La rabbia dei morti viventi

Formerly known as Phobia, I Drink Your Blood is a fine example of raw, unflinching, horror. Horror, with a chip on it's shoulder. Horror with a small budget, a smaller cast, often humorous dialog, but let me tell you, that on this day, there is evil in the air, and it's awfully humid.

A gang of Satan-worshiping hippies, with bad intentions, ends up in a nearly-abandoned town, after their van breaks down. With only a population of 40, the gang figures that this is their town now, so they pick a house, settle in, but soon grow bored with all the acid taking, and rat killing, and take out their frustrations by forcing some acid on a defenseless, old man. I would imagine, forcing LSD on the elderly would be a real keen time for most hippie-satanists. Unfortunately for the gang, the old man's grandson, little Pete, takes offense to this prank, and seeks vengeance for grandpa's psychedelic misery in a way that any level-headed boy would. The portly, little fellow finds a rabid dog, shoots the damn thing, fills up a syringe with the blood, and injects it into some food in the bakery, which would end up in the stomach's of the acid-fueled satanist's. Evil has just got a double-dose of madness, and it's feeling real bad, and that can only mean bad news for the unsuspecting "town" .

Contrary to what I had heard, I Drink Your Blood is not exactly a Lucio Fulci blood bath, or even what I would consider a gore film, in fact, I see no reason why they couldn't have squeezed in an R rating. With that said, gore, or even moderate amounts of blood, ain't everything. I Drink Your Blood, from beginning to end, is a nightmarish hell, with no redeeming qualities. With this one, you can feel the evil, as if it's in the room, with you, plus, the psychotic score, and nerve-racking sound-effects couldn't be more fitting. I recommend I Drink Your Blood to anyone who appreciates quality, low-budget horror from the dark side, but regardless of what Bhaskar tells you, I sincerely doubt Satan was ever an acid head. 8/10

Pete Banner (Riley Mills), his pretty older sister Sylvia (Iris Brooks), and their gramps, Doc. Banner (Richard Bowler), sure don't have much in the way of smarts.

When Sylvia catches hippie Andy (Tyde Kierney) stealing a chicken for use in a black magic ritual, she doesn't call the police: instead, she lets him take the bird, just so long as she can spy on Andy and his pals performing their ceremony. Spotted lurking in the woods by the naked Satanists, the girl is pursued, beaten and abused. In retrospect, calling 911 would have been the wiser option.

Gramps also displays a remarkable lack of common sense. When Sylvia is found in a catatonic state, he quite rightly thinks that the gang of hippies staying at the local deserted hotel are responsible. However, rather than contact the sheriff (does this family not own a phone?), the old man grabs his shotgun and goes it alone to have it out with the drug-crazed drop-outs. One doddery pensioner against eight devil-worshipping lunatics on L.S.D. -- unsurprisingly, it doesn't go well for Doc. Banner.

As for young Pete, he has to be the stupidest of the lot: in order to take revenge, the lad extracts blood from a rabid dog and injects it into a tray of meat pies that he sells to the hippies. Soon, instead of lawless Satanists, the town is under siege from crazed maniacs foaming at the mouth (I wonder how many tubes of toothpaste went into the making of this film) with a lust for blood who can pass on the deadly disease via a bite. Pretty soon, there are machete wielding maniacs everywhere!

Produced by exploitation movie legend Jerry Gross, and written and directed by David Durston, I Drink Your Blood is exactly what a drive-in/grindhouse movie should be: cheap, totally trashy, with over-the-top performances, gratuitous nudity and plenty of gore. It takes until the halfway point to really get into full swing, but when it does, the film is an absolute blast.

The mayhem starts proper as Manson-like cult leader Horace (played with wild-eyed relish by Bhaskar Roy Chowdhury) and his followers start to feel the effects of the rabies, black Satanist Rollo (George Patterson) being the first to go full-on bonkers, stabbing fellow hippie Shelley in the gut with a dagger and then hacking off his foot with an axe. The rest soon follow suit, with cultist Molly (Rhonda Fultz) infecting a whole crew of construction workers (with rabies, although they might well have contracted something else as well), making matters even worse. Meanwhile, Sylvia and uninfected Andy (now a couple, the girl having bounced back from her earlier ordeal) and Pete try to avoid being sliced and diced until construction site foreman Roger Davis (John Damo) can alert the authorities.

I Drink Your Blood was one of the first films to be rated X by the MPA based on its violence, and its easy to see why: there are plenty of shocking scenes of brutality, with an evisceration, an uncredited Lynn Lowry (who appeared in George Romero's similarly themed The Crazies) cutting off a woman's hand with an electric carving knife, a pregnant woman impaling herself with a stake, self-immolation, a pitchfork in the throat, a sword in the back and out of the mouth, and my favourite moment, the shock decapitation of a major character, the victim's head carried around by the killer. As I watched the violence escalate, my rating kept getting higher and higher!

A neat downbeat ending tops off what is a hugely entertaining exploitation classic that demands to be seen by any self-respecting gore-hound or trash movie aficionado.

A group of Satanist hippies roll into a small quiet town and ruffle a few feathers of the locals, since they attacked one of their girls. So the girl's grandfather tries to set things straight with them, but they forcefully make him swallow a LSD cocktail. Wanting revenge for what they had done to his grandfather, a young boy feeds them pies, which have been injected with rabies from a dead dog. Slowly they start to feel the effects and they turn into homicidal maniacs hell-bent on destroying or contaminating anything that crosses their path.

Rabies and hippies, who show their faith in the dark lord. What a freak out! Now, there's no doubts this cheesy delight is wild 'n' wacky fun for the undemanding and was one of the first films to be influenced by Romero's "Night of Living Dead". This memorably sleazy and in bad-taste drive-in, exploitation flick scrapes the bottom of the barrel in the budget restraints, but despite that, it's surprisingly competent. It doesn't stop the sheer flow of comic entertainment, and might I add, this foaming madness is damn hilarious. After eating the very yummy looking pies that the smart little fella messed around with, you'll get a kick out of how the eccentric bunch transform into feral beings and basically going spas, leaving some very nasty splatter behind. The scenes involving water being splashed about is incredibly rib tickling. The acting is extremely fruity, but I thought that it was more than acceptable for this sort of film. George Patterson and Bhaskar Roy Chowdhury were a riot as some of the hippies. Also Lynn Lowry appears in the group. Jack Damon and Elizabeth Marner-Brooks play the more steady heads of the town and they're fine in their roles. While, it might be funny, it still does offer up some nail-biting tension, flash pacing and one or two decent surprises amongst this enjoyably (and sometimes quite) original idea. But oh my, wait to you get your head around the spotty experimental score with its array of funky and otherworldly sounds. The story and fluffy script might leave some loose ends left untied, but the score definitely doesn't.

Simply put, this hocus-pocus was compellingly dumb and scummy fun that has one real cruel edge to it! Well-deserving of its cult status.

I recently saw this forgotten gem, and I had a great time! Satan-worshiping hippies, a dead goat, lots of rats and plenty of nudity;what's not to like? Well, there were a few things I didn't like, sad to say. First on the list is the "Score". Whoever did this should be locked in a tiny room and forced to listen to it for seventeen hours in THX. Basically, it's a car alarm and drums looped over and over at increasingly harsh frequencies, making the audience long for the sweet low tones of a dentist's drill. Second on the list is the distracted acting. It's as if everyone in the town was eating prozac like skittles between takes. Aside from those two peeves, I had a blast watching it, and so might you, just remember to use the mute button. You'll need it.

I caught "I Drink Your Blood" at a Times Square theater in New York in 1971. I was writing for a long-defunct but excellent film magazine called Filmfacts, where we covered every film given a theatrical release in the U.S.--running the gamut from the boxoffice blockbusters to the schlockiest of drive-in quickies. Filmfacts was a scholarly publication--most of our subscribers were libraries. For each film, we provided a complete list of cast & credits, a summary of critics' reviews, one-to-four stills (if available), and a thorough plot synopsis. Which is why I saw "I Drink Your Blood," expecting another piece of low-budget garbage, and instead being treated to one of the most truly horrific (and little-known) thrillers ever produced. Even though the obviously heavily-edited R-rated version was pretty strong stuff, it still put me through the wringer and I recommended it to the other members of the magazine's staff, who all loved it. The plot has been sufficiently detailed by other reviewers on this invaluable database, but, aside from urging anyone with a cast-iron stomach to sample this unique, feverish, gorgeously photographed nightmare of a movie ("Night of the Living Dead" please step aside), I'd like to clarify the conflicting accounts of the prints of the movie. The one I saw at the theater was rated R by the MPAA. A few months later, I happened to meet a lovely actress named Iris Brooks, who had given a first-rate performance in the film. We became friends and, on the anniversary of the film's completion, Iris invited me and some friends to attend a cast & crew party held at a Times Square theater around midnight (after the theater was cleared out) and the projectionist could show "I Drink Your Blood," followed by a catered but unpretentious party in the downstairs lounge (apparently, everyone involved with making the movie, its grisly subject matter notwithstanding, had a great time and had formed many friendships during the film). However, the print that was screened was not the butchered 'R'-rated version I'd originally seen but the director David Durston's (a sweet, supremely intelligent, friendly man, and a first-rate filmmaker as far as I'm concerned) unedited cut. It was perhaps 8 minutes longer than the censored version shown at theaters. The violent scenes were considerably more graphic and gory, and there were also some innocuous nude scenes that apparently gave Jack Valenti cardiac arrest, hence the butchered version that the distributor was forced to release. I've read that the original, uncut version has finally been unearthed and will be released on DVD. I heartily recommend that any serious movie buff should buy this film (in whatever version, it doesn't really matter) as soon as it hits the video stores. It's a true 'sleeper' that deserves to be re-discovered and appreciated even 30 years after its initial, shoddily-handled brief release. "I Drink Your Blood" is some kind of deranged masterpiece but, despite its controversial elements (even today, it's pretty far out there), it's never offensive and the people who made it are one of the nicest and most talented group of individuals it's ever been my pleasure to meet!