Youtube Film Club: Korea-ing

Happy news reaches us this evening via the Mondo Macabro weblog. It seems that the Korean Film Archive has decided to post no less than 70 feature length, subtitled examples of classic Korean cinema on Youtube, all dating from the ‘50s through to the ‘80s, and many appearing for the first time with English subs.

Never again will any world cinema aficionado in a building with an internet connection have any excuse to cry “I’M BORED”… (unless they’re watching a boring Korean movie I suppose, but let’s try to stay positive here).

I know next to nothing about Korean cinema, so it’s difficult to know where to start with such a treasure trove really, but Mondo Macabro commend the work of director Kim Ki-Young, and in particular his film ‘Woman After A Killer Butterfly’, to our attention, so that sounds like a good start, and beyond that I’m sure I’ll soon be zeroing in on anything remotely weird or sleazy looking like a bear on a picnic basket.

Dig in here.

Youtube Film Club: Shaitani Dracula

A couple of years back, Keith Allison of Teleport City posted a review of an absolutely astounding discovery: ‘Shaitani Dracula’, directed by one Harinam Singh.

It’s a great review and a good example of why Keith is one of my favourite film writers - you should read it. Maybe you shouldn’t read it quite yet though – I guess I can’t help but feel that the justifiable hyperbole the review layers upon this singular cultural artefact might spoil the surprise that lies in store for the innocent viewer.

For yes, viewers we shall be. After a conversation with my brother last week in which the subject of insane third world horror movies was broached, we exchanged a bunch of youtube links that led me toward the discovery that, somewhat inevitably, some maniac has uploaded ‘Shaitani Dracula’.

What can I say – everything the Teleport City review claimed of it is true. I could drivel on at length about my picks for the most crazed/note-worthy/hilarious aspects of this… well, I hesitate to call it a ‘movie’ as such… but I’d basically just be treading ground already covered in Keith’s review.

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about the process whereby weird/’bad’ films can reach a certain critical mass of disjointed abnormality, a point at which they cease to be subject to kind of expectations and judgements we usually apply to narrative cinema, and in fact cease to really function as ‘films’ at all, instead taking on a new life as… something else - some nameless and fascinating form of outsider art that happens when strange people and movie cameras collide?

We may laugh when we see these ‘films’ – often we will laugh uproariously, laugh until we’re blue in the face – but it would be wrong to assume that we are laughing AT them. As someone (Nietzsche I believe, although I’m damned if I can find the quote online, so maybe it was someone else) once observed, laughter exists to fill the space left by an emotion that has died. Thus we laugh simply because we don’t know how else to react to the impossible reality of these things, the fact that not only did human beings create them, they actually placed them before us as prospective entertainments.

‘Troll 2’ is a good example of one of these un-films, ‘Manos: The Hands of Fate’ is another. ‘Roller Blade’ and its sequels, for sure. ‘Awakening of the Beast’. ‘Zombie Lake’ is borderline. I’d make the case for ‘Astro-Zombies’, though some might argue it’s a bit too self-conscious. ‘Future Hunters’ (another Teleport City discovery)! ‘Tales from the Quadead Zone’ anyone..?

Well you get the idea. So let’s just say that ‘Shaitani Dracula’, if not necessarily the most rewarding, is certainly the most extreme example of this kind of un-cinema I’ve ever seen. Either the absolute bottom of the barrel, or the shining peak of the mountain, depending on which way you look at it.

On a more prosaic level, it blows my mind that apparently ‘Shaitani Dracula’ was made in 2006. I dunno – 1986 or 1996 I could have handled, but 2006!? It just seems astounding that this level of naivety could still exist. Not that I’m suggesting that some quantum leap in cultural sophistication has taken place in the past fifteen year or anything, far from it, but, y’know…. we had the internet in 2006. Ok, so maybe people in rural India didn’t ‘have the internet’ as such, but Harinam Singh is evidently the owner of a few shiny 4x4 vehicles, and a movie camera, and whatever kind of resources it takes to get a seemingly endless number of attractive girls to hang out in the woods with him in revealing outfits – I’m sure he could have sorted himself out with a net connection. I’m sure he could have, I dunno… watched some films? Maybe read some Wiki pages on the basics of cinema? Perhaps he could have found a guidebook explaining how to set up his camera properly? But no – apparently he’s a busy man. Instead he just went for it. ‘Shaitani Dracula’ is the result.

So, the time has come. Let’s meet up on the other side, and we can talk about it.

Oh, and look out for the bit with the ducks.

Good luck!



(Purely by coincidence, whilst I was preparing this post earlier this week, I discovered that Todd Stadtman of the Die, Danger, Die, Die, Kill! blog posted a podcast in which he and an esteemed colleague discuss ‘Shaitani Dracula’ at length, alongside the similarly brain-breaking Thai film ‘King-ka Kayasit’ aka ‘Magic Lizard’. It’s a really entertaining and informative listen, throwing in a lot of background info on Harinam Singh, and the kind of culture that led to the creation of this extraordinary film, along with many additional chuckles.)

Youtube film club: Cuadecuc: Vampir

A bit of a strange one, this.

In 1970, Jess Franco, bankrolled by the ubiquitous Harry Alan Towers, made his own version of Dracula, featuring a Euro-cult dream cast of Christopher Lee, Herbert Lom, Soledad Miranda, Jack Taylor, Klaus Kinski and Maria Rohm. If the film that emerged is somewhat less than a classic, I don’t think it’s half as bad as people sometimes make out – it’s an honest attempt to film Bram Stoker’s novel at least, and it certainly has it’s moments.

But anyway - working on Franco’s Dracula in some capacity was a young Catalan documentary maker named Pere Portabella. For reasons best known to himself, Portabella seemingly hi-jacked a bunch of outtake and rehearsal footage from the movie (whether or not he had Franco’s blessing, I’m unsure) and mixed it up with the prodigious amount backstage footage he’d shot himself, processing the whole lot in high contrast black & white to create his own film – ‘Cuadecuc: Vampir’.

The result is difficult to describe. Not quite a documentary and not quite a horror film, it’s more like an avant garde exploration of gothic horror imagery, and perhaps an attempt to capture the underlying spirit of the strange moment in which Franco’s film was created.

When OkOk posted the link to the ‘Cuadecuc’ on Found Objects a while back, they advised that “..this film marvellously evokes the dark, eternal caverns of the unknown. Pure Gothic Ecstasy.” Whilst I can’t claim to have shared this level of reverie during my own viewing of the film, it certainly has much to recommend it to fans of haunted/unheimlich cinema.

The extreme contrast, degraded filmstock and disjointed, unsettling soundtrack all serve to invoke the spirit of Murnau’s “Nosferatu” and Dreyer’s “Vampyr”, inviting us to draw comparison between the gothic horrors of the 1920s and their survival into the 1970s, whilst fourth wall breaking interjection revealing the details of lighting, make-up and cheesy cobweb/bat effects provide a silent commentary on how flimsy the barrier separating transcendental gothic splendour from tawdry reality can be. The ‘vampire film within a vampire film’ conceit is fascinating in itself, and the backstage glimpses of the principal actors (minus Kinski, whose scenes were maybe shot by second unit or something?) slipping in and out of character will be worth the entry price alone for some of us weirdos. In particular, candid footage of Soledad Miranda hanging out and preparing for shots will be much treasured by her fans.

Some commentators (by which I mean guys on IMDB) have suggested a political interpretation of the film, implying the Portabella intended to present Franco’s film set as a microcosm of the crumbling regime of the director’s dictatorial namesake. A brief cameo by Jess himself, goofing around in an unfortunate side parting & moustache get-up that makes him look a bit like Hitler, would seem to rather crudely suggest as much. Geographically and temporally removed as I am though from the subtleties of Spanish politics circa 1970, this isn’t really an interpretation I can get much out of.

But whatever; however you choose to read this film, chances are you knew by the end of the second paragraph whether or not it’s the kind of thing you need in your life.

Those noble souls who are nodding affirmatively can stream or download from here.




A reminder of some previous Youtube Film Clubs you might have missed:

Mindbending Russian Animation
Witchcraft ‘70
Penda’s Fen
Saxana
Fantomas & Les Vampires
Harry Smith
Meshes of the Afternoon

Youtube Film Club: Mindbending Russian Animation

Remember Captain Pr0nin? No? Well anyway, my brother has been busy of recent sending me links to a whole raft of really extraordinary science fiction-themed Russian animation from the ‘80s and ‘90s, that I think need to be shared.

Many of these seem to be loosely based on stories by Ray Bradbury – perhaps part of a series taken from his work? They are quite varied in style, suggesting the work of numerous animators/directors rather than a single mastermind, but all seem united by an overriding aesthetic of desperate, post-industrial pessimism.

The images and techniques used has a very late ‘70s/early ‘80s feel to them I think – it puts me in mind of the kind of stuff used by prog rock bands and the like in the late ‘70s, when they realised the jig was up and started making marginally punk-informed statements against Orwellian oppression and so forth (think Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” in particular), and also of sombre ‘80s stuff like Raymond Briggs’ “When The Wind Blows”.

I realise I may not have exactly sold these to you in the preceding paragraphs, but needless to say, they are full of strange and beautiful sounds and images and are well worth your time. Thanks again to Paul for turning me on to them, and I hope you enjoy.

We’ll start off with one that’s a fairly straightforward SF story, with English sub-titles even, and get more abstract and tripped out from thereon in.









As a bonus, here is something Paul describes as being “the beginning of an episode of a more mainstream sci fi show”. All I can say is, you know your country is suffering from serious “chaotic crumbling of monolithic super-state” type angst when shit like this is considered “more mainstream” in relation to anything. Basically it’s a sorta faux-anime deal, featuring: a man piloting a giant penis, many tentacles, shoggoth beasts, much facial hair and a moustachioed man’s head grafted onto an octopus. Ugly, desperate H.R. Giger type vibes all round. The theme tune is awesome and reminds me of the music from Transformers cartoons.Yikes.

Youtube Film Club: Witchcraft ’70

Perfect for setting some pre-Halloween atmosphere, here’s “Witchcraft ‘70” aka “The Satanists”, a predominantly UK-set mondo outing cobbled together by one Luigi Scattini.

I’m not usually much of a fan of mondo movies, but at least some sections of this one are an absolute gas, full of freaky visuals, echo-chambered Italian pop-psych music, endless footage of fuzzy, red-tinted naked cavorting, and an English narrator’s script that’s completely out to lunch.

Guest appearances by ubiquitous British witchsploitation kingpin Alex Sanders, some supposed Brazilian Macumba practitioners, and a guy who projects the memories of the dead onto polaroid film. Things go off the boil a bit in the second half with a lot of boring mediums, Hare Krishnas, some miscellaneous hippies (well, uh, they kinda *like* the occult, I guess..) and a section on cryogenics (me neither). But as long as the narrator keeps givin’ it some, it’s still fun for all the family.

Part one is here:

Youtube Film Club: Penda’s Fen

Last week, I watched the 1973 BBC play-for-today “Penda's Fen”, written by David Rudkin and Directed by Alan Clarke.

Shrouded in VHS fuzz and with otherworldly atmospherics, it’s an extremely unusual coming of age tale set in the Malvern hills, dripping with atavistic English mysticism in the spirit of Blake, Arthur Machen and Sir Edward Elgar, the latter of whom is good enough to put in a memorable spectral appearance.

Personally, I found “Penda’s Fen” to be a strange, wise and beautiful work, and in particular found it’s expression of a connection with history and landscape that transcends small-minded conservative drudgery, and of an innate spiritual faith divorced from religious dogma, to be very poignant.

What you’ll find it to be is anyone’s guess, but regardless - essential viewing for any connoisseur of vintage British high weirdness.

For the full background, see John Coulthart’s blog-post here.

Part # 1 (taken from a videoed Channel 4 repeat circa 1989) is here:

Youtube Film Club: Saxana

For your viewing pleasure today ladies & gents, we have an immaculately hip 1972 teen witch comedy from Czechoslovakia, directed by Václav Vorlíček.

Known in its native land as “Dívka na Koštěti”, “Saxana” follows the adventures a rebellious young witch (Petra Černocká) who seemingly gets kicked out of witch-school for general mischief-making and turns herself into an owl, flying to the ‘real world’, where she attends a normal person school and gets mixed up with a gang of moody mod boys. Hilarity, needless to say, ensues.

I say “seemingly” because I’m afraid there are no English subtitles for us here, and thus I have only the vaguest notion of what’s going on most of the time. But what can I say – I was never bored. Just looking at Saxana's hair was enough to keep me happy. She is the greatest.

The music is pretty killer too – spooky avant lounge funk of some kind for the most part, with a theme song I just can't get out of my head. A soundtrack reissue on Finders Keepers is forthcoming, predictably enough.

Part # 1 is here:



A reminder of some previous Youtube Film Clubs you might have missed:

Fantomas & Les Vampires
Harry Smith
Meshes of the Afternoon
Space Is The Place

Youtube Film Club:Louis Feuillade, Fantomas and Les Vampires

I’ve recently been watching a number of films by the great Georges Franju (best known for 1960s ‘Yeux Sans Visage’ / ‘Eyes Without a Face’). Reviews coming soon, hopefully.

On several occasions in his career, Franju teamed up with the writer Jacques Champroux, grandson of famed silent era director Louis Feuillade, to make films loosely inspired by the spirit of Fantomas, the diabolical criminal mastermind who hopefully needs no introduction as one of the most popular and influential characters in French popular culture.

Although Fantomas was the creation of writers Marcel Allain and Pierre Souvestre, Louis Feuillade can arguably take just as much credit for cementing him in the popular imagination via his series of silent adventure serials, produced during 1913-14, at the same time as Allain & Souvestre were publishing their stories.

So, as useful background to Franju’s films, just out of general interest, and also as a primer to the as-yet-unread volume of Fantomas stories on my bookshelf, I thought I’d check some of Feuillade’s films out.

Sadly, very little footage from the Fantomas serials is available on Youtube (perhaps as a result of the same copyright issues that prevented Franju & Champroux from using the character directly in their films), but this brief clip can at least serve to reassure us that they were pretty bad-ass:



An unexpected delight that my Youtube searches did show up though is some significant chunks of Feuillide’s subsequent serial, Les Vampires (1915-16). Need I say more?



Actually, I probably had best say more. From what I can gather, Les Vampires does not actually feature any vampires, but, confusingly, it does prominently feature the eerie, expressionistic beauty of its heroine Irma Vep (portrayed by one Musidora, who sounds like a pretty fascinating woman in her own right), who plays a vampire at the theatre, and who becomes the main antagonist of a gang of Fantomas-like masked criminals called ‘Les Vampires’.

Filmed in the overly theatrical manner common to their period, with a stationary camera and few close-ups, Fuillade’s serials are clearly not in the same order of formal innovation as other early vampiric classics such as Murnau’s ‘Nosferatu’ or Carl Dreyer’s ‘Vampyr’, but nonentheless, they are hugely enjoyable, relatively fast-paced little capers for their era, and their exquisite production design and solemn, gothic beauty is remarkable.

Whilst these films might not have had quite the same impact on the world as Fantomas, it seems inconceivable that many subsequent champions of the fantastique in France, my man Jean Rollin foremost amongst them, didn’t take at least SOME inspiration from ‘Les Vampires’.

Episode 2: “The Ring That Kills”:




According to Wikipedia, the publicity campaign for ‘Les Vampires’ saw this mysterious poster pasted around Paris…



…whilst the next day’s newspapers carried the following verse:

Of the moonless nights they are kings,

darkness is their kingdom.

Carrying death and sowing terror

the dark Vampires fly,

with great suede wings,

ready not only to do evil... but to do even worse


I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: God bless the French.



The entirety of “Les Vampires” first episode (entitled “The Severed Head”) can be seen split across four youtube videos, beginning here. Sadly, sound & picture quality is pretty low:

Youtube Film Club: Harry Smith

When he wasn’t busy changing the world forever by compiling the Anthology of American Folk Music, forging new ground in the fields of anthropology and ethnomusicology, engaging in Thelemic magickal practice and the wider world of occultism and generally making the scene as all-round godhead of mid 20th Century beatnik weirdness, Harry Smith liked nothing more than knocking out tripped out experimental films such as the ones that follow.

Most of his earlier stuff was entirely abstract, though no less captivating for it:





It seems it was slightly later that animated figures and symbolism started to find their way into his work, resulting in some truly incredible stuff; mindbending esoteric psychedelia, years before anyone even came up with the term ‘psychedelia’:





Sixty seven minutes of his quite unbelievably strange “Heaven and Earth Magic” can currently be seen on Youtube. Apparently his original cut ran for over six hours! Here’s part # 1:



I dare you to get to the end of part # 7 in one sitting.

Finally, here’s some words of wisdom(?) from the man himself in his later years. I wonder if he and Burroughs ever got together for a grumpy old coot counter-cultural griping contest? God, I hope not. My money’d be on Harry anyway.

I had a very strong sense of deja-vu during the bit where he starts going on about two books someone sent him to review – sure I’ve heard that sampled/quoted somewhere…



The music in some of the above videos is interesting too of course. “Heaven & Earth Magic” may just have a load of cat noises, and “No. 11” has been fitted out with a nice bit of Thelonious Monk, but the music accompanying the first ‘Abstractions’ video could easily be a LaMonte Young or Tony Conrad piece, and you can clearly hear Angus Maclise banging away on some of the others… interesting stuff.

Youtube Film Club: Meshes of the Afternoon

I will retrospectively include my posts on Space Is The Place and Manos: The Hands of Fate in this series, and, obvious point though it may be, isn’t it wonderful how so many cinematic artefacts, short films in particular, that have been sought out and fetishised over the years, available only to the select few via bootleg tapes, extortionate, limited edition DVDs or metropolitan art cinema screenings whilst their reputation grows and mutates based more on hearsay than actual viewing, are now available to all at the touch of a button?

It is in that spirit this we present Maya Deren and Alexander Hammid’s ‘Meshes of the Afternoon’ (1943), a work whose beauty and importance will hopefully speak for itself.

Watch on full screen with the lights off.

Banal as it may be to say so, I’ve had a crush the size of the alps on Ms Deren ever since I read her extraordinary book Divine Horsemen as a teenager. An incredible woman, a fearless artist, filmmaker, researcher, thinker, writer…. and so on. Just watch the damn thing anyways.

Part # 1:



Part # 2: