Tagarchief: FilmDungeon

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.

Black Caesar (1973)

Posted on by Jeppe Kleijngeld

‘Hail Caesar, Godfather of Harlem…The Cat with the .45-Caliber Claws!’

Directed by:
Larry Cohen

Written by:
Larry Cohen

Cast:
Fred Williamson (Tommy Gibbs), Gloria Hendry (Helen), Art Lund (McKinney), D’Urville Martin (Rev. Rufus), Julius W. Harris (Mr. Gibbs), Minnie Gentry (Momma Gibbs), Philip Roye (Joe Washington), William Wellman Jr. (Alfred Coleman), James Dixon (‘Irish’ Bryant), Val Avery (Cardoza)

The James Brown–scored gangster film Black Caesar opens with Brown’s soulful ‘Down and Out in New York City’ playing over a gritty scene where a young Black boy helps carry out an underworld killing. That boy, Tommy Gibbs, grows up to become a fearless gangster who initially works for the Italian mafia before turning the tables and taking control of Harlem’s criminal rackets himself.

Throughout his ruthless rise to power, Tommy is driven by a deep desire for revenge against the racist cop who abused him as a child. Black Caesar follows the familiar gangster rise-and-fall trajectory, but with a crucial difference: its antihero is a Black man from the ghetto, a product of systemic oppression and limited opportunity. Used to enduring insults and abuse, Tommy learns to turn his rage into ambition—and his rivals fatally underestimate him. Once he reaches the top, his sociopathic streak surfaces, and he exacts brutal retribution on his enemies. The Italians begin dropping like flies across the city.

While the film clearly bears the hallmarks of a low-budget exploitation picture, it’s impressively crafted. Fred Williamson is outstanding as the fierce, charismatic lead, giving Tommy Gibbs both menace and magnetism. The gritty atmosphere, authentic New York settings, and James Brown’s powerful soundtrack combine to create a vivid, memorable experience. A standout sequence is a tense, extended chase through the streets of Harlem, with a wounded Tommy pursued by two gunmen—a masterfully shot moment of raw energy and desperation.

Black Caesar was followed later the same year by the sequel Hell Up in Harlem, also directed by Larry Cohen and starring Fred Williamson as Tommy Gibbs, continuing the saga of one of blaxploitation’s most iconic antiheroes.

Rating:

Quote:
TOMMY GIBBS: “Sauce looked like it needed a little more meat.” (after dropping an ear in a plate of spaghetti).

Trivia:
While filming in Harlem, Larry Cohen was accosted by local gangsters who threatened to disrupt the shoot unless they were paid off. Instead, Cohen offered them small roles in the film. They helped so enthusiastically that they attended the premiere to sign autographs.