by
Kristin Battestella
Be
it Pregnancy and maternal dilemmas or adulterous affairs and marital
discord, this quartet from decades past and present features some
wonderful grand dames doing their best horror thrills, chills, and
sexy kills.
The Butterfly Room – The
ever classy Barbara Steele (Black Sunday) leads a slew of
familiar horror faces including Ray Wise (Twin Peaks), P.J.
Soles (Halloween), Adrienne King (Friday the 13th),
Camille Keaton (I Spit on Your Grave), James
Karen (Returning of the Living Dead),
and Heather Langenkamp (Nightmare on Elm Street) for
this 2012 American/Italian co-production. Blood
in the bathtub and a rigid, abusive response to budding womanhood and
left-handedness fester alongside morbid butterfly pinning, acidic
supplies, dangerous elevators, moth balls in bulk, and bigger quarry.
Struggling mothers, cute kids, and old lady neighbors should make for
a quaint, endearing apartment tale – but viewers know better thanks
to mirrors, hidden doors, and peephole points of view inspiring a
through the wardrobe darkly mood. Classy dames up to no good, little
girl hustlers, and grandmothers with sick hobbies warp the expected
mother/daughter roles. Moms aren't supposed to hate their kids
growing up yet we all love 'em as babies – and such conversations
pass the Bechdel test, too! Judgments are cast on over protective
mothering, women trapping men with pregnancy, prostitution fetishes,
abortion, and a single mother thinking she needs to be rescued by a
man, however these harsh attitudes help reveal the badly misplaced
maternal instincts and deceiving appearances. Everyone dismisses it
as imagination when a little girl speaks up amid the unauthorized
renovation notices and calculated, sociopath décor, but the careful
escalates into dirty cover up kills and quirky madness. The timeline
shifts with sepia tints and interesting rewinding visuals, and while
this unraveling over the ninety minutes intensifies some twists, the
editing should have been tighter. Lookalike girls add to the
confusion at times, big spoiler the black man dies first, and several
relationships feel too superficial for such heavy topics. In some
ways, this villain isn't wrong in wanting to protect little girls
with bad moms. Unfortunately, these symbolic butterflies are plucked
from grace too soon as a demented result. Whether it was her choice
to take an acting sabbatical or a lack of quality lady horror
scripts, I'm glad Barbara is back. She still has it, and truth be
told, an older woman can carry a film all by herself. Oh, how
shocking!
Dressed to Kill – Steamy
showers, nudity, and lovely violin themes open this 1980 unrated
thriller from writer and director Brian De Palma (Carrie)
starring psychiatrist Michael Caine (The
Dark Knight), classy mom
looking for fulfillment Angie Dickinson (Police
Woman), her nerdy son Keith
Gordon (Christine),
and Dennis Franz as New York cop, big surprise. Superb scene setting
and slice of life voyeurism add to the silent seductions and museum
artwork with an anticipating and tantalizing score to match – this
is a dance, a ballet of will she or won't she crescendos. Whirlwind
camera angles, splice editing, and slow pans parallel the saucy
onscreen, but of course, the allure is not what it seems. There will
be titular consequences, and a half hour in to the 105 minutes, the
escalating elevator suspense and slasher violence undercut the risque
with more shocking red on white and a witness to the crime. Granted,
the killer transvestite cliché is old now, however the intriguing
twists are given up front. Each character has a piece of the puzzle,
but the audience is in on the taboo case via onscreen windows,
partitions, mirrors, and De Palma's expected split focus or split
screens as well as zooms on reading materials one isn't supposed to
see, binoculars, and eavesdropping. A whiff of parody also layers the
unlikely but shrewd amateur investigations, multi layered plots, and
subway dangers with disbelieving police, scandalous talk show clips,
all sex is sin shame shames, and gasping ninnies. It's nice to see
that sassy, older, and edgy New York frankness, too. Unfortunately,
that can't hide the obvious Psycho
comparisons
or similarities to De Palma's later Raising
Cain. It's
tough to see then Mrs. De Palma Nancy Allen (Robocop)
as a high class prostitute, other characters are also thin, the
logistics don't always work, and not everyone will like the ending.
It's much better to go into this cold and then study the
feature-laden Criterion blu-ray. Despite some obviousness, it's fun
suspecting the killer and waiting to see the mystery come together in
a wicked finale.
The Neighbor
– Crocodile Dundee
gal
Linda Kozlowski joins warped OBGYN Rod Steiger (In
the Heat of the Night)
for this 1993 Oedipal thriller. It's a quaint 1943 start with a
period Vermont patina, endearing sons, and babies on the way, but
army widowhood and orphan resentment linger for the present day
doppelgangers moving to this seemingly wonderful old house. Antiques
and lovely woodwork maintain the past mood, and there aren't too many
bad nineties looks – just giant phones, answering machines, and
petty thieves stealing a tape deck, gasp! Of course, yuppie husband
Ron Lea (The Strain)
dismisses his wife's seemingly unfounded paranoia, for a doctor's
poor bedside manner and old houses making noises are no reason for
him to stop inviting the increasingly intrusive and obsessive doctor
to dinner. Despite her past miscarriage, new pregnancy carefulness,
and the cute dog beware, our aptly named Mary is on her own in
admittedly contrived and surprisingly tame plot turns from Kurt
Wimmer (also writer and director of the delightfully outside the box
Equilibrium and
Ultraviolet).
A four months pregnant sick woman who has lost a previous baby at
five months is going to climb into a tiny open window to snoop? I
think not. Rather than the same old gross man and women on each
other's side trite, perhaps the story would have been more
interesting if the female doctor was the parasite with a maternal
complex. Steiger is a twisted but devoted son praying before a
Madonna-esque shrine with photos of his mother, however the up close
camerawork and predictable editing hamper his icky and stall the
pace. In 93 minutes, there's no time to insert extra reaction shots
and break the awkward simmer or building suspense. Audiences can tell
this is director Rodney Gibbons' (Slow
Burn)
debut, for the film style here looks like every other nineties
thriller – but hey, retirement home road trip and microfilm montage
appearance! Thanks to Steiger's nonchalant sneaking and jump scares,
the doctor know how, patient compliance, and lengthy needles are
horror uncomfortable. Heartbeats, ultrasounds, switched pills, and
gross implications raise suspicions, and Mary isn't overreacting when
her unborn baby is at risk. Though pedestrian at times, this offers
some frightful moments, a pleasant cast, scary finale, and relatable
fears for expectant mothers.
Season of the Witch – A spring thaw reflects the cold marriage and
empty nest that drives housewife Jan White (Touch Me Not) to
witchcraft in this 1973 feminist leaning thriller from George A.
Romero (Night of the Living Dead). Repressed dreams with
through the peephole distortions, cages, and dual mirror reflections
match subtle wedding ring moments and not so subtle slasher style
violence. There's a lingering sexual guilt, a her fault, asking for
it societal mentality festering because women weren't supposed to
talk to or about their slap happy husbands much less get their kit
off and question sense of worth after motherhood. These upscale
housewives are trophies gussied up just to drink – but our Joan
lets her hair down, goes for a tarot reading, admits her fears and
sexual curiosities. Moans and naughty innuendo add to a sensuous,
pretty in its own way seventies color with patterns, fringe fashions,
and bright make up. The psychoanalysis is of the time, as are dated
ladies gossip and erroneous witchcraft clichés – buy a how to book
and a silver chalice and boom you have empowered yourself scandalous!
Although some obnoxious acting and muddled meta conversation is poor,
there is a teatime frankness on the emerging seventies lifestyles and
well put occult discussions countering the stereotypes. It's an
interesting culture clash when these still fifties-esque hypocrites
want to be the seventies kids doing grass. If the MILF wants kicks
and it's a joke to the stud, who is using whom? Neither the extreme
repression or the escalating wanton is healthy, nor is replacing a
crap marriage for the latest risque, dangerous vogue. Yes, this is a
desperately bare production, and cheap editing leaves the ninety
minute version looking more like leftovers than a polished film.
Fortunately, the bizarre accents the changing women's attitudes and
sexy, suspenseful encapsulation of the era. Instead of today's
curious young thang, the realistic cast delivers some fine feminine
nuggets here. But really, the character's name is “Joanie”
Mitchell? Hehehe.
For more Lady Horror fun, read our "20 Feminine Horror Films" article at Horror Addicts.net -- an essay also featured in the Horror Addicts Guide to Life anthology!
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