A masterful train wreck

I didn’t know that famed porno director Tinto Brass was still alive. But at 90, he surviving on his pure, unadulterated hatred for Bob Guccione (who died in 2010). According to recent reports, Tinto is still fighting to keep his name off the recent version of Caligula, which, according to Malcolm McDowell, was released at Cannes. Brass argues that editing is an important part of his directing process, and since he wasn’t involved in editing any version of Caligula…including the latest one…it’s not his film.

I’m sort of with Brass on this. Not because I give a shit about the integrity of his “process”, but because producers and Penthouse executives need to leave well enough alone. Caligula is a cult classic. It’s flaws, inexplicable porno shots, and incoherent plot are actually what make that movie memorable. It’s sort of perfect in its own unique, stupid way. Despite the protests of the talent involved, I don’t think there’s any way to cut Caligula into a great, or even good, film.

But I get it. It’s sort of embarrassing to have a film written by Gore Vidal, and starring Malcolm McDowell, Helen Mirren, Peter O’Toole, and John Gielgud get reduced to a hardcore porno. I feel McDowell’s frustrations in his Instagram post. He gave a performance of a lifetime that perhaps doesn’t get recognized due to the film’s controversy.

But I had a similar concern when Peter Bogdanovich announced that he was finishing Orson Welles’ The Other Side of the Wind for Netflix. What was fascinating about The Other Side was that IT WAS unfinished. It fit Welles’ reputation perfectly: he couldn’t finish a film, and The Other Side of the Wind was supposed to be his magnum opus. There was no way that the finished product could have matched our expectations, especially since Welles couldn’t be involved in finishing it (because he died in 1985).

Good for McDowell. He might finally be recognized for his hard work. But Caligula will always be remembered as an expensive, and violent, hardcore porno film starring the best talent that money could buy. Of course it was a train wreck, but it was a beautiful one at that 👍

wings hauser

I’m sure Italy is a wonderful place: nice people, delightful food and wine, rich history, beautiful scenery, etc, etc. But ‘giallo’ films and Italian horror as a whole…I’ll just say they make me absolutely sick.

And I think I know why:

Caligula.

Now Caligula can’t be considered ‘giallo’ OR horror, but it might as well be. If you recall, that film absolutely scared the shit out of me as a kid and I never quite recovered. So my response to Italian horror is similar to having alcohol poisoning: if you get it once by drinking vodka, you can’t quite stomach vodka again. The Italian style of tight closeups, zooms, disorienting music and editing, and fixation on gore and nudity just make me a little queasy.

But I have a job to do. And that job is to watch EVERY cheapass horror film on Tubi. That includes the filmography of the legendary Lucio Fulci. So I started at the worst possible place:

A Cat in the Brain.

The movie forced me to do some research while I was watching it, largely because I had no idea what the fuck was going on. Fulci plays the lead: himself as a film director that’s slowly becoming disturbed by a movie he’s making. As we watch him descend into madness, we’re shown random clips from prior films, almost as if this movie was thrown together in the most halfassed way possible.

A Cat in the Brain was produced towards the end of Fulci’s distinguished career, so there’s no telling where he was mentally. But I’ll say this: Fulci did a much better job of cobbling together this Frankenstein of a movie than Godfrey Ho did for Robo Vampire.

I neglected to mention that A Cat in the Brain is considered a “comedy” (thus deploying the “covering your ass” method over decade before Tommy Wiseau did for The Room). Maybe the humor went over my head, but I was too petrified watching some guy beat his wife’s face off to laugh.

You needn’t worry though, because this movie has a happy ending: a disgusting Fulci sails off into the sunset with a bikini-clad woman that’s at least a third his age.

I hated A Cat in the Brain. But Fulci fans love it. Just check out the reviews at IMDB.

After watching that shitshow I needed a palate cleanser. That’s when I found the 1984 Wings Hauser and Bo Hopkins (RIP) classic , Mutant.

Perhaps calling Mutant a ‘classic’ is a bit of a stretch, yet despite its lackluster script, it is competently made. It’s a story we’ve seen a thousand times before: strangers roll into town, weird things happen, everyone turns into zombies, heroes save the day in the most ham fisted way, blah blah blah.

Of course, none of the character archs pay off. Least of all Bo Hopkins’, the alcoholic town sheriff with a dark past. Nevertheless, Hauser and Hopkins’ performances carry the day, ALMOST to the point where you don’t feel cheated out of your time or money.

Actually, I just LOVE saying ‘Wings Hauser’. It sounds like Wings of Desire, the 1987 Wim Wenders film. Then I imagine Wings Hauser being in Wings of Desire and it makes me happy. His might be my most favorite name of anyone who has ever had a name.

Wings Hauser

It’s not his birth name, but still…

the long, hot summer

Where were my parents growing up?

What was I doing watching such classics as The Deer Hunter, Taxi Driver, Paris Texas, and Caligula before the age 13?

In fact, I was right about to turn 13 when I watched Caligula for the first time. It was a long, boring summer. I was dragging ass on mowing the yard. My dog puked on the tile floor. And instead of taking care of both of those problems, for whatever reasons we had a rented copy of Caligula so I popped it in the DVD player.

I remember the moment better than I remember 9/11.

Next thing I know, Malcolm McDowell was fucking his sister, penises were everywhere, and there was blood. So, so much blood (with a few blowjobs to boot).

I just didn’t see it coming.

Hardcore porn and bloody movies weren’t anything new to me. But when they got mixed together, you go from being aroused to utterly horrified in one frame. It’s too much for a young mind to take in.

I was so traumatized by the experience, I couldn’t watch it again until I was 20.

But now I’m happy that it’s being recognized as a truly awful classic, and a marquee role for Malcolm McDowell and a disgustingly hott Helen Mirren. It’s been therapeutic for me to say the least.