La rabbia dei morti viventi

A band of devil-worshipping hippies take root in a small town that has been evacuated save a group of construction workers, a baker, and a family led by Grandpa the veterinarian. While holing themselves up in a rat-infested hotel(where the hippies actually play a game of who can kill the most rats for the rat barbecue), they are confronted by an irate Grandpa the vet. They force him to take some lsd and beat him up. Grandpa's grandson gets back by injecting a dozen meat pies with rabies from a dog he shot later that evening. The hippies go mad and all those people they infect do likewise. This film is rather distasteful, yet strangely interesting. It is definitely a low-budget affair as no one in it has a name and the special effects are extremely poor. The film is markedly gruesome as you see a man stabbed repeatedly, a leg, hand, head chopped off, and crazed hippies with bloody hands wielding axes, a sword, even an electric carving knife! The producer's name does his film great honor...his name is Jerry Gross.

What self respecting exploitation and horror fan is going to resist *that* title?

When a sadistic, Satan worshipping, hippie gang starts raising hell in a remote and tiny rural community, a local kid fights back by feeding them meat pies infected with blood he'd obtained from a rabid dog.

The result is an outrageous, wonderfully gory, trashy hippie horror hoot, directed for maximum shock value by David E. Durston. It definitely has a campy appeal as well as some twisted touches. The pace is always quite good, but things definitely get cranked up to a higher level for the intense and exciting finish. The cast, overall, is unsurprisingly not so hot, but Indian dancer Bhaskar plays his lead role with a delicious amount of creepy charisma. (And that's another thing: one's gotta love a character name like Horace Bones.) Highly noticeable among the supporting cast is delectable, uncredited young Lynn Lowry, in one of her earliest roles, a mute member of the gang. Director Durston also appears, uncredited, as Dr. Oaks.

Great music by Clay Pitts and enjoyable gore effects by Irvin Carlton are heavy assets. Along the way, we get to see a memorable decapitation, hands and feet chopped off, a pitchfork through the neck, a hanging, a stomach stabbing, self immolation, a gang member running around brandishing an axe, another one stabbed over and over again, and of course lots of foaming at the mouth.

Say what you will about "I Drink Your Blood", but one thing it's not is boring. It's extremely amusing throughout; in fact, it's downright hysterical at times. The influence of "Night of the Living Dead" is undeniable, but the truly wild 'n' crazy approach of "I Drink Your Blood" is all its own, and the story comes complete with the subtext of concerns of small town America over the whole hippie movement. Understandably a cult favourite, this does come highly recommended to newcomers to exploitation & horror flicks. Great fun.

Eight out of 10.

"I Drink Your Blood" (1970) is a film that I'd been wanting to see for a very long time. By now, what horror-film fan worth his Judith O'Dea Fan Club membership card has not heard of the movie in which a band of hippies dose Grandpa with LSD, and grandson Petey gives them rabies-infected meat pies in revenge? Only these aren't your typical peace, love and groovy button type of hippies, but rather Satan-worshiping, sadistic thugs, whose violent tendencies only get worse when they start to foam at the mouth... A film that is consistently suspenseful and that keeps the viewer riveted, this is actually a very well-done horror shlocker. The use of bizarro freakout music really helps to punch across the frequent scenes of carnage, and the picture grows increasingly wild as it proceeds. In one scene, a rabid hippy girl practices "free love" with a construction crew, infecting the entire bunch with the disease; a sadly resonant scene in today's AIDS reality. This film's debt to George A. Romero's "Night of the Living Dead," made two years earlier, becomes fairly obvious in the final third, when some defenders cower in a cellar to escape the crazed mob. And speaking of debts, could David Cronenberg have borrowed from this picture, when he was busy putting together 1977's "Rabid"? In any event, "I Drink Your Blood," while never overly gross, is surely not a movie for the faint of heart. It's no "Old Yeller" (1957), that's for sure! And wait till you see all the extras on this deluxe DVD. Fifty chapters for an 80-minute movie! Now that IS crazy!

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!

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.