directed by rubén galindo jr.
dynamic films inc./producciones torrente s.a.
So, when you and your pals have tricked your girlfriends into accompanying you to a spooky abandoned house on All Hallow’s Eve – and boy are they MAD, having expected a “jet set party” – naturally, what you next propose is to bring a dead person back to life. Oh, sure, they’re doubtful, until you reasonably explain that the first step is to acquire a dead body from the morgue, at which point you all pile into the car. Does a downpour stop you from performing the ritual, i.e. reading from “the black book”? Of course it doesn’t. But once you’ve successfully revived Devlon – Devlon! – HE sure stops you, i.e. kills you. Up until this point in this generic Mexican flick, it’s reasonably entertaining, but once its focus switches to a group of children stranded in the graveyard, it becomes reminiscent of any random Scooby-Doo episode – then turns into the most blatant ripoff of the “Thriller” video imaginable, albeit with a much smaller budget. So blatant one of the kids sports a jacket with M. Jackson’s famous visage painted on the back. (Also spotted: “Pepsi Free.”)
why did i watch this movie?
Though attracted helplessly by the witless title, I’m not sure, as the undead generally are not my preference.
should you watch this movie?
Unfortunately, it doesn’t deliver much more than a few guffaws, and not nearly enough to justify itself.
highlight and low point
The nonunion equivalents of what are maybe supposed to be recognizable rock songs are pretty interesting, and I sure wasn’t expecting the scene in which the “professor” steals the police chief’s car in order to track down “Devlon.” You probably have a friend who creates better zombie makeup than this film’s FX department.
rating from outer space: D+
it is easy to access the morgue
Some – okay, most – reviewers are going to tell you this movie is terrible, but I must point out that Macabra: La mano del diablo and its similars just may be the raison d’être of this website (not to mention a significant contributing factor to its proprietor’s joie de vivre). Following a prefatory flashback scene, the story proper begins in an old mine complete with self-propelled skulls and tremulous native workers. Then it’s off to Vegas, baby! Before consulting a priest, of course, which naturally involves the police. Yes, the devil’s (left) hand has many functions, which does not prepare us for when it has been lopped off the arm of the cop whose arm it has commandeered, grabs his gun and shoots a nurse in an extremely tight and low-cut uniform. “The Hand will kill again!” intones our female lead. Can THE HAND be stopped? Will THE HAND be destroyed? Could I not stop giggling while enjoying this presentation? A must-see.
With all the makings of a cult classic, it’s a shame that this plodding soap opera can’t deliver the horror equivalent of, say, Reefer Madness. It does have a dippy drug subplot, though. This turgid melodrama also is in possession of outlandish, dated dialogue that probably felt just as forced and inauthentic then as now, along with a Californian Korean War vet with a British accent and an incestuous relationship, a runaway hippie chick, an Afro-sporting reporter for an underground newspaper called Young People’s Press, a steadfast law ‘n’ order sheriff and his deputies, an aging stripper and a death scene featuring a meat cleaver. Oh, and presumable cannibalism. Despite such an enviable list, this curio fails to keep one’s attention for long. One surmises it may have been intended to Make a Statement about Issues of the Day. The tearjerker ending is unexpected.
By almost any reasonable measure, this straight-to-video extravaganza isn’t any good. And yet it manages to project a kooky kind of charm, possibly because some aspects of it are just so … off. Unlike some of the other bad films I’ve denigrated herein, the filmmakers involved in this venture seem to have known what they were doing, but just do not appear to have been very proficient. Take the editing: the cuts interspersing glimpses of the characters’ domestic lives with the mounting terror, etc., are so ham-handed it’s jarring. The dialogue, meanwhile, continually interjects minutiae into random conversations. And then there’s the music, which at a certain point reaches a kind of lunatic insistence that is sorta breathtaking. On top of all that, the SHOCKING twist almost could work, but for anyone who for some reason is paying careful attention, one line rings a few too many bells, even with the painstaking misdirection involved. Classic ending, too. Oh, and one extremely minor character disappears during the climax, never again to be glimpsed or mentioned.
Sometimes, I watch a movie and I just wonder how it ended up exactly the way it did. Take this flighty little number: It plays essentially like a PG-rated family comedy, but it also includes some vaguely gory killings, flashes of nudity, a mislocated but frightening hallucination, and, unexpectedly, the band Sic F*cks. And Jack Palance, and Martin Landau, gleefully overacting as two deranged asylum escapees. Fans of the original NBC-TV series The A-Team will be glad to see “Howlin’ Mad” Murdock as the patriarch of the family in peril, and general film aficionados possibly will enjoy Donald Pleasence’s turn as the loopy, stoned head of the psychiatric institution turned porous by a power outage. Amusingly, the family never actually seems to be in the dark, thanks to the marvels of movie lighting. (Hardly anyone’s alone at any point, either.) Overall, a strangely effervescent experience given the subject matter.
This delight’s got a little bit of everything. It’s got a weird Satanist family cult, it’s got a teenage runaway from Troubles At Home, it’s got Lawrence Tierney, it’s got a road-trip film contained within it, it’s of a visual quality usually associated with home movies from the dawn of time, and it’s got a fabulous theme song that is completely out of place in its grim milieu and sounds as though it’s from the wrong decade besides. Midnight is also strangely paced and edited, and could be a Christian message movie in disguise. Let’s see, what else … travel montages, black characters that seem as misplaced as the title song, a blatant ripoff of Psycho, and an extremely abrupt and unlikely ending involving rescue, redemption and revenge. Oh, and more of the rebarbative laughter à la the goons from Death Weekend. All told, an entertaining exploitation picture – and based on a novel! Which I cannot WAIT to read. The auteur was a colleague of George Romero.
Like, wow, man. Like, I hadn’t even planned on watching this movie, but as I was about to start viewing The Woman, which I had contemplated doing for quite some time, I suddenly discovered it’s a sequel to this one, of which I had previously been unaware. And! Yikes. Allow me to take a moment here to offer an aside: Offspring novelist (and screenwriter) “Jack Ketchum” is a very, very effective purveyor of terribly unsettling material, and is in fact the author of the rare novel I did not finish because I found it too emotionally disruptive (The Girl Next Door). Nothing that occurs in this film is all that unprecedented in our filmic experience, but it is profoundly disturbing nonetheless. Ideals such as “fairness” and “justice” have no place in Ketchumland, and sometimes the action provokes a sense of outrage. It may, in some minds, border on the obscene. Anyway, this movie is about a clan of cannibals living a prehistoric tribal existence and preying on unsuspecting suburbanites. It also harbors a subplot of extreme marital discord and disharmony. Abandon all hope.
Tracking a serial killer who seems to be an amalgam of Ted Bundy and one of the Hillside Stranglers, a tough, no-nonsense cop consults a psychologist, who concocts a profile he shares with a cop buddy from a different jurisdiction. Meanwhile, trouble at home. And all these hitchhiking young girls keep turning up dead. Then some cat-and-mouse. A dangerous gambit. Finally, tough decisions; rough justice. More of a police procedural than a horror flick and largely lacking graphic detail – albeit with a scene involving nudity that seems spliced in from a different movie – it’s kind of hard to tell what was the target venue and/or audience for this one. It plays like a made-for-TV movie for the most part. The obligatory Gruff Police Captain sports some interesting haberdashery.
SPACE RATS From Outer Space 