Le moine (1972)

... aka: I Satans Vold
... aka: Monaco, Il
... aka: Monje, El
... aka: Monk, The

Directed by:
Adonis Kyrou

Repressed (ain't they all) priest Father Ambrosio (Franco Nero) rules over a 16th French monastery with an iron fist and expects the others there to live with the same level of strict discipline he does. He's so charismatic that he's attained a sort of local celebrity status, with some people believing he's the reincarnation of an apostle and others coming from many miles away just to see one of his impassioned sermons. But every man - no matter how devout - has their weakness as we will soon see. Late one night, a young fellow monk-in-training, Brother John, comes to see him and to confess two little secrets he's been struggling with. The first is that he's fallen in love with Father Ambrosio and the second is that he's not really a he at all, but an attractive woman named Mathilde (Nathalie Delon), who's only posing as a teen boy to get close to the priest. After revealing her true self to Ambrosio, showing some persistence and proving her love and dedication to him by attempting to kill herself if he won't be with her, Mathilde manages to successfully seduce him. Afterward, she promises their love as well as her true identity will just be between them; assuring him that "the vow of chastity is unnatural."

Ambrosio struggles briefly with paranoia and the fear his soul is going to be damned but finds he cannot resist his new lover's hold over him. The affair carries on in secret for awhile, but it soon becomes clear that Mathilde isn't what she seems; she's actually an emissary of the devil who's on earth to facilitate temptation, sin and destruction, as well as gather souls for her dark lord down below. She first encourages the priest to seek other lovers. In fact, she says she quite likes the idea. Ambrosio finds himself drawn to the very young Antonia (Eliana De Santis), the barely-teenage daughter of an ill woman (Nadja Tiller) he's been praying for. When Antonia's mother catches him trying to molest her girl, she banishes him from her home and asks him never to return. But Ambrosio must have her and Mathilde is aware of another way he may be able to get the virginal young beauty...

Nicol Williamson has an entertaining supporting role as the evil, devil-worshipping Duke of Talamur to help liven the dreary proceedings up a little. He's in cohorts with Mathilde (who bides her time between the monastery and the Duke's castle) and seems to have an unnatural interest in young peasant girls; whom we later learn the duo have actually been killing and eating. A pregnant nun (Elisabette Wiener) is taken off to be tortured as per the priest's orders. Ambrosio rolls around in thickets to punish himself, imagines a horned sheep roaming the aisles while he's in the middle of a sermon and gives another monk a heart attack by confessing he's recently indulged in fornication, sorcery and murder. Denis Manuel shows up at the very end in a great bit as head of the Holy Inquisition, who explains in graphic detail one of their favorite torture techniques. Satan himself also makes a rather unmemorable special appearance during a black mass scene set in a cemetery crypt.

Le moine was one of many films made in the wake of Ken Russell's controversial The Devils (1971) and covers most of the same bases, just on a smaller and less visually impressive scale. The budget is lower (made quite evident by the inclusion of some stock shots at the end, poorly executed special effect jump cuts and cheap-o day glow green lighting effects), the acting isn't as good and the film isn't as visionary, shocking, thoughtful, gutsy or powerful as Russell's movie. Thematically, it also has nothing new to add to this subgenre of films, with the well-worn themes of sexual repression, religious hypocrisy and class stature all getting the spotlight. Not to say this is a terrible film by any means. It's simply been done better elsewhere.

One thing this does boast is a screenplay co-written by none other than Luis Buñuel and frequent writing partner Jean-Claude Carrière, which was based on the novel by Matthew Gregory Lewis. Buñuel was once slated to direct as well, and it undoubtedly would have been far more memorable if he had. Instead, the project was passed on to novice director Adonis Kyrou, a film critic who'd authored a book on Buñuel and had previously made just a few short films. Sadly, the Greek-born Kyrou completely fails to distinguish the material. But all ended happily for Buñuel either way: he ended up making The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (1972) the same year, which netted the Best Foreign Language Film at the Academy Awards.

Pretty much written off by critics of its day (rightfully so for the most part), this didn't merit much of a release here in America despite being shot in English. The version I viewed was in decent shape aside from being a little too dark, which makes it difficult to appreciate talented cinematographer Sacha Vierny's work. It's neither scary nor dramatically affecting, and not in any way innovative, but it's fairly watchable if you're no expecting too much and the ending is pretty amusing. There's been no VHS or DVD release in America, though a DVD has been released in Spain.

★★1/2

Ren xia gui (1984)

... aka: 人嚇鬼

... aka: Hocus Pocus
... aka: Hogus Pogus
... aka: Yan hak gwai

Directed by:
Yuet Sang Chin

Ghost comedies were all the rage in Hong Kong during the 80s... and here's yet another one from Golden Harvest. Things begin with an elaborately-staged theater production full of lavish costumes and stunts being put on by a traveling Chinese opera company. The leader Uncle Sheng is played by Ching-Ying Lam, the one-eyebrow priest from the later hit Mr. Vampire films. Though his profession in this one is different, he's already sporting a major facial imperfection (this time a hairy mole on his chin) and playing straight comic foil to a bunch of mugging costars during various supernatural gags. Lam's character is in charge of a bunch of immature young actors who are constantly pulling pranks on one another, which in the earlier scenes makes this seem like the Asian equivalent of an American summer camp movie. Kuei (Wei Tung) is usually the ringleader behind it. He easily swindles money and the best bed from the dumb Piao (Peter Chan) and pretends to be an angry ghost to trick another guy into eating mud that he'd just pissed all over. Kuei and the others stage a full-scale haunting to scare the shit out of smirky, arrogant star attraction Chia (Ho Kai Law). Maybe it'll teach everyone a lesson not to take all this stuff so lightly if a real haunting were to occur... and that's just what happens.

Deep in the netherworld, a mistreated, mischievous 300-year-old ghost with a blue bulbous head escapes into our world. Now let me stop here for a second and note that I couldn't tell whether this spirit was intended to be a male or a female. Though played by the male director, it behaves like a woman and even appears to have been dubbed over by a female voice. Whatever gender, it giggles and mugs for the camera constantly and quickly grates on the nerves tripping people, knocking things over and doing other obnoxious, destruction things. Not technically a ghost, it's actually a poltergeist and gets in the middle of a choreographed fight to ruin a performance and then decides to wreck havoc in Chia's room and destroy all of his wardrobe. So basically, the poltergeist stirs up shit, someone else becomes the scapegoat and the guys, blaming each other, get into long fights to make sure the martial arts quotient is met. Chia is eventually possessed by the spirit, threatens to kill everyone, threatens to kill himself, beats his head against a wall and then is rescued when they fetch a baby to piss on his head (!)

Realizing their troupe is now cursed by a destructive ghost, Uncle Sheng decides to kill two birds with one stone by working an exorcism into a stage show. They call forth the poltergeist and learn that in her human existence she was murdered and is now a wandering spirit who'll continue to live between our world and the next until her bones are properly buried. They find her remains underneath the stage, bury them in a nice location and then put her soul to rest. The end? Nope, there's still fifteen minutes to spare so this goes off on an entirely different (and suddenly serious) direction when a malicious, long-haired demon shows up to spoil the opera company's lavish celebratory feast. Lasers shoot out of nowhere and fry a guy, tables split in half, stuff explodes, chairs and people start flying around the room, cooked fish come to life, ghost POV shots weave over and under tables and a portal opens up on the wall and starts sucking stuff inside. Things end with an elaborate battle between our heroes and the flying, super-strong demon after they trap it inside a large room with blood-covered floors and blood-soaked nets. Whoa, where the hell did all that come from?

Though I thoroughly enjoyed the last 15 minutes (the action and fight choreography are great), it's tough to really recommend this one because of the slow and highly uneven start and the abrupt last minute change in tone. You also may think you're losing your mind during a sequence where the female cook has her finger bitten off by a turtle that pops out of a pot of soup and then gets tossed around a room by an invisible force while the famous Goblin score from Suspiria (1977) erupts on the soundtrack. Not content with just swiping the music from just one source, this also buffers its entire score with stolen and, in some cases very famous, music from Night of the Living Dead (1968), Carrie (1976), The Amityville Horror (1979), The Shining (1980) and even Tourist Trap (1979). I guess if nothing else, they at least they have great taste in horror film scores.

Filmed in 1983, Hocus Pocus (called "Hogus Pogus" on the DVD cover) was a money-maker in Asia for producer Sammo Hung and his production company, though they'd  have much bigger hits than this. It has never been released in the U.S. (possibly because the entire music score would have to be replaced).

★★

Muñecos infernales (1961)

... aka: Curse of the Doll People, The
... aka: Devil Doll Men

Directed by:
Benito Alazraki

While on vacation in Haiti, a quartet of men snuck into a secret voodoo ceremony and stole a small stone voodoo Idol, which collector Luis (Jorge Mondragón) now has sitting in his home in Mexico. During a dinner party, acquaintance Karina (Elvira Quintana), who's well versed in not only modern and ancient world customs but also the occult sciences thanks to her late archaeologist father, decides to lay it all out for them: You guys seriously screwed up. Not only was it not wise to watch the voodoo ceremony in the first place, but the men have managed to swipe "The Sacred Idol of the Houngans" and the Houngans are among the most powerful of all voodoo cults. Not only capable of raising the dead, these men also wield enough power to call forth evil spirits to help avenge themselves. Since someone witnessed what the men did, they're all now marked for death. Karina adds that they've not only cursed themselves but also their descendants. They won't be able to hide from the curse and the Houngans won't even bother retrieving the Idol until all four men are dead. Though everyone shrugs off Karina's warnings, the party ends with Luis dead at the bottom of his staircase as the clock strikes midnight; the exact time the curse was supposed to begin its cycle.

Luis' death is blamed on an accident. Karina, a doctor who works alongside her skeptical fiancé Armando (Ramón Gay) in the same hospital, notices some small puncture wounds on the body during an autopsy. It is only when a second of the men who desecrated the voodoo temple - Juan (Xavier Loya) - shows up at the hospital in a zombie-like state only to die soon after again marked with the tiny puncture, that people begin taking Karina seriously. A voodoo priest (Quintín Bulnes) with long hair, a goatee and thick eyebrows is the sinister dude responsible, and he's brought along a few friends to help him out. The first is Staloon, a big, mute, prune-faced zombie, who stays put in his sarcophagus unless he's needed to go beat people up or make special deliveries. Special deliveries of what, you ask? Why dolls, of course. Each victim's soul is transferred into a doll in their likeness, reanimating it. They then must go about helping the priest enact his revenge by sticking long pins through victims' necks and chests. If the dollies refuse to comply or cause any problems, the voodoo master punishes them by driving pins through through them instead.

Muñecos infernales is one of the best-remembered and most-viewed of all 60s Mexican horror films here in America thanks to decent distribution by K. Gordon Murray, who re-titled it Curse of the Doll People, had it horribly English dubbed for mass consumption and excised some of the more violent footage for same (and so it could play on American TV in 1964). Regardless, children of the day were still completely horrified by this one! 

Plot-wise, it's a pretty simple, competent set-up with just enough plot and a predictably corny "Whip-out-that-cross-and-praise-Jesus!" resolution. However, the doll designs are so memorable it hardly even matters. The effects were achieved by scaling certain props either up or down and using dwarfs decked out in suits and creepy waxen masks. Having real people play the dolls really does bring them to life (albeit sometimes clunky, uncoordinated and very slowww life) and the makeups on these dolls are excellent for the time. The little quirks given to them, such as them being controlled by a knotted rope of female hair called a "sorcerer's ladder," them responding to a flute played by the zombie man and having their own self-destruct system, are pretty neat, as well.

When it came time to re-watch this one again for a review, I bypassed the cut English-dubbed version (the same one distributed by Murray, which was available on numerous budget labels throughout the years) and went straight for the original 82 minute version in Spanish with English subs. I recommend you do the same. While the dialogue in the original version isn't exactly Shakespeare, it's not downright laughable either. This is also noteworthy in that the lead female character isn't a clueless, useless ditz like usually seen in these older films and she's highly intelligent and surprisingly well-rounded. The cast also includes Mexi horror regulars Roberto G. Rivera as an underworld thug who becomes involved, and Nora Veryán, Luis Aragón and Salvador Lozano as victims. Alfredo Salazar's script is loosely based on the novel "Burn Witch Burn!" by A. Merritt and the filmmakers seem to have seen CULT OF THE COBRA (1955) while crafting the Haitian back story.

Doll People was paired with NIGHT OF THE BLOODY APES (1968) for the Deimos DVD release "Crypt of Terror, Vol.1." Other companies (Cine Vu, MediaOutlet) released it separately.

★★1/2