Les tueurs de la lune de miel

Released in 1969 under the guise of a low-budget exploitation film, The Honeymoon Killers is in fact one of the best American real-life crime movies ever made. It tells the story of Martha (Shirley Stoler), a lonely, overweight nurse who is entered into a 'lonely hearts' club by her friend Bunny (Everybody Loves Raymond's Doris Roberts). She receives a response from Latin lothario Ray Fernandez (Tony Lo Bianco), who is a con-man who preys on lonely women, shaking them down for their money. When he reveals this to Martha, she is undeterred, and insists on joining him on his quests by posing as his sister. Ray promises that he won't sleep with any of them, but Martha's overbearing jealousy soon leads to murder.

Based on the notorious case of the 'lonely hearts killers', first (and only) time director Leonard Kastle adopts a documentary-style approach, opting to use mostly hand-held photography, naturalistic lighting, and minimalistic editing. If sometimes the small budget becomes obvious, this only heightens the sense of realism running throughout the film, assisted by two astonishing performances from it's leads. Stoler is immense, evoking sympathy at first but then revealing her true motives are rooted in jealousy and bitterness as she becomes unpredictable and frightening. Bianco, who is still enjoying a prolific career, performs with a flawless Latino accent, demonstrating the charm and seduction that helped Fernandez dupe so many of his unfortunate victims in real-life

But the film is not without artistic merits as well. Lacking blood and devoid of any kind of shock tactics, the murders are cold and brutal. A hammer blow to the head has as much impact as Leatherface's notorious entrance in The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974), as the victim struggles and twitches while the killers struggle for finish her off. Another has the camera focus just on the panicking eyes of a sedated victim, as Martha and Ray argue off- camera about to do with her. A gun then appears at the corner of the screen and it's all over. It's shockingly blunt for it's era, but only serves to make The Honeymoon Killers one of the most invigorating and uncomfortable experiences I've had in recent memory.

www.the-wrath-of-blog.blogspot.com

I went downtown to see some widescreen extravaganza at a Duplex Cinema and when I bought my ticket realized I'd been standing in the wrong line. (The story of my life.) Instead of seeing some technicolorama epic I wound up seeing this, a cheap black-and-white true crime story.

Well, felix culpa! I emerged shocked. At the time of its release there was nothing quite like it. Two small-time murdering cons deeply in love with one another in some twisted kind of way. Balding, overacting Tony Lo Bianco. Plumply menacing battleaxe of a nurse, Shirley Stoler. The photography is grainy and primitive. Indoor lamps don't simply cast light -- they glare. The movie's idea of a proper family home looks like something that might be owned by a worker in the Pabst Brewery in Newark.

Lo Bianco as Ray is a minor Latin con type, adroit with lonely women, while Stoler, as Martha Beck (great name) is the passionate one, filled with jealousy and rage. I don't know if the victims were supposed to be seen as somehow contemptible, what with their obtuseness and whining, but we never forget that we're dealing with human beings here. The first murder is relatively genteel. Death on a bus follows a poisoning. The next is bone-chilling. To appreciate the shock value of the violence a viewer needs to remember that this was filmed before all the extended gore and homicides we see now in movies like "Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer," "Atlantic City," and "Torn Curtain."

Previously, when the victim was whacked hard on the head with a claw hammer, he or she slumped forward, decorously dead. Not here. As in "The Assassination of Trotsky," the victim is momentarily stunned, then recovers screaming. The second homicide involves the only use of a directorial touch unusual enough to draw attention to itself. The victim is lying on her back in bed while her two attackers discuss the best way to murder her. The camera concentrates on her uncomprehending and frightened eyes flicking from side to side, then a sharp pan to a pistol pressed against her head, and the sound of a shot. (A contemporary review of the film criticized one of the scenes because we could hear Ray urinating into the toilet bowl offscreen.)

The last duet of murders exceeds the limits of any sympathy we might have felt towards the lovers. Ray has promised Martha that he's not going to boff the last victim, whereas, it is revealed, he's been unfaithful -- to Martha, that is. Well, that's enough for Martha. After disposing of both her last rival and child she drops the dime on the two of them. If she can't own Ray exclusively then no one's going to have a piece of him. Ray writes her a love letter in jail. His ability to forgive is almost religious in its magnitude. Either that or he just can't stop telling lies.

This is a true story, and it has the digressions and non sequiturs we find in a real-life script. People get into unexpected and awkward arguments that are accidentally heard offscreen. Ray's sleep is constantly interrupted by Martha arguing with a victim in the next bedroom. The fact that this is based on real events make it all the more scary. Skip Freddy and the rest if you want to be scared out of your wits. Catch this instead.

Chubby ex-nurse Martha Beck over-eats and gets confused as she and gigolo boyfriend Ray Fernandez murder their way across the Northeast.

No doubt about it, the movie's a sleezeball masterpiece. There's maybe one likable character in the whole hundred-minutes-- a prison guard, of all people, and she has maybe all of five lines. The rest are either slimy (Ray), monstrous (Martha) or pathetic (the victims). Only an indie production would dare combine such ugly photography with such a succession of dismal characters. But, for a real shudder, imagine how a Hollywood studio would have prettified the same movie.

Nonetheless, the sleeze has genuine style behind it, along with two tacky Oscars for the leads. As Ray, Lo Bianco exudes more oily charm than a BP platform, while a stretched-out Martha (Stoler) resembles nothing less than a beached whale. Just the thought of the two of them clinching is enough to sound an environmental alarm. And the fact that the kinkiest things turn them on makes the picture even worse and not even their "mad love" helps.

I don't know how many movie details are based on fact, but two of the murder scenes are genuinely ugly. And the fact that it's nurse Martha, not the squeamish Ray, who handles the messes says a lot about gender equality. Most chilling to me, is the fact that these two psychos merrily bludgeon, shoot, and poison their way from one place to the next with nary a police siren in sight. It's almost like they're planning a vacation itinerary from one murder site to the next. In fact, it's a betrayed Martha who finally puts a stop to things.

Anyhow, no movie I know makes crime and murder any more sordid than this one. And in my little book, that's a genuine achievement. Plus, I think the movie changed my mind about the merits of capital punishment.

I had to add a comment after reading so many on here comparing The Honeymoon Killers to John Waters. If Waters had made a serious attempt at true crime, this would be it. Based on a true story, two sociopaths come together through a "lonely hearts" dating service and discover they are mutually compatible serial killers. Tony Lo Bianco plays Raymond Fernandez, a greasy con-man and loser preying on naive women looking for love. Lo Bianco manages to be sexy even as such a pathetic jerk. Shirley Stoler is Martha Beck, his accomplice and apparent true love. Probably best known as the evil Nazi commandant in Seven Beauties, Stoler steals the film and in my humble opinion is really the only reason to check the movie out. Stoler and Water's star Divine are so similar, they could be "sisters". Stoler eats the scenery with gusto in an angry, bitchy way and it's fascinating just to watch her mouth move. The film is surprisingly watchable with some shockers and a parade of character actresses as victims. To contrast this grim black and white film against the Oscar winner for best picture that year (Patton) only adds to it's bizarreness. The director, Leonard Kastle presents the story bleakly with no bells and whistles. Sadly this is the only film he directed, it would have been great to see how his career would have progressed.

When fledgling director Martin Scorsese was removed from his first project after spending too much time on master shots, the film's scriptwriter, sometime opera composer Leonard Kastle eventually stepped into the breach. Like Howard Hawks before him, who had made Rio Bravo (1959) as a reaction against the perceived moral falsities of High Noon (1952), Kastle had also written his screenplay as a riposte to an earlier film. After seeing Bonnie And Clyde (1967), he felt that the glamorous crime duo in Penn's film bore little resemblance to reality. For his own treatment he settled on another notorious pairing from the annals of American crime: that of Martha Beck and Raymond Fernandez, the 1940s' slayers dubbed by contemporary tabloids as 'The Lonely Hearts Killers', who met their due judicial end in San Quentin in 1951.

The Honeymoon Killers, as his film was finally called, is an account of Beck and Fernandez and their growing relationship during their notorious murder spree. Fernandez was a con man who preyed on spinsters, promising matrimony and then absconding with their savings. Once linked with Beck, his activities took a fatal turn and matters were complicated by their growing attachment. In fact, Kastle originally intended his film to be called 'Dear Martha', taking as its centre Martha's emotional engagement with her lover, rather than the cold facts of their crimes. It was the producers who ultimately opted for the more lurid title in an attempt to exploit the likely marquee appeal. In some ways it is apt, as we see Ray and Martha (introduced as his 'sister') meet and exploit several vulnerable women or discussing marriage with them before despatching with increasing levels of callousness, either before or after the event. Despite some post-production tinkering by the producers, The Honeymoon Killers remains a love story at heart. That's not to say that the film is not driven by the events that took place, but in Kastle's interpretation the victim's deaths are caused just as much by Martha's jealousies, and her impatience with sharing her lover, as they are by financial greed. Ultimately this is her story and it she who brings it to a fitting close.

From this distance the film actually seems related more to In Cold Blood (1967), Richard Brooks' adaptation of Capote's novel, than to Penn's masterpiece of the same year. The chief protagonists of the former, Perry Smith and Dick Hickok, are on a similar path of self-reliance and destruction. One can even draw a parallel between Perry's addiction to aspirin and Martha's love of chocolate and romance magazines. Kastle's stark black and white photography and concentration on the criminous principals gives the same air of precise, unglamorous re-enactment that's entirely missing in the glossier Beatty and Dunaway vehicle. Whether through the uncertainties of first-time direction or conscious artistic decision, his film has a rough edge, a grainy quality in which actors are thrown into relief by stark lighting and shadow. Its natural interiors and the use of off-screen space give it a chilling near-documentary feel that ensures its cult status remains intact down the years.

At the centre of the film is deadly Martha Beck, the overweight nurse - an outstanding performance by Shirley Stoler. This was Stoler's screen debut and she was hard put to regain such memorability again on screen. She went on to appear next in Klute (1971) and in such films as The Deer Hunter (1978), but the only other time she had such a devastating impact on film was probably in Wertmuller's Seven Beauties (aka: Pasqualino Settebellezze, 1976), where her intimidating bulk was also put to good use, this time in a concentration camp setting. Her co-star Tony Lo Bianco, playing the part of the wily Ray with lightness and distinction, appeared in another cult item: Larry Cohen's God Told Me To (aka: Demon, 1976), but has done little else of note. Like Stoler, this is hour of glory.

Ray is the confidence trickster who, in his regular fashion, initially attempts to ensnare lonely nurse Martha, at the start of the film. Reprimanding two ward juniors at the beginning she says, "I don't care what you do outside the hospital, but in here you're as bad as ammonia and chlorine!" Such comments are ironic given the explosive combination of Martha and Ray to come, a duo that, once joined are as deadly as Bonnie and Clyde, or Smith and Hickok. Her opening words are also echoed in Ray's later, and repeated, views on females who prove an obstruction: "I don't care what you do, just get rid of her!"

When the film was released it was not immediately recognised as the achievement it is (Pauline Kael, said "It's such a terrible movie, I wouldn't recommend it to anyone"). Other critics were more favourable however, and audiences really sat up when François Truffaut thereupon saw it and named it his favourite American film. Some have seen some particular resemblances to the work of the French director in Kastle's and certainly there's a certain Nouvelle Vague, improvisatory air (his use of Mahler for instance recalls Godard's cut-up music scores). Elsewhere however Kastle shows real independence and flair as a director, so much so that one regrets that it is his only film: Ray's 'rumba into romance' for instance, as he approaches Martha for the first time, the con man's face sliding lasciviously through the frame. Or in the use of space, where Martha's size is often enclosed uncomfortably with Ray and/or their prey, suggesting the claustrophobia of killing. Most of all is the director's staging of cold murder - shown not neat and tidy, as is (still) the usual Hollywood practice, but prolonged and troublesome as victims struggle, rather in the way that Hitchcock had presaged in Torn Curtain's gas stove sequence in 1966.

The 1996 Spanish production Profundo Carmesi covers the same ground as does Kastle's, but with its strengths the present film remains the definitive account, and the Region 1 DVD release includes an informative half-hour interview with the director. The less expensive Region 2 disc excludes this valuable extra, but retains the same excellent widescreen transfer, even if the audio elements on both editions remain in some need of digital restoration. Oddly enough, the awkward sound adds to the scary immediacy of it all. Other than that, there's the trailer that, for once, tells the truth: "See The Honeymoon Killers and just try to forget!"