Witchery (Fabrizio Laurenti, 1988)

The floors are creaky, the doors are literally falling off their hinges, and, oh yeah, there's this local legend about a pregnant witch who committed suicide by jumping out of one its many windows a couple hundred years ago. In other words, I don't envy the real estate agent who has the daunting task of trying to sell the giant house at the centre of Witchery (a.k.a. Evil Encounters), a film that begs the question...Actually, I can't quite remember what the question was that this particular film was begging at the moment. But I promise that you'll be the first to tell when I do.  Anyway, that doesn't sound too bad. I mean, with a little baby powder (trust me, it's perfect for creaky floors) and a quick trip to the hinge store (be sure to check out Martina Hingis' Hinge Bin on Yonge St. just south of St. Clair - They do hinges right!), you should have no problem selling that creepy house located on a small, isolated island off the coast of, oh, let's say, Delaware (hey, I saw a lighthouse at one point, so, I could be right). Okay, but what about the pregnant witch who committed suicide? Big deal. Pregnant witches sometimes commit suicide, what are you going to do? Yeah, but I heard the reason she killed herself was because the locals wanted to burn her at the stake. Aren't you gonna tell the prospective buyers about the witch legend? Hell, no. Besides, I'm 100% sure that the female realtor who accompanied the family who want to purchase the property is wearing a silky white slip underneath her conservative realty clothes. In fact, I'm having trouble concentrating on anything else because of that damned slip.
 

 

Holy crap! I just remembered what question this film begs. And that is, why did they even bring her along? Bring who along? The lithesome Linda Sullivan (Catherine Hickland), that's who. Who the fuck is that? Why, she's only the leggiest real estate agent this side of the Potomac River; and believe me, I've sampled the gams attached to a plethora of shapely real estate agents. From Indian Head, Maryland to Woodmont, West Virginia, I've sampled them all. Oh, and  to answer your question, the house hunters in Witchery brought her along in order to make sure the local real estate agent doesn't screw them over, and to give them an estimate on how much it will cost to renovate the dump.
 

 

Excuse me, but I find your obsession with Delaware and Catherine Hickland to be a tad disorienting. Really? Why is that? Well, the movie stars Linda Blair and David Hasselhoff, yet here you are, talking about flipping houses and leggy real estate agents. I guess you're not familiar with the way I operate. You see, Catherine Hickland (quick quirky fun-fact: Catherine Hickland was married to David Hasselhoff at the time this film was made) makes several attempts to be sexy in this film. On the other hand, Linda Blair does not. It's true, her character is pregnant. But that is no excuse. 
 

 

Changing gears for a second, remember that witch I mentioned earlier? Well, the film, directed by Fabrizio Laurenti, starts with a scene that finds a pregnant woman in the 1600s being chased a bunch of folks who look like they work at Black Creek Pioneer Village (all Toronto children under twelve are forced to go there at least once). Wielding pitchforks and boasting demenour that can best be described as belligerent, the mob corner the woman in a stately manor. Trapped, the woman sees no other recourse but to jump out of a second floor window. Just as she's about to hit the ground, Jane (Linda Blair) suddenly wakes up as if she just had a nightmare in a movie. Pregnant herself, Jane wonders what the dream could mean. I'm curious as well, but I'm more curious about her headboard bookcase; it's fabulous!
 

 

Meanwhile, on the very island Jane's nightmare took place, Leslie (Leslie Cumming), a writer interested in witches, and Gary (David Hasselhoff), a photographer with a deep-seated interest in poontang, are exploring the house. In fact, they're currently standing by the window the woman from Janes's nightmare jumped out of back in the 1600s. Hold on. I've got to get this off my chest before I continue. I don't who decided to cast Leslie Cumming as David Hasselhoff's virginal brunette girlfriend, but she's got to be one of the worst actresses I ever seen. Seriously, she has no business being in movies. It got so bad, that I started to feel sorry for Herr Hasselhoff as the film progressed. It must have been pure hell to exchange dialogue with an actress with no charisma whatsoever. 

 

 

While walking down the street, Jane spots the mysterious Lady in Black (Hildegard Knef) standing on the sidewalk. Staring at her in a menacing manner, the Lady in Black starts messing around with some kind of crystal pendant thingie. Seconds later, Jane is nearly killed by a falling girder. What's going on here? Wait a minute. Is that evil I smell?
 

 

Content that her creepy confrontation with Jane went as well as creepy confrontations go, the Lady in Black decides to strike while iron is hot and heads over to the park to act creepy in front of Tommy (Michael Manchester), Jane's nephew. Call me a poor judge of creepiness, but I can't decide who was more creepy, the Lady in Black or Tommy. Yeah, you heard me. I don't know, there was something not quite right about this Tommy kid. Listen to the way he asks the Lady in Black for his ball back, it's downright terrifying. Have you ever thought that maybe he's just a bad actor? You have a point there, as some of his line readings are atrocious. Some of his line readings? Okay, fine, all of them. Nonetheless, he's creepy me the fuck out.
 

 

What I can't understand is why David Hasselhoff's character would date a virgin. Not to be crass, but the Hoff needs pussy on a semi-regular basis. All right, forget about the virgin thing. What I'd like to know is, why is he seeing a woman who does nothing but mope around while mumbling incoherent nonsense about witches? She's totally not his type. Either way, Gary tries multiple times over the of the course of the film to set in motion a scenario where his penis penetrates her vagina, but he's repeatedly denied the privilege.
 

  

A real estate agent named Linda Sullivan (Catherine Hickland) is hired by Jane's parents Rose (Annie Ross) and Freddie Brooks (Robert Champagne) to given them estimate on a house they plan on purchasing. Pretty mundane stuff, right? Wrong! The sexy Catherine Hickland receives the call while standing over her boyfriend in nothing but a towel. Oh yeah, getting good news over the phone while wearing a towel is the epitome of hot. The way her boyfriend, whose name is not even close to being important, stares at her legs as she stood over him was tantalizingly awesome. I'd go as so far to say that it's the film's best leg moment...so far.
 

 

Wait, "so far"? You mean there will be more leg moments to come? What do you think? Actually, I think another one is about to transpire right this second. Let's watch, shall we?
 

 

Sitting in the office of the local realtor, Rose and Freddie Brooks discuss the property they might want to purchase with Tony Giordano (Rick Farnsworth), the son of the guy who runs the realty agency; in the other words, this is a big sale for him (make daddy proud, Tony). At any rate, as they're talking about the house in question, Freddie seems preoccupied.
 

 

Was it the cheeky cat calendar hanging on the wall? No, I don't think so. How about that cup full of pens? I doubt it. If it wasn't any of those things, what could it be? I'll tell you what it was, it was the leg scratch heard around the world. All right, maybe it wasn't heard around the world. However, I bet it was heard all along the Eastern seaboard. Which, if you think about it, is still one pretty impressive scratch.
 

 

Who's doing the scratching? Oh yeah, sorry about that. Sitting at her desk in a yellow top paired with a black skirt, Jenny Lee (Victoria Biggers), the office's brunette secretary, suddenly feels an itch on her right thigh. In order to alleviate this irritating sensation, Jenny Lee takes her right hand and fashions the fingers of said right hand in a manner that causes it to look like a claw. Taking this newly created claw, Jenny Lee gingerly brushes it over the affected area several times.
 

 

As she's doing this, Jenny Lee can't help but notice that Freddie, who should be listening to what Tony is blathering about, is checking out the pleasing shape of her secretarial thighs. Slightly annoyed by this untoward leering, Jenny Lee ceases to scratch her thigh.
 

 

I know what you're thinking, where was Linda Sullivan during all this thigh scratching excitement? She was stuck in traffic. It's too bad, she missed quite the show. Which reminds me, why didn't anyone offer Victoria Biggers the opportunity to play Leslie Cumming's part? And why not? Anyone, and I mean, anyone, would have been better than her. Jeez, we get it. She sucks. Let it go, man. Yeah, but Victoria Biggers has shapely thighs and manged to scratch one of them in a semi-convincing manner. No, you're right. She probably would have been the better choice. But there's nothing you can do to change the fact that Leslie Cumming landed the role of David Hasselhoff's virginal girlfriend in Witchery, and that Victoria Biggers was stuck with a non-speaking, scratching only role.
 

 

Did you just say that Victoria Biggers doesn't have any lines?!? If that's the case, how do you know she would have been better than Leslie Cumming? Trust me, she would have been better. You might not be able to seem them, but all the people out there who have seen Witchery are nodding their heads in agreement.
 

 

Eventually all the characters end up getting stranded on the island. Sure, they're trapped inside a giant mansion (which I suppose isn't the worst place to be stranded). But you have got to remember, the Lady in Black is lurking around somewhere upstairs. One by one, each character gets the opportunity to scream awkwardly while immersed in red lighting. Well, actually, I don't recall seeing David Hasselhoff doing the awkward scream thing, but most of them do.
 

 

As usual, Annie Ross (Basket Case 2) excels at being a cun...Um, no, let's call her "overbearing." Yeah, overbearing. I like that. The cool part of her awkward scream was the all the close up shots of her red pumps struggling to maintain their grip on the floor (a sinister force pulls her into a dumbwaiter). Oh, and the infamous "mouth stitch" scene was laughably gruesome; meaning, it was gory yet poorly staged.
 

 

The film's most compelling, non-thigh scratch moment comes when Linda Sullivan removes her blazer, and then Tony (who I nicknamed "Realty Boy," because he seemed to be so dedicated to realty) removes his blazer in order to facilitate sexual intercourse in front of a large, wall-mounted marlin. You knew these two were going to hook up, so it came as no surprise when they wandered off the way they did. How or why they got together is not important. What is important, however, is the fact that Catherine Hickland wore a white slip underneath her realty clothes. I also liked the loud zipping sound her skirt zipper made as she unzipped it. It should go without saying, but this sequence has many great leg moments. Unfortunately, they're the last the film has to offer as the body count begins to rise.
 

 

After the sex scene in front of the marlin starring Catherine Hickland's white slip is over, the film is a tedious slog. There's an effective death scene, complete with twitching and arterial spray, a shock-haired Linda Blair does some her best demented pajama work since the early 1970s. But for the most part, you'll be wishing it would just end already....much like this review. Stupid thigh scratch.

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Basket Case 3: The Progeny (Frank Henenlotter, 1992)

Swarming with more unique individuals than you can shake a pockmark-covered albino wet dream at, Basket Case 3: The Progeny is the delightfully inappropriate and hilariously gory final chapter in the harebrained trilogy about a pair of formerly conjoined twins named Duane and Belial. Unlike most horror trilogies, this one has sprung forth from the singular vision of one man: esteemed writer-director Frank Henenlotter (Brain Damage and Frankenhooker). Involved with the making of all three movies (he's not the type to shirk responsibility), you really get the sense that his unique brand of twisted horror isn't being stifled by outside forces. While I'm sure he wanted it to be messier and more disgusting in places, the off-kilter and satirical temperament of the film never fails to shine through. This wacky disposition is best observed when Granny Ruth (Annie Ross) asks a pharmacist if he's got any extra large condoms for sale, and when Little Hal (Jim O'Doherty) videotapes the most nauseating birthing sequence in film history for posterity. (I liked the drugstore scene because it forces you to imagine what the mutated genitalia of a man with twenty-seven noses would look like encased in rubber.)

Performing double-duty as a penetrating public service announcement detailing the bane that is prejudice and a cautionary tale about the dangers that can come with being too fertile, the film covers some pretty deep themes. The matriarchal Granny Ruth and her band of oddities, still living on Staten Island, are planning a trip down south in order to procure the doctoring expertise of one Uncle Hal (Dan Biggers). Why do they need a doctor, you ask? Remember that revolting sex scene I mentioned that takes place between Belial and Eve in Basket Case 2? No? Well, it seems that Eve is pregnant and they want Hal to deliver the baby. Anyway, they all hop aboard a school bus (even Cedrik and his head of lettuce) and mosey on down to Peachtree, Georgia for some Dixie-based hospitality.

Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the mixed-up Duane (Kevin Van Hentenryck) and his various issues involving his homicidal twin. Worried about his safety, Granny Ruth has fitted him with a strait-jacket for the long journey south. He still desires to be free from the freakish cabal, but he really misses his brother, and hopes to reconcile with Belial, the basket-bound expectant father who likes to rip people's faces off.

All the so-called "freaks" (I don't really like to call them that since I've grown quite fond of them) from the previous film are all back and more grotesque than ever. A large part of the enjoyment of parts 1 and 2 was gingerly basking in the pure inventiveness that must have gone into creating the various deformities. I mean, one of them has a head shaped like a half-moon.

Now, I know it's rude to stare and all, but every time they showed them in a room together, like, for example, the party celebrating Eve's multiple birth, I couldn't help but be in awe of the craftsmanship that was on display.

The aforementioned birthing sequence is quite the sight to behold. The way the little Belials kept coming, while comedically satisfying, was a sickening spectacle. Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of the circle of life, it's just the screeching sound they made, and, not to mention, the manner in which they were all strung together, was all a tad much to take. Luckily, the bizarre play-by-play provided by Little Hal as the tiny terrors came out managed to alleviate the tension. In fact, some of his comments were quite funny. Of course, funny in a "did he just ask for some celery" kinda way.

Nothing is normal in the ooze-filled world of Frank Henenlotter.

Speaking of not being normal, I loved how the pristine-looking Opal, the daughter of the local sheriff, had a little bondage surprise for Duane during his brief stay in jail. It was just another in a long line of demented treats in this film. However, the fact that her disrobement led to unveiling of leather lingerie was actual not as big a shock as one might expect. I mean, I've found that it's always the quiet ones who exhibit the most perverted of tendencies. The other cool thing about Opal was that she was played by Tina Louise Hilbert, an actress who has the boast-worthy distinction of having Basket Case 3: The Progeny be their only motion picture credit role to date. I'm a big fan of actors who only have one film on their resume.

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Basket Case 2 (Frank Henenlotter, 1990)

The dark and mysterious caverns of the Sanctuary Vampire Sex Bar on Queen Street West and the unmistakable sexiness of Jamie Stewart's bang-friendly haircut bobbing about in the music video for The Cult's "She Sells Sanctuary" are first things that lurch/pop into my mind whenever I hear the word "sanctuary" bandied about in a public forum. What this particular nugget of information has to do with Basket Case 2, Frank Henenlotter's surprising yet logical followup to the first Basket Case, I'm not quite sure. But you gotta admit, I'm one groovy chickadee. I was gonna add this tasty morsel about this reoccurring dream I've been having lately, one that involves me easily winning a Rossy de Palma lookalike contest being held out in the wilds of Etobicoke and blowing my prize money on the recently stained pantyhose of porn stars who appear in pornographic movies where stains and pantyhose go hand in hand, but that would be overkill. Well, whaddya know, while I was not going on about adding my Rossy de Palma/pantyhose dream to the word mix, I happened to recall why I started off on that tangent about sanctuaries: It's because this chapter is all about Duane and little Belial's struggle to find sanctuary in a world that repeatedly rejects them. Somehow managing to survive their plummet-based engagement with the cold, hard sidewalk outside the Hotel Broslin in Manhattan, erstwhile conjoined twins Duane (Kevin Van Hentenryck) and Belial (???) find themselves living with Granny Ruth (Annie Ross), Susan (Heather Rattray) and a vast cornucopia of unique individuals in a stately home out on Staten Island. Of course, not before Belial can claw violently at the face of the policeman who was guarding the hospital room they were recovering in; it's what the twisted little scamp does best.

Luckily, the nurse, played by the statuesque Alexandra Auder (Viva Superstar's daughter, who looked like Zooey Deschanel from certain angles), is spared the unwanted facial rearrangement.

Anyway, a champion for disfigured freaks the world over, Granny Ruth has created a mini-mutant paradise in her spacious attic; a place where the deformed and the hideous can feel a sense of belonging, and not have to worry about the scornful glares of the so-called "normal people."

Feeling out of place in an environment where humans who look like frogs and have twenty-seven noses help carry in the groceries, Duane tries yet again to extricate himself from his needy twin brother. Falling gaga for the deceptively normal Susan, Duane dreams of running away with her and starting over. Only problem is she is just as dedicated to the creature cause as Granny Ruth. Plus, a nosy reporter (Kathryn Meisle) who works for a sleazy newspaper and a private dick (Ted Sorel) have caught wind of the goings on at the monster manor (Duane and Belial's story have become tabloid fodder), and threaten to expose the collection of oddballs to the unforgiving light of day.

The complex decision Duane has to make, you know, whether to stay and help his freaky brethren fight the intrusive outsiders or seek the autonomy he has always desired, is the film's strongest element. Sure, the face gouging and the jarring nature of some of the attic dweller's appearances were topnotch in terms of forcing out the facial contents of others and abnormalcy, but it was Duane's conflicted loyalties that elevated Basket Case 2 beyond the realm of your average freak show.

You see, he doesn't see himself, nor Susan, as one of them (other than the huge scar down his side, there's nothing overtly repelling about his visual presentation). The only thing keeping him there is his misguided commitment to his clearly deranged brother. Which, when you think about it, is a pretty astute metaphor for the festering sore that is family.

As with the first chapter, the film benefits greatly by the deadpan presence of Kevin Van Hentenryck as the mildly troubled Duane. Delivering each line with an unnecessary sincerity, the lanky actor, who, for some reason, only seems to appear in Frank Henenlotter films, manages to create a sympathetic character with a seemingly feckless brand of ease. The best example of this kindly earnestness comes when Kevin evilly explains the dichotomy of being normal in a world populated entirely by freaks to Ted Sorel's P.I. at a local watering hole.

Going in the opposite direction when came to acting strange in a suburban setting, Annie Ross (Pump Up the Volume) camps it big time up as Granny Ruth. Her pep talk to inspire her tight-knit horde of contorted weirdos against those who would dare violate their sanctuary displayed the kind of crazy that I can confidently throw my support behind.

The sex scene between Belial and a similar-looking creature of the opposite gender proves once and for all that Frank Henenlotter ain't hooked up right. It's true, that Belial tries to rub against the shapely thighs of Beverly Bonner (who makes a cameo in this film) in the first chapter – so, he is interested in sex. But I had no idea he had a functioning penis. I don't know what's more disturbing, the look on Belial's face the moment he made his pleasure ooze, or the fact that Kathryn Meisle can be seen at one point wearing white socks and sneakers with her ladies business suit.

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