Disconnected

Not very good, but somewhat watchable. Someone is killing young women in a small town; we don't see the killings or bodies until the killer is identified. Meanwhile, an odd but polite young man tries to date Alicia, a young woman who is working at a video store. She has a slutty identical twin sister. Alicia is getting strange phone calls: nobody there, or horrible sounds, or overhearing other people's phone calls. The calls may or may not be related to the killer.

The movie gets a little odd after the killer is dealt with by the police. A restless night Alicia has is depicted through a series of black & white photographs. An old man in a black hat and black coat who was seen at the beginning of the movie shows up again at the end. I'm not sure if he is significant or not.

As in Gorman Bechard's other movies, Carmine Capobianco talks to the camera. Here, he's a cop talking to someone, a journalist? Oddly, he's shot against a white wall, and wears the same shirt in scenes supposed to be taking place on different days.

Lots of pop/rock songs on the soundtrack. Sometimes scenes play without dialogue or environmental sound, serving as little more than music video montage scenes. There's some good music by XTC and Hunters & Gatherers.

If this was Bechard's first film as a director, as it seems to be, it's not bad considering that.

Once again we're in the realms of slasher movies that just about fit the guidelines of the category. As with Dead Kids and Murderlust, Disconnected attempts to branch away from the hackneyed likes of The Prowler and Edge of the Axe without straying too far from the stalk and slash rulebook.

After the credits have rolled we meet Alicia (Francis Raines) the protagonist of the feature. On her way home from work one day she finds an elderly man hanging around mysteriously beside her apartment. Sympathetically she allows the stranger to come inside and use her phone, but whilst she's making a cup of tea, he vanishes from her living room without trace. Later that night, Alicia tells her twin sister Barbara Ann (also Francis Raines) about the mysterious visitor, but she laughs it off telling her sibling that he probably just made a call and left suddenly. We soon learn that these twins don't exactly see eye to eye, mainly because Barbara Ann keeps sleeping with Alicia's boyfriends behind her back. Mike (Carl Koch) is the latest in the line of unfaithful partners to get the chop, not only for the aforementioned cheating, but presumably also because he has the worst case of 'bad mullet syndrome' that I have ever seen! Imagine a mid-eighties geek with a poodle on his head and you may be able to conjure up your own visual image.

Down in the dumps and on the rebound, Alicia meets up with a guy named Franklin (Mike Walker) and agrees to go out on a date with him. Franklin comes across as a polite fellow and he hides pretty well the fact that he loves nothing more than picking up promiscuous women, taking them back to his flat and then slaughtering them with the handy switch blade that he keeps in his bedside cabinet. Around the same time that Alicia meets this undercover maniac, she begins receiving bizarre and frankly quite credibly eerie persistent anonymous phone calls. As the bodies pile up around the city the Police get more and more baffled. Is Franklin the mysterious caller or is the petrified female just a little disconnected?

Disconnected is certainly an oddity of a feature. Almost as intriguing as it is bemusing, it will at times leave you staring at the screen in confusion. After the killer is revealed and dealt with half way through the runtime, the mystery is still un-resolved and to be honest the conclusion remains inconclusive to the viewer. Gorman Bechard's direction will have you as baffled as the illogical plot line. 88 of the 90-minute runtime looks to have been shot and edited by a retarded gibbon, but then every once in a while he manages to pull off a standout shock sequence that feels out of place amongst the rest of the point and shoot mediocrity. The director's obsession with wide, spacious and eminently tedious backdrops is as tedious as a HBO documentary and the chapters look to have been sewn together using a chainsaw and a tub of wallpaper paste.

The dramatics from the supporting actors are generally non-existent, but Francis Raines showed flashes of potential. OK, so she's certainly no Merryl Streep; in fact come to think of it, she's no Sharon Stone either; but for a breakout performance, I've certainly seen worse. One thing that is worth mentioning is the cheesy but still rather enjoyable soundtrack, which must have soaked up the majority of the minuscule budget. Look out for the hilarious nightclub scene, which in true slasher cheese on toast tradition shows us why the early eighties will always remain a bad disco memory to those that were alive and kicking at the time.

Bechard didn't attempt to hide the fact that he was making a shlock-a-lock feature. One character says, "I feel like I'm stuck in a low budget horror film, because some man is going round killing young women!" Another mentions something about nudity and violence and you can tell that the director knew exactly which audience he was aiming to satisfy. I guess in a way he succeeded, because for all its nonsensical and off the wall ramblings, Disconnected remains worth a watch. Yes it's confusing, and yes it makes very little common sense; but as an authentic take on the slasher formula, there are worse attempts floating about. Track it down if you can find it.

Disconnected is the perfect word to describe the style of this very bizarre '80s obscurity, which is executed in such an off-kilter manner, with disparate scenes edited together in a seemingly random manner, that it actually proves quite mesmerising.

Frances Raines stars as pretty video store clerk Alicia, who begins dating a guy called Franklin (Mark Walker) unaware that he is the serial killer who has been butchering local women. Meanwhile, the poor girl is also having to contend with a series of bizarre, unsettling phone calls that are pushing her to the brink of insanity. While this sounds pretty straightforward, writer/producer/director/editor/tea-boy Gorman Bechard's unique creative approach makes for an unusual viewing experience to say the least.

From the get go, this is one weird movie, the first ten minutes or so making very little sense: Alicia helps an old man to her apartment, where he uses her phone and promptly disappears; Alicia and her friends dance to a really bad band; a man entertains a woman at a bar by doing the same magic trick twice; Alicia accuses her boyfriend of sleeping with her twin sister; Franklin visits the video shop despite not owning a player; a cop talks directly to camera about the murders: all of this is edited together in such a strange fashion that it beggars belief (throughout the film, Bechard chucks in random shots of everyday objects for good measure).

The film then trundles along in a relatively logical manner until midway, when Franklin is shot dead by the police, after which Alicia's scary phone calls become more and more frequent. No explanation is ever given for these occurrences, the film ending with Alicia smashing her phone (after the earpiece bleeds!?!), and with the reappearance of the old man from the beginning, whose relevance is also a complete mystery.

Go into this one expecting to not understand what is happening, and you might just find yourself entertained by its sheer craziness; if not, then there's always the lovely Miss Raines to hold your attention, the actress spending much of the film wandering around in her underwear and taking off her top to provide the obligatory nudity (she also plays Alicia's twin sister Barbara Ann, giving us twice the opportunity to appreciate her charms).

4.5 out of 10, rounded up to 5 for IMDb.

Both the (extremely) low budget production values and the bad acting helped to create a film that was reminiscent of giallo, which brought a sense of nostalgia to the table for me- however, Disconnected has characters that are the 'every day' american type, and this, alongside the graininess of the cheap film stock, makes the film seem much more like a 70's film than an 80's one. The more real violence contributes to the 70s feel- other than the acting, there is no cheese to be found here. The first 3/4 of this film were absolutely fantastic. A real sense of tension and a blend of realistic, sleazy subplot alongside a more surreal main plot made Disconnected an absolutely unique and interesting piece. After the subplot culminates however, the film falls off, and begins to wear out its welcome. Overall this film is actually really cool as long as you can stand the super low budget feel.

My review was written in January 1986 after watching the movie on Active video cassette.

"Disconnected" is a low-budget horror film made by locals in Waterbury, Connecticut, which tries to surmount the cliches of the genre, but emerges as a routine picture. One-man filmmaker Gorman Bechard shows some style, especially in flashy insert shots, but needs to come up with more original material.

Frances Raines toplines as Alicia Michaels, a young woman who works as a sales clerk at Valley Video, a home video store. She's had a fight with her deejay boyfriend Mike (Carl Koch), accusing him of having slept with her twin sister Barbara Ann (also played by Raines), and now a young guy Franklin (Mark Walker) keeps hanging around Valley Video trying to get a date with Alicia.

Meanwhile, the cops are investigating a series of slasher murders, with evidence (shown to the viewer but not known to the cops) implicating Franklin. Alicia is plagued by annoying phone calls that feature harsh noises. She also becomes involved romantically with Franklin.

Although Bechard plants some interesting clues in the opening reel, plotline goes haywire when Franklin is seduced by twin Barbara Ann, murders her and then, in a poorly designed scene (it's largely omitted, referred to verbally later) is killed by the cops. The killings continue after Franklin's death with an open-ended finale ponting at the real killer.

Bechard's exposition scenes, particularly with the lackadaisical cops, continually mock the rigid format of slasher films, but ultimately his picture lapses into these cliches, such as the overuse of he phone call gimmick. Leading lady Raines, who has been featured in many B-films of late, is impressive in her dual role, combining vulnerability with the ambiguity of possible madness necessary in a "Repulsion"-type heroine.