Flattening The Curve PRESENTS: MACABRE (1980)

Yes, you know why we are all here. And why I’m doing this. Turns out we require a functioning government in order to keep the public safe from potential disaster. And since we currently don’t have one of those, the days ahead will be rife with long-neglected viewings covering a broad spectrum of backed up material.

Some great, others bizarre beyond belief.

Welcome to the Quarantine..

And so we make our second entry by further delving into the deepest, darkest recesses of the fabled Amazon Prime library, with the debut feature by Lamberto Bava. Son of legendary italian filmmaker, Mario Bava, his name had particular presence to younger me by way of his associations with Dario Argento. 1985’s Demons, being a particularly strong personal influence upon my interest in foreign horror. Looking back, his credits go further back toward his work with fellow helmer, Ruggero Deodato and others. But his real hat toss was his strange southern fried nightmare machine, MACABRE which had long eluded me despite having a reputation as “the head in the refrigerator” movie.

Wait, what?

Yes, set in New Orleans MACABRE tells the tale of a well-to-do wife and mother of two, after experiencing what could possibly be the most horrific day of one’s life, (Seriously, if there was ever an argument against spousal infidelity, this is it) is forced to rebuild what remains of it by moving into her once lovenest, only to exhibit increasingly unsettling behavior one year after double tragedy. Most notably the nightly moaning heard by the blind son of her building’s recently deceased landlady. Is our central character sneaking in a new lover every night? Or is something far more sinister at play? And what of her estranged daughter, and husband who wants nothing to do with her? Considering the film’s reputation, a lot of gas is leaked out once you know the secret. But it is a hoot to see just how far Bava and cast go to take this scenario to its absolute worst case scenario.

Now, please pardon the secrecy as so much of this film requires a cold viewing to fully digest its often sluggish 90 minutes. But what I can add here is that the film as a whole seems to imply that a certain apple doesn’t fall terribly far from the tree, and that the story as a whole is played like a ticking timebomb to a nasty reveal complete with one of the more outrageous punchline scares ever attempted. It is sincerely daffy on every front, the finale to this one.

Better still? The role of Jane Baker, is played by THE MOM FROM XTRO, Bernice Stegers! (No, seriously. I had no idea this was the case upon starting it.) Making her the early 1980s queen of crazy horror. I’d definitely suggest a Bernice Stegers double feature for the truly daring. And while MACABRE, isn’t half the committed mad that is XTRO, i’d still consider it for a group screening if only for the chuckles and conversations that would follow.

Still can’t get that final gag out of my head.

it’s like my child self came up with it, and somehow noone on set stopped me.

Flattening The Curve PRESENTS: XTRO (1982)

Yes, you know why we are all here. And why I’m doing this. Turns out we require a functioning government in order to keep the public safe from potential disaster. And since we currently don’t have one of those, the days ahead will be rife with long-neglected viewings covering a broad spectrum of backed up material.

Some great, others bizarre beyond belief.

Welcome to the Quarantine..

After DECADES of obscurity, and a childhood actively frightened by and yet strangely intrigued by the poster, what this week’s beginning of a curve flattening self-quarantine has at last unleashed upon my eyes cannot be overstated. Harry Bromley Davenport’s nihilistic anti-E.T., truly does live up to its infamous reputation as not merely a nasty subversion, but a genuinely broken-minded vision of a fractured family.

Bernice Stegers, plays a single mom three years after the sudden disappearance of her husband who’s life has since begun to mend with the presence of a photographer boyfriend. A scenario that soon finds itself hemorrhaging after the sudden reappearance of the husband, who seemingly was abducted by aliens, and is now not even half the human he once was. After cleaning himself off, and headed back into the city, his core objective is to return home, possibly rekindle his relationship with his family, most particularly with his son, Tony(Simon Nash) who now seemingly shares something of a psychic bond.

With the estranged father angle well in place, one might assume XTRO would be something of a pulpier take on the early eighties’ divorce drama ala Kramer Vs. Kramer. But what it really is, not only offers some of the most underappreciated horror images of the decade, but some of the more gut wrenchingly insane takes on familial reconciliation ever put to film.

Which isn’t to say the film is “good” in any pleasant way. In fact, a good deal of XTRO’s running time often feels like a window into a psyche one might stay far away from in public, let alone a darkened alley. This film is what some horror fans have over the years remarked about regarding our relationship to filmmakers. That the purveyor of the tale being spun, may indeed be dangerous, and probably shouldn’t be trusted by anyone.

Yes. I know there are sequels. But where the hell does one go after this?

XTRO, is an act of genre malice with intent to scar.

XTRO, is not a film you enjoy with friends.

XTRO, is a film you INFLICT upon friends.

Dude, kid me knew. Just by the poster. BEWARE.

Seriously. It’s good I waited. This would have wrecked 7 year old me.