LIVID (2011) **

I was a huge fan of Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury’s Inside.  Unfortunately, their follow-up, Livid never made it to the States.  Until now.  Now that I’ve finally seen it, I can honestly say it wasn’t exactly worth the wait.  I know they all can’t be Inside, but it falls well short of that disgusting classic.  

Lucie (Chloe Coulloud) is training to be a home healthcare nurse.  While making her rounds, she tends to an extremely elderly comatose woman (Marie-Claude Pietragalla) who lives all alone in a giant mansion.  She learns the old lady used to be a ballet teacher and supposedly has a treasure hidden away somewhere in the mansion.  Of course, she tells her hotheaded boyfriend (Felix Moati) and his buddy Jeremy Kapone) all about it.  Desperate to change their dead-end situation, the trio breaks into the house looking for the loot and find....

I will resist the temptation to spoil what they finally uncover in the house, especially since it takes them about an hour to figure it out, which is kind of the problem.  The set-up is longwinded, and a lot of the getting-to-know-you scenes in the early going could’ve been tightened up a bit.  Sadly, once we find out what’s going on in the house, it’s no big whoop.  There is at least one semi-interesting death scene, but for the most part, it falls flat.  Even when the movie tries to do something a little different with the usual horror formula, it winds up being lackluster, or even worse, goofy.  It’s easy to see why this slipped through the cracks and took over a decade to reach our shores.  

I did like the directors’ nods to such films as An American Werewolf in London, Halloween 3, and possibly even Suspira, although they ultimately are ultimately nothing more than Easter eggs for fans.  (The constant use of scissors was probably a tip of hat to Inside, now that I think about it.)  If you’re still curious about seeing Livid, it might work best as a double feature with Don’t Breathe as both films revolve around thieves severely underestimating a seemingly incapacitated elderly person, but the dip in quality will be noticeable.  

HEAVENLY BODIES (1963) **

Heavenly Bodies is an OK early Russ Meyer effort.  Some of his trademarks are already apparent, most notably:  A bevy of busty ladies lounging naked outdoors.  There’s also a lot of narration and the rapid-fire editing Russ would be known for.  It ultimately doesn’t quite work because of the fractured narrative.  

The film is split up into little vignettes revolving around naked women.  Models take their clothes off poolside, in the woods, and in game rooms.  None of these sequences are especially sexy or memorable and since they are presented in a faux documentary style, they aren’t a lot of fun either.  

Heavenly Bodies is sorely missing the usual humor and violence that hallmark the best Russ films.  It also doesn’t help that many of the vignettes suffer from a similar kind of feel.  The jazzy background music is often repetitive too and the narrator’s highly technical jargon about the photographic equipment used during the modeling sessions was completely unnecessary.  

Meyer (who also appears in a segment orchestrating a modeling shoot) utilizes the usual set-ups found in nudie movies from the era.  Models play volleyball, sunbathe, swim, and dance in the nude.  The most novel nudist activity is when one of the bosomy models jiggles wildly as she uses a jump rope.  I just wish there were more scenes of this caliber throughout the film.

All of this is pleasant enough I suppose but ultimately, Heavenly Bodies is slight and forgettable.  (Aside from the jump rope bit, that is.)  Meyer’s true gift was combining sex and violence with a deft moralistic touch, so a pseudo skin documentary isn’t exactly the best use of his talents.  Since it does offer a bunch of busty beauties in the buff nearly non-stop, it’s hard to completely dismiss.  Another plus:  It’s under an hour long, so it moves along at a decent clip. 

AKA:  Heavenly Assignment. 

THE SISTERHOOD (1988) **

In the early ‘80s, sword and sandal flicks and post-apocalyptic actioners ruled the drive-ins and video stores.  By the time The Sisterhood was released, demand for the genres were dwindling and as a result, less and less of them were being produced.  Leave it to a guy like Cirio H. (Silk) Santiago to combine the two.  

“The Sisterhood” are a duo of warrior women with psychic powers who ride through the wasteland getting into skirmishes with scumbag men.  Meanwhile, Lynn-Holly (For Your Eyes Only) Johnson lives in a post-nuke community where everyone looks upon her as a witch because of her psychic abilities.  Her brother is killed when the local warlord sacks her village, so Johnson goes to join up with The Sisterhood to get revenge.

I like the fact that some guys are dressed like they came out of an ‘80s sword and sandal movie while others have the standard football-pads-and-face-paint attire befitting a post-apocalypse action flick.  To spice things up, there are dudes that wear sunglasses and Dodgers baseball caps, which probably meant the wardrobe budget had started to run out.  

The action is your standard pillaging and swordfights that you’d see in a post-Conan flick mixed in with the typical modified dune buggy and dilapidated sportscar chases consistent with a Mad Max rip-off.  Johnson has a hawk for a pet and guys that look like WCW rejects give rousing speeches to their minions.  

The only real novel touch occurs in the third act when the Sisters hide out inside a fallout shelter where they stumble upon a tank, which they use to stick it to the bad guys.  As is usually the case with a Santiago picture, there’s a little T & A tossed in there too (but not a lot).  The synthesizer-heavy score is good for a laugh though as it alternates between sounding like a Breaking News Report and Super Mario Bros.

Okay, I acknowledge this is starting to sound more like a grocery list of things that happen than an actual review, but that’s kind of how The Sisterhood is.  It plays like a grocery list of ideas for a sword and sorcery/post-nuke action flick than an actual film.  That’s OK, if you’re a fan of either genre.  If you love those kinds of movies, you’re not absolutely guaranteed to like this one, but you’ll undoubtedly find something here to enjoy, even if it comes up short overall.  

AKA:  Caged Women.

IT'S A REVOLUTION MOTHER (1969) **

It’s a Revolution Mother is an uneven ‘60s counterculture documentary from director Harry (Barracuda) Kerwin.  It splits its focus between a motorcycle group called The Aliens riding their bikes and partying and protestors at a peace march in Washington, D.C.  Things eventually culminate at a muddy rock concert in Florida, capped off by a long-winded anti-war speech by a junior high kid.

Aside from the awesome theme song, my favorite part was the narration.  The narrator really gets into delivering his lines, which are often filled to the brim with a lot of hysterically outdated hippie jargon and ‘60s slang.  He’s at his best when talking about the bikers as he often speaks tongue in cheek while commenting on their wild behavior.  (“Don’t let it snap your mind.  You’ve got to groove with the bike crowd to know where it's really at!”)  

Protesters and bikers are also interviewed about their philosophy (or lack thereof) while silent footage of bikers partying and students marching play out on screen.  I guess it goes without saying that the scenes with the bikers are a lot more fun as the protesting stuff is often somber.  (Dr. Spock is spotted marching with the crowd, and Dick Gregory is heard making Spiro Agnew jokes.)  Bikers talk about getting hassled by The Man, putting up with their “old ladies”, and they even throw a “Wesson Oil Party” for the camera.  In fact, it might’ve been more entertaining if the sole focus was on the bikers.  Even then, some of their shenanigans get tiresome after a while.  (I could’ve done without the scene where one of them takes a piss on camera.)

You might think that this is going to be dated and corny.  Well, it is, but really, the most dated and corny thing about it is the narration.  People are still marching.  War is still ongoing.  Not a lot has changed since the time of release.  

Unfortunately, the concert finale is a big bust as it’s nothing more than a bunch of scenes of people milling about the festival.  There’s a band seen briefly playing, but the music (which is pretty bland acid rock) is obviously dubbed over.  This is definitely the weakest element in the film. and it ends things on a lame note.  Oh well, that theme song is a banger though, and will probably get stuck in your head for days after you see it.

AKA:  Biker Babylon.  

DJANGO AND DJANGO (2021) ***

I can see why some folks may be a little disappointed by this lightweight but entertaining documentary.  Based on the title, and the fact that it stars Quentin Tarantino, you might expect it to be an exploration on the seminal Spaghetti Western Django, and how Sergio Corbucci’s film not only inspired Tarantino’s Django Unchained, but the legions of Django rip-offs that popped up in the years in between.  Mostly though, it’s just Tarantino sitting in a movie theater and talking about Corbucci’s westerns.  (You have to wait until the movie’s almost over until you get a brief scene from Django Unchained.)  That’s fine, if you’re a fan of Tarantino and/or Corbucci (which I am).  

Django and Django is essentially a quick and breezy primer on Corbucci’s work.  Tarantino makes for more than a capable guide thanks to his encyclopedic knowledge of the Italian film industry.  Along the way, we also hear from Ruggero Deodato (who served as Corbucci’s second unit director) and Django himself, Franco Nero, although they aren’t really in it a whole lot.  I don’t know if COVID forced the filmmakers to really pare down their interview subjects, but it would’ve been nice to hear from some other talking heads.  

Then again, it might’ve worked even better had it just been Tarantino by himself introducing clips and giving background and/or history on the films.  I mean the first ten minutes are basically him recounting a deleted scene from Once Upon a Time in Hollywood about Rick Dalton meeting Corbucci.  Since Tarantino is a gifted storyteller, it's a lot of fun (especially if you’re a OUATIH fan like me).  I know he plans on retiring from directing soon, and if he eventually does, I wouldn’t mind seeing him starring in more docs like this one, shining a light on unsung exploitation filmmakers.  If Django and Django is any indication, I would say it’s a recipe for success, even if the final product feels more like a glorified DVD special feature than an honest to goodness documentary.  

BENEDETTA (2021) ***

It’s been a while since someone made an old-fashioned, down-and-dirty nunsploitation movie.  Leave it to a guy like Paul Verhoeven to bring the genre into the 21st century.  Twenty minutes in, and he’s already showing us nuns showering, shitting, and farting.  It’s moments like these when you know you’re in the hands of a master.  

Ever since she was a little girl, Benedetta (Virgine Efira) wanted to serve God.  Her parents send her off to a convent and she eventually grows up to become a sexy nun.  Benedetta takes pity on a battered woman named Bartolomea (Daphne Patakia) and begs the abbess (Charlotte Rampling) to take her in.  Bartolomea and Benedetta slowly form a romantic bond, but not before Benedetta starts having sexy dreams about Jesus.  These visions grow more and more intense, finally resulting in Benedetta receiving the stigmata.  She is immediately promoted to abbess, and she uses her power to take Bartolomea into her chambers as her lover.  Miffed, the former abbess sets out to see Benedetta tried as a heretic.  

As great as the idea of the guy who made Basic Instinct directing a horny nun movie is, I have to say that Benedetta isn’t nearly as naughty or blasphemous as you might think it is.  While some of her Jesus dreams are pretty wild, they are more humorous than dirty, and even the scenes of lusty nuns feel like they are holding back a little.  That didn’t stop people from being up in arms about the film.  If Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” music video taught us anything, it’s that any time a filmmaker tries to compare and contrast religious ecstasy with carnal ecstasy, they are inviting a ruckus.  

Verhoeven dips his toe into various exploitation subgenres along the way.  There are moments that harken back to the post-Exorcist possession craze as well as the old Mark of the Devil-style witch trial scenes.  He doesn’t go headlong into excess like the Verhoeven of old though, which some might find a tad disappointing.  I’m not saying the movie necessarily had to be lurid in order to be good, but it does at times seem restrained.  Maybe the older Verhoeven isn’t the raconteur he used to be.  That said, this is still a solid nunsploitation flick.  They don’t crank these things out like they used to, so whenever one comes along, you’ve got to take what you can get.

AKA:  Blessed Virgin.

NIGHTMARE ALLEY (2021) **

Bradley Cooper stars as a man running from his shady past in the pre-WWII American heartland.  He hitches his star to a traveling carnival where he quickly works his way up the ranks from roustabout to sideshow barker.  He falls in love with Rooney Mara, who does an electrocution show, and figures out a way to make it even more sensational.  Cooper also steals an act from an aging mentalist (David Strathairn) and he and Mara leave the carny life behind to do a high-end psychic act for the dinner theater crowd.  

Up to this point, Guillermo del Toro’s noir-infused sideshow drama has worked in fits and starts.  It’s when the plot takes a 180 and Cooper hooks up with a crazed shrink (Cate Blanchett) to bilk a millionaire (Richard Jenkins) that it all comes tumbling down.  Although Blanchett really sinks her teeth into the villainous femme fatale role, Cooper seems sorely miscast throughout.  You never quite buy him as the shady carny, nor as the debonair mystic.  Maybe that was intentional as he lives his life going from one sham to another.  Since so much of the movie hinges on characters being taken in by Cooper’s charm and appeal, it just doesn’t work if the audience doesn’t buy what he’s selling.

Even in a noir thriller, there should be some sort of thrill for the audience to see the plot in motion.  Even if the filmmakers fail to pull the rug out from under us, we should at least enjoy seeing the rug being pulled out from under the characters.  Here, there’s no such thrill.  It all just kind of lumbers to its obvious, predictable conclusion.  I guess you could call it inevitable.  If film noir has taught us anything, it’s that you can only run so long before your shady past catches up with you.  However, Cooper's eventual comeuppance falls a little flat.  It’s almost as if del Toro was letting him off the hook easy.  I mean we just spent two-and-a-half hours watching this guy get over on just about everybody.  We should at least see the knife twisted once he gets what’s coming to him.  

The cinematography and production design are lush enough to keep your attention during the plot’s more interminable moments.  You can also savor seeing del Toro regular Ron Perlman popping up as a grizzled carny, and Willem Dafoe puts in a memorable turn as the sleazy carnival owner.  While it’s all nice to look at, without a strong central performance, it lacks the engine to really make for a crackling thriller.  

In fact, I’m kind of dumbfounded how it got nominated for all these awards.  I guess the Academy is still infatuated with del Toro after The Shape of Water.  Whereas that movie had the unmistakable fingerprints of a master at work, this one seems like it was more of a product of obligation rather than inspiration.