Ahhh, the fresh beginnings of 2012. A brand spankin’ new year with so much hope and potential! Well, unless this sucker turns out to be the last. Hence, why the gang here at The Trash Cinema Collective made sure to kick this year off right with a blazingly dark and sexy spread by one of our favorite up and coming models and aspiring writers: Whitlee Sabbath Flinn! A spread inspired by Fight Song era Marilyn Manson? Seems rather apropos to this connoisseur of filth. An enormous fan of horror, deviously alluring and a close personal friend of ours here at The Collective, Whitlee seems like the perfect way to get what could our last year on Earth off on just the right note. Be sure to check out her sites and let Whitlee know what you think of her set! Stay Trashy, Gang! – Root
Whitlee, tell us a little about your personal philosophy regarding Trash Horror Films:
“I’m a huge horror fan in general, although I’m a very picky, harsh critic when it comes to any movie I watch, great trash films are very dear to my heart! There’s something so special about combining great horror, with the hilarious comedy of everything that’s going on in the film just being ridiculous! It’s that this-is-so-bad-that-it’s-good-feeling that pumps me up every time I watch a new low budget horror film. Laughing while I’m disgusted is my favorite part. I’ll never forget the first time I watched “Dead Alive”, giggling madly as “Mom” popped the boil on her face, and the blood squirted right into the custard that was eaten without hesitation, but also being completely disgusted by the idea; that’s what makes trash horror great for me! Films like The Evil Dead, The Evil Dead 2, Army of Darkness, Dead Alive, and Tobe Hooper’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre series are examples of trashy horror films that I will love forever!”- Whitlee
Man, The Blair Witch Project feels like it was ages ago…Well, here we are with another quickie cash in on the current super cheap “found footage” trend. This time instead of a ghost, alien or witch we’re dealing with the ever freaky prospect of exorcisms. A found footage concept that’s been done before recently and a bit better in 2010’s “The Last Exorcism”. Hey, at least that film managed to be even remotely entertaining for more than 5 minutes of it’s run time…
The Devil Inside is the story of a young woman looking to close a chapter in her life that’s plagued her since she was a child. Her mother’s condition which led her to slay three clergy members during her own exorcism. Mom was shipped off to Italy in order undergo treatment for her mental illness but her daughter Isabella isn’t so quick to rule out demonic possession. This is the mock-doc of Isabella’s trip to Italy to visit her mother where she encounters real life exorcists who take her out on dates to watch them work their brand of incompetence on young ladies who can pop ‘n’ lock like none other! This is the true story of when demons stop being polite and start getting real…
"True Sto-RAAAAY!" obscure?
Long gone are the days of the possessed spewing bile into preachers faces, no, nowadays they are more likely to spray you copious amounts of vagina blood like fruit punch squeezed forth from the little straw pocking out of the top of a Hi-C juice box. And that kind of shit is fun to watch. It’s freaky, it’s unnatural, and it is pretty gross (unless you’re into that sort of thing, in which case, this flick might get ya hot under the collar.) and it works. The strongest element of this film are these scenes of demonic possession and the battle to rid these folks of their hellish ailments. And these scenes are pretty captivating, the strongest of which, involves a priest performing a baptism on an infant.
The sad fact is, none of these scenes really mean much, because the filmmakers forgot the create interesting characters the audience could empathize with. Fernanda Andrade as Isabella seems completely void of emotion for the duration of the picture. During these intense, violent and over the top exorcism sequences (one of which involves her own mother) the camera every so often pans to Isabella for a reaction shot. And as the blood spews forth from splayed vaginas and priests that are as physically imposing as a five year old get tossed across rooms and into walls, Isabella’s typical reaction is utter boredom. This reaction pretty much sums up my reaction to the other 97% of The Devil Inside.
Dramatic recreation of the look on my face when "The Devil Inside" ended.
And in so lies the films ultimate weakness: dullness. There’s just nothing happening foe the majority of the film. We get some priests debating the whether exorcism is real or just mental illness (guess which debate wins out in the end!), people bickering, and montages of Isabella walking around Italy looking bored and uninterested. Now, I can;t be sure where the fault should really lie for such a boring film. I mean, this is supposed to be a documentary film gone wrong, correct? Depressingly enough, the guy behind the camera never comes off as a competent filmmaker to begin with. So do we blame the fictional documentary filmmaker? IS he supposed to suck at his profession? Or is it the actual filmmakers themselves who can’t put together a thoughtful, exciting, engaging film on the subject of mental illness, family ties, faith and possession? Why waste such a potentially good story on the same tired formula that Paranormal Activity has exploited for three movies?
Because people eat this shit up for some reason. 1. Have nothing interesting happen for 45 minutes of screen time. 2. Insert a loud dog barked 3. Watch everyone jump and scream in shock as your film takes the bold step of having something actually happen4. Profit. This is fucking LAZY film making, people. This is the kind of thing that gives the horror genre such a bad name. And this is the kind of vacuous, meaningless, fast food offerings the mainstream horror audience is fed and they slurp up as if it’s filet mignon. Mainstreamers, you have steadily acquired a taste for Grade-A dookie. Yes, you are being served heaping spoonfuls of shit. There’s nothing interesting here. Nothing thoughtful or truly horrifying nor is there anything campy or fun about The Devil Inside. It simply exists with just about nothing to offer.
Despite some relatively strong performances from supporting players Simon Quarterman and Evan Helmuth as two young renegade exorcists who aid Isabella in her quest and Suzan Crowley as Isabella’s Mother, Maria Rossi, who pretty much steals the show with every scene in which she appears. She, alone, nearly makes the film worth it. If only we had more time with her. The film also kicks it into high gear towards the end of it’s running time where it even hints at becoming interesting. Really. the final ten or fifteen minutes promise of some great rewards only for the movie to pull the rug out from under us and leave us with nothing but frustration and 90 minutes of out lives wasted.
I’m sure they are saving all that for the sequel, which is at this point certain, after this honking log of shit somehow managed to ingest 36 million dollars of hard earned dollars from the accounts of countless movie goers this past weekend despite terrible notices and an ad campaign that looked more like a warning. I guess it proves my old theory that pure evil always works when it’s far more subtle. Why drive the audience completely fucking insane with something truly horrific and mind altering when you can simply bore them to the point of crying in uncontrollable sobs of pain and suffering for 10 bucks a head?
Have you ever been the victim of an obscene phone call? To be honest, I never have. But, then again, I am a rather beefy guy in his late 20’s and I’m probably the last person on prospective pervert’s hit list. Honestly, I would probably end up on a pervert watch list before I was ever a victim of such shenanigans, but I digress. IF I ever were ever the victim of an obscene caller I’m sure I would be fascinated to hear the life story of the person whispering dirty, lustful phrases into my ear while the sound of lubed up wang-doodle stroking slaps about faintly in he background over the phone line. Forget the story of Martin Luther King Jr. or Abraham Lincoln, tell me the story of this heavy breathing, faceless, sexual deviant!
Our film begins with Robert (David Book) rolling out of bed, checking the time, and then going to his apartment window to peep on the couple in the building right across from him. The lovers engages in some hardcore 70’s sex, with pounds of heavy pubic coverage, odd usage of hair during oral sex where the guy rubs his shaggy head of hair against his lover’s muff in what comes off looking more like a blind man having lost his way to the vagina than resembling anything even remotely erotic, and a sudden INTENSE difference in this guys erection size. My only guess is that someone slid a stunt cock in there at one point or another… Robert watches, chaffs the carrot, and becomes obsessed…
Over the course of the film we learn Robert harbors incestuous feelings for his Mother and sister . He thinks back to two memories in particular while in the company of a very bored prostitute with intense grandma hair. One features his sister, who catches him peeping, and then allows him to fondle her while asking him if he thinks she’s attractive and if he likes her “tits”. The other is of his topless mother, (again) catching him peeping, who berates him, topless, as he stares at her “cratch” and impressively proportioned boobs that bounce around freely as she shakes her finger at him hollering “You’re a bad boy! What am I going to do?” The answer? Repeat those two lines for ten minutes while remaining topless and allowing your son to continue to ogle your lady flesh. It’s excitement by repetition for young Robert and it seems to have left a lasting impression.
The bulk of the film is made up of Robert fooling around with prostitutes and harassing his voluptuous red-headed neighbor Carol (Monique Starr) via uninspired sleazy talk over the phone. It’s never really made clear as to why he latches onto this neighbor, which could have easily been justified in the story if she even remotely resembled the Mother or Sister he lusted over in flashback, but that’s apparently not the case here. It seems he is only obsessed with her because…she’s there and answers the phone. The creators of the film obviously spent a little bit of time trying to create a somewhat realistic, believable, character out of Robert but some of the dots just don’t connect.
By film’s end Robert manages to con his way into Carol’s life through feigned car troubles, a lunch date and then offering to come over to protect her from the terrible voice on the phone. It’s “Night Callers” central relationship/plot point, and one that was in dire need of more attention within the story. But, I guess that’s the short fall of most pornographic films that strive to meld with another genre. The story has to be put on hold repeatedly in order for a scene of intense genital penetration and cock gobbling may be inserted. (pun intended?) The central growing relationship between Robert and Carol is mostly left by the way side with little development and depressingly falls back on the old thriller convention of the damsel in distress being dumb as a sack of used prophylactics. It makes no sense that Robert can weasel his way into Carol’s life with with such incredible ease! Especially when she’s in such a huff over the Night Caller.
Night Caller does offer up some cool surprises, my favorite of which is a little diversion, where we are introduced to a blonde, husky- voiced character named Helen, whom Robert has called in he hopes of overhearing some good jerk-off material. Helen is framed in a very tight close-up of her face as the scene commences only to pull back and reveal that Helen is, in fact, a man in drag, and is getting head from a female dressed up as a man. It’s the most intriguing and inventive scene of a film filled with rather generic material. It continues into a relatively well shot sex scene and ends with dual money shots (!!!) as Helen cums not once, but twice, in a period of about 3 minutes. Not only this, but Helen’s partner, after a lengthy period of tit fucking, holds Helen’s cock in her hand and takes the first of his load up her nose (on accident) and then aims Helen’s tool right at her eye and takes his second blast of chunky dick snot (which looks to be the bulk) right in her eyes! It’s a painful (and hilarious) moment for the viewer and it must have been pretty tough for actress Laura Bond as well, whose expression is one of annoyance, agony and “Fuck, why did I just point this thing right at my eyes?” I guess when you’re suffocating on a porn load that just shot up your nasal cavity, you aren’t thinking clearly anymore.
My biggest gripe with this film is the damn score by Richard Silsby. I’m not sure what they were thinking but it the score consists of droning noises and repetitive minor chords that give every single sex scene a sad, creepy, monotonous tone. I understand, this is a sad kind of thriller, but for crying out loud nothing makes a fuck scene more boring than this crap! Give it a listen and I am sure you’ll agree. One interesting thing I noticed was how one of the riffs in the score sounded remarkably similar to the JAWS theme…
The story of Night Caller isn’t exactly a pleasant one and the whole thing will leave most viewers feeling sad, scared and dirty in a way they had no intended. It’s kind of like Taxi Driver if it were all a bout a chronic masterbator who wanted to fuck his Mom and ended up living out a rape fantasy rather than “saving” a young Jodie Foster. Despite the shortcomings in the script, score and cinematography, Night Caller tries hard to deliver more than just your run of the mill porn film. It’s certainly different and presents some bold and intriguing ideas that are sure to hit a few nerves and make more than couple viewers squirm in their seats.
Night Caller was a film made early in the cannon of both writer Dean Rogers and legendary porn director Anthony Spinelli. Testing the waters here, the two would go on to create such classics as “Nothing to Hide”, “Skin on Skin”, “Talk Dirty to Me” and “Revenge of the Pussy Suckers from Mars”. Spinelli had over one hundred films to his credit before passing away in May of 2000 at the age of 73. The man’s legacy speaks for itself.
Night Caller is a greasy, creeper of a flick. Certainly not for the casual purveyor for Trash and Sleaze Cinema. However, if you are looking for one dark, oddball XXX film that will have you feeling filthy in no time, I cannot recommend Night Caller enough!
When I think of monsters larger than life a number of creatures come to mind. Of course, Godzilla, King Kong, Cloverfield…Hell, even Bruce from JAWS and the graboids from Tremors make appearances. And then there’s Rawhead Rex, the red headed step-child of all giant monsters. Yeah, while Godzilla is off crushing noodle factories in Japan, Rawhead Rex is stomping around rural Ireland ripping the heads off teenage love birds and literally pissing in the faces of local priests. Now this is The Root’s kind of monster. Sure, Rawhead’s not nearly as tall as some of the other monsters on the block, but he makes up for his mere 10 or 11 foot tall stature with plenty of murderous spunk and personality. Unlike other monsters who are brought about by man’s experimenting, or are simply Mother Nature’s own killing machines, Rawhead is just a mean mother fucking demon. He’s not here for sympathy or for us to see ourselves reflected in him…no. This guy just wants to bite your face off and smear his shit on the bloody mess beneath. I doubt you will find a sicker, meaner, more sacrilegious monster in 80’s cinema. I feel it is my duty, as ambassador of the Trash Cinema Collective, to shine a light on one of the nastiest, meanest, most atrocious cinematic monsters ever brought to life, Mister Rawhead Rex.
"I feel good about me!"
Our movie takes place in a dreary farming community in Ireland where a group of men try to remove and ancient totem from one of their fields. Soon, the sky darkens, red lightening rains down and the totem falls releasing a horrifying demonic monster older than the Christian faith whose only purpose in existing is to destroy any and everything in it’s ugly path. At the same time, an American family has come to town headed by historian and writer, Howard Hollenbeck, who is traveling the countryside compiling research on pre-Christian sacred sites and is interested in the local church’s unique history and stained glass windows. All the while, Rawhead is painting the entire countryside rd with the grue and entrails of the local villagers, twisting off heads, terrifying children, setting people on fire and tearing ladies blouses off to expose their breasts before tossing them into trees. How can Rawhead be stopped? The clues and secrets to the creatures destructon are all held within the walls of the towns ancient church. Can Hollenbeck get aid from the incompetent local authorities, deal with the psychotic Reverend Coot’s and unlock the mysteries to defeating Rawhead Rex before he destroys the town and Hollenbeck’s family?
Rawhead Rex is based of a short story by Clive Barker, the man who brought us Hellraiser and Nightbreed. not only boasting source material from Clive Barker, but a screenplay by the man as well, Rawhead Rex isn’t a very good movie. However, it is a ridiculously fun and entertaining one. The movie actually follows the original story pretty closely but is also devoid of just about all the thought provoking, serious pagan/spiritual concepts that made the story such a brilliant, philosophical read and, instead, just goes berserk and delivers a fucking crazy ass monster movie that delivers all the goods. That is, if you don’t mind a generous helping of cheese with your cinematic entree.
"Oh yeah, your lymph nodes are WAY swollen..."
The film itself is competently made and pretty well acted all around. Director, George Pavlou, does an excellent job of keeping the pace up, composing some fantastic shots and utilizes them to their best affect, and even takes some risky chances with his subject matter. Keep in mind, Rawhead Rex was released right in the midst of the British “Video Nastis” fiasco, so Pavlou had to walk a very fine line in order for his film to see the light of day. In all honesty, the violence here works rather well. It’s kind of muted in parts but it’s still gets the point across. But where Rawhead really scores points with me is that it has the brass balls to put kids in mortal danger, and even goes out of it’s way to kill a few! Yes, Rawhead completley destroys a kid or two in his rampage. It happens just out of camera shot but with some great post production foley, the sound of these kids getting folded in half and ripped into meaty chunks drives the point home.
Now, I know everyone’s gripe about Rawhead Rex is how shitty his costume is. You know, I love the way Rawhead looks. It’s cheesy as all hell and nearly destroy the credibility of the film, but there’s something about it I find really endearing that keeps this whole affair on a B-Movie, Drive-In level. Really, the the monster looks like a cross between a dog, a horse, and The Ultimate Warrior. He’s goofy enough to make you laugh, but strange enought that you don’t want that fucker within 1,000 yards of you. I, for one, appreciate Rawhead’s fantastic dark sense of humor and that so much of the violence is delivered tongue in cheek. Don’t get me wrong, there are some creepy ideas at play here, a legitimate sense of dread, and a hand full of genuinely shocking scenes… but you cannot deny the film i a Hell of a lot of fun. There are moments when Rawhead runs after people where he looks like a little boy skipping and hopping after them, moments where he celebrates turning over motor homes where he begins dancing like Jennifer Beals in Flashdance, he even whips it out and pisses on a kneeling, willing, Reverand Coot’s in a kind of demonic Golden Shower baptismal cleansing, in what is possibly the film’s most notorious scene. Personally, I couldn’t stop laughing.
I can't help but wonder what Rawhead looks like with his mouth shut. Such a Chatty Kathy, that guy...
Within all this bizarre-o action, blood thirsty monster mayhem, and religious nose thumbing, is a pretty interesting story. Sure, it’s not at all what Clive Barker probably envisioned but it still manages to please as crazed, no holds barred, monster movie sporting a larger than usual set of testicles it drags through the dirt behind it. There are so many aspects of Rawhead Rex that are worth praising. I especially loved the ending conceit the Rawhead Rex can only be destroyed by that which he can never be…and finding out exactly what that means. It’s a rather poetic and lovely idea tossed into an otherwise wild, and grotesque mix. But it’s moments like these where the air is cleared of the action and horror campiness and a little bit of heart shines through.
I highly recommend Rawhead Rex as pure, unadulterated B-movie love. If you come across a copy for cheap, snatch it up as quickly as you can. As the runt of the larger than life monster litter, Rawhead is about as fun and lovable as they come and well worth bringing into your home. Even if he’s not house broken.
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