be forgiven if the action worked or if the story had some interesting ideas or tension or characters.  But it doesn’t.  The Guan Yu versus aliens scenes are essentially the same moves repeated ad nauseum.  Further, the human characters contribute nothing (the exception, of course, being Uncle Chao).  There is even a hellion biker girl character who has nothing to do other than ride through tunnels and dance to Carl Douglas’ “Kung Fu Fighting” (I’m almost positive the song rights were procured for its use here), and that’s just wasteful.  The most calamitous thing about Calamity is that it’s entirely constructed of window dressings without the windows.  The filmmakers knew the notes but not the tune.

MVT:  the giant monster battles, though they are repetitive to the point of lethargy.  

Make or Break:  By the middle of the final battle of the giants, you’ll just want it to be over.

Score:  6/10