THE MUTILATOR aka FALL BREAK (1985)

APPALLING GORE FAILS TO DAUNT FILM AUDIENCES

Miami Herald, The (FL) - October 16, 1985

Author: CARL HIAASEN Herald Columnist

Imagine this: It's a sunny holiday afternoon in autumn. Birds sing. Teen-agers lounge on Haulover beach. Joggers trot through the Grove.

Yet in a dark downtown theater, redolent of foul hot dogs, more than 40 people are watching one of the most abominable movies of all time.

The film is called The Mutilator . Its profoundly repugnant newspaper advertisement features a gleaming marlin gaff and promises: "By sword. By ax. By pick. Bye bye."

I have not come to review this motion picture, but rather the audience. I anticipate a cavalcade of geeks, troglodytes and sociopaths -- who else would pay $2.50 to watch a bunch of dumb white college kids get hacked into corned beef?

But a quick survey before the action starts offers these demographics: A well-dressed young couple, sharing Polaroid snapshots; a moody guy in a dingy tank top, girlfriend on his lap; several teen-agers, slightly rowdy but too muscular to rebuke; up front, an entire family, including a 6-year-old, a toddler and a nursing infant.

And, of course, sitting by himself: the obligatory strange pale man with the baggy pants and bucket of popcorn. You know the one.

The film begins, and even before the opening credits there is a gruesome killing that would send most normal folks scurrying for the door or the restrooms. Not this bunch -- a true gore corps.

The titles flash: The Mutilator . "Written and directed by Buddy Cooper." Enough said.

Then the actors, none of whose names are remotely familiar (aliases, no doubt).

Then: "Special appearance by Ben Moore."

Who the heck is Ben Moore? No one seems to know, but instinct suggests that he plays the title role.

The plot unfolds:

A group of boisterous, beer-guzzling college kids talks a pal into crashing Dad's beachfront townhouse for the weekend. The father happens to be a demented lunatic who sleeps under some gardening tools in the garage and has a respiratory disorder so severe that his breathing can be heard all the way to Seattle.

Beyond this, The Mutilator follows the identical script of Friday the Thirteenth, Halloween and all other teen slasher movies:

1. The Trampy Co-Ed is the first to die, but only after the mandatory semi-nude swimming scene.

2. The Dumb Blond Jock is the next to be mangled.

3. The Goofy Comic-Relief Guy is third on the menu (and the only character whose mutilation seems to sadden the audience).

4. Next is the Concerned Cop, who gets beheaded.

5. Then there's quite a tedious Stalking Sequence, with lots of bad camera work and bass violas.

6. The climax is the tired old Car-Won't-Start-Scene, with Mr. Mutilator clumsily hacking his way through the convertible top.

7. Finally the killer is gored, stabbed, burned and run over by the young collegiate heroine, who is (I swear) a self- proclaimed virgin and proud of it. She also is a master of Kung- Fu, as any Southern California virgin must be.

During all this carnage I expect raucous outbursts from the crowd, but the theater is reverently quiet, as if we are watching Olivier do Hamlet.

According to my notes, the only audible exclamation comes during the decapitation scene when a man in the back row cries, "Oh s---!" Which pretty much sums up my sentiments, too.

Sitting one row ahead of me is a handsome gray-haired woman with an embroidered shopping bag. She watches the entire film silently, without a murmur or a flinch. In fact, she is sitting so still that I begin to worry that she might have passed away during the marlin-gaff scene.

But, moments after the final mutilation, the old woman bolts for the exit, understandably eager to escape before the house lights come on. I catch up with her and ask what she thought of The Mutilator .

She smiles and says, "It's incredible, yes?"

Oh yes.
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GORY ' MUTILATOR ' JUST ANOTHER CHIP OFF THE OLD BLOCK

Boston Globe - March 9, 1985

Author: Michael Blowen, Globe Staff

The modus operandi for this gory story is the same as countless other slaughterhouse pictures.

The weapons include a battle ax, a fishing gaff, a machete, a cigarette lighter, a knife, a pitchfork and a chainsaw. The motive is money for writer- producer-director Buddy Cooper. The victim is the audience.

As one of the faceless murderees says, early in this putrid excuse for a motion picture, "I've got a bad feeling about this." Me too.

The film is unrated because the producer is not a member of the Motion Picture Association of America and was not obligated to submit it. It would most likely have been given an R.

THE MUTILATOR - Written, produced and directed by Buddy

Cooper, starring Matt Mitler, Ruth Martinez, Bill

Hitchcock and a cast of other unknowns, at the Beacon Hill

and suburbs, no rating.

GREAT WHITE aka THE LAST SHARK (1982)

REVIEW MOVIE\ A GREAT WHITE ' PUSSYCAT\ GREAT WHITE - DIRECTED BY ENZO G. CASTELLARI, WRITTEN BY MARK PRINCI,\ STARRING JAMES FRANCISCUS, VIC MORROW AND MICKY PIGNATELLI, AT THE\ PI ALLEY AND SUBURBS, RATED PG.

Boston Globe - April 20, 1982

Author: Michael Blowen Globe Staff

Because of its "substantial similarity" to Universal Pictures' "Jaws," a federal court in Hollywood ruled April 6 that " Great White " should be barred

from release. Last Wednesday, the distributor, Film Ventures International, and Universal reached an out-of-court settlement for an undisclosed amount of cash that allowed " Great White " to open. Unfortunately.

On one level, Judge David V. Kenyon, in his initial decision, was right. There are similarities between the two films - a shark, an ocean, a selfish politician, a veteran fisherman with an Irish accent and a massive marketing campaign.

However, that's where the resemblance ends. "Jaws" succeeded through Steven Spielberg's gripping direction, fine performances by Richard Dreyfuss, Robert Shaw and Roy Scheider, punchy editing, excellent special effects and a riveting music score.

" Great White " is a shoddily constructed, poorly acted, ridiculous ripoff.

From the out-of-synch dialogue to the phony accents, director Enzo G. Castellari's fishy movie is a completely unconvincing sharksploitation film that deserves to be blown out of the water.

In one sequence, when Vic Morrow is explaining the vicious habits of the shark, Castellari cuts to a grainy shot of a great white that's obviously in an aquarium tank. In fact, the scenes between the actors and the "shark" are so horribly matched that I would be surprised if the actors even saw one shark during the filming.

The plot is the same as its predecessor. Marine author Peter Benton (James Franciscus) and fisherman Ron Hammer ( Morrow ) team up to capture a giant white shark that has killed a surfer, disrupted a windsurfing championship, lunched on a teenager's leg and yanked a helicopter into the sea. Naturally, these two intrepid sailors eventually win out. But it's hard to understand what they are afraid of.

"Bruce," the mechanical shark from "Jaws," has been replaced by a beast that looks like a balloon left over from Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. Consequently, when Franciscus and Morrow set sail to kill the fish there is no fear or tension. They look like what they are - two guys trying to kill a balloon.

The only real sharks in " Great White " are the people who made it.
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A Laughable ' Great White '

Washington Post, The (DC) - April 23, 1982

Author: FRANK SANELLO

Universal failed to stop the U.S. release of a small-budget Italian movie called " Great White " because of the film's similarity to "Jaws," its mighty moneymaker, but the studio shouldn't worry: " Great White " probably will be laughed out of the U.S.

Starring James Franciscus and Vic Morrow , it compulsively yet superficially imitates the original, whose scariest elements don't bear repeating on the cheap.

The phoniest thing about the production is its "star," a bargain-basement version of Bruce the Shark. Whenever the creature appears you can almost see the taxidermist inside, still trying to make it look fierce.

The underwater stock footage has a shark that doesn't even appear to belong to the same species as a big white , and doesn't match the lighting or graininess of the rest of the film.

See if the story sounds familiar: The mayor of a coastal resort in Georgia (much of the film was actually shot in Malta) is running for governor and refuses to cancel the city's annual windsurfing regatta even though a shark has already noshed on one contestant. The shark enters the regatta and makes mincemeat of many, rather than taking his victims serially a la "Jaws."

Chastened, the mayor calls in an experienced shark-hunter, Vic Morrow , who has a Scottish accent (Robert Shaw's was Irish in "Jaws." James Franciscus has Roy Scheider's role, but instead of a logical occupation like Scheider's chief of police he is cast as a shark-hunting novelist.

The remainder, interspersed with leaden, irrelevant exposition, consists of the shark taking on various challenges and winning handily, including chomping a helicopter, which is the only original and riveting moment of the 90 minutes.

Your neighborhood seafood restaurant has more drama and marine realism.

GREAT WHITE -- At 17 area theaters.
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' Great White ' Rip-Off

Washington Post, The (DC) - April 24, 1982

Author: Richard Harrington

"I've never seen anything like it in my life!" says Vic Morrow halfway through " Great White ." Of course, after 45 minutes of de'ja viewed shark mayhem, he must be kidding.

And the filmmakers must feel it's been long enough since the visceral shock of "Jaws," because " Great White " is now on 17 area screens . . . and just when you thought it was safe to go back in the theaters.

(Actually, it may not be on those screens for long. Universal Pictures, distributors of "Jaws," succeeded Thursday in getting a preliminary injunction against Film Ventures International, requiring withdrawal of " Great White " from exhibiting theaters, cancellation of all advertising and a recall of all prints. Universal has sued Film Ventures over the new film and a trial is pending.)

Most of the elements are familiar: the Centennial Windsurfing Regatta that's vital to a coastal resort's business; an ambitious mayor (Joshua Sinclair) who's manipulating the local media in a bid for the governorship and refuses to close the beach down; a taciturn shark hunter ( Morrow ) and a likable shark-author (James Franciscus) who've settled in a town where a shark hasn't been seen in 30 years; juicy young kids (mostly with Italian names) who don't seem to grasp the fact that they're being eaten up.

Then there's a 30-foot shark who seems to enjoy playing with his food and who likes to knock all the windsurfers off their boards in a game of underwater pinball; he doesn't even eat them! This is a smart shark who traps a couple of guys in an underwater cave by piling up rocks at the entrance. This is a bold shark who seems unafraid to bite off more than he can chew, whether it be a boat, helicopter or a pier with half a dozen people on it. This is an agile shark with a bit of dolphin blood in him; like an Ivory bar in the bathtub, he spends a lot of time popping up halfway out of the water, begging for food. This is a nasty shark who, just before he sinks his teeth into someone, actually seems to gloat.

Add the obligatory underwater footage as Great White heads for his meals; every time someone steps into the water, there's little guessing about who's coming to dinner. Throw in a quick slide show about Great Whites . Mix up stock footage of a real Great White with a mighty mediocre mechanical Great White (trying unsucessfully to make them look alike). Enhance the muddy picture with a sound track that sounds like it was recorded underwater and, voila , you have, not a shark, but a turkey.

Selected dialogue: "She's gone surfing with the boys . . . must be a hell of a specimen . . . they found something . . . there's something funny here, I don't like it . . . there was nobody in the boat . . . Couldn't it have been something else . . . Good God . . . No explosion did this . . . there's too much at stake . . . No damn shark's going to ruin a whole year's work . . . I'm going for a swim. Who's coming? . . . nothing's going to happen . . . there's nothing to worry about . . . that's a mighty big fish down there . . . what if we don't find him . . . did we get him . . . it's my fault, I should have known . . . he's down there, I can feel it . . . Do you think this thing's going to work? . . . It's my shark! . . . Don't worry,it's just a fish . . . Damn you! . . . BOOOOOM!"

Admitedly, we've come a long way from "The Old Man and the Sea," but it seems a shorter distance between "Jaws" and " Great White ." Unfortunately, it's all underwater.

REVENGE OF THE DEAD aka ZEDER (1983)

REVIEW MOVIE\ DEADLY REVENGE'\ REVENGE OF THE DEAD - DIRECTED BY PUPI AVATI. AT THE PI ALLEY AND SUBURBS,\ UNRATED. MENACING ATMOSPHERE AND OCCASIONAL GORE .

Boston Globe - June 16, 1984

Author: MARK MURO

Heard of any bartending jobs?

Know anyone looking for a gardener?

How about a garage that needs a mechanic?

If so, please call.

"Revenge of the Dead," dubbed with semi-hilarious consequences into English from the Italian, is a prohibitively dull zombie flick and, friends, we must - repeat must - find a new line of work for Pupi Avati, its director. We better hurry, too.

This movie, you see, is deadly. Involving a mysterious typewriter, a lot of mumbo-jumbo about undead personages and a murderous priest named Don Luigi Costa, the plot follows a mousy-looking novelist's attempts to figure out why everything is so weird in Bologna, Italy, in Chartres, France, and everywhere else he goes. Clues accumulate, strange old ladies administer the evil eye, but very little happens. Though our hero - a cut-rate ringer for the young Humphrey Bogart - wanders around constantly in dark crypts and houses full of inexplicable heavy breathing, what we wind up with is a thriller totally devoid of thrills. Six rather routine maimings are not nearly enough to sustain so witless and incomprehensible a little movie.

There is, however, one fun snort of idiocy. This occurs late, with the score standing Undeads 4, Good Guys 0. "I have to understand what it's all about," snivels our hero to his cheap cutie of a girlfriend. "Too many things don't make sense." That said, he almost cries. You know how he feels.

MARTIN (1977)

Four Excuses in Search of Some Gore

Washington Post, The (DC) - May 12, 1978

Author: Judith Martin

Blood may be replacing sex at the movies. The number of films that are excuses to watch people copulate seems to have leveled off, so to speak, but there's a boom on movies that are excuses to watch people bleed to death.

The newest, and one of the most pretentious, is "Martin," a film by George Romero, whose "Night of the Living Dead" in 1970 attained the high distinction, in the genre, of being called "a cult movie."

"Martin" is pretentious in a way that pornography is when it is dressed up for people who don't want to admit to their taste. We're not really coming for that , it seems to say; that is just there because it is an integral part of the story.

Sure it is.

"Martin" is a film about a punk who goes around killing people in the messiest possible way. Blood in all over the screen most of the time. But no fewer than four different excuses have been supplied, to disguise the fact that it's designed for people who like bleeding.

Excuse 1: This is really a literary movie, the concept of the Vampire being a mythology that explains allegorically the human predicament. The film is full of references of Vampire lore, with the repeated assertion that this is adding to a long literary tradition with new information.

Excuse 2: This is really a historical film , showing us our roots. Each scene in the present reminds Martin of something that happened to him in the previous century. However, this is kept to a minimum because of course the past took place in black-and-white, and blood doesn't show up as well as in our colorful present.

Excuse 3: This is really a psychological film , expressing the alienation of modern youth. The Vampire looks like the other rotten kids on the block, and is constantly throwing out clues for the analyst: "It's just that I'm shy . . . "In real life, you can't get people to do what you want them to do."

Excuse 4: This is really a satirical movie, making fun of all those other movies that cater to people who really like horror movies. There are several references to how "It's not really like the way they did it int 'The Exorcist,'" and the Vampire's confidant is the host on a call-in radio show.

Of all the excuses offered No. 4 is probably the lowest. If people want to enjoy pornography, or blood, they shouldn't claim to be doing it out of superior feelings based on putting down people who admit enjoying it.

But then, nobody really enjoys watching others bleed to death - and the people who buy pornographic magazines do it only because they enjoy the articles about the economy that separate in pictures.

MY BLOODY VALENTINE (1981)

REVIEW / MOVIE\ FROM CANADA COMES A VALENTINE WE CAN ALL DO WITHOUT\ "MY BLOODY VALENTINE" - A FILM DIRECTED BY GEORGE MIHALKA. WRITTEN\ BY JOHN BEAIRD. STARRING PAUL KELMAN, LORI HALLIER AND NEIL AFFLECK.\ A PARAMOUNT PICTURES RELEASE. AT THE CINEMA\ 57 AND SUBURBS. RATED R.

Boston Globe - February 17, 1981

Author: Michael Blowen Globe Staff

"My Bloody Valentine," a Canadian import, should be wrapped in red crepe paper, tied with a big red bow and marked return to sender. It's a gruesome greeting card for which the sentiment might read:

Roses are Red

Violets are Blue

In movies like this

there's nothing new.

The story takes place in Valentine Bluffs, the little town with a big heart. It's a pleasant mining village on the Atlantic seacoast. The residents are conventional citizens who drink beer on Friday night and go to church on Sunday. They live a simple life. But Valentine Bluff, like every other hamlet in these slice and dice movies, is steeped in gore lore.

It seems that 20 years earlier, two mine superintendents decided to head off to the St. Valentine's Day Dance without checking the gas level in the shafts. Five men were asphyxiated and the survivor, Harry Warden, subsisted on their remains. Poor Harry. After a year in the state mental hospital, this reluctant cannibal returns to Valentine Bluff and, with the skill of a veteran miner, hacks out the hearts of the two superintendents with a pick axe. He places the hearts in a frilly, heart-shaped box and delivers them to the townspeople with a warning to stop the St. Valentine's Day Dance.

After 19 years, the townspeople decide to bury the past and hold the dance again. Shame, shame. Obviously, these country folk haven't seen "Prom Night," "Terror Train," "Friday, the 13th," "Silent Scream" or " Halloween ." They don't realize that slice-and-dice vengeance has a longer half-life than nuclear fallout.

They begin to get the message when the mayor receives a box of candy with a real heart inside and the owner of the town's laundromat is found spun dry in one of her own machines.

Film fans who relish the sight of blood dripping from the sides of a candy box; who delight in being "grossed out" by rib cages pried open with an axe or, for some unimaginable reason, rejoice in seeing a human heart boiling in water with a dozen hot dogs, might like receiving "My Bloody Valentine."

However, the direction, acting and production values are so inept that you begin rooting for the killer. Valentine Bluffs would be a much nicer town without the vile little teenagers that the killer bludgeons to death.

This Valentine's Day massacre is one that we could do without.

BLOOD BEACH (1981)

REVIEW / MOVIE\ THE BEACH PARTY FILM, 1981\ BLOOD BEACH - WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY JEFFREY BLOOM, STARRING DAVID\ HUFFMAN, MARIANA HILL, JOHN SAXON AND BURT YOUNG. AT THE SAXON AND\ SUBURBS. RATED R.

Boston Globe - January 24, 1981

Author: Michael Blowen Globe Staff

During the late '50s and early '60s, Annette Funicello and Frankie Avalon played Beach Blanket Bingo and Jan & Dean sang "Surfin' Safari" beneath the Santa Monica Pier. They drank Coke instead of sniffing cocaine. But things have changed. The golden sands that beckoned the California girls have turned into "Blood Beach," a few acres of prime real estate with one major drawback - a tenant who lives under the sand and devours the sun worshippers. Is it a mysterious force? A sea monster? The bag lady? While the answer to this question will not keep you riveted to your seat, it does provide enough of a central theme to keep you from making trips to the concession stand.

The film opens, a la "Jaws," with Harry (David Huffman) taking a swim while his neighbor strolls along the beach with her dog, Feiffer. The closeups of Harry's strokes with the boom-boom, boom-boom of the soundtrack resurrect images from Steven Spielberg's thriller. But, instead of Harry being yanked into the briny deep, his neighbor is sucked under the sand.

This flip-flop idea is hardly original, but it's effective. The film is pure exploitation and any fan of "Friday the 13th" and " Halloween " will probably delight in the camp humor and occassional thrills of "Blood Beach."

In one scene, the surviving wife of a victim is asked to describe her husband to the investigating officer. "He was wearing blue and red bleeding madras Bermuda shorts," she says. "I didn't like them very much, but he was attached to them." There is very little sympathy for the victims. In fact, the police department can't get any extra men assigned to the case until Feiffer, the mangy mutt, bites the dust and the city council is flooded with complaints

from animal lovers.

The performances by David Huffman, Burt Young and John Saxon are appropriately one-dimensional. Saxon looks as if he had a furrowed brow implantation; Young chews cigars and eats hamburgers better than any of his contemporaries and David Huffman, if he plays his cards right, could become the Tab Hunter of the '80s.

It would be unfair to reveal the ending, but writer-director Jeffrey Bloom left plenty of room for a sequel. Bloom may not have a focused directorial eye but he certainly has a sharp eye for the box office.

THE BOOGEY MAN (1980)

REVIEW / MOVIE\ BOOGEY MAN' DEEP IN GRATUITOUS GORE\ THE BOOGEY MAN - WRITTEN, DIRECTED AND PRODUCED BY ULLI LOMMEL. STARRING\ SUZANNA LOVE, RON JAMES, AND JOHN CARRADINE. AT THE SACK CINEMA 57\ AND SUBURBS. RATED R.
Boston Globe - November 27, 1980

Author: MICHAEL BLOWEN

People are easily frightened. A flight of dark stairs leading to a musty basement or the creak of a door will send our hearts fluttering and perk up our ears. It's an automatic, primal response.

Filmmakers, more than any other show businessmen, realize that we're cowards and that fear is an emotion that can be easily manipulated. All they need is a dark house, a psychopathic killer and a young woman. It's a formula with inexpensive ingredients that can yield big profits.

"The Boogey Man" is merely the latest entry in the slash and bash sweepstakes. A young woman, obsessed with the murder of her mother's boyfriend by her younger brother, is beset by nightmares. Her husband, the stiff rationalist, insists that it's all in her imagination. But that's not the case.

It seems the maniacal ghost of the victim is trapped in a mirror and attacks anyone whose image catches its reflective gaze.

By the time the mirror is put to rest, it has drawn more blood than the local chapter of the Red Cross. A boy has his neck broken by a slamming

window; a girl has her chest punctured by a pair of scissors; an old man is pinned against the wall of a barn by a pitchfork through his neck; an old woman is strangled by a garden hose; the blade of a knife enters the back of a teenager's neck and comes out his mouth just before his girlfriend is compelled, by forces beyond her control, to give him a final kiss. She dies in his skinny arms.

This is not frightening, it's repulsive. Your eyes reel back from the screen in disgust, rather than horror. It's the oozing blood that repels you, not the well-crafted tension of a genuinely frightening movie such as "Don't Look Now" or "Dressed to Kill."

The economics of horror films featuring no-name actresses, such as Suzanna Love, and bulging advertising budgets are a good investment. The overhead is low (usually under $1 million) and the profit potential is high (" Halloween " returned 18 times its capital investment). Unfortunately, no matter how many times moviegoers have been disappointed by a horror movie that promises more in its commercials than it delivers on the screen, crowds continue to buy tickets.

If you're one of those people, you better watch out. "The Boogey Man" is going to get you. Don't say you weren't warned.