Rottweiler (Spain, 2004)

After initially wetting his toes as the producer of Stuart Gordon's first three and still best films (Re-Animator (1985), From Beyond (1986) and Dolls (1987)), Brian Yuzna entered the realm of horror film direction in 1989 with Society, a flawed if not perversely entertaining horror film with a socially satiric edge. Since then, Yuzna has regularly been involved with numerous films of varying levels of success as producer, writer, director or some combination thereof.

As a director, he's experienced highs such as Bride of Re-Animator (1990) and lows such as Progeny (1998), but no matter how bad any of his films are or are not, they almost always tend to be interesting, if not highly watchable and entertaining — particularly for fans of low budget and b-films.

A long-term resident of Spain, the films he actually directs are slowly but surely featuring less and less Anglo actors and are resorting more and more to the dubbing that so-many a bad-film lover treasures in true Euro-trash. Rottweiler falls squarely within this neuvo euro-trash sphere: with the exception of one early-dead escapee, all roles seem to be filled by Spanish-speakers. The primary source of the film is likewise Spanish: although credited to a story by the Spanish novelist Alberto Vázquez Figueroa, in all likelihood Rottweiler is probably based on his novel El Perro, which was already filmed in Spain as a political thriller in 1976.

This time around, however, Yuzna and his scriptwriter (Miguel Tejada-Flores, who did the script to the much better Screamers in 1995) have converted the dog into a canine Terminator and thus moved away from political allegory and towards sci-fi trash. And don't have any doubts about it, Rottweiler is indeed trash, but as simple as its storyline is, Yuzna milks the film for all it's worth. (Hell, if he can’t fit in another human to be shredded by the dog, then he’ll at least include a chicken!) OK, if you wanna toss in some intellectual claptrap, you might draw comparisons between the character's name (Dante) and his continual journey to find his gal (and redemption) with that old Italian classic we all had to read in school, but since (among other things) this flick's lost woman is called "Ula" and not "Beatrice" the comparison doesn’t go far.
Set in 2018, Rottweiler kicks off with Dante arriving at a chain gang and promptly escaping chained to another prisoner, but before the film has the chance of becoming some sci-fi version of The Defiant Ones (1958), the dog makes mincemeat of the black prisoner and then conveniently concentrates on his soul food lunch long enough for Dante to escape. The rest of the film flips back and forth between flashbacks of how Dante got in his situation — he and his fellow anti-establishment gal Ula (Irene Montalà) got their thrills by putting themselves in dangerous situations; unluckily, while accompanying illegal immigrants entering the land by water, they run afoul of Borg (Paul Naschy), an evil symbol of capitalism and the danger turns real — and Dante's quest to get to the city Puerto Angel, where he now thinks Ula is. Quickly caught by a chain gang guard and the dog, Dante manages to kill both and escape again, but five minutes later the dog is revealed to be a canine terminator that never stops...
In the end, Rottweiler probably isn’t a very good film, but anyone who has the slightest fear of dogs will probably cringe in their seats and there are a few nice aspects to it — among others that the relatively defenseless hero ends up even more defenseless as one point and spends a good 10 minutes on the run both barefoot and nude (that’s what I call realism — not like in the much better sci-fi flick Larva in which a hot bit-part babe manages to get her bra back on before she goes on the run) and, best of all, a totally downer of an ending (more realism — sorta). All in all, considering that the flick is just one 91-minute-long chase film in which an innocent man on the run is pursued by a robo-dog bent on killing anything and everyone that crosses its path, Rottweiler zooms by quickly and effectively. And for a b-film, what more can you ask?

Bang Boom Bang – Ein todsicheres Ding (Germany, 1999)

In his debut feature film, Peter Thorwarth managed to prove that Thomas Jahn's Knockin' On Heaven's Door (1997) wasn't some lucky fluke, but that Germany, the land supposedly lacking all humor, is also fully capable of producing some of the most blackly humorous, quickly paced postmodern crime films around. (Well, OK, it did so twice — the pickings have been pretty dry since then.)
Displaying a light touch that reveals both a deep knowledge of film and technique, with Bang Boom Bang – Ein todsicheres Ding Thorwarth made a film that continuously entertains and never bores, successfully combining numerous characters, narrative twists and story-threads into a satisfying whole. The seemingly loose script ties up tightly in the end, the good dialogue and clear characterization underscored by some excellent "type" casting, the visuals a constant treat of sight gags and surprises, not to mention some excellent directorial flourishes. Combine all that with good editing, fine cinematography and some excellent music, and you got one good fucking film.
Not that one would expect Bang Boom Bang to be any good if one doesn't make it past the first scene, in which the obnoxious jailbird Kalle (Ralf Richter) gives an aggravating tirade about wanting his dream car and girlfriend (in pumps) waiting outside of the jail when he gets released in two years. The guy is disgusting, and though the scene gets nervous laughs, one doesn't laugh with him or actually find him funny. Kalle is doing time for a bank robbery, the deal with his partner Keek (Oliver Korittke) being that Kralle does the time and then, once released, gets 90% of the take remaining. Unknown to Kralle, Keek, a video junkie whose brains have gone to mush from too much hash and too many crappy videos, has lost the money on horse races and is in no way capable of either buying the car Kralle has arranged or ever even paying him what he is owed. When Keek unwittingly gives Kralle a hardcore porno video featuring Kralle's slut girlfriend as the bonking babe, Kralle blows a fuse and escapes, forcing Keek to take more desperate measures to get the cash needed.
Teaming up with his friend Andy (Markus Knüfken), a hot-headed local soccer player and mechanic, they get involved with the local loser Schlucke (Martin Semmelrogge) in a plan they think is to rob the crooked businessman Werner Kampmann (Diether Krebs). Propelled by greed, desire, stupidity, bad luck, revenge and chance, people die, a thumb gets locked in a safe, porno shoots get disrupted and everything dawdles out of control, much to the viewer's delight.
Filmed in North Rhine Westphalia, Germany's central industry area commonly called the "Ruhrgebiet," Thorwarth makes good use of the area's overall grayness to underscore the bleak lives of his characters, all the men of which are too dense or brainless to realize the innate pointlessness and stupidity of their actions. (Don't be mistaken, though — this film is no "message film," and its last scene purposely takes the piss out of the little message Bang Boom Bang might have.)

Retroactive (USA, 1997)

(Spoilers) This tasty little film can easily be described as Groundhog Day (1993) from hell. Morneau, who has displayed no exceptional talent in many of his films — which include Final Judgment (1992 / full movie), Carnosaur 2 (1995 / trailer), Bats (1999 / trailer) and Hitcher II: I've Been Waiting For You (2003 / trailer) — has managed to deliver an exciting, engrossing film that keeps one both on the edge of the seat and interested in the events.

True, the first ten minutes used to set up the time travel concept are less than promising, especially after the film's properly brooding and artsy opening credits sequence, but once Karen (Kylie Travis) meets up with Frank (James Belushi) and Rayanne (Shannon Whirry), things definitely get going. Accepting a lift from the two after her car breaks down on some lonely Texan highway, she lives to regret it repeatedly. James Belushi, whose busy career has gone downhill qualitatively since Salvador (1986 / trailer) and Red Heat (1988 / trailer), is perfectly cast as a psychopathic redneck Texan sporting both Elvis sideburns and his beer-gut. Flipping out when learning of his wife's extramarital activities, he blows Rayanne's brains out and goes after Karen, who barely manages to get away, taking refuge in an underground laboratory where Brian (Frank Whaley, miscast as usual) is conducting time travel experiments for the government.

Whoops! Fuck up at the controls, and she gets sent back twenty minutes and finds herself in the back seat of Frank's car, ready to try to stop the carnage that she knows is ahead. Not only does she fail miserably, but this time the carnage is even worse! The cycle repeats itself again and again, every attempt by Karen to stop the violent chain of events only resulting in more destruction and an ever increasing body count. Much like in Final Destination (2000 / trailer), Death doesn’t seem to take lightly to any attempts to cross his plans, but unlike the supernatural powers at work in that teeny horror bodycount film, the violence in Retroactive is powered (mostly) by redneck stupidity and hormones.

Retroactive delivers much more than either its title or synopsis leads one to expect. Well acted, shot and edited, the ending is even good, offering a semi-downer not normally found in this type of celluloid adventure. Both main babes are a pleasure to look at, even if they do keep their clothes on, and the smaller roles are as excellently cast — as Frank is — and though filmed in California, one never doubts for a moment that this isn't hell in re-play somewhere in Buttfuck, Texas.

Kylie Travis, whose main claim to fame was regular roles in television's Models, Inc and Central Park West, does well as Karen, convincingly developing the inner-strength a person would need to go through all that she does. Shannon Whirry, a b-film specialist who has flit through many an "erotic thriller" is surprisingly likeable and sympathy arousing as the abused wife, even if she is too beautiful for her part. The only weak link in the chain in Retroactive is Frank Whaley, whose baby face hasn't stood out so obviously since Broken Arrow (1996 / trailer). He holds his own a bit better later in the film after he starts getting his hands dirty, but as a scientist specializing in time travel experiments he leaves a lot to be desired. All in all, though, Morneau delivers the goods times four in Retroactive.

The Rosary Murders (USA, 1987)

Due to its plot, The Rosary Murders demands comparison to Alfred Hitchcock's relatively weak but nonetheless more interesting movie I Confess (1953), but truth be told, neither film is all that good. Director Fred Walton also made the more entertaining body count spoof April Fool's Day the same year as this film, but all in all, none of his films have ever been all that exciting. Even the involvement of Elmore Leonard as co-scripter didn't help this celluloid sleeping pill, a dull movie which unbelievably enough even has an uninvolving turn by Donald Sutherland as Father Koesler, a priest with a problem. (As if being a priest isn't a big enough problem in the first place.) Someone is killing priests and nuns in Detroit for no apparent reason, always leaving a black rosary on his victims as his calling card. After the unidentified murderer confesses his actions to the popular local priest Father Koesler (Sutherland), the holy man undertakes to discover who the murderer is, despite being bound by religious law to not reveal what is said in the confessional and, in turn, what he learns while playing detective. The good man quickly traces everything back to a father of a young girl who committed suicide. Seems she couldn't deal with the incessant sexual molestation her religiously fanatic father constantly subjected her to. Like any good nutcase, Daddy now blames the church for his daughter's suicide and is killing the clerics as revenge. As we all know, every killer needs a logical and believable way to choose his victims. In that snoozathon The January Man (1989), the murderer chooses his victims after the notes of a song, in Manhunter (1986) the victims get chosen indiscriminately from family photos, and in The Rosary Murders the Killer daddy chooses his victims by the similarity between their names and the ten commandments. (Okay, sure, why not?) Along the way he also kills a few innocents bystanders — a cop here and there as well as some old lady — but those murders happen more or less in passing. Of course, no film critical of organized religion can be all that bad, and neither is The Rosary Murders, providing you like your movies bloodless and dull. (Maybe William X. Kienzle's novel on which the film is based might be a bit better, but it seems unlikely.) For a much more interesting murder-among-the-religious flick, catch Alice, Sweat Alice/Communion instead.