Murder Obsession (1981)

Film grammar has developed and refined itself over more than a century to the point that it almost seems as if children today are born already knowing exactly how to “read” a film.  Of course, this isn’t true in a blanket fashion, but young viewers today are so sophisticated, their media so slick, it’s no wonder that more people want to be famous today than arguably at any other point in the history of man (feel free to debate this amongst yourselves).  Even “reality TV” is so over-produced, so manufactured, that there is, if not an erasure, certainly a large scale blurring of the lines between fiction and reality at work in our culture.  People no longer need to aspire to greatness.  No effort needs to be expended.  The only requisite now is for enough people to view a video clip of you doing something that makes the people with money decide you’re valuable to them (or worse, you can be a superstar simply by dint of birth).  Of course, vapidity and lack of actual talent has been with us since the world began, but I would argue that never before has it been quite so celebrated.

There seems (at least to my cynical eyes) to be a diminishment in the desire for individuality, a diminishment in the desire to interact with the real world in any meaningful (and actually physical) manner.  For as interconnected as we have become, we seem to be forfeiting the very skills which allowed us to get this far.  Perhaps this is us getting ready for “The Singularity,” when artificial intelligence surpasses human intelligence.  Perhaps this is someone else getting us ready for it?  Perhaps those of us who are older have already been surpassed by the younger generations and simply cannot comprehend what those “whippersnappers” see as simplicity itself.  Or perhaps they really are just degenerating, by and large (again, not a blanket statement; there are exceedingly few things that have no exceptions).  I’m no expert.  I claim no provenance or superior knowledge here.  But mark my words; this is something which deserves serious consideration.  It’s not just the old saw of an older generation saying how much better things were when they were kids as viewed through some nostalgic mist.  Ain’t it funny?  I started this introduction as a look at flashbacks and fractured time in cinema.  Oh well.  You got a screed instead.

Michael (Stefano Patrizi, possibly the blandest actor in recorded history) is an “edgy” thespian who takes his role as a murderer just a little too intensely on set.  Oh, he doesn’t actually kill co-star Beryl (Laura Gemser), but he does give her a right strangling.  Later and seemingly for no reason, Michael suddenly has the desire to return to the family manse and bring some of his filmmaking buddies as well as his secret girlfriend Deborah (Silvia Dionisio) along with him.  Reuniting with mother Glenda (Anita Strindberg) and creepy groundskeeper Oliver (John Richardson), Michael works through his troubled past while someone starts picking off the cast members.

Riccardo Freda’s Murder Obsession (aka Follia Omicida aka Murder Syndrome) deals in many ways with fantasy (in the forms of art, legends, and imagination) versus reality.  Michael’s father (also played by Patrizi) was a symphony conductor.  After viewing a portrait of said dad (which resembles an Andy Warhol styled Op-Art piece more than a traditional painting), the son hears his father’s voice accusing him from beyond the grave.  Director Hans (Henri Garcin) carries around his camera, calling it his “third eye.”  Beryl used to practice voodoo, and she feels that legends are important when you believe in them (i.e. Truth is constituted from an accepted artifice).  Hans tells Glenda that magic will “solve the mysteries of life.”  Interestingly, Glenda and Oliver represent a juxtaposition to their houseguests.  Whereas, Hans and company talk about magic and the occult in abstract philosophical terms (labeling their possessions or talents with expressions implying non-existent mystical properties), Glenda and Oliver practice what they preach and believe in it wholeheartedly.  This, then, explains why the others can only talk about the “magic” others possess.  

This extends to lies and deceptions, one of which is central to Michael’s self-discovery (naturally, this being a Horror/Giallo film).  You see, Michael believes that he killed his father when he was only a child.  The Oedipal manner in which he and his mother interact certainly makes this a possibility and even gives the film an intriguing undercurrent which it never pays off (but more on that later).  Yet, we know from the introduction of Michael’s memories and/or dreams that there has to either: One, be more to it that will be revealed later like puzzle pieces or two, a third act reveal that uncovers the falsity of these images (or a combination of both).  And there is, to be fair.  Deborah also gets an extended nightmare sequence (roughly ten minutes of screen time), and as you’re watching, it feels like filler (and filler which wears out its welcome, no less).  Well, it is filler, but it does make some sense by the film’s ending.  Unfortunately, the sense it makes doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.

I’ll try to explain.  Murder Obsession is predominantly a confused mess of a film (in case you didn’t get that yet).  Points are brought up and things happen, but none of them appear to be leading anywhere in a narrative sense.  Further, if they are meant to lead somewhere, they are almost entirely undeveloped.  So, we get scenes like the one early on when Oliver astrally projects and his spirit goes for a walk around the house.  And that’s the first and last we see anything about this until the very end of the movie.  Of course, Michael’s not going to be the killer.  We know that from frame one.  We know that from reading the film’s synopsis.  So we get some of the reddest of red herrings to keep us guessing (Hans wears one black glove into the room after Beryl is attacked, Oliver is a disturbing-looking sleepwalker, Beryl asks Michael if he was really strangling her when they were filming, etcetera).  Everything is disconnected, so even when it’s all explained at the end, it doesn’t feel like a resolution.  It feels like an excuse.  Consequently, the entire film comes across like an exercise in cynicism.  They needed gory murders, so there are gory murders.  People are interested in the occult and mysticism, so there are offhanded references to the occult and mysticism.  There needs to be sex and nudity, so there’s a ton of sex and nudity (and probably more torn blouses/blouses falling open and off than I’ve ever seen in a film…probably).  There needs to be a shock ending, so there’s a contrived shock ending.  The film goes through damned near every single one of the motions it can possibly go through, but it’s all empty.  There is no care shown the story and an almost unbridled disdain shown toward the audience’s intelligence.  Even though I can’t say I outright hate this film, I can definitely say it won’t be on my Christmas card list anytime soon.      

MVT:  The supremely cheesy gore effects (credited to Angelo Mattei; possibly a relative of Bruno?) are fascinating in their primitiveness.  Even for a dirt-low budget Horror film, they’re bad, and they wouldn’t fool an animal.  But they are juicy and they are fun.

Make Or Break:  The clunky ending exposition will have you scratching your head and shouting at the screen at least as much as it actually clarifies any of the film’s plot points (or maybe will just have you scratching your head and shouting at the screen every time it tries to clarify a plot point; it’s all about perspective).  How that will leave you feeling when the credits roll depends on your tolerance level.  I admit mine is pretty low sometimes.  

Score:  4.75/10

Caltiki – The Immortal Monster (1959)

Immortality is an odd concept for something so simply defined. Ask anyone what it means, they'll tell you, "to never die" or "to live forever" (actually, I'm paraphrasing here, but you get the idea). William De Morgan famously said, "I don't want to achieve immortality by being inducted into the Hall of Fame. I want to achieve immortality by not dying." Unfortunately, since no human being (unless we take into account myths and stories like those of the Wandering Jew or Connor MacLeod, and even then there are limitations) has ever physically achieved this goal, we (as human beings so often do) redefine the goal in order to make it achievable. Therefore, immortality becomes what we leave behind, our work, scions, essentially memories of when we were here. Only deities can physically be defined as being immortal, but even godhood is no safeguard against death (though they're usually resurrected after the "final curtain"). What's a poor blob to do, then?

While investigating Mayan ruins in central Mexico, two expedition members go missing. When one of them, Nieto (Arturo Dominici), turns up rambling about a mummy, the other members investigate. On the bottom of a cavern lake, they discover a virtual graveyard of skeletons as well as a shambling mass of a creature whose touch can strip the meat off a human in seconds and mummify living tissue. Destroying (most of) the monster with a gas truck explosion, expedition leader, John (John Merivale) takes a piece of the beast back to Mexico City to study. Turns out Caltiki is just waiting for the right time to make her presence known to the world, and the results are predicted to be cataclysmic.

Caltiki – The Immortal Monster (aka Caltiki -The Undying Monster, aka Caltiki – Il Mostro Immortale) is credited as being directed by veteran Italian director, Riccardo Freda. However, the rumor is that the director abdicated his position to the film's cinematographer and special effects person, Mario Bava. With that in mind, the film certainly has the feel of some of Bava's work. The gothic horror trappings that Bava would help popularize in the 1960s are in evidence. Skulls and skeletons populate the film's early sets like tinsel on a Christmas tree. Snakes slither about in menacing fog banks. Also, organ music warbles ominously on the score, augmenting the creepy, gothic feel. Further, there's an alarming level of gore effects in the film for the time. 

I'm sure I've mentioned this before, but the presentation of graphic violence in films like this has always had more verisimilitude than what would come in the next few years. From the wartime violence of All Quiet On The Western Front (1930) to the more exploitive violence of The Monster Of Piedras Blancas (1959), the shock of seeing the human body dismembered (or the after effects) resonates more in these older films due not so much to their violation of the cultural norms of the times but to their usage of stark back-and-white cinematography. In this film, we see Caltiki's victims stripped of their meat, just the wet, mostly-denuded bones left as warnings to any who get in the creature's path. The effects work here is actually fairly shocking and largely impressive. I'm unsure if any of these shots were trimmed from the American cut, but I would suspect so, and I was surprised what made it through did. Caltiki herself, while appearing to be just a wet pile of linty towels, makes an impressive threat. Her "skin" has an odd texture that is at once attractive and repellant, and she is in constant motion, so you're always watching to see where she will move next.

Another interesting aspect, and an asset to the film, is that it doesn't rely solely on the threat of Caltiki for tension. Instead, there is a heavy melodrama facet that plays out in a sub-plot. Max (Gérard Herter) has the hots for John's wife, Ellen (Didi Sullivan), but Ellen wants nothing to do with Max. Meanwhile, "half-breed", Linda (Daniela Rocca), clings to Max in an abusive relationship, and she betrays those who show her friendship in desperate attempts to gain Max's affections. To the filmmakers' credit, this ties into the main, monster movie plot, helps build tension going into the third act, and keeps the pace from dragging by providing an alternative to the creature story. Granted, it's heavily reminiscent of a soap opera, yet it works for the film, oddly enough. 

Speaking of pacing, there are points of the film's climax which feel contrived and actually inject a bit of anticlimax into the proceedings. I'm thinking specifically of two things (minor spoilers ahead). The first is when John is speeding home, and he gets arrested. It's glaringly inserted only to pad out the finale and made me groan a bit. The other is how John pulls off the rescue at the end. It just sort of happens. The filmmakers took all this time and trouble getting to this point, and then by skipping over any substantial detail, they rob the end of being fully satisfying. It's like getting a cheeseburger that has mustard on it (and you hate mustard, right?) when you were a kid, and instead of sending it back, your mom just wipes off the mustard and makes you eat it. That trace of mustard stays on the food (you know it does, it's not just in your head, dammit) and brings the whole experience down to about, oohhhh, seventy-five-percent.

It's funny to me how few movies there are about blob-like monsters (The Blob, Beware! The Blob, X – The Unknown, The Quatermass Xperiment [technically], and of course Caltiki - this is all off the top of my head, so please allow that this list is more than likely incomplete). Nonetheless, the creature is an enduring icon in the pantheon of horror movies. For such a simple creation (essentially a giant amoeba), it generates a wealth of terror that busloads of whacky serial killers can't. I think the reason is twofold. Number one, the creature has no discernible intelligence. It doesn't plot or discuss its intentions. Like in The Terminator,"It can't be bargained with or reasoned with." And this leads me to number two; a blob is like the shark in Jaws, "an eating machine," and if it lands on you, you're toast. You may be able to brush against a shark and make it out alive, but brushing against a blob dissolves you (or worse). It is the ultimate "Unknown" embodied in a mass of constantly rolling death. In the long run, Caltiki does its part to keep this menace alive, even, dare I say, immortal?

MVT: Bava takes it on this one. By all accounts, he wore multiple hats on the production equally well and managed to craft a small creature feature that deserves more recognition than it gets.

Make Or Break: As Nieto wanders around the ruins at the beginning, there are some great backlit shots that really add flavor to the scene. The fog-encased, shadow-covered figure and play of light set a tone that, while not strictly adhered to throughout, certainly gets things off on the right foot.

Score: 7.25/10