dmacewen

It's true that a myth has been built around Elisabeth Bathory. But that myth is not her reputation as a monster: that is wholly deserved and borne out by historical fact. The myth is that of Bathory as vain, beauty-obsessed blood-bather. While there might be some genuine basis for this -- serial killers, after all, have been obsessed with stranger notions than the ones legend has attributed to Bathory -- the bottom line is that this lesbian murderess was a sadistic fiend who extracted intense sexual pleasure from the torture and murder of young girls. The revised version was manufactured in the Victorian era, because people couldn't bear to acknowledge that the "gentler sex" could be as bloodthirsty as men. This was, after all, the era of John Ruskin, "separate spheres," and the notion of woman as civilizing influence. Thus, Elisabeth Bathory was turned into a supernatural fiend whose story mainly served to warn women of the evils of "female vanity."

Apparently, we have not come very far from the mentality of the nineteenth century, for we still live in a culture that cannot or will not view women as anything other than wholesome pillars of moral rectitude. Thus, Karla Homolka's depredations were whitewashed in a loathsome and factually corrupt straight-to-video movie. Aileen Wuornos is turned into some kind of culture hero. And gender feminists refer to the likes of Homolka and others as "classic examples of female victims of male sadism."

Now we have this pack of lies, in which Bathory is victimized by power hungry men while she valiantly strives to protect her children. Yes, the old standby, folks: when you want to make excuses for evil women, just portray them as nurturing and self-sacrificing, willingly shouldering the burden of undeserved ignominy for the sake of their children. The kind of characterization which has nauseated feminists and gelded Marxist males for generations, but which they never fail to exploit when it suits their purposes.

I'm a huge fan of the beautiful and talented Anna Friel. Her presence and performance are the only reasons I give this piece of dreck two stars. May everyone else involved with its production rot in hell.

One of the other reviewers summed it up well when he wrote, "By no means would anyone consider this a really good movie but it is a really fun movie -- even if it wasn't intended to be funny." Well, it obviously _was_ intended to be funny, but it's the type of humor that acknowledges the essential awfulness of the enterprise. That said, Mikels was smart in having his cast play it with a straight face, because z-grade films of this sort can become unbearable when the actors are in on the joke. The result is a cheery vulgarity that makes the The Corpse Grinders quite enjoyable, and there are even a few moments of genuine wit: the ad campaign, for example, proclaims, "For cats who like people." You'll get that joke when you see the film. Enjoy!

Joe Sarno was a special and talented filmmaker, and his erotic films were always a cut above the general run of such fare in the 60s and 70s. "Confessions of a Young American Housewife" is the story of a young wife, her husband, and her swinger friends. When the young woman's mother comes to visit, her introduction to their sexual ways becomes the movies main focus. Sarno manages to elicit a rough dignity from his actors, and the characters are more than pieces of meat. The final scene is surprisingly touching: early in the film I disliked the characters for their lifestyle, and by the end I had come to see they were not the emotionally shallow people I had taken them to be. If you are one of those dismal unfortunates who watch HBO and Showtime garbage like True Blood and Tell Me You Love Me to spice up your flaccid middle-aged sex lives, then you will be unable to appreciate this film. For the rest of you with taste, check it out.