THE SEWER RATS - DVD REVIEW

Based on a story by the film’s star Richard Harrison, Roberto Montero’s seldom-seen crime melodrama THE SEWER RATS (1973), which was released in Italy under the far more fitting title UNA DONNA PER SETTE BASTARDI (trans: “A Woman for Seven Bastards”), is one of those oddball hybrids that defies adequate categorization. In keeping with the time and place in which it was made, the film merely transposes a rudimentary spaghetti western premise into a contemporary, cost-efficient setting, and like its predecessors, is also inhabited with the usual assortment of implacable characters. Simultaneously amateurish yet entertaining, Montero’s grubby little picture provides a convenient – if impoverished - bridge between the once fashionable spaghetti western trend and the grittier ’70s crime films, which at the time, were just gaining popularity on Italian cinema screens.

 

A veteran of numerous Italian westerns himself, Harrison stars as the eponymous stranger who arrives at a decrepit old mining town after his battered Volkswagen Beetle breaks down on a desolate dirt road. Burdened with a game leg (he is later referred to as simply “the cripple”), he immediately gains the distrust of the town’s deprived populace (which consists of six people in total!), and told to promptly, “Move it on outta here, like a cat with its tail on fire!” As if to recall his former days as a Clint Eastwood impersonator, Harrison (he was in fact offered the role in Sergio Leone’s trailblazing Italian western A FISTFUL OF DOLLARS [1964] before Eastwood) commits himself with the proper panache as the antiheroic lead, squinting his eyes and grasping at his one crutch (which serves as his weapon of choice in these here parts), as if he were about to take part in a quick-draw showdown. 

 

It doesn’t take Harrison long to realize that the reptilian Carl (Antonio Casale, who also appeared in Sergio Martino’s solid Italocrime picture THE VIOLENT PROFESSIONALS the same year) holds “the knife by the handle around this joint”, which consists of several “pigsty shacks” in the middle of nowhere. And to make matters worse, Carl is also the owner of the town’s only vehicle, which he uses to bring back supplies like “beer and whiskey”, but it’s Carl’s insatiably adulterous wife Rita (Dagmar Lassander), the town’s only woman who, with her bedroom glances, causes further distrust and dissention among this group of scoundrels (“She’s worse than drugs that woman!”). 

 

But despite the double-crossing inclinations of the entire cast, it is the brooding Gordon (Gordon Mitchell, nicely dubbed on English prints by prolific voice actor Robert Sommer), an ex-Army vet, who manages to keep most of the town in check. It is revealed early on that both Carl and Gordon have, unbeknownst to everyone else, stashed a substantial amount of gold mined by an earlier interloper, who was also done away with during the film’s cryptic prologue. However, when the gold suddenly goes missing, Gordon’s caginess soon escalates into hatred for his purely coincidental enemies, which leads to the expected, violent collision, and a none-too surprising revelation…

 

Utilizing Gordon Mitchell’s second-rate Cave Film Studios backlot (seen in umpteen Demofilo Fidani westerns and a sure-fire sign of the film’s cheapjack origins), the threadbare locale does serve the film well, lending further weight to its already claustrophobic atmosphere. Featuring plenty of underhanded behavior, the highly talkative script is rather light on action, but makes up for it with plenty of scuzzy sexploitation. Co-written by Leila Buongiorno (who also co-wrote the script for Brunello Rondi’s WOMEN’S PRISON [1974], yet another lurid sexploitation film), Dagmar Lassander is exploited to the max and seems to enjoy taking advantage of her smoldering sexuality (“Stop your playin’ around, or one day you’ll have to pay for it!”), but when Smith (Ivano Staccioli), one of the more unbalanced miscreants in the group, attempts to rape her (“I’m gonna get mine!”), she fights him off with a broken J&B bottle. However, this doesn’t stop her from continually teasing and taunting all the sexually frustrated men, much to the chagrin of her abusive husband Carl, whereupon he viciously rapes her in an extended bit of brutality. 

 

Considering all the film’s nihilism, much of the colorful B-movie cast (which also includes the always reliable Luciano Rossi as a mute, harmonica-playing hunchback and Andrea Checchi, who is a long way from his role alongside Barbara Steele in Mario Bava’s gothic masterpiece BLACK SUNDAY [1960]), is rather poorly developed and given very little to do other than loiter around their ramshackle surroundings, which, for the most part generates little suspense. Unlike the westerns it draws inspiration from, not a single gun is seen or used in the entire film, which is most certainly a novel approach to the material, but for the scrappy conclusion, THE SEWER RATS still serves up a couple of gory demises via a switchblade to the neck and a pitchfork to the gut, with Harrison utilizing his trusty walking aid most effectively. 

 

Montero (who is sometimes credited under his full name, Roberto Bianchi Montero), a more commercially-inclined filmmaker, who’s career goes all the way back to ’40s, worked in just about every conceivable genre the industry had to offer, but for whatever reason he never directed an all-out crime film. However, his earlier giallo-style hybrid THE EYE OF THE SPIDER (1972) and his subsequent softcore sex romp LA BRAVATA (1977), were set against the shadowy criminal underworld, but offer no such thrills seen in other, more prominent Eurocrime efforts. Despite its obvious financial limitations and somewhat leisurely pace, Montero wrings as much as possible from Harrison’s thin foundation, which is also helped along by the film’s enthusiastic cast, but the overall cheapness just about overwhelms everything. 

 

Never released on North American home video, THE SEWER RATS made the rounds via several home video labels throughout Europe, including a few English-friendly options such as Sunrise Video’s Greek VHS videocassette, which was widescreen, but also slightly cut. Although decent quality for the time, this tape was missing a part of the fight between Casale and Staccioli, but was intact on the exceedingly rare Venezuelan VHS videotape (as UNA MUJER PARA SIETE MACHOS). Outside of the grey market, it has remained difficult to see even during the digital age, but thanks to Germany’s Mr. Banker Films, THE SEWER RATS was quietly released on DVD in 2022. Distributed under its German title DAS RATTENNEST (trans: The Rats Nest) and limited to only 500 copies, this PAL region 2 DVD contains German, Italian and English audio options, and also retains the film’s original 1.85 framing (with 16x9 enhancement, to boot!), which definitely helps better appreciate Mario Mancini’s widescreen compositions. On the other hand, anyone expecting a pristine restoration may be disappointed. Taken from a slightly faded Italian print (which actually helps better accentuate the bleak desert locales), the usual scratches, dirt and debris are frequent, as are some occasional missing frames, but for the most part, it is completely watchable. Unsurprisingly, the audio is also full of imperfections and saddled with a lo-fi, VHS-like hiss, but given the film’s rarity, it’s still great to finally see this film get some attention, which, despite its many shortcomings, amounts to a decent little programmer. Order THE SEWER RATS from Amazon Germany.  

 

[Author’s Note: Many Thanks to Michael Anderson for some additional video info, and also to the late Bill Barounis for finding me a copy of the rare Greek VHS videocassette of THE SEWER RATS all those years ago.—DC]

TRHAUMA - DVD REVIEW

Although labeled in many genre reference books as a giallo, Gianni Martucci’s TRHAUMA has more similarities to the then popular stalk-and-slash craze, which, thanks to the enormous popularity of John Carpenter’s HALLOWEEN (1978), dominated box office receipts at the time.  If it’s not glaringly obvious by the misspelled title card, TRHAUMA is pretty much the rock-bottom of the genre, albeit with a few odd touches and sleazy characteristics to keep it mildly entertaining.

A disheveled man (Per Holgher – credited as L’Essere / “The Being”) with a disfigured blind eye roams the crypts of a large Italian villa, who, in his spare time, is also constructing a large toy castle made entirely of children’s building blocks.  As he secretly works away, a wailing cat in the background is soon ‘hushed-up’ when he removes its head with a large sickle – but don’t worry, folks, it’s all very unconvincingly done.  In the meantime, a group of well-to-do socialites – including a photographer named Paul (Timothy Wood), his model Olga (Anna Maria Chiatante), a wealthy industrialist (Franco Diogene) and his newest secretary (Gina Mancinelli), and also Carlo and Silvia (Roberto Posse and Silvia Mauri), an unhappily married couple – are all visiting Andrea (“Ronny Russ” / aka Gaetano Russo)’s sizable country estate. But for reasons unknown, this house seems to be a thorn in the side of his wife Lilly (“Dafne Price” / aka Domitilla Cavazza), and as night falls, everyone becomes the target of the aforementioned resident madman, but who is that mysterious figure taunting him with new boxes of building blocks…?

 

As unusual as the above premise sounds, the set-up is about as simplistic as it gets, and the second half is simply one extended stalking sequence à la HALLOWEEN (at one point, our heroine even stabs her attacker in the eye with an arrow!), but without any of that film’s expertly-handled misc en scène and suspense.  Like any low-budget slasher film, characters simply gather together to more conveniently get bumped-off, but Martucci’s film also contains unavoidable gialli elements including an especially unpleasant group of people with plenty of dirty secrets and hidden agendas. At one point, Paul blackmails Silvia with compromising photos of her taken while she was having a lesbian tryst with Olga, while Andrea is probably the most pathetic of the group: a degenerate gambler who is obviously financially supported by his wife (“You’re crazy if you think I’ll continue to finance your megalomania!” exclaims Lilly).  

 

Characterization is certainly not the film’s main impetus with most of the ‘stars’ appearing tired and bored, although Holgher seems to relish his part as the mute killer. In one of the film’s most unexpected scenes, his character has his evil way with Olga’s corpse in an open field, which seems to have strayed in from a completely different film. During TRHAUMA’s extended finale – which is also an obvious nod to Italian Gothics – Lilly is pursued by “The Being” as she endlessly runs through the dark villa in her negligee, all of which adds up to a rather formula pic without much of a personal touch. 

 

Director Martucci only directed a grand total of five films, which also included the entertaining and highly exploitable poliziesco BLAZING FLOWERS (1978) with George Hilton and Marc Porel, and THE RED MONKS (1988), a relatively bland horror cheapie (again with Russo) put together during the fading days of Italo-horror, which gained some unexpected popularity due to the controversial – and confusing – “Lucio Fulci presents” moniker it got saddled with. As for TRHAUMA, it’s inconceivable to think that it took fully three writers (namely Alessandro Capone, director Martucci and star Russo) to slap this story together, and outside of a few fitful spurts of gore and plentiful nudity, most viewers will probably find TRHAUMA pretty dull. 

 

Even during the VHS days, this obscurity was never circulated in an English-friendly version, and despite being released in Italy, French Canada, and even Korea, both the French Canadian (released by Les Plaisirs Vidéo as DÉMENCE) and Korean VHS tape (in Italian with Korean subtitles) featured edited versions of the film. Gone was the film’s entire pre-credit sequence and the brief but rather startling scene of necrophilia, which totaled just over four-and-a-half minutes of footage. Thankfully, CG Entertainment’s Italian DVD from 2009 features the uncut version, and unlike the overly dark and murky VHS tapes, CG’s DVD is a vast improvement in every way, which is significantly sharper, brighter, and more colourful, allowing those more adventurous viewers to better appreciate this sleazy little thriller. Incidentally, the credit sequence on the DVD unfolds over a plain black background unlike the earlier VHS tapes, which open with kaleidoscopic brush-strokes, adding extra fuel to Ubaldo Continiello’s disco-infused score (“Come on, dance…”), which also includes several lengthy excerpts from his earlier work on Ruggero Deodato’s The LAST CANNIBAL WORLD (a.k.a. JUNGLE HOLOCAUST, 1977). Unfortunately, their disc only features an Italian Dolby Digital 2.0 audio track with Italian subtitles for the hard of hearing, and brief Italian biographies (remember those?) for director Martucci, and actors Gaetano Russo and Roberto Posse. 

 

Despite its humbler origins and flimsy plot devices, those even slightly entertained by the trashier gialli movies of the ’70s may find sporadic entertainment value here. 

DEEP BLOOD - DVD REVIEW

The once-mighty Italian film industry was in a constant state of decline during the ’Eighties, what with home video steadily gaining popularity and big budget American films dominating the box office. Leave it to ever-lovable exploitationeer Aristide Massaccesi (best-known as Joe D’Amato, natch!), to take advantage of the opportunity to try catering to the demands of small screen audiences when he embarked on directing and producing a series of modest ‘Americanized’ movies through his prolific production company, Filmirage. Oftentimes referred to as the “Italian Roger Corman’, Massaccesi’s perseverance also provided continued employment for a number of experienced ‘old hands’, including Umberto Lenzi, Lucio Fulci and Claudio Fragasso, while a few up-and-coming directors also got a chance to helm their first films (e.g, Michele Soavi’s STAGE FRIGHT [1986] being one such example) for said production house. Unfortunately, outside of the odd spirited effort, most of the Filmirage-produced output remains unbearably bland, and nowhere is this more apparent than with “Raf Donato” / Aristide Massaccesi’s awkwardly-titled DEEP BLOOD (1989), a truly dire, late-in-the-game JAWS (1975, D: Steven Spielberg) rip-off, which is easily one of THE worst titles in the entire Filmirage catalogue.[1]And that’s really saying something!

Barring some minor (albeit head-scratching) variations, DEEP BLOOD is pretty much interchangeable with any other cheapjack imitation of Spielberg’s mega-blockbuster, but in an interesting – if exceedingly poorly-executed – sub-plot, the giant killer shark in DEEP BLOOD is depicted as a sort of Native-American god (hence the film’s original shooting title, “Wakan”, a loose interpretation of Wakan Tanka / “Wakȟáŋ Tȟáŋka”, which roughly translates to “Great Spirit” or “Great Mystery”) whose spirituality is, according to the film, irrevocably connected to us all; a unique perspective that was also explored far-more-thoughtfully in many an earlier ‘animal attack’ film, such as Michael Anderson’s ORCA (1977) and Arthur Hiller’s hauntingly unforgettable NIGHTWING (1979), whose killer bats may have been unleashed by an wrathful medicine man. Sadly, despite this potentially promising premise, Massaccesi struggles to do anything even remotely interesting with it. 

In the film’s clunky opening, four young boys barbecuing sausages on the beach are approached by a creepy old fellow (Van Jensens), who, rather unconvincingly, turns out to be a tribal chief elder (“Boys, this is a time of magic written in the sky…”) who warns them of the (quote) “great beast Wakan”, an ancient sea God that protects the oceans. Given an arrow box (a sort of talisman covered with tribal carvings) as a (quote) “seal of their pact”, Miki, John, Allan and Ben promptly bury this box in the shallow beach sand, and as Carlo Maria Cordio’s wretched, unappealing music swells on the soundtrack, the four boys swear – over a blood oath, no less! –  that they will never give up their pact. Reunited after what appears to be at least a decade, the four now-grown men, plan on spending their summer vacation together. But when John (John K. Brune) is killed by a giant shark, Miki (Frank Baroni) enlists the help of his friends Allan (Allen Cort) and Ben (Keith Kelsch) to destroy this giant beast…

As rudimentary as the plot may be, DEEP BLOOD is a hopelessly drawn-out mess whose least appealing aspect is its tendency to focus way too much time on needless and painfully mundane ‘drama’. Resembling some ABC AFTER SCHOOL SPECIAL (1972 – 1997) without any of that show’s heart or energy, the trite sub-plots herein mostly revolve around Ben’s aspirations to become a pro golfer (“What’s your story about golf?”); Allan’s reticence about attending officer training school; and Miki’s hatred towards his overworked, absentee father, the latter of which is laughably brought to light in one of the film’s most memorably embarrassing dialogue exchanges (“I hate you, man! I hate you with all my heart and all my soul!”). Many of the film’s peripheral characters are also pale imitations of characters from Spielberg’s film, including Ben’s father (Charles Brill), the local fisherman, whose take on Robert Shaw’s character Quint from JAWS also harbours many personal demons (“Since Jimmy’s death. I can’t go back out to sea again!”), a barely-touched-upon and utterly confusing sub-plot, which remains one of the most pathetic takes on Shaw’s famous U.S.S. Indianapolis speech from any JAWS imitator. 

Aside from the seemingly never-ending and overwrought narrative, the all-important shark attacks are equally pathetic, all of which lack absolutely any tension or energy whatsoever. This is further compounded by the use of mismatched stock footage of real sharks, underwater ‘inserts’ of people thrashing around in what is clearly a swimming pool, and some woefully unconvincing miniature work, which was also brazenly stolen from Enzo G. Castellari’s THE LAST SHARK (a.k.a. GREAT WHITE, 1981). Incidentally, many of these ‘borrowed’ scenes also later showed up in ‘William Snyder’ / Bruno Mattei’s CRUEL JAWS (1995), yet another appallingly bad JAWS mock-up / knockoff, which even had the audacity to steal footage from D’Amato’s meagre effort without the slightest hint of shame! (Such were the waning years of the formerly glorious Italian exploitation movie industry.) 

Unsurprisingly never released onto either U.S. or Canadian home video, Massaccesi’s hastily-thrown-together flounder of a fish-flick nonetheless managed to surface on VHS videocassette in most of Europe (in Germany it was retitled SHAKKA), but the majority of English-speaking viewers likely came across this film via dubbed-down copies taken from Shochiku Home Video’s English-language Japanese VHS, which was simply titled SHARKS. Unbelievably, the film first surfaced on DVD in the Czech Republic through sell-thru video specialists Ritka Video, a release which boasted (quote) “Adventurous horror from the depths of the sea from the famous Joe D’Amata [sic]”, and in a rare occurrence, this disc featured both Czech and English language options. However, in 2014, as part of their short-lived ‘Collection inedite’, French boutique label CrocoFilms released a Limited Edition DVD, which, despite the disc’s packaging of ‘Francaise Uniquement’ / French Only, the film’s preferred English language version is also included. Presented in a 1.33:1 screen ratio, CrocoFilms’ disc looks and sounds just fine, and is a nice improvement over the many bootlegged copies that made the rounds for years. 

Although principally tailored for French-speaking viewers, the DVD includes an on-camera interview (in French only) with Videotopsie’s David Didelot (39m13s), who enthusiastically discusses a number of ‘sharksploitation’ films, D’Amato’s career and the present title in particular, all the while showcasing a number of rare VHS releases of said films. Additional extraneous extras include Memory of the Dead (21m46s), an ambitious albeit amateurish zombie film; footage from Bloody Weekend (6m44s), a French horror convention, which also includes appearances from Caroline Munro and Luigi Cozzi; and Histoire de Requins (11m33s), a collection of cut-rate shark attack thrillers, including Virginia Stone’s EVIL IN THE DEEP (1974, [“See it BEFORE you go in the water!”]), Rene Cardona Jr.’s TINTORERA (1977), Harry Kerwin’s BARRACUDA (1978) and Enzo G. Castellari’s THE SHARK HUNTER (1979), all of which are far more enjoyable than Massaccesi’s lifeless, water-logged sinker.

---

[1]According to an interview with Massaccesi in Paul J. Brown’s and Trevor Barley’s aka: Joe D’Amato – The Man and his Movies (1995, Midnight Media), Massaccesi states that “Raf Donati” is in fact a real person and they worked together on his 1975 film, THE RED COATS (1975). “I recruited him because I needed somebody who was able to speak good English. I directed the film and credited it to him because that year I had directed more movies as Joe D’Amato and I didn’t want to show that I made everything.”

OASIS OF THE LOST GIRLS - DVD REVIEW

Although most widely-known for producing a number of films for Jess Franco, including classics such as THE AWFUL DR. ORLOF (1962), ‘on the side’ (so to speak) the spirited if notoriously cut-price French production company Eurociné (owned and operated by Marius Lesœur [1911-2003]) also dabbled in whatever exploitable genre happened to be profitable at any given time; a business model which resulted in a number of unforgettably tawdry productions, such as Patrice Rhomm’s ELSA FRAULEIN SS (a.k.a. FRAULEIN DEVIL [1977]) and Jean Rollin’s & Julián Esteban’snow-(in)famous nudie horror ZOMBIE LAKE (1980). At other times, out of pure necessity to try and get as many films out into the marketplace as possible on a constant basis, while cutting as many corners as they could in the process, Eurociné at times also, in true Frankensteinian fashion, stitched-together whole chunks of pre-existing films with newly-shot and/or redubbed footage: the kind of cinematic schizophrenia of which “John O’Hara” / a.k.a. José Jara’s OASIS OF THE LOST GIRLS (1981) is such a prime – if that’s the proper word to use! – example. 

Taking cues from Eurociné’s earlier, equally cobbled-together Pierre Chevalier film HOUSE OF CRUEL DOLLS (a.k.a. THE HOUSE OF THE LOST DOLLS, 1974), OASIS likewise employs the same tried-and-trusted ‘white slavery’ template to provide the, um, thrust of its narrative. This time round, young women from around the world are routinely drugged, abducted and shipped-out to a remote brothel (quote) “somewhere down in Africa” known as The House of the Lost Oasis. At the outset, Annie (Françoise Blanchard from Jean Rollin’s THE LIVING DEAD GIRL [1982]) and her friend are picked up by a couple of guys at a local nightclub to be sold off to white slavers, whose henchman (Eurociné stock-player Yul Sanders / a.k.a. Claude Boisson) is assured they are (quote) “Real top-quality goods…They’re real bangerinos!” Following a long, drawn-out voyage during which the girls are repeatedly taken advantage of (a sequence utilizing footage from THOTLD and that film’s makeshift cargo hold), they eventually arrive at their destination, where they are greeted by the house’s stern warden-type disciplinarian (Shirley Night), who looks like she just stepped out of a Jess Franco prison film. 

Upon slowing-down considerably thereafter, the slack action goes on to reveal many of the kidnapped girls (semi-clad in no more than skimpy undies or see-thru nighties!) recollecting how it was they somehow got mixed-up in all of this, a plot device which conveniently allows the filmmakers to further pad things out with reams of recycled footage culled from the Eurociné archives. When Nadine (Nadine Pascale) – one of The Oasis’ numerous nubile captives – reminiscences about her nightclub act back in Las Palmas, those cheeky folks at Eurociné brazenly insert she and Lina Romay’s entire kinky striptease from Jess Franco’s TWO FEMALE SPIES IN FLOWERED PANTIES (1980). And not only that, but in order to add further fetishistic fervor to the proceedings, Nadine’s prolonged torture at the hands of Irina (Joëlle Le Quément) and Mr. Forbes (Yul Sanders yet again!) from said film is also ‘smoothly’ worked into the script.  

Rather jarringly introduced late into the episodic, disjointed narrative is an extended subplot involving Interpol agents Arturo and Roland (the latter of whom is played by Jack Taylor using still more recycled-and-redubbed material, this time from Gianpaolo Callegari’s sub-Bondian Eurospyer AGENT SIGMA 3: MISSION GOLDWATHER [1967]). The pair of operatives are trying to infiltrate the white slavers’ prolific kidnapping ring, much as in Chevalier’s aforementioned THE HOUSE OF THE LOST DOLLS, which also supplanted it’s running time with elements of Callegari’s antiquated spy yarn. In OASIS, a number of unconvincing ‘doubles’ are seen and disembodied voices coming from off-screen are heard, intended to sub for the by-then-long-since-absent Taylor in many of the film’s newly-shot scenes; even AGENT SIGMA 3’s sultry femme fatale Catherine (Silvia Solar) is also reworked herein, with her now becoming the boss of the white slavery operation!

Unbelievably slipshod and cut-rate across the board, OASIS OF THE LOST GIRLS does endeavour to inject at least some semblance of coherence into its flimsy plot with all of its hastily slapped-together, redubbed and mismatched footage. Lacking any sort of polish whatsoever, this patchwork creation’s main reason-for-being is of course its scenes showing bare flesh, which is ladled-on plentifully in Jara’s ‘all-new’ material (flatly-shot in quickie setups by Eurociné’s in-house ‘go-to’ DP, Raymond Heil). All of this is further offset by THOTLD’s other sleazy sequences. When not being shipped inside large straw baskets like produce to market, the girls are periodically stripped, groped and raped (“No! Stop pawing me!”) in a number of sordid – if awfully amateurish – sequences wherein nothing much else transpires (real lowest-common-denominator fare, this! But Eurociné fans know what to expect in advance). Typical of such slapdash movies, there is also a lot of back-and-forth between these more commercially-viable aspects and the much older and less-exploitable ‘retrofitted’ material from AS3: MG, which boasted higher production values and far spunkier pacing but lacks the sleazy punch of the newer material. Attentive viewers should also listen out for the pilfered score, which features both Daniel J. White’s languid opening track from ZOMBIE LAKE and Jean-Jacques Lemêtre’s cheerful (albeit wholly inappropriate) ditty from Alain Deruelle’s CANNIBAL TERROR (1980).

Released stateside onto Hispanic home video in the ’90s as EL OASIS DE LAS CHICAS PERDIDAS courtesy of Spanish-language home video specialists Million Dollar Home Video (MDHV) as part of their Caliente sub-label, this Eurocinépatchwork effort made its digital era debut in 2002 via Germany’s X-Rated Kult outfit. Released under the similar-sounding OASE DER GEFANGENEN FRAUEN (trans: “The Oasis of Imprisoned Women”), picture quality was decent for the time, although it was presented in a flat 1.66:1 aspect ratio and only featured German audio. Given that Charles Band’s now-iconic VHS imprint Wizard Video introduced many a Eurociné film to unsuspecting U.S. viewers back in the ’80s, it’s actually quite fitting, and most welcome indeed, that Band’s Full Moon has decided to dig deep into the Eurocinévault yet again with this release. Sporting the on-screen title of FILLES PERDUES (trans: Lost Girls), OASIS OF THE LOST GIRLS comes to DVD in an excellent 16x9 transfer retaining the film’s original 1.85:1 aspect ratio, but given its erratic nature and the various film stocks used (some of which differ by 14 years!), the picture quality naturally fluctuates wildly amid all this casually-mismatched footage. While it sounds fine for the most part, the English audio track option also points to the film’s rather-too-hasty post-production, and is at times, somewhat inaudible. Alas, no extras are included other than trailers for some of Full Moon’s other product. 

Given the film’s zero budget, Eurocinédoes (however miraculously!) manage to put together something approximating a real movie here, and no matter how boneheaded it may be, it should appeal to the more adventurously open-minded - or just plain masochistic- cineaste. Order it from Full Moon Direct or Amazon.

OGROFF DVD REVIEW

Long before D.I.Y. or S.O.V. films began to crowd video shelves in the late-’80s, and before anyone could simply pick up a reasonably-priced camcorder in either the Betamax or S-VHS – that’s super-VHS! – formats, video store owner, collector and MONSTER BIS editor Norbert-Georges Moutier took the D.I.Y. aesthetic to the next level by creating OGROFF (1983), an almost indescribable – and extremely gory – ‘homage’ of sorts to some of his favourite horror films.  Shot on grainy Super 8mm, Moutier’s film was quite difficult to see for many years before the digital age came around, but in 2012 it was finally released on French DVD – in a Special 30^th Anniversary Edition, no less! – by Artus Films.  However, in late 2016, the Canadian label Videonomicon also rolled-out the red carpet treatment for OGROFF, with a new-and-improved transfer and much-more-literate English subtitles. 

From the onset, this would appear to be yet another mindless slasher flick, with Ogroff (played by Moutier himself) wandering aimlessly through the Forêt domaniale d’Orléans just south of Paris, gorily – and haphazardly – killing anyone who trespasses upon “his” territory.  However, as Moutier’s threadbare narrative progresses, it becomes increasingly more delirious and unpredictable, involving everything from homemade sacrifices, shuffling zombies, vampires, a malevolent evil force reminiscent of that in Sam Raimi’s THE EVIL DEAD (1982), plus even an unexpected cameo from longtime Jess Franco regular, Howard Vernon. 

Appearing like some unhinged farmer dressed in a woolen vest, rubber boots and a distinctive face-mask, Ogroff dispatches most of his victims with his trusty axe.  Blood and gore are the predominant focus, and in one prolonged scene, Ogroff has an extended chainsaw duel with an unsuspecting farmer (film historian and former Jess Franco collaborator, Alain Petit), who ends up having his legs gorily sawed off.  In another drawn-out – but also most welcome – scene, Ogroff frantically destroys a Citroën 2CV as he desperately tries to get at another would-be victim cowering inside it.

Sloppily put together, OGROFF is unlike anything you’re ever likely to encounter, and is all the better for it.  Dialogue and general cohesiveness are kept to a minimum, but Videonomicon’s newly-improved and considerably-more-accurate English subs help in explaining Ogroff’s “motivations” a little more.  Besides the many gory bits, one of the highlights is Jean Richard’s droning, minimalist electronic score – which also includes Giuliano Sorgini’s haunting sound-effects from Jorge Grau’s excellent The LIVING DEAD AT THE MANCHESTER MORGUE (a.k.a. LET SLEEPING CORPSES LIE, 1974) – along with some one-of-a-kind ’80s synth pop.  Director Moutier went on to direct a number of other homemade ‘trash’ epics, including ALIEN PLATOON (1992) and the unforgettable TREPANATOR (1992), both of which also included appearances from cult director, Jean Rollin. Incidentally, that latter title, plus Rollin’s career as a whole, are given some lengthy coverage in the latest massive (360pp!) issue of MONSTER! magazine (#32), so by all means grab yourself a copy!

Artus’ region-free DVD included an entire host of interesting special features – which, unfortunately, were not English-friendly – including an on-camera interview with director Moutier, a poster and still gallery and “Ogroff – 30 Years Later”, a lengthy, ‘making-of’ documentary featuring interviews with many of the zombie extras.  It was a nice DVD with some surprising extras, but Videonomicon’s newest DVD (encoded only for Region 1 players, due to licensing) is better still, featuring a brand-new “2016 Colour Graded Remaster”, which improves image detail and restores some of the (presumably) original colour schemes.  Excellent work all around, which makes for an even better viewing experience. But for you purists out there, Videonomicon were also mindful enough to include the “Original Tape Transfer” too.  For a comparison, click here.  Presented in its original French-language version – which, to be honest, only includes a handful of actual dialogue – with optional English, French and Spanish subtitle options, the audio is as good as can be expected for such a micro-budgeted, almost 35-year old film.  Other extras include a “Home Video Trailer”, DVD-ROM content showcasing some promotional art, and a colourfully-designed liner notes booklet with writing from Andy Bolus and Bleeding Skull’s Joseph A. Ziemba. 

OGROFF is a real curiosity, a potpourri of ideas and tributes to better films that is messily thrown-together, yet somehow, someway – through sheer madness, perhaps? – it sustains an originality that is unparalleled.  Limited to only 600 copies, which is evenly divided between the choice of two alternate cover designs, OGROFF is sure to sell out. So don’t delay and order yours from Videonomicon today!  OGROFF is well worth your time.  It’s unforgettable.