UKHS Does the Nasty! The Section 3 List Part Two: THE BLACK ROOM (1982)

TBR 1UKHS Does the Nasty!
The Section 3 List Part Two: THE BLACK ROOM (1982)

Following Dave Wain’s lowdown on Nightbeast in part one [which you can read HERE], Matty Budrewicz sinks his teeth into steamy fellow Section 3 title THE BLACK ROOM…

Even some thirty-odd years on, the Director of Public Prosecutions’ Video Nasty list remains a potent selection of must-see movies: the ultimate chopping – sorry – shopping list for grue lovers and the quintessential rite of passage for all of us British horror nuts. A seventy-two title strong gonzo fear flick extravaganza, it’s a vital part of our genre make up and education; and now, thanks to its discovery by filmmakers Jake West and Marc Morris whilst prepping their stupendous Video Nasties documentaries [read the UKHS lowdown of part 2, Draconian Days, HERE], a whopping eighty-two more movies caught up in the furore can be added to our own personal scare school curriculum.

According to West and Morris, these Section 3 titles were “liable for seizure and forfeiture by the police and removed from sale or hire, though they were ultimately not prosecuted”. As Dave noted in his assessment of director Don Dohler’s cheapie Nightbeast (1982), looking at this newly unearthed DPP dossier certainly reveals why the likes of Dawn of the Mummy (1981) and Zombie Holocaust (1980) – stuff lumped amongst the Nasteis for years – were also stigmatised. It’s a wild list for sure; one that was, as Morris said in our UKHS interview with him [read it HERE], “just a case of the people in power not being in any way film literate”.

There’s a buck-load of big guns on there: heavy hitting, recognised classics like Night of the Living Dead (1968), Phantasm (1978) and Scanners (1980). There’s a slew of beloved cult favourites present too, from Shogun Assassin (1972) and Mausoleum (1980), to Dead Kids (1981) and Happy Birthday to Me (1980). Hell, even Jack Hill’s landmark blaxploitation pic Foxy Brown (1974) is on there! However, it’s the other stuff that gives cause for celebration: the long forgotten bumf that peppers the rest of the list that now, hopefully, will be sought out and reappraised, people inspired to do so because of the enduring popularity of Nastydom. And, with a bit of luck, it’ll lead a few more people to seeing the wonderful 1982 creeper The Black Room (1982); a marvellous, neglected slice of independent horror.

TBR 2An evocative and beguiling chiller, The Black Room is a playfully kinky and consummate modern reinterpretation of the vampire myth. Just as George A Romero used vampirism as a metaphor for teenage despondence in his 1976 gem Martin, here co-director’s Elly Kenner and Norman Thaddeus Vane – who also scripted – use it as a way to explore matrimonial problems and pre-AIDS attitudes to decadent sexuality. Something of a legendary swordsman, Vane (whose other main genre credit is the endearingly naff Theatre of Blood (1973)-aping slasher Frightmare (1983), starring a pre-Re-Animator (1985) Jeffrey Combs) was a regular on the party scene throughout swinging sixties and seventies London, New York and Los Angeles.

His playboy lifestyle as, at various times, a nightclub owner and editor of Penthouse Magazine served as his inspiration when piecing The Black Room together: as noted by author Stephen Thrower in is mighty Nightmare USA tome, and by blogger Sam Weisberg of hidden-films.com, it was during Vane’s stint at Bob Gucione’s notorious men’s rag that he repeatedly cheated on his then-wife, sixteen year old model Sarah Caldwell, with numerous centrefolds at a similarly voyeuristic venue to the eponymous room of the title.

Upping the already sizzling sexual undercurrent inherent in the blood-sucker sub genre and making it far more explicit – yet never exploitatively – The Black Room also switches fangs for a blood transfusion machine and swaps the usual Transylvanian castle for a swanky Hollywood Hills mansion; a locale used to similar eerie effect in David Lynch’s later Hollywood horror story Mulholland Drive (2001). Our Dracula is Jason (Stephen Knight), a handsome and charismatic photographer – think Lugosi, Lee and Langella all rolled into one – stricken with a rare blood disease, manageable only through fatally draining others of their plasma. “Jason’s been sick his whole life, ever since he was a child… He had to constantly replenish his blood; every sixty days. Then once a month. Now, it’s twice weekly,” explains his sister Bridget, the film’s singular answer to the old Count’s buxom brides. Played by the stunning Cassandra Gava (the Fillipino-American actress perhaps best known as the sexy witch in Conan the Barbarian (1982), and credited here under her real name Cassandra Gaviola), Bridget is Jason’s carer, muse and, it is hinted at, his incestuous lover. She’s also his accomplice, helping Jason lure in, kill and dispose of his potential blood donors.

TBR 3Like Paul and Mary Bland, who murdered and robbed an assortment of “perverts” to bankroll their dream of owning a restaurant in Paul Bartel’s released-the-same-year black comedy Eating Raoul, Jason and Bridget too have found the sexually promiscuous to be a particularly rich vein (boom-boom) for victims. Renting out the titular space in their home, they’ve been taking their pick from the randy denizens who come, quite literally, to occupy it: “Restrictions? None. This isn’t the YMCA,” says Jason. “What the former tenants usually did was phone first – I’m always working in my studio. If you like, I can just pop in, light the candles, pour the wine; the rest is up to you.”

Thrust into this scenario is Larry (Jimmy Stathis) and Robin (Clara Perryman); a couple whose marriage is growing a little stale. Though still in love with each other emotionally, their physical relationship has taken something of a beating, thanks to a mixture of boredom and the frequent interruptions of their attempted bedroom gymnastics by their two hyperactive children. Sexually frustrated, Larry soon finds himself Jason and Bridget’s latest tenant, using the room as his basecamp for a bit of afternoon slap and tickle.

Whilst it would be easy to condemn Larry as simply a sleazeball letch, Vane instead throws in a curveball: suddenly Larry’s illicit dalliances are being used to stoke the fires of wedded passion once more. Relaying his black room visits back to Robin, she – at Larry’s insistence – treats them as nothing but fantasy; they’re dirty talk, they’re foreplay.

TBR 4Seemingly as sexually unsatisfied with Larry as he is frustrated with her, Robin’s inner fox is repeatedly quelled by her husband’s strange sense of coital morals: it’s OK for him to indulge his appetite for exotic sex with strangers in the confines of his baroque hired hump den, but anything other than missionary on the marital mattress is strictly off limits with the Mrs. “Why aren’t you ever [kinky] with me?” she asks. “Because,” says Larry, “I love you”.

Though the probing of Larry’s attitudes to sex and fidelity is the meat of the narrative, it’s his handling (or not) of his marital repressions that results in Robin having the most interesting arc of the film. “Why don’t you do to me what you said you did to that girl that you took to that black room?” she questions, upon her quiet discovery that her man’s frisky fairytale shag pad is actually quite real. “I couldn’t do that to you, it wouldn’t be right. You’re my wife,” an oblivious Larry responds, dragging on a cigarette in bed. Barely masking her hurt and – more importantly – her disappointment, she pushes further, “I don’t want to be your wife when we make love. I want to be your whore.” Larry, of course, makes his excuses once again, “I don’t see you in that room. You don’t belong there, Robin.” However, before long she’s checking the place out for herself, with both her vulnerability and her own desires brought into question by a calculating Jason; one vampire who seems to really enjoy playing with his food…

In a contemporary context, The Black Room is akin to the offbeat oeuvre of House of the Devil (2009) director Ti West. It’s character focused and slow-burn, reliant more on sustained mood and powerful suggestion than graphic splatter; more arthouse than grindhouse. Of course, when the blood does flow – in an early sangre-squirting gig for eighties gloop and latex specialist Mark Shostrom (From Beyond (1986), Evil Dead II (1987) – it’s thrilling stuff. The Black Room certainly doesn’t skimp on the horror side of things, with the five minute blood draining sequence being the undoubted, palm sweat-inducing highlight.

TBR 5The first and only time we actually see Jason’s full ritualistic process, it’s a perfect and grotesquely poetic terror moment. It’s a heavily eroticised set-piece, fizzing with sexual energy and every bit as perversely titillating and as sensual as the entwined naked bodies on display throughout the rest of The Black Room. Constructed along the same edgy lines as the pre-sex shivers present during Larry’s earlier initial encounter in his then newly acquired room – that simmer of nervous excitement, the feeling you get just before you rip someone’s clothes off, is palpable in both instances – a heartbeat starts to pulse on the soundtrack, accompanied by composers James Ackley and Art Podell’s throbbing, low synth score. Bridget and Jason smile at one another, their eyes meeting as his and drugged prostitute Sandy’s (Geanne Frank) flesh is penetrated with prongs and syringes, hooking them up to the transfusion machine.

Editor David Kern’s cutting is rhythmic, emphasising fetishistic glides over the machine and Sandy’s surprising moans of ecstasy as her life-juice is sucked from her; the lines between pleasure and pain, and sex and death blurred. Jason, meanwhile, is also in the throes of orgasmic posturing; sweat cascading over his brow, him squeezing Bridget’s hand as, for all intents and purposes, he climaxes with Sandy’s claret filling him. It’s the most beautifully deranged menage-a-trois ever committed to celluloid.

Introduced in a striking double murder sequence during the film’s opening credits, the actual black room itself is also impressively realised, with cinematographer Robert Harmon’s simple but effective use of a strange glowing coffee table, candlelight and inky black shadow conjuring up a rich air of genuine eroticism and danger. It’s an intoxicating experience each time we’re inside it; seductive and scary, flesh and fear dripping from its walls. A former on-set stills photographer, Harmon would later put his keen eye and unique sense of alluring unease to good use in his subsequent career as a director, with the gorgeously shot pair of brooding road-horror movies The Hitcher (1986) and Highwaymen (2004) but two of his credits.

TBR 6 SCam Jeff Mart

Steadicam Jeff Mart

Adding further ethereal elegance is the superb Steadicam work of the late Andrew “Jeff” Mart; as immersive and hypnotic here as Larry McConkey’s use of it is in Donald Cammell’s White of the Eye (1987). Mart was the first person in the world to own such a rig privately and, according to IMDb, famously had a one handle barred bicycle that he would use for daredevil Steadicam shots. Throughout his career he’d work on several other great genre projects, like the fright fan favourite Pumpkinhead (1988), Wes Craven’s The People Under the Stairs (1991) and the cops-and-werewolves TV movie Full Eclipse (1994), before his death at the age of sixty-six in 2009.

For connoisseurs of the more trashier end of the eighties horror spectrum, The Black Room is notable as one of the early features of delectable Scream Queen Linnea Quigley; popping up in a thankless and very minor role as somewhat doomed babysitter Milly. Though still a while off hitting schlock paydirt thanks to her iconic turns in The Return of the Living Dead (1985) and Night of the Demons (1988), it’s an interesting echo of her earlier-still gig as Bondi’s Mother in another sideways vampire flick, Don’t Go Near the Park (1979). A woeful dud of a picture, Don’t Go Near the Park is nowhere near the thoughtful, charismatic excellence of The Black Room but nonetheless would be a solid selection for an intriguing thematically similar double feature. The fact Don’t Go Near the Park was actually one of the DPP’s ‘proper’ Nasties too just sweetens the deal.

Passed uncut for theatrical release with an X rating by the BBFC in November 1982, The Black Room found itself on the Intervision roster. The video tape subsidiary of its distributor Alpha Films, the Intervision label also included in its line up such seminal shock as Tourist Trap (1979), Carrie (1976) and the early David Cronenberg triptych of Shivers (1975), Rabid (1977) and The Brood (1979). Whilst they have all found their audience over the years thanks to multiple disc reissues and positive, sustained critical recognition, The Black Room has had neither – something that looks unlikely to change any time soon.

TBR 8Supposedly available in one of those Stateside bargain-bin multipack DVD bundles (though actually finding one with the film in it on the import market seems to be rarer than rocking horse poop), its fifth generation public domain transfer aside there’ll be no Arrow blu-ray special edition or even a no-frills 88-type disc: The Black Room’s original negative is long rumoured to be lost, and the rights to it anyway are tangled up in a mother load of unspecified legal hell. It’s a damn shame and – if true – the most depressing end for a remarkable little picture that should get a hell of a lot more love. Find the long out of print tape or pirate the thing – just make sure you see it before it’s gone for good.

To go back to part one click HERE

_______________________________________________________________
Follow Matty on twitter @mattybudrewicz
#UKHSnasty

UKHS Does the Nasty! The Section 3 List Part One: NIGHTBEAST (1982)

NB 1UKHS Does the Nasty!
The Section 3 List Part One: NIGHTBEAST (1982)

As the end of our sensational seven day Nasty series approaches, Dave Wain and Matty Budrewicz team up to each examine a film from the newly discovered Section 3 list. First up, it’s Dave and the mighty sci-schlock cheapie NIGHTBEAST…

If you speak to most casual horror fans whilst armed with a list of fabled video nasty titles, and ask them to pick out the ones that belonged in the original list, you’ll find that many will point to movies such as The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974) and The Hills Have Eyes (1977). The fact is of course that until recently these movies carried the stigma of being associated with the original Director of Public Prosecutions’ list of seventy-two titles.

In researching the legal paperwork for Video Nasties: The Definitive Guide, Marc Morris managed to discover the previously unpublished third list. In it there were eighty-two titles that were designated under Section 3 of the Obscene Publications Act by the DPP. These films were liable for seizure and forfeiture by the police, removed for sale or hire and then destroyed although they were not ultimately prosecuted. The discovery of this list certainly goes some way into revealing just why certain other titles carried a video nasty association.

If you read the list [you can check it out at the bottom of our Marc Morris interview HERE] it has some truly bizarre entries. The ones that stand out to me are iconic films like George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead (1968) and Profondo Rosso (1975) by Dario Argento, both of which are now considered to be the pinnacle of horror filmmaking; the idea of them being seized by the boys in blue beggars belief. Others that wave at me in mock indignation are cheese-fest’s like Charles Band’s Parasite (1982) and Xtro (1982) by Harry Bromley Davenport – films whose only crime is surely to have been made at all.

NB 4 Director Don Dohler

Director Don Dohler

Such loveable yet undeniably bad film-making brings me to my choice of movie to highlight in this Section 3 analysis: Nightbeast. The concept that this 1982 Don Dohler movie could feature on such fascist documentation alleging potential moral corruption of the population should they view is absurd. The idea that if this was 1984 and a policeman could come into my video store and seize my copy of Nightbeast as it would be deemed an obscene publication is jaw-droppingly insane and misguided to the point of ridicule.

Let me tell you a little about Don Dohler, the film-maker with the demeanour of a tired accountant, and a resigned reluctant acceptance of his cult status. Dohler’s career could best be summed up as a handful of low budget films, all made with a great amount of heart and a whole lot of passion. Born in Baltimore in 1946, Dohler was a fan of the genre from an early age being an avid reader of Famous Monsters of Filmland. By 1972 he had launched his own magazine called Cinemagic which featured illustrated step-by-step guides to create your own amateur special effects. The magazine ran for eleven issues before being purchased by Starlog in 1979, but its legacy was lasting with many contemporary Hollywood filmmakers such as JJ Abrams citing it as an influence.

His first foray into making his own films came with The Alien Factor in 1978. It was a fairly simple idea with a crashed alien spaceship leading to a horde of extra-terrestrials invading small town USA and mutilating the townsfolk. Despite its meagre budget it was surprisingly a notable success due to the popularity of Star Wars. With George Lucas’ film raking in big bucks in the cinemas, the American public found themselves with an insatiable desire for anything sci-fi orientated and Dohler’s film quenched that thirst just fine. The Alien Factor went on to appear at selected cinemas, not to mention a stint on that famed Grindhouse strip of 42nd Street, while a healthy TV syndication ensured that Don received some much needed coin in his direction.

NB 2With the general consensus that there was always a core audience for horror, Dohler then went into production on Fiend (1980). Little was changed by way of production, he still used friends, family and familiar locations and with the finished product and he decided it might be worth his time seeking out Lloyd Kaufman to seal a nationwide video distribution deal with Troma. Kaufman, despite being impressed with what Dohler brought to him, opted to pass on Fiend saying that his audience demanded more nudity and explicit content – something Dohler himself wasn’t too keen on integrating into his films. However, having decided if that’s what it’ll take he set about creating his next project, Nightbeast.

Nightbeast actually turned out to be pretty much a more polished and professional looking version of The Alien Factor. With many of the original cast of that movie reprising their roles there are a lot of similarities, especially in the narrative which shares many a same plot point; not least the alien spacecraft crash landing in a small town. From here we meet the heroic Sheriff Jack Cinder (Tom Griffith) who arrives on scene with the local militia to investigate the disturbance only to be attacked by the alien. Cinder decides to make a stand, and along with the lovely Deputy Lisa (Karin Kardian) and a handful of townsfolk, the battle is on to defeat this extra-terrestrial invader.

While the plot doesn’t exactly feature much in the way of originality, the charm of Nightbeast lies firmly in its homemade nature. We have a spaceship crafted from polystyrene and paper, with much of the film being shot in a patch of woodland adjacent to Dohler’s back garden so they could run the power lines for the lights into his house! The supporting cast are largely made up of neighbours, friends, his aunt’s hairdresser and, let’s not forget, his children as well. The film is bursting with Ed Wood-style moments such as the scenes he had to extend to pad the film out that show his kids with a six month age difference looking noticeably different in terms of height and weight.

NB 3One of the most talked about scenes in the film though is undoubtedly that sex scene that Lloyd Kaufman suggested Dohler put into his film as “that’s what people want”. I implore you to watch this moment of insatiable erotica and tell me that it’s quite possibly the most anti-erotic sex scene ever filmed. Sheriff Jack, whilst running for cover from the marauding alien happens to sustain a mild injury to his leg. It needs attention though and Deputy Lisa suggests they stop off at a nearby cabin to get it cleaned up and bandaged.

For whatever reason Tom Griffith dispatched with the dated but functional long hair he sported in The Alien Factor for the most ridiculous prematurely greying perm you are ever likely to see. We’re talking aged Napoleon Dynamite here. During this first aid session Deputy Lisa gets ravenously horny and reveals her tan lines whilst off comes the Sheriff’s ill-fitting y-fronts. With his beer gut and handlebar moustache, this steamy lovemaking session is about as erotic as watching your Mum and Dad having sex – yet oddly all it does is solidify your appreciation of what Dohler managed to pull together.

Nightbeast was released in the UK by Vipco having been passed with no cuts made in 1983. Why would they make cuts though? It is virtually a blood free zone apart from a few incidents of very tame low budget gore. I can only think that its remarkably iconic sleeve featuring the John Dods (Ghostbusters II, Alien Resurrection) designed creature conjured up the idea that the film might contain something more ‘corrupting’ than it actually does. It was reclassified (again without cuts) in 1996 for a release on retail VHS in Troma’s brief sojourn into the UK home entertainment industry. Troma’s US release of it is well worth picking up as you can get it on a cool double feature alongside John Paul Kinhart’s excellent Blood, Boobs and Beast documentary which examines Dohler’s career.

NB precert betaDespite its low budget nature, Nightbeast is looked back on as the pinnacle in of Don Dohler’s career. Granted, that may be akin to saying that Glen or Glenda is the pinnacle of Ed Wood’s career but nevertheless, for a guy that made movies in his own town, with his friends and family and DIY special effects, Nightbeast represents quite an achievement. Dohler only made seven films in his career, and after having production problems on Blood Massacre (1991) which found the film land in other people’s hands for completion, he decided to back out of the industry with only the occasional return. Harvesters (2001) which he co-wrote is certainly worth a look for those low budget aficionados amongst you.

Dohler died of cancer aged sixty in late 2006, and it’s only since his death that I became aware of the legacy he left. The fact that legacy includes a position on a Section 3 DPP list is a genuinely surprising one. It’s such an inoffensive little film that the average viewer would more likely mock and disparage as opposed to question its morality. However, if the recognition it gets from this infamy creates a few more Don Dohler fans then it might just be worth the attention.

For Part Two of this feature, click HERE

________________________________________________
Follow Dave on twitter @thedavewain
#UKHSNasty

UKHS Does the Nasty! DEATH TRAP (1977)

DT 1UKHS Does the Nasty!
DEATH TRAP (1977)

In today’s bonkers instalment in our gruesome Video Nasty week, Joey Keogh turns her attentions to horror master Tobe Hooper’s naff redneck crocodile curio DEATH TRAP…

Also known as: Eaten Alive, Horror Hotel, Starlight Slaughter, Murder on the Bayou

The name Tobe Hooper has become synonymous with blood-curdling shocks and gut-wrenching gore, so it’s easy to forget that his first feature – the inimitable Texas Chain Saw Massacre – was a largely bloodless affair. Not so with his sophomore offering, Death Trap AKA Eaten Alive AKA Horror Hotel AKA Starlight Slaughter AKA Crocodile Conundrum (at least one of those is made up).

As so-called video nasties go – a term infamously coined by someone who’d never watched one – Death Trap is pretty rough. Adapting a grainy, lurid quality akin to Texas Chain Saw, the film takes place in a dilapidated motel in the middle of nowhere, which is operated by the clearly mental Judd (played with wild-eyed abandon by Neville Brand). Of course, why anyone would want to stay there is beyond comprehension, especially as there is a giant crocodile lurking in the adjoining swamp.

Currently holding an 18% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes, and a 5.4/10 on IMDb, Death Trap wasn’t received particularly well upon its release and has since faded into obscurity (aside from a particular group of cult followers). It’s easy to understand why. A nasty, relentlessly loud, very tough watch, in spite of its relatively short running time, the film features a shitload of violence towards its female characters, litres of joke-shop blood and some seriously dodgy wigs.

DT 1Arguably the biggest talking point nowadays is the addition of one Robert Englund, in one of his earliest roles. He stars as a horny young buck named, er, Buck, who as Tarantino “paid homage to” in Kill Bill, really likes to fuck. Funnily enough, Buck is the most likeable character and his death – also the most lengthy and gruesome – is the only one that elicits any kind of sympathy. Go figure.

Texas Chain Saw alum Marilyn Burns returns as a girl who, once again, runs around screaming a lot, but considering she doesn’t have woodland to get lost in this time around, she mostly goes around in circles. Halloween’s Kyle Richards – currently a Real Housewife and perpetuator of too-long hair – features as a resourceful little girl who cries too much and sadly does not perish when really she should.

The croc itself doesn’t get much of a starring role, popping its unconvincing head in and out of the frame here and there, before slinking back under the murky surface. Hooper may have been trying to recreate the Jaws effect but an abundance of dry ice, some screeching violins and a clearly intentional lack of lighting do not an ambience make – nor do they compensate for a lack of believable creature SFX.

Hooper takes part credit for the intrusive, headache-inducing score, alongside William Bell who was also responsible for that of Texas Chain Saw 1 and 2. Here, Bell throws caution to the wind, undercutting every attempt at tension. It almost sounds like the score to a low-budget sci-fi flick, with a weird organ pummelling away underneath everything. Brand’s performance as Judd caters to this quite well, even though his hair does most of the acting. Constantly muttering to himself, with his face shrouded in darkness throughout, the hotel owner/operator is the definition of a creepy old man – he even has a big ol’ swastika draped over his favourite chair, just to drive the point home.

DT 2He has a gumball machine on his reception desk though, so he can’t be all bad. Also, he seems shocked by his own murders so perhaps there were originally layers to the character that were left on the cutting room floor in favour of more scythe-swinging action. The farming tool is his weapon of choice, because this is Texas. The entire film is set at night, but the hotel is bathed in an eerie, red glow which only further serves to highlight the fact that nobody would stay there. Characters go missing for long periods of time, but nobody worries until it’s too late. Women are consistently left alone, before being revealed as utterly unable to take care of themselves when things go to hell.

Although everyone screams themselves hoarse throughout – aside from when delivering the painfully bad dialogue – nobody makes a noise while being, as the title suggests, eaten alive apart from Buck. Constant radio noise in the background alludes to Texas Chain Saw, but here it’s more jarring than creepy. Suffice to say, there isn’t much atmosphere, and the “scares” are created mostly by the unconvincing croc, whose appetite is damn near insatiable, or Judd being, well, Judd.

Death Trap wasn’t prosecuted under the Obscene Publications Act, but it didn’t receive an uncut release until 2000 (it was originally released with 25 seconds cut in 1992). Considering the film utilises, among other things, drug use, nudity, attempted anal rape, a significant amount of violence against women, swearing, and a shit tonne of bloody violence, it’s bizarre that it was considered tamer than almost forty other films.

DT 3This is especially interesting given that The Funhouse, also by Hooper, was wrongfully prosecuted as a video nasty a few years after its release. Most claim that the film was mistaken for The Last House On Dead End Street, which also went by the title The Fun House, while The Texas Chain Saw Massacre was itself banned from theatrical release in 1975, in spite of the fact it contains very little gore.

Considering that, nowadays, films such as Hostel and the stomach-churning Saw series have passed through the BBFC’s filter to enjoy massive box office success, it’s almost unthinkable that something as tame as Death Trap could be regarded as having the potential to “deprave and corrupt” an unsuspecting audience.

In fact, the only recent horror films to have fallen foul of modern “censorship”, for want of a better word, are those that really straddle the exploitation line. For example, the often unfairly derided A Serbian Film – widely denounced because of one, particularly gruesome sequence – or The Human Centipede 2, which is laughably rubbish and not nearly as clever or as disturbing as its predecessor, and which found its audience in the home viewing market (it had two minutes and thirty-seven seconds cut by order of the BBFC).

Similarly, and somewhat bizarrely, Hostel Part II was once cited in the House Of Commons as an example of a film where screenshots could become illegal to possess. This was in reference to a recently-passed law criminalising possession of extreme pornography – what this has to do with Eli Roth’s gory, yet otherwise restrained, sequel to his hit torture porn flick is unclear. Surely a screenshot of three people attached mouth-to-anus is more demoralising and offensive, not to mention arguably more pornographic?

DT 6Although the legacy of video nasties is evident, Death Trap is one of the least noteworthy of its kind, and for good reason. In a modern context, the most obvious comparisons could be made to big budget creature features such as the Lake Placid series – which thankfully utilised a more authentic-looking croc, at least at first – or Adam Green’s Hatchet trilogy, which set the action in a swamp that looked, somewhat purposefully, like a set.

It’s easy to speculate as to why the idea of video nasties, and their impact on an easily-compromised youth, became such a cause for concern when it did. The video market was still an unregulated, burgeoning, area and one which the powers that be didn’t quite understand yet. The so-called nasties were also an easy target. The press noticed early on that the growth of such features, and the independent market which catered to, and often created, them, could have a negative impact on mainstream establishments, such as Sky, which was still in its infancy. Whatever the reasoning behind it, in most cases – particularly with the most famous video nasty, The Evil Dead – the level of scorn aimed at these features was utterly unjustified.

More often than not, the films were being judged almost as propaganda, meant to incite hatred and violence. At one point, the infamous Mary Whitehouse even described video as the “biggest threat” to life in the UK, which is ludicrous even considering how many terrible things have happened in the wake of such protestations, many of which are unfairly attributed to video games/horror movies/Marilyn Manson. Death Trap is perhaps one of the best examples of this misunderstanding as, although it’s a nasty film and it looks like shit, it isn’t particularly gruesome or disturbing. It’s also unlikely that it’ll encourage anyone to pick up a scythe and lay waste to those around them, before feeding victims to a giant crocodile.

DT 8The majority of cuts were made to video nasties because of real-life animal cruelty or excessive violence to women – Death Trap boasts plenty of the latter, but the term “excessive” is of course open to interpretation. Nasty, rough and very odd, Death Trap is a schlocky affair, which tries desperately to pass itself off as a Southern Gothic nightmare. It thinks of itself as far worse than it actually is, and in a lot of ways, that’s why it was considered to be part of this most illustrious group. Nasty it most definitely is, but as video nasties go, Death Trap is probably lucky to even get a mention alongside so much other “filth”. If it wasn’t on the infamous List, or if Hooper and Englund’s names weren’t stamped on it, it’s doubtful we’d even still discuss it nowadays.

__________________________________
Follow Joey on twitter @JoeyLDG

#UKHSNasty

UKHS Does the Nasty! CANNIBAL FEROX (1981)

CF1UKHS Does the Nasty!
CANNIBAL FEROX (1981)

Continuing our terrific run of special Video Nasty features, Dave Wain dissects Umberto Lenzi’s notorious jungle grue-fest CANNIBAL FEROX…

Also known as: Make Them Die Slowly

“There was no need for them. They were unnecessary… And they were evil” – Graham Bright MP

Of all the evidence that filmmakers Marc Morris and Jake West scoured through whilst producing both their Video Nasty documentaries, I think it’s the above quote that really sticks in my throat. Bright was the Conservative MP for Luton East who, in 1983, introduced a Private Members Bill that formed the basis of the Video Recordings Act. He’s also more comically known for a classic piece of television where he states that “research IS taking place, and it WILL show these films not only affect young people, but I believe they affect dogs as well”. The damning thing is it succinctly represented the views of the sneering, Daily Mail reading middle-classes, delivered by the absolute epitome of what they embody: a stuffy segment of society, out and touch and unwilling to escape the utopian island mentality that they immerse themselves in.

CF2This nasty-era level of censorship and outrage has always existed. Take Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure (aka Fanny Hill), published in 1748. Considered the first erotic novel in the English language, it saw author John Cleland arrested for obscenity, with the book itself banned, seized and smuggled around countries throughout its history. Sound familiar?

Art exists to connect with our primal feelings. The medium in which it’s presented is irrelevant – paintings, literature or film. It should never be censored as all that represents is the more powerful members of society attempting to control what us commoners are permitted to view, read or watch. Like James Ferman, the BBFC director between 1975 and 1999, said, “It’s alright for you middle-class cineastes to see this film, but what would happen if a factory worker from Manchester happened to see it?”.

Though I disdain censorship of any kind, I have to say that the film I’ve chosen to discuss this week on UKHS is one I find thoroughly grim and disgusting. In fact, after watching it repeatedly over the past few weeks, I really don’t think I could bear to look at it again any time soon. Cannibal Ferox though is a fascinating piece of film-making and is – forgive the cliché – a product of its time.

CF3In 1980, cult Italian auteur Ruggero Deodato released what is perhaps the most infamous nasty of all: Cannibal Holocaust. Its notoriety is the stuff of legend, with classic tales such as its seizure by the Italian courts, and Deodato’s arrest and subsequent charge of murdering several of the actors on camera (!) now a firm part of genre lore. Irrespective of this insanity, such controversy – not to mention such iconic artwork – ensured that the film was a massive success when it hit video worldwide; so much so that Italian film producers immediately requested more of the same.

Director Umberto Lenzi was, at the start of the 1980s, a well-established journeyman whose career had managed to successfully move in time with the various genres that his homeland specialised in. From sword and sandal epics and Euro-spy cheese (Samson and the Slave Queen (1963), 008: Operation Exterminate (1965); to spaghetti westerns and giallo (Pistol for a Hundred Coffins (1968), Seven Blood-Stained Orchids (1972)), Lenzi proved himself adaptable to any style of picture. However, it was with Poliziotteschi – the Italian crime-thriller – where his directorial ability was best showcased, thanks to films like Milano Rovente (1973), Almost Human (1974) and The Manhunt (1975).

“I’m ashamed of this movie. It’s not fantasy; it’s reality. There’s a political side [to it]. It’s a bit fascist, in the deepest sense” – Giovanni Lombardo Radice

CF4By the time Cannibal Ferox came around, Lenzi already had previous form with this niche sub-genre. Some even say that it was he who started the whole Italian cannibal craze with the release of his The Man From Deep River in 1972 – a grisly little flick starring Me Me Lai and Ivan Rassimov which also found itself nasty-fied under its alternate title Deep River Savages. Cannibal Ferox begins in New York City, in the wake of a heroin trafficking scheme gone wrong. We meet Lt. Rizzo (played by Cannibal Holocaust lead Robert Kerman) who is on the lookout for Mike (Radice), the key suspect in this botched drug deal and who appears to have skipped town. Without much in the way of cohesive narrative, we then find ourselves introduced to Gloria (Lorraine de Selle), Rudy (Danile Mattei) and Pat (Zora Kerova); a trio on their way into the jungle for the purpose of completing Gloria’s doctoral thesis about cannibalism. Soon after their arrival in the tropical South American location they run into the fugitive Mike who, along with his friend Joe (Walter Lucchini), claims they have just escaped the clutches of some cannibals. Cue gratuitous mastication!

“The following feature is one of the most violent films ever made. There are at least two dozen scenes of barbaric torture and sadistic cruelty graphically shown. If the presentation of disgusting and repulsive subject matter upsets you, please do not view this film.”

CF5The first thing you see when you watch Cannibal Ferox, I’ve always treat such scaremongering warnings with a great deal of cynicism. However, with Cannibal Ferox it’s frighteningly accurate, the words “disgusting” and “repulsive” being the only suitable ones to describe this grim-natured movie. The animal cruelty present I find far worse than Cannibal Holocaust. There’s a coati being (very slowly) strangled by a snake with the camera staying fixed on it as it squeals in pain. Radice states that the Italian crew stopped and refused to film any more of the scene until the animal was aided to safety. Elsewhere we have a monkey being attacked by a jaguar, an iguana fending off a snake, a live turtle having its head and legs chopped off and a crocodile being killed and eaten by natives.

It’s depressing viewing, and while most the other nasties have seemed to mellow with age as some of their make-up effects become somewhat outdated, these scenes from Ferox retain the same vomit inducing ferocity as back when it was originally released. It’s not just the animal cruelty that repulses either: nightmarish scenes litter the movie, such as a woman being hung up with meat hooks inserted into her breasts, Radice’s Mike having his penis chopped off and then eaten, and also the top of his skull sliced off and his brains scooped out by the natives.

What makes the animal cruelty worse though is Lenzi’s apparent lack of contrition as he looks back on it: “I think a lot of this movie,” he states in the DVD audio commentary. “I wasn’t sure before now, but I find it very professional”. Even during these barbaric scenes, Lenzi seems to view them with an air of nonchalance in direct opposition to Radice, who, in the same commentary, squirms as he watches the picture. “We should have been forbidden to do things like this,” he says, stating how, even during the shoot, he refused to perform certain acts like killing a pig – despite Lenzi’s dogged insistence.

The irony, of course, is that Radice’s Mike is an absolute horror of a man. He’s arrogantly misogynistic, repeatedly referring to women as “twats”; he’s always on coke; he kills a native woman without any remorse – he’s a thoroughly reprehensible individual. Conversely, Radice in real life is a gentleman and he looks back on Ferox as the biggest mistake in his career. A classically trained actor who prefers the stage to the screen, Radice dismisses the film and Lenzi at every opportunity: “What you’re saying is shit, what you’re doing is shit but you have to [play it] serious,” he says, as well as, “These types of Italian directors were not renowned for working with actors.”.

CF6 Pre CertCannibal Ferox was released on VHS in the UK in 1982 by Replay Video in an uncut pre-cert version, running a little over 89 minutes. Listed as a nasty in July 1983, the later cut version had a whopping 6 minutes and 51 seconds removed from it. Resubmitted again to the BBFC in 2001 by Gold’s in the same pre-cut version, Ferox had another six seconds cut due to the sight of a small animal on the end of a rope banging against the side of a jeep. It is this version that haunts the now discontinued British DVD from VIPCO. In America, it was released uncut by Grindhouse Releasing in 2006.

Critically, Cannibal Ferox pales quite starkly in relation to Deodato’s Cannibal Holocaust, the latter being a far more accomplished production. The fact that Deodato recently prepared a special director’s cut removing all the animal cruelty speaks volumes towards how he views what is contained in his watershed shocker. Cannibal Ferox, meanwhile, remains as vile as always.

Its narrative is haphazardly plotted, while the characters don’t engage you anywhere near as much as their perilous situation needs them to. Perhaps Gloria comes closest to achieving some affinity with the audience but others leave you cold, the aforementioned Mike in particular. Upon its release the horror press condemned it and it’s since fared no better; Cinema Crazed call it “clunky and tedious”, while DVD Talk say it’s “poorly made”.
Personally speaking, I first caught Cannibal Ferox on VHS many years ago as I educated myself about just what video nasties were. At the time – and in its cut form – it seemed fun; it was a badge of honour that this young horror viewer had sat through such a well-known, grisly film.

CF7 VipcoRevisiting it uncut in 2014 it’s striking how rubbish it is. The animal cruelty I had to turn away from – it’s a needless, offensive attempt at basic shock value. In many ways though, Cannibal Ferox has succeeded: thirty-three years after its release we’re still talking about it. And, as a historical document, it certainly has its place within the legacy of envelope pushing horror. It’s not to be celebrated or fawned over, however; instead one should really question if, had it not attracted the attention of the overzealous press and politicians of the period, would anyone really remember it as anything other than a footnote in Italian genre history? Probably not, and that’s the place where it’d be best left abandoned.

__________________________________________________________________
Follow Dave on twitter @thedavewain

#UKHSNasty

 

 

UKHS Does The Nasty! VIDEO NASTIES PART 2: DRACONIAN DAYS (2014)

Layout 1 (Page 1)UKHS Does the Nasty!
VIDEO NASTIES PART 2: DRACONIAN DAYS (2014) Review

The official UK Horror Scene verdict on Marc Morris and Jake West’s sequel to their excellent 2010 documentary…

Directed by: Jake West
Written by: Marc Morris
UK Certification: 18
UK RRP: £24.99

Runtime: 97 minutes
Distributor: Nucleus Films
UK Release Date: OUT NOW

“It’s alright for you middle-class cineastes to see this film, but what would happen if a factory worker from Manchester happened to see it?”
– James Ferman, BBFC

After the critically acclaimed success of their documentary Video Nasties: Moral Panic, Censorship & Videotape, which brilliantly managed to encapsulate the hysteria created during the Video Nasty shenanigans (“research WILL show they can also affect dogs”), Marc Morris and Jake West in their second feature on the subject examine the years 1984 – 1999. This period of course found the aforementioned Mr. Ferman still at the helm, but in the wake of the Nasties outrage and the introduction of the Video Recordings Act which stipulated by law that ALL new releases had to be certified, our infamous BBFC Director was intent on bringing a public face to the institution.

cp1Ferman himself was American by birth and came to the UK following a period in the US Air Force. After a spell at Cambridge he worked behind the camera in television directing shows such as Armchair Theatre and Emergency Ward 10 before taking up a position at the BBFC in 1975 – a time when the organisation was accused of being too liberal. He was a very hands on Director, and had quite a penchant for conference appearances where he would regularly whip out a prepared compilation of scenes they had cut from notorious films, which when viewed in isolation naturally caused the audience to feel repugnant. Even respected genre critic and author Alan Jones stated how he came out pro-censorship following this showman-like spectacle. Only in the cold light of day would he realise that it was just clever propaganda and, as he states in Draconian Days, “from that moment on [Jones] would never trust the censor”.
Draconian Days goes on to analyse how individual tragedies affected the BBFC’s practices, and both the Hungerford Massacre and the murder of James Bulger are afforded pertinent scrutiny.

The key issues that surrounded these incidents include the difficulty in enforcing who watches a VHS in the home, and also the ability for a viewer to isolate a scene. The use of weapons too, it turns out, was a particular area of concern for Mr. Ferman – the ‘Rambo knife’ for example, and nunchucks, ninja stars and other martial arts orientated weaponry led to strict censorship. As we saw with Video Nasties part one though, such strict guidelines often resulted in frequent moments of idiocy such as the covering of the word ‘chainsaw’ in Fred Olen Ray’s Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers (1988).

hch1The hero of Morris and West’s first documentary was undoubtedly Martin Barker who was a continual source of enlightened reason. In Draconian Days he says something at the beginning which every person with the slightest regard for cinema – not just genre movies, should have etched into their brain: “We have to care about the way things got controlled in the past. If we don’t remember, we’ll allow them to do it again”.

At times I think there’s a perception that the Video Nasty period is looked back on with rose-tinted glasses as something that’s buried in the past. Draconian Days though highlights the members bill put forward by MP David Alton in 1994 which intended on implementing a new classification, ‘unsuitable for home entertainment’ – effectively banning anything that was not suitable for children. This received a political consensus AS WELL AS overwhelming public support. Pro-censorship lobbyists will always rear their ugly head – they don’t trust you, and they don’t think you’re intelligent enough to view material that they consider unsuitable. As one of the former BBFC examiners states to camera in regard to Lucio Fulci’s New York Ripper (1982), “It’s the most damaging film I’ve ever seen in my life. After the film three of us were quietly weeping. That there’s an audience for it… That says something about the viewing audience”.

This second Video Nasty documentary is essential viewing. While the first one I regarded more as an eye opening history lesson about a ridiculously heightened moral panic (even now the thought of someone walking into my Video Store and seizing my own product I find chilling), Draconian Days takes it and broadens the timeline, giving us a complete picture of the role of the BBFC through the 80s and 90s. There’s little about it to look back fondly over, be it with Ferman’s private conversations with studios to dissuade them from even submitting films like The Exorcist (1973) or Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974), or with BBFC examiners seemingly devoid of a balanced analysis of the work of one of Italy’s most loved genre filmmakers. Irrespective of the shocking nature of the organisations behaviour, Morris and West keep their documentary moving at a brisk pace with superb commentary from folk such as academics, industry experts, writers and Morris himself with archive clips inserted where necessary.

VN Draconian Days titleIf you care about artistic freedom as well the dangers of living in a society where the content of the films you want to see can be regulated by the actions of rogue MPs, self-serving BBFC directors or pompous campaigns in the Daily Mail, then it’s imperative you support this release from Nucleus films.

9 out of 10

The extras from the mammoth three disc, limited edition DVD set were sadly unavailable at press time.

_____________________________________________________________
Follow Dave on twitter @thedavewain

#UKHSNasty

 

UKHS Does The Nasty! HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THE PARK (1980)

House 1UKHS Does the Nasty!

HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THE PARK (1980)

Kicking off our very special week of Video Nasty features, Stuart Smith casts his analytical gaze over the sensationally sleazy Italian rape-revenge shocker HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THE PARK…

Also known as: La Casa Sperduta Nel Parco, Der Schlitzer, The Ripper on the Edge

“In our societies we don’t believe in constraining the media, still less in censorship.”

Believe it or not, these are the words of one Margaret Thatcher PM shortly before one of the biggest and most insane media frenzies in British history. These words would of course prove both bitterly ironic and completely worthless as politicians from all parties and a tabloid media practically foaming at the mouth went on a crusade that changed the way movies in the UK would be consumed forever, leading to the introduction of the Video Recordings Act 1984 and the Video Packaging Review Committee.

As video made its way into homes across the country, enterprising independent distributors such as VIPCO and GO Video were quick to fill the then unregulated market with lurid sex and horror epics that otherwise had fallen foul of the censor. Marketing the films using ridiculously over the top and gore-drenched cover art, it wasn’t long before they began to draw the wrong kind of attention; a mixture of fear towards this new technology and questionable political grandstanding, with the overt hypocrisies of the ‘free press’ coming to the fore. Films like The Driller Killer (1979), Zombie Flesh Eaters (1979) and I Spit On Your Grave (1978) were suddenly all scapegoats for every social and political ill that Britain, at the time, was then experiencing: a handy distraction for a government up to no good!

House 2It was a difficult and crazy period, with certain unfortunate distributors landing themselves in jail for stocking certain tapes and for supposedly depraving the minds of the general public. It all sounds ridiculous in hindsight, but in the early eighties the confusion and the constant evolution of the political landscape meant that it was a very real possibility that the police were going to raid your local video store.

After a few years of headlines and assorted prosecutions, a final banned list of thirty-nine titles emerged (whittled down from seventy-two targetable ones). All successfully prosecuted under the Obscene Publications Act, they became something of a shopping list for a whole generation of horror fans. Hunting them down on often bootlegged video cassettes, it was rebellious, dirty and wrong… But it had to be done if you wanted to be in the club. Some of these Nasties have become acknowledged classics (Last House on the Left, Zombie Flesh Eaters); others have rightly almost vanished into obscurity (Mardi Gras Massacre (1978), Night of the Bloody Apes (1969), and several pushed the boundaries of taste and common sense (The Beast In Heat (1977), SS Experiment Camp (1976); each one though is a curious monstrosity that every British horror fan should still seek out.

One such film is Ruggero Deodato’s La Casa Sperduta Nel Parco, or House on the Edge of the Park as it’s better known. Made in three weeks straight after the directors much more famous Nasty Cannibal Holocaust (1980), it was quickly eclipsed by its bigger, more popular cousin. Whilst Cannibal Holocaust was a sprawling horror epic about the evils of the media, House on the Edge of the Park is a taut, claustrophobic affair that deals with the class system and boasts one very skewed moral compass.

House 3Like Cannibal Holocaust, it’s an extremely confrontational movie but it is arguably much more representative of what it really means to be a ‘Nasty’. Featuring a roll call of Nasty-era talent like David A Hess (Last House On the Left), Giovanni Lombardo Radice (aka the most mutilated man in cinema history) and Cannibal Ferox’s (1981) Lorraine DeSelle, it was most obviously conceived as a straight up exploitation film; not surprising given that it was written by Gianfranco Clerici and Vincenzo Mannino of New York Ripper (1982) fame. It was ripe for the fledgling UK video market when it first reared its ugly head in 1983, but – just as its clear inspiration Last House On the Left was – it was made by a director with more smarts than your average exploitation hack. A mixture of social commentary and cynically vicious incident, House on the Edge of the Park is very much a film of two halves but one that must be seen if the impact of these films in their pre-VRA days is to be understood.

Giving the viewer no time to settle in, we’re immediately hit with a Blitzkrieg opening: Alex (Hess), driving through New York, forces a young woman off the road. He then forces himself into her car where he proceeds to assault, rape and strangle her. It’s raw, brutal and unpleasant, and pushes upon the viewer its antagonists mind set. The film then changes gear for a while as Alex and his simple minded friend Ricky (Radice) are invited to a party by a rich young couple whose car they have helped fix. Once at the party sexual tensions and social politics begin to play out and it becomes more and more apparent that the hosts are mocking the two interlopers, seeing them as their lesser. The naïve Ricky in particular is exploited as he just tries to have fun. Alex however is wise to it: sharp and dangerous, he quickly turns the tables on the party goers and an escalating tide of rape, mutilation and violence soon follows.

House 4The first half of House on the Edge of the Park is a brilliantly paced and extremely tense affair, one that could rightly exist alongside other key rape-and-revenge films like the aforementioned Last House on The Left and I Spit on Your Grave. However it differs in one key respect to those films and it is here where it stands apart, becoming something much meaner and crueler in tone: it tells its story almost entirely from the point of view of Alex. From the start we’re inside his head, seeing the world through his eyes. Last House on the Left and I Spit on Your Grave both tell their stories from the point of view of the victims and, despite their obvious exploitation roots, use their atrocities to make some sort of moral point regarding the destructive nature of violence and revenge.

House on the Edge of the Park though wallows in the damaged mind of its antagonist and at times seems to take as much perverse pleasure in all the terror and violations as Alex himself does. Take the film’s opening scene: by starting with such an incredibly brutal opening and showing Alex’s true colours so soon, the film lays its cards unflinchingly out on the table, and leaves everyone watching in one very awkward and edgy position. Knowing who – and what – Alex is and what he is capable of so early in the film means that every scene after that is dripping with his potential for violence. We know it is going to come at some point, but we don’t know when. It’s incredibly tense.
Unfortunately, once Alex’s straight razor comes out and the violence starts, the film spirals out of control and it inevitably becomes the same kind of nasty trash that much of the first half manages to avoid.

House 5 skyline adIt becomes difficult to defend it beyond the fact that it is very well made, its mixture of illogical seductions and sex scenes leading to an utterly ridiculous and painfully patronising twist ending that feels like a desperate last minute add on: a trite justification for all the terrorisation and assault that has preceded it. It also becomes hard not to concede accusations of misogyny as the film hints the women in the film are all ‘asking for it’. This is particularly evident in the introduction of Cindy (Brigitte Petronio). Coming late to the film, she exists solely to be abused and mutilated, offering nothing to the overall action, and the suggestions that she is under age renders the film’s finale all the more obnoxious. Becoming a victim of its own intentions, there is no escaping that despite Deodato’s skill as a filmmaker it’s one deeply unpleasant movie.

House on the Edge of the Park’s part in the Nasties scandal was a little more clandestine than some of the more famous titles. A permanent member of the Director of Public Prosecutions’ obscene list, it was the film used by then BBFC patriarch James Ferman as an example of how difficult his job was becoming: he’d regularly screen the film at various debates to outline the extremity of material which was flooding the country. What is particularly interesting about this is how it exposes the arrogance and hypocrisy of a select few in thinking that they have the right to decide what is and isn’t safe for everyone else to view. Considering the film’s themes of social division and hierarchal contempt too it’s somewhat ironic that Ferman would use it, suggesting instead that he was more scared of the under-classes being able to choose and think for themselves than he was bothered about protecting them.

I can’t in good conscience recommend the film to anyone. It is at times complex, and it indeed hints at a better, more intelligent film under its surface, but it quickly becomes a ruthless and degrading experience that even the most hardened horror fan would struggle to justify. It is though what a good Video Nasty should be: confrontational, morally ambiguous, dirty – even just a little bit dangerous. When Alex remarks to his captives, “No one tells Alex what to do!”, he could easily be speaking for a generation of film fans such as myself that refused to let the law get in the way of our viewing habits.

House 6 vipcoEven thirty years on there’s something wonderfully anarchic about it all and House on the Edge of the Park’s anything-goes attitude is a fitting example. The scandal itself may seem relatively quaint today, with assorted extreme horror now readily available mostly uncut on the high street. But these were game changers and the fine line they walked helped shape the way in which all home entertainment in the UK was packaged, presented and consumed. Video Nasties kicked the door in, invaded your home and gleefully tortured and raped the moral fibres of a nation then-desperately repressed.

 

House at the BBFC:
The Film’s British Censorship History

⦁ 16th March 1981: Rejected outright for cinema release

⦁ 1983: Released UNCUT on video by Skyline in 1983. Subsequently prosecuted and banned

⦁ 1st July 2002: Resubmitted by Protected Ltd. for release by VIPCO. Classified 18 with a whopping 11 mins 43 secs of cuts: “Cuts required to several sequences of sexual violence, humiliating depictions of female nudity and gross violence, in accordance with BBFC policy and guidelines.”

⦁ 26th September 2011: Resubmitted again by Argent Films Ltd. for DVD release by Shameless. Classified 18 with 42 secs of cuts: “ Company required to make cuts to one sequence of sexualised violence in which a razor is traced over a woman’s naked body after which her body is cut with the razor. Cuts required in accordance with BBFC guidelines, policy and the Video Recordings Act 1984.”

Get it uncut: There are multiple uncut editions available from various non-UK sources. It is also readily available on youtube…
______________________________________________________________
Follow Stuart on twitter @StuartSmith17
#UKHSNasty

NEXT WEEK ON UK HORROR SCENE..

 

DailymailvideonastyheadlineUKHS DOES THE NASTY!
SEVEN DAYS OF SADISTIC VIDEOS AND ASSORTED SICK FILTH!

With Jake West’s and Marc Morris’ awesome new documentary Video Nasties: Draconian Days about to hit the shelves, and the 30th anniversary of the Video Recordings Act right around the corner too, UK Horror Scene are thrilled to be running our very own Video Nasties series all next week!

Be sure to join us from MONDAY 14TH JULY for a whole slew of coverage celebrating this most contentious era of British horror history. Featuring analysis, reviews and some terrific exclusive content, our week of video violence is going to be something very special indeed; seven days of sleazy psycho killers, jungle gut-munchers and naughty, naughty nuns!

Abandon all taste and decency: UKHS are about to get Nasty…