Categorie archief: Films

Cult Radar: Part 12

Posted on by Jeppe Kleijngeld

FilmDungeon.com is glad to explore the video trenches to find that oddball treasure between the piles of crap out there. Of course, a treasure in this context can also be a film that’s so shockingly bad it’s worth a look, or something so bizarre that cult fans just have to see it. Join us on our quest and learn what we learn. Hopefully we’ll uncover some well-hidden cult gems.

Researched by: Jeppe Kleijngeld

Across 110th Street (USA, 1972)

Directed by: Barry Shear
Written by: Luther Davis, Wally Ferris
Cast: Anthony Quinn, Yaphet Kotto, Anthony Franciosa

Tarantino’s Jackie Brown opens to the same rip-roaring title song as this movie: ‘Across 110th Street’ by Bobby Womack. It’s a homage to an exploitation classic, a New York set crime thriller about a gang of black criminals who rob the mob, sparking a brutal chase involving both the Mafia and the police. The police duo in charge consists of the corrupt captain Frank Matteli (Anthony Quinn) and Lieutenant William Aylesworth Pope (Yaphet Kotto); a street guy versus a guy who wants to do it by the book. Their chemistry is electric, giving the movie an emotional and moral backbone amid the chaos. The film was slammed at the time for the extreme violence, and while the film is indeed gritty, it is generally well acted and executed. Beneath the grit lies a sharp commentary on race, corruption, and urban decay in 1970s America. Watching it now, it’s easy to see why Tarantino holds it in such high regard.

The Curse of Frankenstein (UK, 1957)

Directed by: Terence Fisher
Written by: Jimmy Sangster (screenplay), Mary Shelley (novel)
Cast: Peter Cushing, Hazel Court, Robert Urquhart, Christopher Lee

Peter Cushing stars as Dr. Frankenstein and Christopher Lee as the creature in Hammer Studios’ retelling of the Frankenstein legend. Directed by Terence Fisher, who would go on to make Horror of Dracula a year later, this film is often regarded as one of the finest adaptations of Mary Shelley’s novel, even rivaling the classic Universal versions. Told in flashback from a prison cell, Victor Frankenstein recounts the story of how his obsession with discovering the secret of life led him to commit unspeakable crimes. For a film made in 1957, the horror remains remarkably effective, due in large part to Lee’s chilling performance. As Hammer’s first color horror film, The Curse of Frankenstein was notable for its bold use of gore in color and its vivid gothic style. It marked the beginning of the studio’s signature brand of horror and launched a successful series of sequels, with Fisher directing several of them.

Dark Star (USA, 1974)

Directed by: John Carpenter
Written by: John Carpenter, Dan O’Bannon
Cast: Dan O’Bannon, Dre Pahich, Brian Narelle

John Carpenter’s debut film gives us a cynical look at outer space travel. Not the majestic kind Kubrick showed us in 2001: A Space Odyssey, but more like space travel as a monotonous, blue-collar grind. Dark Star is the name of the ship that looks like a surf board. The job of its crew is to destroy unstable planets. And while this may sound exciting, the five crew members – who have been on board Dark Star for twenty years – are mostly bored out of their minds and increasingly detached from reality. Co-writer and actor Dan O’Bannon originally conceived the idea of an alien aboard the ship, but budget limitations forced him to turn that concept into the film’s now-infamous beach-ball creature. His alien idea would later become Ridley Scott’s Alien (1979). Tarantino once called this movie a masterpiece. I don’t see it that way, but I like the 2001 parody concept and the execution, including the inventive special effects, is certainly well done.

Man Bites Dog | C’est arrivé près de chez vous (Belgium, 1992)

Directed by: Rémy Belvaux, André Bonzel, Benoît Poelvoorde
Written by: Rémy Belvaux, André Bonzel, Benoît Poelvoorde
Cast: Benoît Poelvoorde, Jacqueline Poelvoorde-Pappaert, Nelly Pappaert

In this notorious cult classic from the French part of Belgium, a three-headed camera crew follows the gleefully depraved serial killer Ben, as he spends his days gruesomely murdering people for sport and profit. During the shoot, the crew becomes more and more complicit in Ben’s crimes. The sheer amount of killings is not very realistic, but the profiling of the killer, chillingly portrayed by Benoît Poelvoorde, convinces in all its sickness. The mockumentary concept was pretty new at the time, and the approach – taking the viewer inside the mind of a horrible human being, who – when he’s not busy killing people against depressing urban backdrops – is offering his warped and racist views in interviews – makes for disturbing cinema. The filmmakers, who worked on a shoestring budget, wanted to make something different, and they have succeeded in this task. C’est arrivé près de chez vous (‘It Happened Near You’) became a unique, deeply unsettling, and darkly comic milestone of cult cinema.

The Lady in Red (USA, 1979)

Directed by: Lewis Teague
Written by: John Sayles
Cast: Pamela Sue Martin, Robert Conrad, Louise Fletcher

Farm girl Polly moves to Chicago, where she becomes romantically involved with gangster John Dillinger. The film is curious in that it’s not really about Dillinger, but about his girlfriend and the unwitting role she played in the gangster’s famous demise at a movie theater. It traces Polly’s own descent into crime: she starts out as a seamstress, tries her hand at prostitution, and eventually ends up in jail. After Dillinger’s death, she organizes a dangerous but lucrative armed robbery on her own. Written by John Sayles, directed by Lewis Teague, and produced by Julie Corman – indeed, Roger Corman’s wife – the film unmistakably feels like a Corman-style exploitation picture, complete with plenty of bloody, machine-gun action. In his 2021 book ‘Once Upon a Time in Hollywood‘, Quentin Tarantino mentioned that in an alternate Hollywood universe, he directed a remake of this film. It certainly sounds like something he’d do well. Who knows – maybe an idea for his tenth and final movie?

Cult Radar: Part 11

Posted on by Jeppe Kleijngeld

FilmDungeon.com is glad to explore the video trenches to find that oddball treasure between the piles of crap out there. Of course, a treasure in this context can also be a film that’s so shockingly bad it’s worth a look, or something so bizarre that cult fans just have to see it. Join us on our quest and learn what we learn. Hopefully we’ll uncover some well-hidden cult gems.

Researched by: Jeppe Kleijngeld

Q: The Winged Serpent (USA, 1982)

Directed by: Larry Cohen
Written by: Larry Cohen
Cast: David Carradine, Michael Moriarty, Candy Clark, Richard Roundtree

A series of unexplainable crimes occur in New York City: a girl sunbathing on a rooftop vanishes, and a window cleaner at the Empire State Building is decapitated. Two NYPD detectives (David Carradine and Richard Roundtree) investigate a ritualistic Aztec murder and soon discover that these crimes are connected. This entertaining supernatural fantasy-horror film by Larry Cohen (Black Caesar) was produced by legendary B-movie mogul Samuel Z. Arkoff and grew from a single idea by Cohen: what if the Chrysler Building housed the nest of a giant prehistoric bird? The special effects are mostly reserved for the film’s climax and they’re not even that bad. The characters are also surprisingly engaging. All in all, Q: The Winged Serpent is an enjoyable B-movie that will certainly appeal to fans of Arkoff’s cult film library.

A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin (Italy, France, Spain, 1971)

Directed by: Lucio Fulci
Written by: Lucio Fulci, Roberto Gianviti, José Luis Martínez Mollá
Cast: Florinda Bolkan, Stanley Baker, Jean Sorel

A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin is a strong example of the giallo genre – an Italian cinematic style that blends elements of slasher, thriller, psychological horror, and sexploitation, and that predates the later wave of American slasher films. The story follows the daughter of an influential politician (Florinda Bolkan), who dreams of an orgy at her ‘liberated’ neighbour’s house and of killing her after having sex with her. She recounts this dream to her psychiatrist, only to discover that the murder actually occurred exactly as she described. I initially took the film’s title literally and expected a Cronenberg-style body horror, but it turned out to be more of a lesson in Freudian dream analysis combined with a murder mystery set in London in the Swinging Sixties. One of the film’s most notorious moments is a dream sequence in which a dog is cut open so convincingly that director Lucio Fulci and his special effects artist were taken to court to prove it was fake. It’s a well-crafted film – stylish, atmospheric, and intriguing – though at times a bit slow and uneventful.

Street Trash (USA, 1987)

Directed by: J. Michael Muro
Written by: Roy Frumkes, J. Michael Muro
Cast: Mike Lackey, Vic Noto, Bill Chepil, Mark Sferrazza

Just how trashy is a movie called Street Trash? Renowned Steadicam operator J. Michael Muro directs this body-horror comedy about hobos – an often underrepresented group in movies. The story centers on a cheap liquor called Viper that causes anyone who drinks it to melt. This independent production is a prime example of the curious horror subgenre known as ‘melt movies’ (The Blob is another prime example). The film has little in the way of a traditional plot; instead, it’s a series of loosely connected vignettes linked by the effects of the Viper drink. Among the recurring characters are a psychopathic Vietnam veteran terrorizing hobos and a mobster played by Tony Darrow (GoodFellas, The Sopranos). Street Trash has understandably gained quite a cult following over the years, though I didn’t enjoy it much myself. The scene in which a bunch of hobos toss a severed penis around with the owner running after it was a bit too much for me.

Requiem for a Vampire (France, 1972)

Directed by: Jean Rollin
Written by: Jean Rollin
Cast: Marie-Pierre Castel, Mireille Dargent, Philippe Gasté

This French cult treasure begins intriguingly: two girls and a man dressed as clowns are chased by a car and shot at. They fire back. The man doesn’t survive the pursuit, but the two girls manage to escape, eventually hiding near an abandoned water tower. They’re clearly on the run, but from whom? No explanation is given. It feels like a deliberate play with mise-en-scène that nonetheless holds your attention. Only after a while does a plot emerge, when the girls stumble upon strange rituals taking place in a remote château. The film is captivating – almost like a silent movie. The two leads don’t speak until they’re hypnotized by a vampire, who commands them to lure in victims for the resurrection of an ancient race. To do so, however, they must first lose their virginity. The lead actresses are well cast, and the combination of eerie locations, sensual imagery, haunting music, and dreamlike camerawork creates a mood that never lets go.

Quatermass and the Pit (United Kingdom, 1967)

Directed by: Roy Ward Baker
Written by: Nigel Kneale
Cast: James Donald, Andrew Keir, Barbara Shelley, Julian Glover

This Hammer production is more of a sci-fi mystery than the studio’s typical brand of horror. During the excavation of a new subway tunnel, workers uncover skulls and skeletons of ancient apemen. Professor Bernard Quatermass, a space scientist, is called in to investigate. When a strange metallic object is found nearby, he begins to suspect an alien origin and searches for the missing link in human evolution. This Quatermass film, the third based on a BBC television serial, feels very much like an old Star Trek episode, complete with familiar sci-fi elements such as telekinesis, telepathy, and alien insects. Though the pacing is a bit slow, several production aspects – especially the sound design – are excellently executed. The film also presents some intriguing science-fiction ideas, including the notion of recording the memories of a susceptible brain, revealing visions of insect wars that once took place on Mars.

Double Bill #15: Taxi Driver & Bringing Out the Dead

Posted on by Jeppe Kleijngeld

In Scorsese’s oeuvre, this is the most obvious Double Bill together with Casino and GoodFellas. Taxi Driver and Bringing Out the Dead share a great deal in common. Both revolve around a driving protagonist who suffers from urban isolation in New York City while interacting with colleagues. Both were written by Paul Schrader, feature a dark atmosphere, and explore urban madness and crime. Visually, each film reflects the protagonist’s mental state within the cityscape – often through POV shots of grim street scenes. In both, the anti-hero is driven by a desire to save others, particularly women. Each also features a rapid-fire cameo by Scorsese himself (in Bringing Out the Dead, he’s the voice of the radio dispatcher). Both films include moments that likely exist only in the protagonist’s mind: Frank Pierce (Nicolas Cage) sees visions of ghosts and corpses on the streets, while Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro) probably imagines the entire ending of Taxi Driver. Of the two movies, Taxi Driver is obviously the masterpiece. It captures the transformation of this complex main character perfectly. From oddball, to radical, to killer. De Niro’s performance is deeply unsettling; he truly becomes Travis, and it shows. His voice-over beautifully conveys his descent into psychological darkness, and the lines have a raw, poetic quality. Shot on a low budget in a documentary style, the film has a gritty authenticity. Add Bernard Herrmann’s haunting score and the outstanding supporting cast (Jodie Foster, Peter Boyle, Harvey Keitel, and Cybill Shepherd), and you have a truly iconic classic on your hands. While Bringing Out the Dead never reaches that same status, it remains an underrated entry in Scorsese’s filmography. It vividly captures the stress and chaos of working as an ambulance driver, with striking imagery – like Frank literally lifting spirits in the city. Philosophically, it reflects on life and death in the modern metropolis and, unlike Taxi Driver, includes moments of humor (in Taxi Driver, the only joke is Travis taking his date to a porn movie). Viewed together, these films form a fascinating pair: after descending into the darkness of Taxi Driver, Bringing Out the Dead feels almost like a cathartic, even therapeutic, experience.

Mean Streets (1974)

Posted on by Jeppe Kleijngeld


‘You don’t make up for your sins in church. You do it in the streets…’

Directed by:
Martin Scorsese

Written by:
Martin Scorsese
Mardik Martin

Cast:
Harvey Keitel (Charlie Cappa), Robert De Niro (John ‘Johnny Boy’ Civello), David Proval (Tony DeVienazo), Richard Romanus (Michael Longo), Amy Robinson (Teresa Ronchelli), Cesare Danova (Giovanni Cappa), Victor Argo (Mario), George Memmoli (Joey ‘Clams’ Scala), Lenny Scaletta (Jimmy), Jeannie Bell (Diane)

Mean Streets marks the first collaboration between Martin Scorsese and Robert De Niro and right out of the gate, it’s a masterpiece. Set in the tight-knit world of Little Italy, the film follows four small-time hustlers: the conflicted Charlie (Harvey Keitel), hot-tempered bar owner Tony (David Proval), dim-witted loan shark Michael (Richard Romanus), and the reckless wildcard Johnny Boy (Robert De Niro).

Although it isn’t technically Scorsese’s debut, it feels like it. This is the movie in which his voice fully emerges for the first time. It showcases early yet commanding performances by Keitel and De Niro, two actors who would become his most trusted collaborators. Many of the hallmarks of Scorsese’s later masterpieces are already present: the gritty New York setting, the soundtrack full of sixties pop classics, the collision of religion and crime. This isn’t exactly a gangster film – it’s about small-time crooks – but it plays like a prelude to GoodFellas, with dialogues and moral tensions that already sound familiar.

Scorsese immediately sets the tone with a Super 8 projection of Charlie wandering the streets, underscored by the Ronettes’ ‘Be My Baby’. From there, we trail Charlie through his daily routine: drinking in bars, running minor cons, wrestling with Catholic guilt in church visits, and trying to reconcile his moral compass with his ambition.

Charlie wants to rise in the underworld by aligning with his mob-connected uncle, but his loyalty to Johnny Boy – a man drowning in debt and chaos – pulls him down a dangerous path. That loyalty is both touching and toxic, and Scorsese makes it clear early on that violence is never far away. A brutal barroom shooting foreshadows the storm gathering around these characters.

The film’s raw power lies in its atmosphere. Scorsese layers the story with a soundtrack of rock ’n’ roll classics – the Stones’ ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash’ among them – injecting energy and immediacy into every scene. His restless camera, the naturalistic dialogue laced with profanity, and the lived-in performances combine to create a world that feels authentic and alive.

De Niro is magnetic as Johnny Boy, unpredictable and dangerous yet oddly charming, while Keitel gives a deeply human performance as Charlie, a man torn between sin and salvation. Their chemistry is the film’s beating heart. Scene after scene burns into memory: a drunken spree, a hilariously chaotic bar fight, an explosive confrontation on the street. The pacing is electric, and the details are so rich you’ll want to revisit it just to soak up more of Scorsese’s vision.

The film still feels fresh today. It is utterly original, with no real comparison except some of Scorsese’s later work. Mean Streets doesn’t just hint at the brilliance to come; it announces the arrival of one of cinema’s great storytellers.

Rating:

Quote:
CHARLIE: “You know something? She is really good-lookin’. I gotta say that again. She is really good-lookin’. But she’s black. You can see that real plain, right? Look, there isn’t much of a difference anyway, is there. Well, is there?”

Trivia:
The opening words are actually spoken by Martin Scorsese, not Harvey Keitel as we are led to believe.