Doris
Wishman is my kind of filmmaker. She
goes out there and makes the movie her way.
You can look at one frame of a Doris Wishman film and know it was made
by Doris Wishman. If it’s got lots of
close-ups of feet, no synch sound, and looks like a series of people’s last
known photographs, you can bet your ass it’s a Wishman flick.
When
Wishman is cooking, she often hits it out of the park. Anyone who’s ever sat through Let Me Die a
Woman, Deadly Weapons, or Nude on the Moon will attest to that. However, her misses are about as bad as they
come. (The Amazing Transplant,
anyone?) That’s why it pains me to say A
Night to Dismember just might be her worst flick.
It’s
not really her fault. You see, according
to legend, some disgruntled lab employee burned the film print. Wishman then had to scramble, cutting the
movie together using odd ends, discarded footage, and whatever scraps she could
find. She added some newly shot footage,
and then cobbled it all together and released it on an unsuspecting
public.
Trying
to follow the story will give you mental whiplash. It revolves around the bizarre murders of a troubled family. Things kick off with a gruesome
ax murder in the tub, but then the murderess slips and falls on her ax. Most of the time, the editing is so rapid
fire that simple scenes are hard to figure out.
Shots are repeated, slow motion is used for like, two seconds, shots alternate
from night to day, and there are long negative scenes; all of which are usually
accompanied by overbearing, out of place library music.
A
narrator constantly runs his mouth to try to make sense of the plot. (It’s really nothing more than your standard
let’s-drive-a-relative-crazy plot, but the way it’s told is just confusing as
fuck.) This movie has more narration
than The Creeping Terror and Monster a Go-Go combined. Occasionally, we do hear a snippet of
dialogue or two, but it’s clearly just Wishman’s voice dropping in a few lines
here and there.
I
like Wishman. That’s why it hurts to
say this flick is a disaster of epic proportions. Still, it’s a miracle it exists in any way,
shape, or form considering the circumstances.
That alone is a testament to Wishman’s tenacity.
Recently,
a print of the original version was miraculously found. I don’t know if my nerves could stand to
watch that one so soon after subjecting myself to this. Judging solely from the evidence here, I’d
say they burned the wrong movie.
