Video View

ADDICTED TO MURDER

Dir. Kevin Lindenmuth, 1995

Despite its MTV-style blend of camera techniques and a scrapbook narrative structure which couples the apparently real to the potentially illusionary, grounding the action by way of documentary inserts in the manner of Gorman Bechard's under-rated DISCONNECTED [1984], this remains an unsatisfying spin on the serial killer scenario which fails to match either the grim determination of John McNaughton's HENRY [1986] or the halucinogenic flair of Anthony Page's I NEVER PROMISED YOU A ROSE GARDEN [1977].

Mick McCleery plays Joel Winter, traumatized into homicidal psychosis by a childhood encounter with a raven-haired killer (Laura McLauchlin) who may or not be a vampiric mutant, depending upon how you view Joel's own take on reality; the former alternative looks more likely he's implicated in a series of cannibalistic murders, shot dead by a cop and then returns to wreak revenge upon his fellow undead.
Whereas Michael Rooker embued Henry with a chilling detachment, McCleery's Joel sleepwalks through the movie, scarcely assisted by mind-numbing b-movie dialogue "courtesy" of Lindenmuth and Tom Piccarilli ("We helped you become who you wanted to become... Who you were destined to be."), an indifferent score (Steve Maruzzelli, Hector Melia) and grindingly slow editing (Lindenmuth again).
Condensed into a 30-minute short with a recast lead, ADDICTED TO MURDER might represent the calling-card of a future director of note. As it stands, we have a textbook example of the pitfalls awaiting those who take the auteur theory too seriously.

EVIL AMBITIONS

Dir. Mark Burchett, Michael D Fox, 1996, 105 mins

VAMPS: DEADLY DREAMGIRLS

Dir. Mark Burchett, Michael D Fox, 1997; 89 mins

Considering how often horror films are criticised for over-reliance upon sfx at the cost of the script, it seems somewhat perverse to complain that EVIL AMBITIONS - the first of two new releases from the Burchett-Fox stable - contains more excess verbiage than a Harold Pinter play and has at its core the most redundant voice-over since the eviscerated BLADE RUNNER.
The plot's debt to Jeff Rice's novel NIGHT STALKER and the spin-off tv movies is signposted by the surname of its central protagonist, fifth-division newspaper hack Pete McGavin (Paul Morris), although namesake Darren at least kept his wisecracks brief and pointed when essaying the role of Carl Kolchak. Morris, on the hand, is forced to ramble incessantly about journalistic values and political intrigues as he investigates a series of ritualistic murders, rather as though he was the bastard offspring of Ed Murrow and the Duc de Richelieu. At the same time, McGavin is reluctantly fulfilling an assignment to interview local fast-tracker Gideon Jessop (David Levy), whose involvement with spin doctor Brittany Drake (Amber Newman) has him on a direct course to the White House; that Drake is also leader of the Satanic cult responsible for the murders is by no means insignificant in these aims.
At its heart, EVIL AMBITIONS has the potential for a satirical hybrid of the conventional conspiracy theory thriller and one of Rob Holdstock's "Robert Faulcon" chillers, filtered through a post-yuppie gauze; indeed, both the intro sequence (wherein a human sacrifice is interrupted by Jessop's mobile telephone) and the tongue-in-cheek denouement (featuring a highly amusing cameo from Randy Rupp as a Prince of Darkness more Bill Gates than Beelzebub) hint at this. Instead, Morris is given little opportunity to stretch himself either as a dramatic actor or comedic presence, Newman pouts and poses like a soap opera refugee and even Debbie Rochon's appearance as McGavin's mystic mentor does nothing to truly advance the narrative. Adding to its burdens, EVIL AMBITIONS also features the most atrocious post-shoot lip-synching this side of a spaghetti western, a constant irritation even the occasional exposed female nipple can't hope to counterbalance.

Improved production values are much in evidence in the duo's second offering, VAMPS: DEADLY DREAMGIRLS. Once again, the audience is initially hooked by a blend of gore and parody; once again, the intro stars Amber Newman, on this occasion as a vampiric striptease artiste (unfortunately, the positioning of the lighting during the movie's sole frontal nudity gives the impression that the sun really does shine out of her arse). However, to the crew and cast's credit, VAMPS manages to hang together far more successfully than its predecessor, even if the material continues to show the strain of over-extension.
Burchett and Fox indicate they've learned from their previous venture, and not just the significant role the number of on-screen breasts plays in a video's commercial success: Morris, here portraying disheartened priest Seamus McConnel, is forced to explore his character and motivations from the inside, rather than walking through the action with a vast thought bubble above his head, and the movie's climax is pleasingly cynical.
Like EVIL AMBITIONS, VAMPS suffers from erratic pacing (hitting the brakes for regular footage from the eponymous striptease bar scarcely helps) and uneven acting (Newman frequently slips into "If I'm naked, I don't have to try" mode, whilst newcomer Jennifer Huss, as potential recruit and Seamus' putative love interest, doesn't even comply with the first half of that viewpoint), though at least it indicates an upward curve. I may not rush down to the video store when they produce VAMPS 2: FANGS OUT FOR THE LADS (a sequel is heavily hinted at in the closing minutes, although my suggested title may be a mite too British for their palate), but the pair's enthusiasm could pay off if they achieve a much firmer grasp of characterisation and editing.

NAKED KILLER

Dir. Clarence Fok Yiu Leung, 1992

After a series of disappointing melodramas in the late '80s, Leung shifted gear first with the quasi-sf thriller ICEMAN COMETH [1991] and then leapt into the affections of action-lovers worldwide with NAKED KILLER, finally giving full vent to his fascination with identity (Yi Wan's sexual confusion in BEFORE DAWN, Chow Yun-Fat's Pygmalion-like transformation in GREATEST LOVER) and fringe sexuality.
Unashamedly derived by producer-screenwriter Wong Jing from that same year's BASIC INSTINCT, NAKED KILLER allowed the delicious Chingamy Yau to forever cast aside her "girl next door" image - unless, that is, your neighbour happens to be a precision assassin trained by a psychotic lesbian (Carrie Ng) and hunted by an impotent cop (Simon Yau) who, like James Stewart in VERTIGO, is convinced he knows her from a previous encounter.
Stylishly photographed by William Yim, this is in many ways the benchmark for the new generation of Hong Kong erotic thrillers, which makes it a pity Missing In Action fumbled the ball with this collectors' edition: full marks for the crisp widescreen print and use of the original trailer, but the amateurish interviews with Wong Jing and Simon Yau (the latter so brief as to be pointless) close the package on an inept note.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO SOLANGE?

COSA AVETE FATTO A SOLANGE? aka WHO KILLED SOLANGE?

Dir. Massimo Dallamano

In common with many Italian directors, Dallamano is no slave to genre, shifting from updating Oscar Wilde's most famous tale for IL DIO CHIAMATO DORIAN [1969, aka THE SECRET OF DORIAN GREY] through the softcore porn of BLUE BELLE [1975] into the straight horror of IL MEDAGLIONE INSANGUINATO [1975, aka THE NIGHT CHILD]. With COSA AVETE FATTO A SOLANGE?, he entered giallo territory with a straightforward serial killer chase (co-scripted with Bruno Di Geronimo) which is nonetheless notable for the youth of the victims (all bar one pupils at a Catholic school in London) and the pointedly misogynist slant of the assaults (each suffers a fatal genital stabbing, echoing the traumatic amateur abortion which provides the film's title).
Fabio Testi aquits himself competently as teacher Enrico Rossini, torn between his increasingly distant wife and his teenage lover (Christine Galbo, Karin Baal), then forced by cinematic tradition to turn detective when two of his pupils are murdered and the finger of blame begins to shift in his direction. The final solution is quite well presented, if a little telegraphed, but the narrative frequently slows to a painful crawl and Dallamano would have done us all a favour if he'd sliced the running time by at least fifteen minutes (just so long as he kept his scissors clear of the obligatory and gratuitous shower sequences, of course).
Intriguingly, COSA AVETE FATTO A SOLANGE? was refused a cinema certificate outright twenty years ago, but Redemption has got this version past the BBFC by cutting just two minutes (presumably additional footage of the mutilations, since the most striking image - an post mortem x-ray showing the weapon still in place - survives). If only it had been worth the wait.

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