Piège (1970)

... aka: Die Falle
... aka: Trap

Directed by:
Jacques Baratier

Bloody Pit of Horror readers should already be well versed on my love-hate relationship with surrealism and experimental films, so it goes without saying that this 55-minute French effort wasn't really to my liking. If you'd actually like to see elements of surrealism well-integrated into a wonderful film, let me now direct you to my write-up of LITAN (1982). Piège / Trap unfortunately falls into the "surreal film that doesn't make sense to anyone aside from the person who made it" category. A man (Jean-Baptiste Thiérrée) goes to a "Vermin Shop," which has dozens of dead mice hanging on display in the window, in search of a really big, really dangerous trap for a really big animal. He won't go into further detail. The clerk (future director [Fernando] Arrabal) shows him a mouse trap, an egg trap, a fly swatter ("Flies are the devil!") and finally a large steel "tiger trap" more to the customer's liking, which he decides to purchase. The clerk then goes on a long, seemingly improvised, nonsensical rant (all shot in one take that lasts about four minutes) where he drills the customer with questions about whether he's afraid of being robbed, whether or not he's a virgin, what his astrological sign is, etc. He ends by telling the guy he has a pink pig inside of him (?) and that "I see you will be attacked with a straw; they'll make a hole in your head and then drink." Sure, why not?

Two nuns ride bicycles and discuss a problematic young blonde woman named Bulle (Bulle Ogier) who's about to be released from a reformatory. Once she is, Bulle meets up with a dark-haired biker chick (Bernadette Lafont) and both encounter the guy who bought the trap, who's outside a prison blowing bubbles. He insists both come visit him. The man goes home, sets up the trap in the courtyard and then lots of weird shit happens. A spotlight turns on by itself. Something explodes in the front yard. When the ladies show up (presumably to rob the place), eyes on a portrait light up and Bulle becomes smashed against a glass door and whines about it hurting. She then takes off her dress. The women tear apart furniture and bust out windows. A blowtorch appears in the biker lady's hands, she cracks open a safe and pulls out a human thumb. The guy watches the women pace around in circles while moving a mirror back and forth while one compliments the other on her hair, skin and beauty, and they discuss vomit and having to "poo." After discovering a sarcophagus downstairs, they find they're trapped inside. Bulle falls down a hole in the floor and ends up in a room with S&M photos where the man watches her through a two-way mirror.

Bottles of booze explode when they're thrown and the women (now suddenly in new wardrobe and morbid makeup) obnoxiously laugh, wail, cry, act retarded, break eggs, eat apples and canned goods, spit out wine and behave like disgusting pigs in the kitchen while various images are projected onto them and the walls. They start breaking down cupboards with an axe and destroy dishes, more crazy images are projected onto sheets, Bulle chases the guy around the house and through a room full of mannequins, the ladies put him on some kind of operating table and then in an electric chair while they dance around him and things end with everyone being dead and the house getting torn down. The Vermin Shop keeper (clearly looking off to the side to read cue cards the entire time) shows up once more to explain what we've just seen in an epilogue that only succeeds in confusing us further. "You would think it ended badly. He tried to know and he was burned alive. It reminds us of Sodom imprisoned in his castle like Kafka, and the fire arrives. Whereas, he believed it was water, he thought he could fight the fire. It has not been possible. The pig that was in him died with the acolytes who had women's heads. Me, I consider this story as a premonitory dream. Although I know nothing of it since I never saw it nor filmed it nor told it." Alrighty then.

Visually, there's occasionally some cool stuff going on in this one. Sometimes the stark black-and-white cinematography is great and many of the effects - done with simple film overlapping / image projection / lighting - are pretty neat. The rest is basically a bunch of irritating nonsense. The soundtrack - full of screams, moans, metal clanging, glass shattering, echoes and various other loud and grating noises, is positively headache-inducing, and some of the scenes go on for what feels like an eternity. How long can you stand to see people behaving brain-damaged and sitting around breaking stuff? I imagine if the director had put some of his effects to work in a film that had a coherent plot he'd have perhaps made something worth watching, but this certainly isn't it.

Both lead actresses went on to esteemed careers in France; Lafont was a regular in Claude Chabrol and Francois Truffaut films, and Ogier appeared in Luis Bunuel's The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (1972), which won the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar that year, and many films for Jacques Rivette. IMDb lists this as having been released in 1970, though the copyright says it's from 1968. I'm not aware of any kind of American release for this minimal-appeal film and the print I viewed was recorded off of French TV.

★★

Peter Cushing: A One-Way Ticket to Hollywood (1989)

Directed by:
Alan Bell

For Peter Cushing (sitting down here to discuss his career with [the off-screen] Dick Vosburgh) acting was always in his blood and it's all he ever recalls wanting to do since childhood. To help him realize his dream, his father purchased him a ticket from England to California. The kicker was the ticket was only one-way. He'd pretty much have to make a living at it or else he'd be stuck. Upon arriving in America, Cushing walked 5 miles from Los Angeles to Hollywood, put up his watch for collateral at the local YMCA for a place to stay and soon after lucked out running across director James Whale, who was about to start production on The Man in the Iron Mask (1939). Whale allowed Cushing to play opposite star Louis Hayward... except since Hayward was playing twins and split-screen would later be used to complete the effect, Cushing was merely filling in to help Hayward along in his dual characterization. Whale did however allow him to play a second tiny role, where Cushing had just one line and had to do some fencing. The film would begin of a long and distinguished career.

Baby Cushing.

Cushing struck up a close friendship with Hayward, and went with him to the set of High Sierra (1941) where he'd nervously meet such A List stars as Humphrey Bogart and Hayward's then-wife Ida Lupino. Cushing went to Hayward and Lupino's for dinner one evening and ended living with them for two years. After working alongside Carole Lombard in Vigil in the Night (1940) and taking on a few other small roles, Cushing (with financial help from Hayward) went to New York City to try his luck there. Unsuccessful, he went up to Canada where he eventually landed a job in the art department at a movie studio in Montreal. He worked making swastika's for the war movie The Invaders (1941) and other jobs, all the while saving up money. Cushing had become extremely worried about his family and homeland as World War II raged across Europe and eventually headed back home after his short stint in North America. He joined an acting troupe, honed his craft on stage for many years and met his future wife Helen along the way, whom Cushing credits owing everything to. From there it was a comedic supporting part in Laurence Olivier's Hamlet (1948) and - with his wife's help - employ at BBC TV, where he worked his way up the ranks as one of their top talents in various filmed stage plays (many of them aired live) such as Gaslight, Home at Seven and Julius Caesar. He also starred in a then-controversial adaptation of Nineteen Eighty Four and won three major awards for his TV work; even earning the nickname "Mr. Television" by the press.

With buddy Louis Hayward.

With Ida Lupino.

With wife Helen.

Cushing would not become an internationally known name until taking on the role of Victor Frankenstein in Hammer Film Productions' THE CURSE OF FRANKENSTEIN (1957), which was a huge hit all over the globe, particularly in the U.S. and Japan. The film made back its entire budget in just one week and immediately after Cushing became a worldwide star. We then get to see clips from other Cushing films, such as HORROR OF DRACULA (1958), The Hound of the Baskervilles (1959), The Mummy (1959), The Fury at Smuggler's Bay (1961), She (1965), Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed! (1969), Legend of the Werewolf (1975), Star Wars (1977) and Sherlock Holmes and the Masks of Death (1984) as well as his work on the TV series Sherlock Holmes and even a funny commercial for Holsten Pils.

Cushing sings, does accents, dishes some behind-the-scenes dirt, talks about some of his costars and goes into detail about overcoming a death sentence (he was given a year to live in 1982) after being diagnosed with cancer. He says fake smoking a pipe while playing Holmes made him feel nauseous and discusses suggestions he made that were used to enhance some of his films, having to shoot an entire scene backwards for the comedy Top Secret! (1984), disapproving of the poster art for The Mummy and his two best-selling autobiographies, which he says he wrote as a form of therapy after his wife passed away. Cushing's love for both film and his wife really shines through and both are simultaneously illustrated by a poignant clip from TALES FROM THE CRYPT (1972).

Since there's much less material on Cushing than there is on his contemporaries Vincent Price and Christopher Lee, this 76-minute documentary is a treasure trove for fans of the star. It's filled with film and TV clips, movie stills and personal photos, all well-edited together with a long and casual discussion with the actor about his life and career (shot by Freddie Francis). The end credits tell us that in total Cushing appeared in 97 stage plays, 91 feature films and 117 television programs over the course of his 51-year career.

★★★

Leonor (1975)

... aka: Cronache di altri tempi
... aka: Eleonore
... aka: Leonor: Mistress of the Devil
... aka: Mistress of the Devil

Directed by:
Juan Luis Buñuel

A French / Italian / Spanish co-production, this (sort of) vampire tale came from master surrealist Luis Buñuel's son Juan, who'd previously made the surreal fantasy The Woman with Red Boots (1974) starring Catherine Deneuve. It was based on a story by 17th Century writer Ludwig Tieck (no less than seven different people are credited with the adaptation for the various releases) and is well-budgeted, has several notable names in the cast and good period detail / production values but apparently wasn't very well received in its day (Leonard Maltin, for instance, gave it his lowest possible "BOMB" rating in his book), which may account for its obscurity nowadays. Leonor (Liv Ullmann) is crushed beneath her horse and, as a result, her rib cage has been splintered into her vital organs. She dies soon after the accident and is immediately bricked up in her tomb. Leonor's husband, wealthy and powerful nobleman Richard (Buñuel Sr. regular Michel Piccoli; also a producer), has a hard time coping with all of this. He slays his dearly departed's horse for revenge and tries to put this all behind him by taking a new wife; the young and beautiful peasant girl Catherine (Ornella Muti), before his wife's body even has a chance to get cold.

Richard was in such a hurry to move forward and forget, he didn't go about properly blessing his late wife's tomb, nor did he give himself adequate time to mourn. Despite having a lovely new bride, Richard is despondent, cold and somewhat cruel to poor Catherine at first and doesn't even want her to be in the same room with him when he eats. Eventually, he does warm to her and they have two sons. Still, he just can't get Leonor out of his head. He constantly sees visions of her walking around, starts drinking a lot and frequently snaps at Catherine and their kids. Ten long years after her death, Richard is still pining for her. He goes to her tomb, busts down the wall and refuses to leave. Right outside the tomb, he encounters a strange, intense man (Satan?) who warns him numerous times to "Let the dead rest," but also informs him that "The gap between life and death may never be closed, but deep as that gap is it sometimes can be bridged." He tells Richard that if he wants Leonor back more than anything in the world, she will come back. And that she does. Leonor appears in the corner of her tomb, cold and confused, but hey, at least she's alive.

Richard goes back to the castle, stabs Catherine to death and sinks the body in a well. He then brings Leonor in and announces her as the new mistress; telling all of those servants who've been with him for years that they're not to ask any questions. Many recognize her, however, but the Leonor they knew a decade earlier isn't quite the same Leonor who's miraculously returned to life. She acts aloof, she's weak, she's cold to the touch, her skin doesn't feel quite right and she refuses to be affectionate with Richard. Leonor heads outside for a walk, encounters a young girl and tells her a story; which ends with the little girl dead in her lap. Leonor returns to the castle rejuvenated, happy and ready to be passionate with her estranged husband. It isn't long before thirteen children have died or disappeared in the area, which leads the superstitious villagers on a witch hunt. A young lady (Inma de Santis) accused of being a witch is tied to a stake, has a keg of gun powder tied to her neck and is set on fire.

The villagers eventually set a trap; a young girl tied to a tree, for whomever the killer may be. Leonor falls into it. They unsuccessfully attempt to kill her, but Richard steps in before they can. Because their safety is threatened and people keep turning up dead, all of the villagers and the castle staff flee the area, which is really saying something considering the Plague has been fast-moving across the countryside and they're putting themselves at great risk leaving. Pretty soon, only Richard, Leonor and Richard's two young sons, Matthew and Gregory, remain... and a vampire's gotta eat something, right?

Slow, vague and filled with arty pretensions, this has all that a healthy budget can buy. The art direction, settings and costumes all adequately bring to life the Middle Ages setting, and the outdoor shooting locations (crumbling tombs and castles; rocky embankments, dusty landscapes with dead trees, an old stone bridge overlooking a huge ravine) are pretty breathtaking. The casting is good and even the English-language track is well-recorded. Cinematographer Luciano Tovoli (who'd later shoot SUSPIRIA) and composer Ennio Morricone, who contributes a truly powerful score, both do very nice jobs.

Because this clearly aspires to be more than your average horror tale, but instead a classy / romantic one, all of the supernatural aspects are handled with restraint, subtlety and ambiguity. Though it's pretty clear what Leonor has become she bears no fangs and shows no signs of having supernatural gifts. There are also no traces of bite marks or anything on her victims, though she does appear to be feeding from necks in several shots. Leonor isn't even back amongst the living until the final 30 minutes, after we've sat through about an hour of Richard's incessant brooding over her. And therein lies one of the major problems with this one; all of the production quality in the world cannot make up for a routine, predictable screenplay. Nothing really happens that hasn't already been done numerous times before. At its core it's just your typical tale of obsessive, unhealthy love. And what love that's true love isn't obsessive and unhealthy? It does not have anything to say beyond that. Not that I mind per se, it's just that the people who populate this film are so morose and miserable, and there's no humor, warmth or real depth to make us care about any of them.

Despite the Buñuel pedigree and some internationally known stars, there's not enough substance here for it to really work as a serious film, not enough sex and violence for it to work as exploitation and not enough terrifying content for it to work as a horror film. As a result, it's never been able to find much of an audience. In America, it received a brief theatrical release in 1977 from New Line; reduced from its original run-time of 94 minutes to just 85 and rated PG. They titled it Leonor: Mistress of the Devil and gave it poster art clearly hoping to rope in fans of The Exorcist and The Omen. It didn't work. Subsequent VHS releases failed to gain it much of a following either and there's currently no DVD release in America (though discs have been released in Spain and Italy).

The cast includes Antonio Ferrandis as Richard's loyal servant Thomas, José Antonio Ceinas as Richard's drunken cousin Barnaby, Ángel del Pozo as a nosy tutor, José Maria Caffarel as a doctor, George Riguad as Catherine's father and Carmen Maura (later an acclaimed star in Pedro Almodovar films), Ana Gasber and Loreta Tovar as maids.

★★1/2