TigerMann

I liked "Hostel." In the same way that I enjoyed Hershell Gordon Lewis' "Gore-Gore Girls," and the 80s pop of Hall and Oates, "Hostel" carries in its bloody clutches a "guilty pleasure" endowment that's hardly mistakable.

That said, there also appears to be a duel train of thought, here, that was carelessly overlooked during the film's making.

The plot is pretty simple. Two college students take an uninhibited tour of Europe's dark under belly, relishing the purple haze of legal hash bars ... having ravishing sex with bosomy euro-chicks. Life's pretty good for these irreverent, if naive and unsophisticated hedonists. Then ... within a matter of minutes ... everything appears to go to hell. One of them finds his hands and feet bound by shackles, sitting almost naked in a dank room that is lavished with all manner of knives and power tools. The purpose of all this? Well ... it's sort of like the Playboy mansion for twisted millionaires ... a place where rich men (and maybe women ... I dunno) can exact all sorts of barbarous, sadistic torture on unwilling participants. And the question on everyone's minds? Can these kids escape this dungeon of carnal, bloody pleasures with their lives?

For a movie that spews rivers of blood, pulpy bone marrow, and mashed limbs ... on top of comely nudity and blistering sex, "Hostel" is pretty fun to watch. I found this movie to be deranged, vicious, and inappropriate in every conceivable way. Sure, I've seen gore in other films that might make "Hostel" seem like a Charlotte Bronte novel. But the vast majority of movie-goers simply don't watch those films ... and for a lot of younger kids who cut their teeth on "Scream" or the "I Know What You Did ..." movies ... the intensity of what they're watching, here, might appear some-what repulsive. (Actually ... I might clarify one thing ... "Hostel" isn't a horror movie ... it tries REALLY hard to be an exploitation shock-fest ... which is probably why Quentin Tarantino's name is in the credits.)

Gore, for the sake of gore alone, I'm totally cool with. Gore, to me, does not enhance the "scare factor" of a movie, though. And if Eli Roth, who helmed this picture, wants to be a maestro of thrills and chills, he'd do much better studying the beguiling atmosphere of Roman Polanksi, or even that of Alfred Hitchcock.

The point that Roth was obviously trying to communicate is that violence, under the guise of entertainment is ... um ... well ... BAD. Okay. However, he relays his message through a camera lens engulfed in thick, syrupy sadism. He's not trying to disappoint America's fixation with violence ... Roth is exciting us with all of this bloody madness. I don't think I'm being far-fetched when I write that Roth WANTS us to watch "Hostel" ... over and over again. And because of this, his commentary (already simple and overcooked) is therefore moot.

But who cares? If you're watching "Hostel," hoping to view a portrait of man's inhumanity to man, you've wasted your money. As a guilty pleasure, "Hostel" hits all the essential bases, man. Actually ... guys like Eli Roth might well be the last bastion of filmmakers who dare to push the proverbial decency envelope. As meaningless as their work might be, you also have to love them for their irreverence for our sensibilities. Guys like Lucio Fulci and Jess Franco were men who swiped the rug from underneath their audience, and made them feel uncomfortable. Roth may eventually clamor among their ranks.

First, let me state that I'm a pretty devoted follower of the Punisher comic, produced by Marvel. His character, having been resurrected from the bowels of one or two-shot guest-star roles in comics such as "The Amazing Spider-Man" and "Daredevil" was given a title all his own, magnificently penned and drawn by Steve Grant and Mike Zeck, respectively. Through the years, the Punisher has experienced a proverbial roller-coaster of ups and downs. In the last five or six years, writer Garth Ennis completely reinvented the Frank Castle/Punisher comic, adding layers of depth (not to mention superb storytelling) to a character that was beginning to wither away inside the Marvel Comic universe.

I say all this because it is the Garth Ennis reinterpretation of the Punisher that this film, "The Punisher" is primarily reefed upon.

Or ... well, sort of.

Like any comic book movie that's being produced nowadays, we're shown in this film a detailed (and somewhat graphic) depiction of Frank Castle's (Thomas Jane) metamorphosis into the Punisher. We watch as his entire family is massacred ... we stand by as his depression and grief evolves into bitter hatred. We see him cleverly unravel a well-organized mafia, strand by strand. We hear as he explains his actions ... that he is not exacting vengeance upon those who wronged him ... rather, he is pronouncing grave punishment.

I love this character to death. And I think, for the most part, "The Punisher" characterizes the strengths of his original comic book design. He's intense, clever ... but far from a superhero.

So why, then, is the end result so utterly prosaic in its telling?

To Thomas Jane's credit, I think he does his dead-level best at what he's given to work with. For my money, I'm betting it's the indifference of actors like John Travolta, who carries his role as the mafia boss too underhandedly. It's not that I don't like Travolta ... it's just that he doesn't really move me when he's playing a sinister heavy. It's just not in him, I'm afraid. Smaller, independent productions, such as "White Man's Burden" suit him rather well. But with each of those, we're also forced to contend with movies like "Broken Arrow," and "Swordfish," where Travolta is seen as some kind of criminal mastermind.

As a fan of the Punisher comic, I wasn't at all thrilled with the liberties filmmaker Jonathan Hensleigh took with his origins ... or his setting. From what I've taken away from interviews that I have read, Tampa, Florida was used (instead of New York City) because of budget restrictions. This is hardly fair. Would Sam Raimi have made "Spider-Man" if he were forced to film in a city, other than the Big Apple? Of course not. I know that the Punisher character is pretty far removed from Spider-Man in terms of popularity, but come on!!

It would be easier if I just summed this film up as, well, boring. Formulaic to the core. I had a lot of fun watching it ... but something much better could have been made, given the correct script and a trifle more creativity behind the camera. Thomas Jane did a bang-up job playing the tortured Punisher ... he's a decent actor who mined some rich, greasy ore from the character. The Punisher isn't really a "superhero" at all ... he's a vigilante who fights on the side of good ... but does so by breaking the law. (Anyone interested in the basic physics of his character should scour their nearest flea market for copies of Don Pellington's original pulp series, The Executioner.)

You know, I'm looking forward to seeing a sequel ... with a bigger budget, and hopefully in a setting OTHER than Tampa. But we've all seen this action-genre film dozens of times before. There's no escaping that, I'm afraid.

By the way ... As a fan-boy, I'd really love to see the Punisher's classic villain, Jigsaw, as a possible character in the sequel. And if Marvel Films cares enough about this franchise, I believe they'd hire Garth Ennis to pen the script. He's given the Punisher a thrilling new life on the page. No reason he couldn't do it all over again, with a palette the size of a Hollywood movie.

For me, Universal's 1934 film, "The Black Cat," starring big-screen titans Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff, totally personifies what an effective horror movie is supposed to be. Though we're led to believe that it is inspired by Edgar Allen Poe's fictional story, there's really nothing to relate to it at all, except of course for a black cat that occasionally appears on screen.

Co-written and directed by poverty-row filmmaker genius, Edgar G. Ulmer, what we're presented with is a macabre tale of revenge, human sacrifice, vivisection, and outright satanism. By 1934's standards, it's really a miracle that this film was even made.

Lugosi stars as Dr. Vitus Werdegast, who travels to the home of an well-know acquaintance, Hjalmar Poelzig (Boris Karloff), who has built his art-deco dwelling on top of what was a particularly gory battleground. Along with Werdegast are two blissfully innocent American travelers who were the victims of a near-fatal car accident. They seek shelter inside Poelzig's home until the morning. But there's something slightly amiss within these walls. Perhaps it is the appearance of Werdegast's long-dead daughter. Or maybe it's the chants of the well-dressed satanist disciples, who downstairs take part in some sort of black mass ritual.

Everything about this movie should induce cold sweats and elevated heartbeats. Ulmer (who also helmed the noir classic, "Detour) makes perfect use of some artfully decorated sets and modest lighting schemes to establish a genuinely creepy atmosphere. Down to its core, that's what throws "The Black Cat" over the top. For an hour and a few minutes, we're thrust into this pitch black world that is immediately threatening. Though I'm in total love with Universal's more classic monster movies, like "Dracula" and "Frankenstein," they're over-hyped to such an extreme that it's difficult to glean any kind foreboding atmosphere. "The Black Cat," though it brought in truckloads of cash for Universal, is relatively unknown by most standards today. The casual horror movie fan that subsists on the "Saw" and "Scream" movies probably isn't aware of "The Black Cat." That's a low-down, dirty shame, too. Though I doubt I'll make any new friends by saying this ... I believe "The Black Cat" to be infinitely superior to the classic Universal monster iconography. Lugosi, I think, had a difficult time shaking off his over-exaggerated stage presence ... but he's still Lugosi. I'm convinced that he was born to play these kinds of roles. As for Boris Karloff ... I don't know what to tell you. He was frightening as Frankenstein's monster ... but here, sans pasty movie make up, he's bone-chillingly gruesome. From the moment the camera reveals him in "The Black Cat," my heart rate did not settle or relax for an instant.

I think with a lot of older horror films, you hear this statement used ad nausim: "It isn't what you see ... it's what you DON'T see." It's a pretty tepid statement ... we all know this to be true, usually. But in "The Black Cat," it takes on an entirely new meaning. Though I'd love to go into detail about this, I'd hate to ruin the surprise for anyone. Needless to say, what you do not see is very, very disturbing. In fact, you'll probably swear that you DID see it.

Thankfully, someone at Universal Studios had the bright idea of releasing this visionary film on DVD. It's sandwiched in between a few other Lugosi-Karloff team-ups that are fairly worthwhile, also. One can only hope that a generation of popcorn-eating, Red Bull-swilling teenagers will somehow discover this film and unearth an entirely new dimension of horror that they never even imagined existed. It's true, anyone on a quest for spurting gore and/or outrageous nudity will walk away feeling pretty cheated. There's none of that, here. But it's okay. That sort of excess has no home in this kind of horror film. What we get in "The Black Cat" is the very essence of horror. A movie, much like Hitchcock's "Psycho," that blankets us in an appropriately sinister atmosphere. The rest should come only naturally.

"The Black Cat" deserves to be watched again and again. It deserves study ... not only by the casual viewer, but most assuredly by a modern generation of filmmakers.

As a footnote, this film has no connection whatsoever to Universal's 1941 comedy-horror film, "The Black Cat," other than its star, Lugosi. Basil Rathbone and Lugosi give fine performances, but one has absolutely nothing to do with the other.