Reassessing Repossessed

 

Reassessing Repossessed 

by Kristin Battestella

The Exorcist star Linda Blair is all grown up and, according to our theme song, “re-re-repossessed” in the 1990 head-spinning, pea soup spewing, oft-maligned spoof Repossessed. Priest Leslie Nielsen (Dracula: Dead and Loving It) is on the devilish case, escalating to the Pope saving souls on live television and an infamously low 11% Rotten Tomatoes score – if viewers remember Repossessed at all. With today's cult-like administration practices, however, it's time to reassess how the religious and political satire of the much derided Repossessed may have actually been ahead of its time.

As a kid, Repossessed was one of my VHS staples. 1990 was still very eighties and Reagan-esque, so anything scandalous with tawdry nudity was treasured. When the bimbo in the front row at Father Leslie's lecture is showing too much leg, he asks her to pull down her dress. She of course responses by pulling the top down and letting the bazongas free. Re-watching Repossessed now, there were many more anticipated punchlines and rim shots that still made me laugh – much to the chagrin of my never-seen-it-before husband who was both annoyed at my predictions and didn't find any of it all that funny. Such datedness is indeed much of the problem with Repossessed. Like new viewers who won't understand the Glenn Miller jokes on The Golden Girls, Repossessed is so overly reliant on eighties scandals, headlines, and pop culture moments that you really had to be there to get it. You may think that makes Repossessed bad now, but just think how all today's quip a minute movies will be undiscernible in forty years!

Demure, yuppie housewife Blair (Witchery) who's supposed to have the ideal conservative life is once again possessed by the devil, who discovers that exorcisms on television are the gateway to spreading demons to leaders across the globe thanks to America's sanctimonious floundering over the likes of Jerry Falwell and Jessica Hahn. Telethon cameos from Body by Jake, Jesse Ventura, and more people modern viewers probably won't recognize anchor music montages to “Devil with the Blue Dress On” but, do folks today even know that song? Yes, it's busy and messy, descending into mixed meta, slow chases, and the Pope on guitar. Repossessed does not always succeed in its larger satire comedy thanks to a muddled, stupid finale designed for the MTV generation. Had Repossessed had a more finely tuned script or edit then, maybe it wouldn't have flopped into obscurity. The “Father Mayii” name in itself is hysterically genius to every twelve year old.

Anthony Starke (The Magnificent Seven) is also here as Nielsen's priestly sidekick, and for a time, to me as a precocious kid anyway, it seemed that he'd cornered the market on satirical genre fare thanks to the likewise shrewd Return of the Killer Tomatoes. Blair and Nielsen also seem to be having a great time with the self-referential performances, confronting Blair's horror typecasting while Nielsen lampoons it – like when our priest is caught on camera calling his agent asking how to get out of this. For all the nostalgic eighties floral prints, bright colors, and big hair; Repossessed actually looks good when it comes to the expected Exorcist effects, making one wonder what might have happened if the story was told straight. However, to be so chilling was not Repossessed's intent. Unfortunately, viewing Repossessed again under the orange cloud that is Trump brings the film disturbingly full circle. The devil shall enter in via the perfect housewife! How can he spread evil to the masses? Television!

When Repossessed originally bombed at the box office in the Fall of 1990, Trump was already a well-known, notorious businessman with his Art of the Deal ghostwritten fakery – as parodied in much better in Back to the Future Part II. It wasn't until the 2004 reality show The Apprentice that Trump was re-imagined as savvy cool wealthy business leader who could fire at will. Television had made the now seemingly downright demure scandals of the eighties mocked in Repossessed, and the reality show era likewise capitalized on creating scripted shock value. Now, the daily absurdities and constantly escalating extremes of our current regime make Repossessed perhaps seem even weaker because it doesn't go far enough. We were too innocent then to think you could pretend to be Jesus and piss off the Pope and just get away with it. Our husband and son just want their possessed mom back sans the demonic drama and split pea soup. American families currently suffering the increasing sociopolitical consequences can certainly relate to the desire for normalcy. Devil with a blue dress blue dress blue dress devilwithabluedresson...we impeached a president for lying about a stain on a blue dress but now we let them tear down the East Wing and hawk edited Bibles with Trump's gold seal of approval. Make it make sense!

Even if you don't get all the pop culture puns or televangelist taboos and thus some of the jokes fall flat, there's a lot of Repossessed that's eerily all too familiar thanks to the contemporary political climate. Don't dismiss the comedy performances and social commentary just based on that Rotten Tomato score. Reassess Repossessed and heed the horror comedy parable.

Italian Horror Larks

 

Italian Horror Larks

by Kristin Battestella

This Italian trio from decades of yore provides heaps of horror atmosphere along with camp genre cliches and entertaining late night winks.

The Devil's Nightmare – Unsettling black and white World War II raids and newborn sacrifices open this 1971 French language Italian co-production before the color present explains our Baron's family curse. Pleasant daylight scenery, nature sounds, and turret photography lead to an unseen attack, screams, and bodies bearing the devil's mark before a creepy gardener directs a tour bus to the Baron's castle to wait out the stormy night. The cranky couple, sharing babes, angry old man, driver obsessed with food, and novice priest each have rooms with diabolic succubus history to match our seven deadly sins metaphors. While the Baron's below in his mad science laboratory with colorful beakers, skeletons, and torches; the babes chill in their underwear and a saucy bathtub scene ensues. Oral implications befit the succubus legends, for our bus driver has food hidden in his suitcase and is always seen consuming something. Spiral staircases and creepy organ music accent the talk of an ancestor selling her soul to Satan – not that such tales spoil our glutton's appetite or the arrival of a beautiful red haired guest in a slinky cutout frock. The Baron offers to show them his alchemy lab, and our assembly judges each other over their hobbies and infidelities during dessert. No power or telephones lead to candlelit tunnels and illicit in the dark despite blood dripping from the ceiling and dead animals. The guillotine and iron maiden in the attic come in handy amid barking dogs and tempting visions that appear more and more undressed. The bewitching lures of the feast and medieval tortures are increasingly unique and chilling with phallic impalement and snakes. Upside down, alluring reflections in the wine glass and bathing in gold dust greed reveal the true demon gaunt – a gory visage upon each choking, drowning, and head chopping. Although this is a little long or in need of a tighter pace and we've seen similar plots before and since; the fatal, entertaining seductions do what they say on the tin. Debates with the priest on who deserved to die for their sins begat fencing mishaps, devilish black carriages, deals to avoid damnation signed in blood, and a fiery finish.

Slaughter of the Vampires – Similar titles, varying releases dates, differing run times, and English dubbing on this black and white aka Curse of the Blood Ghouls can be confusing. Fortunately, the melodramatic score matches the 19th century Austrian torches and village mobs as our vampire leaves his fallen toothy bride behind to be finished off by the pitchforks. Newlyweds Wolfgang and Louise subsequently move into his castle and celebrate the fixer upper with grand hoop skirt balls and piano recitals that inadvertently wake our vampire in the wine cellar. Humorous biddies waver between if the newly arrive unknown count is fascinating or sinister, but he's watching Louise disrobe in front of the window before whooshing in for a nibble. The clueless doctor suggests calling in “Professor Nietzsche” from Vienna for the inevitable blood transfusion, but unnecessarily long transitions with back and forth, incidental exposition are pointless padding. Even the servants waste time saying there's no time to waste! The adult Louise also still has a governess telling her it's time to stop swinging on the swings with the gardener's daughter, and fun sound effects heralding the vampire's hypnotic influence embrace the over the top goofiness. Every man treats Louise like a child except the vampire offering eternal passion through their throbbing blood, and the wispy frocks drop lower and lower on the bosom. Now Louise wants to sample her Wolfgang, and the orgasmic sound he makes when she bites him is hysterical. Despite trite surprises, billowing curtains, and tolling bells as Nietzsche runs around trying to find the vampire's coffin; the saving women from evil and protecting children from contamination arguments suggest a deeper statement. Of course, social commentary is not the point here, and the vampire obviously peaking out from behind that fake tree faces crosses and stakes in a rushed finale with creepy kids and crypt skulls for good measure. It's bemusing how today's silly low budget knockoffs come off so wrong, but this period piece Italian production indulges in every delicious moment and owns it.

Witchery – Dreams of colonial chases and rainbow witch talismans haunt Linda Blair (The Exorcist) and David Hasselhoff (Baywatch) in this 1988 Italian produced Massachusetts tale. We know Hoff's a photographer documenting our dilapidated hotel because he wears a big old camera around his neck, however his virginal girlfriend is more interested in spooky spell books recounting past curses – leaving horny Hoff on the floor in a sleeping bag. They're on the scenic New England island without permission, and the first twenty minutes wastes time repeatedly restarting when dialogue provides all we need to know about the snobbish family interested in buying the hotel. They arrive with an idiot real estate agent, a sexy restoration architect, and a precocious kid, because of course. Everyone's stranded for the night thanks to a storm, and the cobwebbed congestion leads to dumbwaiter perils, black tub water, and kaleidoscope visions. Red nails, red shoes, and bright blood lead to metaphysical gateways where our transported victims witness boiling cauldrons and witches eating babies. Mouths sewn shut with a slow, demented needle and bodies in the fireplace mishaps result in gross flesh and unbeknownst complaints that the burning wood smells funny. Our mainland sheriff and superstitious fishermen are reluctant to brave local legends and storm waters, but people in the next room also bemusingly don't hear the whooshing to the past vortex and screaming ruckus. Despite fantastical chants, burning effigies, and ancient rituals; gory orifices and a ghostly assault lead to increasingly disturbing torments. The real world pain is compelling thanks to nosebleeds, gasping breaths, pulsing veins, contortions, and splatter. Vintage projectors play creepy historic film reels by themselves, and it's just weird enough to overcome any silliness. Old fashioned padding like water beds and looking up the police's number in the phone book add nostalgia alongside the damn freaky stuff captured on the kid's tape recorder – greed, lust, fruit of the womb, virgin blood. Set pieces don't leave the ensemble much to do, but the thwarted helicopters and bodily possessions culminate in crucifixion and evil cackling. Will Hoff be the hero or will the witch win? If you can appreciate the inadvertent laughter and obvious twists along with the well done scares, this makes for some surprisingly fun perils and intensity.

Fiery 80s Chillers 🔥

 

Fiery 80s Chillers! 🔥

by Kristin Battestella

These early eighties frights mix fire, brimstone, kills, and chills for nostalgic entertainment, bemusement, and scary extremes.

Don't Go in the House – Rumbling fires, intense heat, garbage incinerators, and dangerous explosions set the fiery mood for this 1980 psychological chiller. Askew angles, shabby wallpaper, and a sullied manor in disrepair carry disturbing childhood echoes while natural sounds made sinister and simple things like lighting the pilot light or longing looks over the matches create characterization. Time is taken for silent gasps, repeated screams, and hearing voices. Our dead mother won't wake up, and her adult son is finally able to play the groovy music as loud as he wants, toss the doilies aside, and put his feet on the furniture. The juvenile bedroom is too small, and the pathetic slow burn escalates to creepy flashbacks of being held over the flame. Mom enjoyed taking out the man leaving on her boy and burning the evil out of him. Today movies are always so up up up without this shock and relief roller coaster to tug our feelings. The old fashioned holding down the receiver lulls us with careful anticipation and pleas before disturbing gear, flame retardant suits, and gasoline lead to blunt violence, chains, and brutal screams. It's cold outside, everyone is bundled up, and the car won't start, but it's always the quiet, regular guy that no one suspects who has fireproof rooms to stash a dead body or two. The voices and imagined specters are off kilter but not in your face jump shocks while fiery dreams, orange flames, and blue accents add to the detached state of mind and symbolic stairs. There's no elaborate snapping scene, just a downward spiral into madness. A phone call from a co-worker represents the tangible outside world, but the torched bodies don't listen when they are spoken to, kissed, or slapped. Women are evil and homoerotic undertones layer the script before a cathartic moment of solace in going to church for holy water to put out the flames. Religion both caused his guilt yet could still purify all, but a night out at the disco leads to flashing lights, smoke, red dresses, boobs, and babes as the sin comes full circle. Ticking clocks, zooms, and giggling girls make for a fiery finale focusing on the internal torment rather than a set piece spectacle, and this realistic horror in the home does the mirror to nature that quality horror should.

Hell Night – Bonfires, groovy tunes, pranks, parties, and wet t-shirts are rad fun in this 1981 college slasher starring Linda Blair (The Exorcist). Suave eighties dudes match the sideways ponytails, ye olde costumes, vintage cars, and Quaaludes before pledges must stay the night in an abandoned manor with killer history and murderous mongoloids. The frat boys have set up the scares and spooky stunts, grossing out the crowd with tales of monstrous births and fireplace poker bludgeons, and it's fun to have this campfire telling format rather than the contemporary herky jerky strobe flashback snippets and fall backs. Rumors of missing relatives and not all the bodies being found frighten our plebs while candles, gothic gates, and gargoyles provide a dash of period piece atmosphere. The nostalgic excess is somewhat tame these days, however the whiff of classism adds thematic weight as the poor kids make deals to fit in and the rich kids bemoan the forced fraternities and family legacies. Scream sound effects, audible groans, ghostly overlays, rattling chains, and secret speakers build up the fake frights, but tunnels under the house, hidden passages, creepy hands, and swinging axes leave heads rolling. It is bemusing when the fun house phony and the real scares aren't so discernible now because both are dated effects, but skeletons jump out of the closet and even snakes in a can make an appearance. Although hammy, of the time dialogue occasionally hampers the unseen ominous and the self aware running gags can be uneven, the blood and snapping necks build suspense. Hedge mazes, saucy silhouettes, red lingerie, voyeuristic angles, and gory cuts accent the chills when our killer approaches the bed for under the covers shockers. The on edge escalates with perilous climbs over those spiky gates and a reluctant return inside to search for those missing. The foreboding house is only seen at night, and the police won't help during the titular, notorious prank week either. Repeat chases go on a little long, the low body count is spread thin, and the literal key to escape is there the entire time. Fortunately, for every stupid – like walking into a police station and leaving with a loaded rifle no problem whatsoever – there's a chilling approach in the dark leading to cobwebs, rats, corpses, and horror. This could have been a little better and the inadvertent humor can make or break a viewing today depending on your mood, yet this remains a fun late night October romp.

Invitation to Hell – Transplanted mid-westerners Joanna Cassidy (Blade Runner) and Robert Urich (Spenser: For Hire) must keep up with the Joneses and join Susan Lucci's (All My Children) suburban country club cult in this 1984 television movie directed by Wes Craven (A Nightmare on Elm Street). Red pantsuits, big hair, bemusing yet disturbing car accidents, and smoking revenge provide sinister style before the vintage station wagon driving montage complete with all the new job and familial exposition. Giant computers, shiny high tech buildings, big gadgets, flashing light panels, and space suits are now retro futuristic to match the payphones, record player, ten inch boob tube, and old school buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken. However this science fiction meets traditional horror format allows time to know the realistic couple – a hardworking but absentee father in cutthroat research and development and the previously meek, stressed wife ready to hob nob with these luxury friends after years of struggling. Familiar faces accent the posh spa robes, ominous fog, exclusive ancient springs, and upscale occult for the Reagan era, but the secretary telling secrets gets replaced and divisive vixens tempt our couple with wealth, power, and pleasure in an intriguing underlying commentary on corporations and peer pressure. Encouraging the wife and kids to join the club without dad leads to sultry Stepford knives in the kitchen, dog reactions, growling children, and a redesign of their gothic villa into some ugly, severe mod thing. Fortunately, the worst pets in peril and fatal runs off the road are told rather than seen; the fantastical elements accent the people in turmoil in an otherwise grounded story veiled with patriarchal symbolism, good versus bad families, and who's a loser if he's not in with the in crowd. That experimental space suit is also convenient at the cult Halloween party amid villains dressed as Nazis, devilish deceptions, and feisty titular imagery. Music and screams from the depths below anchor visuals that do a lot with very little – although the brief neon reverse negative switch and easy destructive end are...unfortunate. Viewers have to expect these movie of the week scares are just dated fun. I mean, If you can't appreciate a spacesuit that labels Susan Lucci as a “non-human malignant” named Jessica Jones that's on you. Thankfully, the personal connections being the power to overcome evil are more important here.

Bonus Documentary!

In Search of Darkness: Part II The Journey into 80s Horror Continues – This 2021 Shudder follow up focuses on slightly obscure and international eighties horror via four hours more of genre scholars and fan favorites such as Clancy Brown, Nancy Allen, Linnea Quigley, Tom Savini, and Robert Englund. The stars discuss falling in love with Universal Horror, Hammer, Hitchcock, and what influences scared them amid yearly recollections of Dario Argento, Tenebrae, and Giallo Horror's disturbing intimacy. Depraved, rapacious shockers like Mother's Day and Humanoids of the Deep would not be made today, yet the demented social commentary, fear, and violence rise above terrible dubbing for universal appeal. Colorful sensory effects, effective blood, and memorable shockers cause cinema walkouts and hateful reactions as the genre pushes the envelope too far with misogyny and Asian stereotypes. Dead & Buried and Dressed to Kill prove the acting, versatility, emotions, and A list stars remain impressive – called upon to be humorous, in fear, and credible amid the slashers and Cannibal Holocaust extremes. More statements come with The Being, The Keep, The Bride, and A Nightmare on Elm Street 2 while child protagonists in peril as in Cujo contrast the preposterous or endearingly absurd and franchise sequels or parodies like Saturday the 14^th. Multi genre explorations provide high artistry, laughter, and low thrills – nudity, meta, and screams thanks to The Black Cat, Terror in the Aisles, House, Little Shop of Horrors, and Demons. Unfortunately, censorship, UK video nasty stigmas, and fickle Hollywood tastes left sequels unmade and original scripts turned into unrecognizable clones and bad camp like Ghoulies. However, Prom Night II doesn't apologize for its own sexuality, and Robert Englund is aware of the goofy, ironic toys made of nasty Fred Krueger as merchandising and video games advance alongside clever effects and experimentation seen Waxwork, Night of the Demons, and John Carpenter's Prince of Darkness. Beetlejuice brings the wild fun mainstream, yet by 1989 there's room for new filmmakers like Peter Jackson and Bad Taste. Character studies that get under your skin like Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer continue to resonate with vicarious viewers and horror makers. In today's snarky tone, the segments allowing for stars to talk about themselves would appear self serving, but here it's wonderful for them to see the impact of their work and hear their reflections. While at times perhaps too obscure, die hard genre fans can laugh at the low budget creature features nostalgia and celebrate the forgotten sleepers, cult favorites, and gory highlights.

The Exoricist

The Exorcist Still Terrifying Today
By Kristin Battestella

I was born in 1981, so I missed the initial fear fest brought on by the 1973 thriller The Exorcist. Based on the novel by William Peter Blatty, film going audiences were terrorized in their seats, vomiting in the aisles, and fainting before the theater screens. Since then, The Exorcist has frightened a whole new generation-and then some.

The Exorcist stars Linda Blair as young Regan, a 13 year old girl who begins to act strangely after her and her actress mother Chris (Ellen Burstyn) move to Washington DC for a film shoot. Psychiatrists, other doctors, and specialists have no answer for Regan’s unrest. Freaky accidents, violence, and more disturbing behavior from Regan lead Chris to Father Damien Karras (Jason Miller). Even the troubled Priest is baffled by Regan’s ability to speak in ancient languages; the physical abuse on her body-including etchings from the inside of her stomach that says ‘Help me’; and of course the infamous, horrifying, and despicable masturbation with a crucifix.

Father Damien Brings in Father Lankester Merrin (Max Von Sydow), an elderly Priest who has fought this kind of evil before. Two prequels were even made detailing Merrin’s first encounter with the devil, but both miss the mark and cannot compare to the ultimate battle here. The Priests tie Regan to the bed and begin the Rites of Exorcism. Before the devil is contained, however, he pulls out all the stops, including taunting Father Damien With his dead mother’s words and the now oft parodied projectile vomit.

Despite our society’s desensitization, The Exorcist remains one of the most disturbing films ever made. I was a teenager when I saw the re-released edition with the additional footage. It was the middle of the day and clear as a bell outside, yet I was spooked for weeks afterward. The extra scenes on the DVD ‘The Version You’ve Never Seen’ include a creepy spiderwalk and more scenes of Father Merrin in Africa. Even after the numerous parodies and spoofs, the initial experience of viewing The Exorcist is tough to beat. After 4 sequels and prequels, several video releases and re-releases, how is it The Exorcist still scares the split pea soup out of us? The effects are cool, but nothing spectacular. The chills presented by director William Friedkin come from the psychological and sociological themes shown.

Many of the early audiences had never heard foul language in a wide release, much less F-bombs from a 13 year old girl. Both the religious and demonic imagery presented are unique and frightening. Shocking as it is to see such blasphemous uses of Christian symbols, Friedkin showcases the devil as a living breathing evil force. This is both engrossing and terrifying. The Exorcist is enough to scare anyone straight from their malignant ways. Here a young, innocent little girl was possessed. Imagine the torment the devil could bring to those who deserve it. Exceptional makeup and an impressive performance from Blair solidify the movie’s insistence that the devil is real.

This is how horror films should be. Realistic in the scarys they portray-no matter how fantastic. If art imitates life, then The Exorcist is a photographic reminder of good versus evil and how careful we should be in our temptations. None of The Exorcist films are suitable for children, and I only recommend viewing for the most mature teens, otherwise the between the lines material is lost. The latest DVD release of The Exorcist has a few extras, but the film speaks for itself.


Some of the sequels are worthy interpretations, especially The Exorcist III, based on Blatty’s own book sequel, Legion. If you’re seeking one of the best films ever made-not just thee most exceptional horror movie-The Exorcist is unbeatable.