City of the Living Dead (Lucio Fulci, 1980)

While most people seem obsessed with the scene where Michele Soavi's wide-eyed girlfriend literally pukes her own guts as a direct result of staring at a demonic priest for far too long, I'd like to focus on eyebrows, or, more specifically, on how they're filmed throughout City of the Living Dead (a.k.a. The Gates of Hell), the Italian zombie film about some weird shit that goes down in a town called Dunwich. However, before I continue down this hair raising path, let me check outside to make sure the apocalypse isn't taking place. It seems no less hellish than usual. Oh, what's that, why did I just look outside to make sure the my bird bath wasn't filled to the brim with blood and acidic pus wasn't oozing from the trees? It's simple, really. I didn't want to be writing about eyebrows as the world ended. But now that I know everything is fine, I can continue in a calm and rational manner. (You think everything is fine?!?) Okay, maybe it's not fine. Let's just say it's on the cusp of being fine and move on. Now, where was I? (Eyebrows!) Ah, yes. Do the actors who appear in Lucio Fulci films, especially the one's made during this period, ever feel self-conscious about their eyebrows after they watch the way the camera gets all up in their brow-zone over the course of these films? Of course, the lovely Catriona MacColl isn't going to feel self-conscious, as her eyebrows are so immaculately groomed, you could eat off them. (Eww, why would anyone in their right mind want to consume food that's been served on Catriona MacColl's eyebrows?) First of all, I said you "could" eat off them. And secondly, I was speaking metaphorically.

It would seem that I lost my train of thought again. Could you help a brother out? (Eyebrows!) Ah, yes. The men in this film, on the other hand, would probably think long and hard about buying a pair of tweezers after they saw the unruly nature of their eyebrows in this film. Quick question: Can you purchase tweezers individually, or do you need to get them with a bunch of other items, like a manicure set? I've always wondered about that. If you think I'm crazy to spend so much time yacking about eyebrows, then I'm afraid you haven't experienced this film with the full force of your eyeballs. (Huh?) What I mean is, if you haven't seen this film, you won't know what I'm talking about. However, if you have seen this film, and you happen to think my eyebrow fixation makes me crazy, you clearly didn't watch the same movie I did.

My obsessive interest may lay squarely at the bushy, rarely trimmed feet of eyebrows, but Lucio Fulci's primarily interested in what lies just beneath them. (He's interested in nostrils?) No, silly, he's interested in the eyes of his characters. Though, imagine if he was obsessed with nostrils, how weird would that be? (Yeah, you would be going on about how you could eat a whole catered lunch off Catriona MacColl's nostrils and how the guys in this film should start thinking about investing in a nose hair trimmer.) I know for a fact, by the way, that you can buy nose hair trimmers individually, as I've seen them listed in old-timey catalogues. For my money, you're better off going with an all-purpose hair trimmer, as you get more value for your buck.

The eyes are the window to the soul, or so they say. When Lucio Fulci zooms in close to the eyes of his characters, he's not trying give us any insight as to what they're thinking, he wants us to fear what could happen to them if they were prodded with a sharp object. While no eyeballs are perforated in the classic sense in this film, many an eyeball does ooze blood. (Bleeding eyes? Awesome.)

(Wait a minute, how do you make an eyeballs bleed if you don't prod them something?) Prepare to have your mind blown, you make eyeballs bleed by staring into the eyes of the living dead. If I'm going eat anything off Catriona MacColl, it's going to be... (Oh-oh, here we go.) Why do you always think I'm going to say, "vagina"? Sure, I wouldn't mind eating some chicken fricassee off her spacious pussy area, but I was actually thinking about eating something off another part of her body all-together.

Do you see that giant swath of pale skin located above her eyebrows. (You mean her forehead?) Yeah, her forehead (you should be a doctor). Well, I want to eat a regular-size bowl of ice cream and use her massive forehead as a makeshift lucite table. (Interesting. Why ice cream, though?) Don't you get it? Her eyes in this movie drip strawberry sauce. (On your marks, get set, yum!) Um, I hate to break it to you, but that ain't strawberry sauce, it's blood. Now that I've established that Catriona MacColl has a big forehead and that I'm certifiably insane, I can safely move on to less idiotic ground.

A seance is taking place in New York City and a priest hangs himself in a cemetery in a town called Dunwich (Yeah-ea-eah!). No, this is not the set up to some lame joke, it's serious business. The spiritual well-being of the planet is jeopardy, and the only person with the power to make things right has just died. Yeah, you heard right, Mary Woodhouse (Catriona MacColl) is dead. Seeing a priest hang himself in a vision was too much for her and she died. The end. Oh, and according to Theresa (Adelaide Aste), one of Mary's psychic friends and a big fan of The Book of Enoch, something "horrendously awful" is about to occur. (You mean the actor who plays the detective who interviews those who were present when Mary died is about to start acting?) While he could be described as "horrendously awful," I was actually referring to the army of zombies that are currently amassing in a town called Dunwich.

I don't know 'bout you, but this film could really use some Giovanni Lombardo Radice (Cannibal Ferox) right about now. And wouldn't you know it, there he is, in all his awesome glory. I won't mince words, I love this guy, as he makes everything better. Anyway, don't ask me what his deal is in this movie, 'cause I have no idea. Playing Bob, Giovanni, when he's not playing with blow up dolls, can be usually seen wandering around the wind swept streets of Dunwich in a daze.

Since the film needs more than dead psychics and blonde buffoons to move its story along, we're introduced to a New York reporter named Peter Bell (Christopher George, Pieces), Sandra (Janet Agren, Eaten Alive!), a Dunwich artist with sharp cheekbones, and Gerry (Carlo De Mejo, The Other Hell), a bearded shrink. In fact, these three, along with Mary, do the majority of the film's heavy lifting when it comes to advancing the plot. (Wait, what do you mean, "along with Mary"? She's dead.)

It will take a lot more than being declared clinically dead to keep Mary down. In the film's first great scene, Peter Bell frees Mary, who was sort of buried in her coffin (one of the gravediggers, by the way, is played by Michael Gaunt, A Women's Torment), by using a pick-axe. Thinking that he hears screams coming from Mary's partially buried coffin, Peter debates with himself whether or not to investigate. The way Peter's indecisiveness combined with Mary's panicked screams was pretty intense (even more so if you have a fear of enclosed spaces).

(Why did they bury Mary if she wasn't dead?) It doesn't matter. What does matter is, she's well-rested and she's ready to close the gates of hell. She better hurry, though, All Saints Day is fast approaching, and, according to The Book of Enoch, if the gates aren't closed come midnight, the dead will rise from their graves and take over the world.

Bumming a ride with Peter Bell, Mary heads down to Dunwich to stop all this from happening. Meanwhile, one of the citizens of Dunwich is about to experience the worst case of irritable bowel syndrome ever. Earlier I called the actress who vomits up her guts as "Michele Soavi's wide-eyed girlfriend." This was an error on my part, as Daniela Doria deserves to be lavished with copious amounts of praise for the ordeal she is put through in this movie. As the larger organs start to spill forth from her mouth, it's obvious they're using a dummy mouth. However, in the early going, when the intestines begin to spew, it's clear that Daniela Doria has a mouth full of real entrails.

If you're starting to envy Michele Soavi's character (who is sitting next to Daniela Doria as she pukes her guts out), don't. He suffers the first of the film's many brain grabbings. And believe me, it's as nasty as it sounds. Though, it's not as nasty as the face drilling scene. Now, I won't say which character suffers this unpleasant fate, but let's just say it wasn't a bit player. And that what makes City of the Living Dead such a harrowing ordeal, anyone can be killed (i.e. have their brain grabbed) at any given moment.

Maggot storms, gut puking, face drilling, brain grabbing, and bleeding eyes might grab get all the headlines, but the film, thanks in part to the excellent score by Fabio Frizzi, is actually quite atmospheric in places. I'm not comfortable declaring this to be my favourite Lucio Fulci film (it is severely lacking in the perversion department and fashion-wise the film is a bust), but it's definitely in the top three.

Eaten Alive! (Umberto Lenzi, 1980)

You know how Tough Actin'® Tinactin® provides fungus-related relief to millions of Americans? Well, the same can be said for blow-gun darts dipped in cobra venom. Except, blow-gun darts dipped in cobra venom are not, I repeat, not, going to ease your athlete's foot, jock itch, or ringworm. What it will do, however, is attack your central nervous system, cause respiratory failure, and ultimately lead to your untimely demise. Call me crazy, but Tough Actin'® Tinactin® and blow-gun darts dipped in cobra venom seem to have nothing in common. You're right, they don't. You know what? Let's just pretend that didn't happen, shall we? A quick show of hands, who here is excited to watch yet another film that features real animal cruelty, simulated cannibalism, outdoor rape and indoor castration? Judging by the lack of hands being raised, I'm gonna assume no-one is. Which is a shame, because I've slowly become enamoured with Italian-made cannibal exploitation films. Don't get me wrong, I despise them with a fiery passion. But for some strange reason, I can't look away. Which is odd because Eaten Alive! (a.k.a. Mangiati Vivi!) is filled with instances where looking in the opposite direction is probably the correct course of action. Hell, even the characters that populate this cruel universe think looking away is the right thing do. In fact, one of them punches the other in the face (knocking them out cold) in order to shield their eyes from a particular bit of ghastliness. Enough with the hand wringing, deep down (yeah, yeah, "trauma hounds - run to corrode," we get it, you like Skinny Puppy) you love these movies. How do you know I love them? I didn't want to bring this up, but I've watched you browse the bins of your local video emporium, and I've noticed that you always seem to go straight to the cannibal section. Damn, you got me. You win this round, voice in my head.
 

 

You know how Tough Actin'® Tinactin® provides...Just kidding. Quick question. Yeah, hi. I couldn't help but overhear you say that this film, directed, of course, by Umberto Lenzi (Cannibal Ferox),  features "indoor castration," and was wondering: Does the inside of cave constitute as being "indoors"? Wow, that is an excellent question. I'm gonna say, yes, it does constitute as indoors. Any structure, whether it be a makeshift shelter in the woods or an imposing castle sitting on top of a hill, is technically a building. And like all buildings, there's an inside and an outside. And the castration scene in Eaten Alive! definitely takes place inside as supposed to outside. Anyway, I hope that clears things up.
 

 

I have a question of my own: Is this the first cannibal film to sport an opening sequence that takes place in Niagara Falls, Canada? I'm going to go out on a limb and say, yes, it's probably the first. I only ask because the sight of all that snow and ice threw me for a bit of a loop. I mean, for a minute there I thought I'd put in the wrong movie. That thought quickly evaporates, however, when a balding white man is shot in the neck by an ambiguously Asian man wielding a blow-gun. While the trip to Niagara Falls was somewhat jarring, the next scene brought me back to my comfort zone, as we hit the streets of New York City. Like Niagara Falls, the weather is snowy and cold; hence, the ridiculous fur coat worn by a blonde man who is shot in the chest by a, yeah, yeah, an ambiguously Asian man wielding a blow-gun. Just in case some people in the audience are having trouble connecting the two slayings, another man, this time a balding white man in a trench coat, is shot in the neck in front of a man dressed as Santa Claus.
 

 

What do these killings have in common? Frankly, I couldn't careless. That's funny, you strike me as the kind of person who usually cares a lot about these sort of things. Oh, don't get me wrong, I care. You could even say that I give a fuck. It's just that Janet Agren is about to start strutting her stuff down 42nd Street, and I don't want to have to worry about the  plot-based machinations of some cannibal flick. It's not that I find her attractive or anything like that (her cheekbones are stupid), I'm mainly excited to watch a blonde woman in a fur coat (unlike the blonde guy shot in the chest with a dart dipped in cobra venom, Janet looks chic in fur) walk up and down 42nd Street at a time when it was a seedy paradise.
 

 

Since the 42nd Street of today looks like a corporate cesspool, someone should open a museum dedicated to 42nd Street as it was during its heyday as a sleaze mecca.
 

 

Removing her fur coat to reveal a busy sweater (it's mostly red with black around the neck, but the left shoulder features red, white, and pink stripes), Sheila Morris (Janet Agren) sits down at the detectives desk, and is told that her missing sister, Diana Morris (Paola Senatore), might be connected to the recent spell of bizarre blow-gun murders.
 

 

It would seem that her sister has gotten herself mixed up with a purification sect. A purification what? Yeah, it's this sect who apparently worship the environment. I know, what a bunch of wackos. Actually, as the police describe Jonas (Ivan Rassimov), the charismatic leader of this particular sect, and his group's beliefs, I found myself agreeing with everything they stood for. Of course, I'm not saying I would hop on the next Pakistani Airlines flight to New Guinea to join up with these so-called "nutjobs," I just thought it was odd that what was once considered radical is now the norm. I love the look of horror on Sheila's face when the F.B.I. agent tells her that the sect are against pollution.
 

 

After talking with Professor Mel Ferrer (the name of his character is not important) about New Guinea, Sheila is on her way. Unable to transverse the harsh wilderness by herself (she's just a simple country girl from Alabama), Sheila picks out her guide. Only problem is, her potential guide, a whiskey-loving expatriate American named Mark Butler (Robert Kerman), doesn't really want to guide her anywhere at this juncture. And why would he? He gets by on the money her makes on the local backroom arm wrestling circuit (you know it's a legit arm wrestling league just by looking at the yellow headbands the competitors wear). Desperate, Sheila offers Mark, who's still busy implementing the "your problems are not my problem" routine, a ton of cash. After mulling it over for about five seconds, Mark agrees to take her to the village where Diana was last seen.
 

 

As they're paddling down the river, Mark, Sheila, and their two native guides, spot a monkey about to be devoured by a giant python. Also known as: the monkey with its head in the mouth a giant python scene, this infamous scene is hard to watch. Poor monkey, its agonizing final moments are captured on film forever. The look on its little face as it fruitlessly tries to prevent itself from being eaten was heartbreaking. But as Mark tells a visibly shaken Sheila, "You'll see worse before this is over." And you know what? I believe him. 
 

 

As expected, Mark and Sheila soon find themselves "up shit's creek without a paddle." In addition, one native guide is eaten by a crocodile and the other is killed by an unknown assailant. You know who else is killed? A native woman wearing a pink shawl. Well, actually, first she was raped, then she was killed. As the cannibals are dining on her entrails, Mark and Sheila stumble upon their unorthodox feast. Don't worry, though, the cannibals didn't spot them (Mark is able to stifle Sheila's gasp in the nick of time). Nevertheless, the area is swarming with cannibals.
 

 

Luckily, a reasonable fellow named Karen (Franco Caduti) and his merry band of Jonas-affiliated henchmen (you could call 'em The Jonas Brothers) find them first. To be honest, I don't know what's worse, being eaten alive by cannibals or being forced to listen to the mumbo-jumbo that spews from Jonas' mouth on a regular basis. In case you forgot, Jonas is the leader of Purification Village (come for the hallucinogenic Hawaiian punch, stay for the dildos dipped in cobra blood). After being brought before Jonas by Karen and the Paul Rudd-esque Dick (Carlo Longhi), Jonas' right-hand man, Mark and Sheila spot Diana while attending the funeral of one of the sect members.
 

 

What's interesting about the funeral sequence, besides the fact that Dick gives Mark a play-by-play of what is going on, is that Mowara (Me Me Lai), the widow, is forced to have no-nonsense sexual intercourse on her husband's ashes with her brother-in-laws in front of the entire village. Oh, and just in case you're wondering, all three men choose to employ the missionary position. It's true, the third brother-in-law lifts Mowara up slightly  in order to gain penetration leverage. But the fact that his humping style was somewhat different than his brothers indicated to me that he simply wanted his thrusts to stand out from the crowd.
 

 

We soon learn that Diana is not happy being a sect member. While that's great news and all, but how do you expect Mark and Sheila to bust Diana out when you take in account that the village is surrounded by cannibals. In other words, the choice is simple: You can remain with the purification sect or take your chances with the bloodthirsty cannibals.
 

 

One man whose had enough with both is Mark Butler, as he just wants to drink whiskey and count his money. An anti-hero in every sense of the word, Robert Kerman brings a take no guff righteousness to the grisly proceedings. Getting the better of every cannibal and henchman that crosses his path, I wouldn't mind seeing Mark Butler go up against Giovanni Radice Lombardo's Mike Logan from Cannibal Ferox in a contest to prove who's the bigger jungle badass. Of course, Mark would probably destroy Mike rather easily (Mike is only tough when his adversaries are tied to trees), but I still would like to see them go at it.
 

 

Special kudos need to go to Paola Senatore (Emanuelle in America) for her ballsy work during the film's gruesome final third. Now, I don't want to say what exactly happens to her. But let's just say, it makes the monkey scene look tame. Which is saying something since that monkey's head was actually inside a snake's mouth.
 

 

Oh, and forget using cyanide to wipe out your crazy religious cult. Try cobra venom. It's quick, relatively painless, and it's all natural. Cobra venom, the choice of a brainwashed generation.

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