Zontar-2
A rejoint le janv. 2001
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Note de Zontar-2
Adventurers tangle with zombies who can walk underwater. (Did George Romero ever catch this?)
The fifties were a fallow decade for the walking dead. Scary zombies may have roamed INVISIBLE INVADERS and CREATURE WITH THE ATOM BRAIN, but they were sci-fi generated. (PLAN 9, anyone?) MORA TAU more or less sticks to the hoodoo playbook, but its finale is unforgivably weak, and the underwater scenes, which should have been a highlight, are blatantly bogus. If the story were rewritten on land, it would have spared lots of trouble and unintended laughter.
On the plus side, quickie director Ed Cahn always aced day-for-night shots, and nearly all of the action here occurs in darkness. The film is free of stock wildlife footage and white dudes dressed as natives. The cast seems to appreciate scripter Bernard Gordon's snappy dialogue. Cult actress Allison Hayes pulls double duty as a shrewish moll and a zombie. Can't act worth stale jujubes, but still a treat to watch. There's also plenty of gaffe guffaws, my favorite being the portly zomb who "chases" victims down a staircase as he clutches the railing.
The fifties were a fallow decade for the walking dead. Scary zombies may have roamed INVISIBLE INVADERS and CREATURE WITH THE ATOM BRAIN, but they were sci-fi generated. (PLAN 9, anyone?) MORA TAU more or less sticks to the hoodoo playbook, but its finale is unforgivably weak, and the underwater scenes, which should have been a highlight, are blatantly bogus. If the story were rewritten on land, it would have spared lots of trouble and unintended laughter.
On the plus side, quickie director Ed Cahn always aced day-for-night shots, and nearly all of the action here occurs in darkness. The film is free of stock wildlife footage and white dudes dressed as natives. The cast seems to appreciate scripter Bernard Gordon's snappy dialogue. Cult actress Allison Hayes pulls double duty as a shrewish moll and a zombie. Can't act worth stale jujubes, but still a treat to watch. There's also plenty of gaffe guffaws, my favorite being the portly zomb who "chases" victims down a staircase as he clutches the railing.
A mildly autistic, shed-dwelling loner improbably acquires an equally troubled girlfriend as he smotes his tormentors.
During his grindhouse heyday, Andy Milligan could excrete exploitation fare even faster and cheaper than Roger Corman. Unlike Corman, who (at least for awhile) aspired to better work, Milligan was content to line his pockets while expressing contempt for mankind. While predictably dour, THE WEIRDO features two prominent peculiarities.
Milligan films are littered with losers, cluelessly trying to claw their way out of hopeless situations. Though retarded, The Weirdo may be Milligan's only character cognizant that he's doomed, doomed, doomed from the getgo. Then, there's the slapping. Punks slap the weirdo. His girlfriend slaps the weirdo. His mother slaps the weirdo. A preacher's wife slaps the weirdo. The weirdo slaps his girlfriend. A caregiver slaps the weirdo. You'll swear that Moe Howard was the technical adviser.
The lumpy script bunches up all the killings at the end. Passive characters abruptly turn hostile to warrant a higher body count.
The psycho attack scenes are borderline competent, and for a flick with subterranean production values, the blood and flesh wounds look surprisingly good.
The inclusion of a cursing cleric was a cool touch, but this sad little film should only appeal to those bitten by the Milligan bug...you poor devils.
During his grindhouse heyday, Andy Milligan could excrete exploitation fare even faster and cheaper than Roger Corman. Unlike Corman, who (at least for awhile) aspired to better work, Milligan was content to line his pockets while expressing contempt for mankind. While predictably dour, THE WEIRDO features two prominent peculiarities.
Milligan films are littered with losers, cluelessly trying to claw their way out of hopeless situations. Though retarded, The Weirdo may be Milligan's only character cognizant that he's doomed, doomed, doomed from the getgo. Then, there's the slapping. Punks slap the weirdo. His girlfriend slaps the weirdo. His mother slaps the weirdo. A preacher's wife slaps the weirdo. The weirdo slaps his girlfriend. A caregiver slaps the weirdo. You'll swear that Moe Howard was the technical adviser.
The lumpy script bunches up all the killings at the end. Passive characters abruptly turn hostile to warrant a higher body count.
The psycho attack scenes are borderline competent, and for a flick with subterranean production values, the blood and flesh wounds look surprisingly good.
The inclusion of a cursing cleric was a cool touch, but this sad little film should only appeal to those bitten by the Milligan bug...you poor devils.
Relatives returning to their ancestral home tangle with warlocks and a family curse.
If this was based on an actual novel, as the credits claim, it has to be filmdom's sorriest screen adaptation. (Then again, the book angle could have been fabricated by crudmeister Jerry Warren, whose cinematic transgressions include bogus credits.) Like MONSTER A GO GO ('65), this plays like an unfinished film. You pity old hands Tom Drake and Andrea King, clueless that they'll "star" in what amounts to a series of barely connected scenes.
On the other hand, Lon Chaney and John Carradine probably knew exactly what type of muck they were standing in. Carradine hams his role of family patriarch so badly, Hormel could sue for product defamation. Chaney, possibly hired because the plot includes a werewolf, plays a horned satanist who limps with an (unseen) cloven hoof...or did he just drop a hooch bottle on his foot? Familiar TV face Jerome Thor is screendom's most pitiful lycanthrope, though he gives it what I guess is his best shot.
Master film mangler Jerry Warren attempted to finish the film by randomly inserting new scenes that add nothing but running time. Sparse music cues contribute to the lethargy.
If this was based on an actual novel, as the credits claim, it has to be filmdom's sorriest screen adaptation. (Then again, the book angle could have been fabricated by crudmeister Jerry Warren, whose cinematic transgressions include bogus credits.) Like MONSTER A GO GO ('65), this plays like an unfinished film. You pity old hands Tom Drake and Andrea King, clueless that they'll "star" in what amounts to a series of barely connected scenes.
On the other hand, Lon Chaney and John Carradine probably knew exactly what type of muck they were standing in. Carradine hams his role of family patriarch so badly, Hormel could sue for product defamation. Chaney, possibly hired because the plot includes a werewolf, plays a horned satanist who limps with an (unseen) cloven hoof...or did he just drop a hooch bottle on his foot? Familiar TV face Jerome Thor is screendom's most pitiful lycanthrope, though he gives it what I guess is his best shot.
Master film mangler Jerry Warren attempted to finish the film by randomly inserting new scenes that add nothing but running time. Sparse music cues contribute to the lethargy.