Retro
Wives and Witches, Oh My!
By
Kristin Battestella
These
eighties wedded dames and old school widows face ghosts and cult
forces when not dabbling in a little something something black magic
on the side themselves.
Beyond Evil – A one hundred
year old ghostly possession interferes with John Saxon (A
Nightmare on Elm Street)
and Lynda Day George's (Mission:
Impossible) tropical
marital bliss in this 1980 tale complete with fine villa interiors,
spiral staircases, and that seventies Spanish Gothic mood. The
non-English prologue is a little hokey thanks to the cheap production
values – the sound is poor and the picture often too dark – and
though intense, the fire ceremonies and native rituals end up mostly
irrelevant before the jet setting rich white people restart provides
the phantom winds, killer accidents, and help too afraid to stay in
this surprisingly affordable jungle castle. The shady BFF with
suspicious loans, backdoor construction, and intrusive voiceovers
also undercuts the Portuguese flashback detailing the past arraigned
marriage, black magic, and pacts with the devil. Let the murdered
mistresses, poisons, chanting, and creaking doors speak for
themselves alongside the blue haze, green smoke, sinister music,
nighttime whispers, and zooms in the bedroom. The pace falters when
away from the scary, and the tense is better when the no electric,
falls, and dangerous pointy statues are allowed to blossom with
apparitions at the dinner table, sharp knives, household accidents,
and candles that light by themselves. Our husband is not a
disbelieving asshole as so often seen in horror – he knows there is
something wrong with his sleepless wife and suspects a shady doctor
with missing medical files calling the haunting merely mental or
womanly over-emotional. However, he doubts the local healer and his
hocus pocus as well, and the past horrors merge with the present
strain as The Mrs. is violated by the demonic spirit and used to
cause fiery vehicle crashes or building accidents. Despite neon eye
laser beams and sound effects that stray into a more science fiction
look rather than a haunting and crypt explorations that only somewhat
explain the killer powers; the fatal kisses, premonitions, bruises,
and blackouts create a foreign giallo horror eerie culminating in a
fun spectacle and fittingly ghoulish finale.
Macabre
– It's murder and passion via New Orleans in this atmospheric 1980
Italian swanky from director Lamberto Bava. The colorful locale is
part of the plot with river boats, historic architecture, street
corner jazz, and romantic melodies. The lush décor is both tacky
seventies with velvet curtains and tawny patinas as well as of old
thanks to gilded wallpaper, candelabras, and cluttered antiques.
Cigarettes, cocktails, and pearls set off the easy to slip out of
satin as illicit phone calls make mom leave the kids to babysit
themselves during her dalliance. Moaning and heavy panting overheard
by the white knuckled blind neighbor are intercut with child terrors,
bathtub horrors, shattered glass, bloody beams, and vehicular shocks
before an institution stay and return to the love nest becomes
suspicious self love with altars to the deceased, ghostly footsteps,
and unseen phantom encounters. Through the banister filming, windows,
mirrors, and similar posturing add to the naughty mother and creepy
daughter duplicity while our blind virginal musical instrument repair
man must listen to the saucy and toot his own horn, so to speak, as
the silent awkwardness and martini music provide emotion with little
dialogue. The narrative may over-rely on the score, meandering on the
pathetic situation too much, but there's enough weirdness balancing
the mellow thanks to the cruel temptations and nasty bedroom
suggestions as white negligees become black sheers and candlelit
interiors darken. The effortless jazz switches to pulsing, scary
beats as some serious unexplained ghost sex, undead voodoo, or other
unknown witchcraft escalates the decapitation innuendo and like
mother, like daughter warped. Our blind audience avatar hides to not
be seen, others unseen can sneak passed him, and we're all unable to
see behind closed doors – layering the suspense, voyeurism, and two
fold bizarre amid bedroom shockers, ominous tokens, overcast
cemeteries, and one locked refrigerator. The saucy, nudity, and gore
are adult sophisticated without being vulgar in your face tits and
splatter a minute like today, and tense toppers don't have to rely on
fake out scares. Granted, there are timeline fudges, some confusion,
and laughable parts. It's probably obvious what's happening to most
viewers, yet we're glued to the screen nonetheless with ironic puns,
turnabouts, kitchen frights, and titular twists. I guess edible and
sexual horrors don't mix!
Play Dead – Furs and
black veils help Lily Munster herself Yvonne De Carlo raise these
dated television movie designs along with organ music, classic autos,
antiques, and talismans in the casket. Our Aunt Hester stirs up the
funeral before sipping her cordial by the fireplace with her
rottweiler Greta – who is said to be a rare breed brought special
from Europe to match the lanterns, candles, potions, Latin rituals,
and animal sacrifices. Kind and never said to harm anybody Greta is
sent to dog obedience school before being giving as a gift to
Hester's grieving niece and nephew, but their father was Hester's
lover before marrying her sister and Greta is really her Murders
in the Rue Morgue revenge.
However, the slow motion maulings, solo dancing, and shattered
mirrors are unnecessary – mere filler slowing the picture down
rather than helping create atmosphere. The supposedly tender sex
scene is also ridiculously slow, and poor Greta's stuck watching amid
the boobs, belt buckles, steamy shower, and ritzy elevator music
meets porno melody. Understandably, there's a lot of talking
to the dog or oneself, but the dialogue never explains the mystical
connections as Greta hitches a ride in the back seat to cause hit and
runs or opens bathroom doors to drop the hot curling iron into the
tub. The strobe dog scenes are perhaps by animal filming necessity,
but the intercut crimes, remote spells, pulsing heartbeats, and
pentagram dog tags aren't used to full sinister advantage despite
unique strangulations, poisons, and kills that don't immediately
incriminate the canine. It's odd then that the crusty cops do
suspect the dog because the
plot says so – when our no alibi, stands to inherit everything
niece has count 'em six people die in her vicinity. Some of the
frazzled witness questioning also drags, detracting from De Carlo
with some amateur over the top and poor procedurals. Viewers can see
why this 1981 release was delayed and this giving the rottweiler a
bad name is not for dog lovers, yet this can be laughably bemusing if
you accept it for what it is.
Witchcraft
– Period torches, hoods, cackling crones, and burning at the stake
mobs open this 1988 eerie before a modern birth, a stay with the
mother-in-law at her 300 year old Massachusetts mansion, and a woman
sitting in the front seat of the station wagon holding the baby in
her arms for the trip. That was how we rolled! Indeed, the bad music,
shoulder pads, and hectic visuals are Made for TV dated, but the
fiery effects are well done amid lightning, windswept nightgowns,
rituals in the backyard, animal sacrifices, and suspicious tea.
Grandma's taking over the nursery alongside red candles, blood, dark
clothing, and old phones contrasting the yuppie fashions and big
hair. Cobwebs, dust, covered furniture, and a mute butler add to the
foreboding while blurry, distorted camera angles reflect the hazy
dreams and drugged stupor. Our husband is giving the cold shoulder
and mom's off exploring, but I'd never let that kid out of sight with
these mysterious house fires, bloody bandages, and good old fashioned
gaslighting about what's happening. The omnipresent movie music
springs up just in time for the evil visions, because of course, but
the ominous mirrors, boils, and fatal retributions set off the up
close cutlery and meaty chewing in one eerie dinner table scene. The
bloody flashbacks, dream cop outs, and shock vignettes, however, are
disjointed – there are pieces of suspicion and frights, but the
plot isn't anything new in the cult wants my baby sub-genre. Despite
a lot of quality individual spooky scenes, not a lot actually happens
and the audience knows what's going on even if the plot is somewhat
eponymous lite before rushing into a heady finale. This is fun for
the cheesy midnight movie that it is, but I can't image how there are
sixteen
of these movies, my word!
