[14 Oct 2024: Since we originally wrote this entry six years ago, the release date of this short has been adjusted to 1906. Adjust the mathematics below accordingly.]
This month's short film is the
oldest one we have ever presented here at a
wasted life — it beats November 2015's The Mystery of the Leaping Fish
(USA,1916) by 8 years and February 2016's Un Chien Andalou
(France, 1929) by 21. We would be lying if we didn't say that The Haunted House looks its age but,
that said, we still find this super-early haunted house comedy as an amazing
piece of film history, one that can and should be appreciated as an early visual
and special effects treat. With perhaps a few too many pratfalls, but those were simplier days...
Though he has slowly gained
enough recognition to at least be given a commemorative postal stamp (way above) in his
homeland of Spain, the Spanish film pioneer Segundo Víctor Aurelio Chomón y
Ruiz, aka Segundo de Chomón (18 Oct 1871 – 2 May 1929), remains unjustly
forgotten elsewhere, if not in general. A former concessionary for Pathé in
Barcelona, de Chomón entered filmmaking after moving to Paris with his wife, the
even more-forgotten French silent film actress Julienne Mathieu (21 Dec 1987 –
1 Dec 1943), whom he eventually featured in at least 31 of his magical shorts —
including The Electric Hotel,
also from 1908, whence the GIF below comes. We don't think she's the female, however, found in The Haunted House. (Trivia: The Electric Hotel is also the only
film director Segundo de Chomón himself is known to have acted in — in the
movie, the man alongside his wife is he.)
De Chomón is arguably one of the
first truly great visual tricksters of film: "With his innovative use of
early splice-based tricks and a penchant for optical illusions he is often
compared to the slightly earlier Georges Méliès (8 Dec 1861 – 21 Jan 1938), and
indeed has been dubbed 'The Spanish Méliès' by some. Though the similarities
are clear, Chomón departs from Méliès in his variety of subjects and his use of
animation, an art form he played a key role in developing." [Public Domain Review]
De Chomón's output was primarily
short films, but as a cinematographer and/or tricks director he worked on an
occasional feature movie, including Giovanni Pastrone's epic Cabiria (1914 / full movie),
the film in which the popular character Maciste
makes his cinematic debut, and Abel Gance's Napoleon (1927 / trailer).
James Stuart Blackton (5 Jan 1875
– 13 Aug 1941) possibly invented stop motion, a technique he used as early as
1906 in his short Humorous Phases of
Funny Faces (1906 / short).
But as Animacam
points out, "It was Segundo de Chomón who perfected this technique, taking
it to lands already very similar to those of today."
Interestingly enough, Blackton
released a short called The Haunted
Hotel in 1907 (full short),
a film that bears so many resemblances to The
Haunted House that it could start an argument about the differences between
paying homage, borrowing, and cribbing. Regardless of where one stands on this
argument, The Haunted House, like so
many of de Chomón's short films, nevertheless reveals great visual talent,
innovative (if now primitive) use of technology, and an exploratory nature —
not to mention a truly amazing, surreal imagination.
Enjoy… and then check out his
other shorts: those that still exist are public domain.
"My heart isn't
beating. It hasn't beaten for 10 years.
I'm dead, Alan. Dead."
Elisabeth Blackwood
Aka The Castle of
Terror, Coffin of Terror, Tombs of Terror, Tombs of Horror, The Long
Night of Terror, Dimensions of Death,
Dance of Death, Danse Macabre, Danza Macabra
and….
Trailer to
Castle of Blood:
Many, many years ago, as a wee, peach-fuzz lad in
Alexandria, VA, we caught a version of this movie late one night on the local Creature Feature hosted by the great Count Gore de Vol (he who also introduced us to the uncut
version of Night of the Living Dead
[1968 / trailer]).
As of today, we now know that the version we caught must have been a version of the
color remake, Web of the Spider (1970 / trailer),
which, like this movie here, was directed by that master of multiple genre
forms, Italian director Antonio
Margheriti (19 Sept 1930 – 4 Nov 2002) aka Anthony M. Dawson. Margheriti was inspired to do the remake because he
always felt dissatisfied with the original version, entitled Danza Macabra in Italy, but he also
later admitted that doing so was a mistake. Whatever.
Castle of Blood
has long been in the public domain in the US, and probably exists in as many
(mostly butchered) versions as it has titles. Our version was a cheap-ass and
seemingly cut DVD release — 82-minute
running time compared to imdb's
listed 87 minutes — from Westlake Entertainment, which, interestingly enough, claims
that the movie is based on Edgar Allan Poe's Night of the Living Dead. In the credit sequence of the movie
itself, however, it is claimed that the movie is based on Edgar Allan Poe's Dance Macabre. In turn, the credits of
the 1970 color remake Web of the Spider claim the tale
to be based on Poe's story Night of the
Living Dead. In real life, however, Poe never wrote a tale entitled either Dance Macabre or Night of the Living Dead, nor is this film based on anything he
ever wrote. Poe's name, in all likelihood, was used only for the commercial
drawing power it had gained by all the Roger Corman Poe films. (See, for
example, Corman's The Masque of the Red Death
[1964].) And what does that prove?
Well, it is all yet more proof that the Rothschilds,
together with the Illuminati, the Masons and the Knights Templar, were the
secret financers of Lenin and Adolf
Hitler and also planned and financed the Russian Revolution, WWI, and the
subsequent rise and activities of the National Socialists so that the gold
standard would be dropped and the American Democrats could open pizza parlors
as fronts for a child-sex ring and thus distract the general public from the
irrefutable fact that the world is flat. (You're blind if you don't see the direct
links. In fact, to hide the fact that the moon landing never happened, they had
JFK assassinated because he planned to reveal the truth and reintroduce the
gold standard. Take that goddamned red pill, why don't you?)
The DVD release we watched — bought 2nd hand, natch — had crappy sound, was bleached
and scratchy, and was shrunk to fit the screen. In turn, however, the image
appeared to be un-cropped at any side and, although there were obvious cuts in
the movie, the "lesbian scene" was seemingly there as was a discreet and quick
semi-nude scene (and we're not talking about the breathing, topless skeletal
corpse that is seen in one scene — that corpse was very much that of a muscualr, shirtless and dead male).
Seen on a small screen, Castle
of Blood screamed the need for a large screen — and, at the same time, wailed
the fact that even if the screen were large, the bleached and scratchy B&W
photography of the movie probably was not as masterfully used as in the
unarguably superior Barbra Steele film, Mario Bava's almost expressionistic Black
Sunday (1960 / trailer).
Which is not to say, however, that Margheriti's
Italian gothic horror lacks mood and atmosphere; just not quite as much,
and what there is was greatly hampered by the quality of the print we watched.
Castle of Blood is
entertaining in its own way, but for all its B&W cinematography, great
sets, relatively bloodless violence, racy sexuality, and horror elements, it
was and is a flawed movie that most adults of today will probably find far less
satisfying or entertaining than, say, a wee, peach-fuzz lad (or training-bra
lass).
But then, the pubescent might also be less than impressed: while, in the
days prior to the Internet and Smartphone, the movie would have been a great
introductory flick for kids to Italo Gothic horror, nowadays, inured on a diet
of instantly available WWW distractions, even the supposed young and tender might also find this
movie slow. Indeed, it is entirely possible that even fans of old movies — as
we are — might likewise find the 82-minute running time a noticeably slow 82
minutes. And that is due to more than just the quality of the print: Castle of Blood's somewhat loopy script
is blemished by one too many long dry spell, an inconceivably quick and
underdeveloped love story, and a lead character with the seeming intelligence of
a brick.
The basic plot of the version we saw* sees Alan Foster (Georges Riviere of The Virgin of Nuremberg [1963 / trailer]),
an erudite and impoverished and exceedingly practically-minded writer of The London Times in desire of an
interview with the touring American author Edgar Allan Poe (Silvano Tranquilli [23 Aug 1925 – 10 May 1997] of The Horrible Dr. Hichcock[1962 / Italo trailer],
Smile Before Death [1972 / music],
The Legend of Blood Castle [1973 /
trailer]
and so much more), ends up entering a 10-pound-sterling wager with Lord Thomas
Blackwood (Umberto Raho [4 June 1922 – 9 Jan 2016] of The Long Hair of Death [1964 / trailer],
The Last Man on Earth
[1964 ], The Night Evelyn Came Out of
the Grave [1971 / trailer, Satanik [1968 / trailer]
and so much more) to spend the night at his haunted castle. Once alone in the
castle and following a few spooky incidents, Foster is surprised to learn that the
decrepit and dirty manor is seemingly inhabited after all, and not just by Lord
Thomas Blackwood's beautiful sister Elisabeth (the exquisite Barbara Steele, seen
below from one of Quentin Tarantino's favorite websites, Wikifeet)…
*It should perhaps be noted that these basic narrative
elements change in the given version of the film you watch. Cf.: All Movie, which says: "Alan Foster (Georges Riviere), an
American tourist visiting England, takes a bet from a Lord Blackwood and his
guest, Edgar Allan Poe, to spend the night in a haunted mansion. […]"
As mentioned before, Alan Foster, the main hero, is pretty
much an idiot. He enters the castle that he knows to be deserted, is confronted
by a variety of minor supernatural events — a clock that ticks and chimes and
then doesn't, a dance party in the next room that disappears, etc. — but
doesn't bat an eye when suddenly the house is populated not only by Elisabeth,
but the coldly beautiful Julia (Margaret Robsahm* of The Young Racers
[1963 / trailer],
with William Campbell)
and, soon thereafter, a long-missing scholar, Dr. Carmus (Arturo
Dominici [2 Jan 1918 – 7 Sept. 1992] of Hercules [1957 /
trailer],
Caltiki, The Immortal Monster[1959 / trailer] and more).
*From Wikipedia (Date: 08.15.2018): "Margarete Robsahm (born 9
October 1942) is a Norwegian model, actress and director. […] To an
international audience, she is best known for her role in Castle of Blood […], but she has also starred in Norwegian movies,
among these Line [The Passionate Couple] from 1961 (full movie). The movie was based on a novel by Axel Jensen [12
Feb 1932 – 13 Feb 2003] and caused a minor scandal in Norway at the time, as
Robsahm was the first actress ever to expose her breasts in a Norwegian movie.
In March 2008, Robsahm came in the media's spotlight for having received NOK
2.3 million over sixteen years in government funding for the arts, without
having produced a single movie. Though no criticism was levelled at Robsahm,
questions were raised about the government stipendiary system."
Worse, even after Foster realizes Elisabeth has no
heartbeat, and she says she is dead, and he sees a dead man disappear into thin
air, he still continues to deny the existence of ghosts instead of saving his
skin by hightailing for them-thar' hills, 10 pounds sterling be damned.
Indeed, his continual denial of the obvious truth throughout
the film transcends believability — unless, of course, you keep something in
mind like the number of people who actually think Trump is a good president,
and then his inconceivable idiocy achieves a level of veracity and is easier to
swallow. Still, it does take some difficulty to accept how Foster, time and
again, simply denies the obvious: that the ghostly — if extremely tangible — reenactments
transpiring before him of the past deaths in the castle are indeed ghostly.
Then lets talks about the love angle, which is integral to
the entire resolution of the movie. Foster has a mouth of honey, one which
drips compliments and smoothly pleasing phrases as quickly as a Republican
approves tax cuts for the rich or is willing to accept a fellow Republican's
denial of past sexual transgression. Indeed, he verbally oils Julia as much and
quickly as he does Elizabeth, which severely undermines the believability of
the concept of him falling head over heels in love with Elisabeth in a matter
of minutes. And while the love between the two, which is integral to the
narrative, proves sincere, the flashback to the events leading to Elisabeth's
death* reveals her to be a
capricious, sexually active woman of little common sense who above all simply
wants her fickle whims and short-term desires satisfied. (Hmm — sounds like
almost everyone we know.) Thus, one is initially tempted to view Foster as
little more than yet another plaything for her — it is only towards the end,
when she tries desperately to save him, that her professed love finally
achieves total sincerity.
*Here, the version we saw was obviously cut: while all
those around her die, the scene abruptly cuts away as a crazed, screaming
Elisabeth pulls at her hair. How she actually dies is not shown.
Speaking of the ghostly (if extremely tangible) reenactment
of Elisabeth's demise, it does reflect a doozy of a sex crime: not only does
Elisabeth's hunky and possessive lover Herbert (Giovanni Cianfriglia*) kill her husband William (Benito
Stefanelli [2 Sept 1928 – 18 Dec 1999] of A Fistful of Dollars [1964], Transformations [1988 / love theme]
and so much more) and then try to rape her, but after Julia saves Elisabeth by
killing Herbert, Julia promptly goes all aggressively scissor sister on her.
(In the world of this movie, murdering men seems to turn lesbians on.)
Unluckily for Julia, Elisabeth is less than turned on and a knife lies close
by….
* The hunky and handsomeGiovanni Cianfriglia — see image below, from the great blogspot Pleplum— who had begun his film career six years earlier as the body double for the delicious Steve Reeves (21
Jan 1926 – 1 May 2000) in Hercules (trailer), was still in full, hot muscular prime when he played
this movie's kill-happy bad guy. Indeed, the combined hotness of he and Steele
and Robsahm and the soon-to-be-mentioned Sylvia Sorrente, are the stuff that
fantasy orgies are made of…. Hand us that box of Kleenex, please.
The twist to the ghosts that inhabit this movie is that they
are, in a way, dead-alive. They only appear once a year, on All Hallows' Eve, and
to survive another year until their next appearance, the vampiric ghosts
require the blood of the living, which is why Lord Thomas Blackwood sends a
poor sucker to the castle every year. It would seem, however, that the urge to
drink blood only truly arises as the night draws to a close, for throughout
much of the movie the ghosts either leave Foster completely alone (as do William,
the newlyweds Elsi [the pulchritudinous Sylvia Sorrente, below] and her husband
and, for the most part, Herbert); are friendly and informative, like Dr.
Carmus; or initially actively suggest Foster should leave, as does Julia. But
as the night ends, and their ghostly mortality increases, so does their bloodlust
— perhaps beyond their control. But for Elisabeth, whose love conquers all…. except for the threshold to the world outside.
In that sense, as Dr. Carmus flatly states at one point, and
as is underscored by the way Lord Thomas Blackwood unflinchingly and coldly
collects the debt due at the end of the movie, Lord Thomas Blackwood is perhaps
the most cold-hearted and evil entity found in Castle of Blood. Even the murderous Herman — while alive, at least
— was driven more by passion and a lack of control than evilness, and the
ghosts themselves merely want to survive another year and only truly give in to
their bloodlust as the night draws to a close. Blackwood, on the other hand,
sends a new sacrificial victim to the castle once a year, and not even because
he is forced or has to, but simply because he can.
Somewhere along the way
in Castle of Blood, it is even revealed
that the ghosts, who cannot leave the castle, need blood to survive another
year, and that without it they would be no more. Were Blackwood not evil, he
would merely make sure that no one goes to the house one All Hallows' Eve — two,
if he really wants to play it safe — and then the ghosts would be gone. One
need not be a capitalist to see that, financially, the return from the rent or
sale of the castle would surely bring more money than an annual wager — ergo:
Blackwood does his annual wager for the hell of it, making him the real amoral
killer of the movie.
OK, so after all that is written above, one might assume
that we don't find Castle of Blood a
good movie. That, however, is wrong. We think it a great film, a fantastic
film, and will surely watch it again someday (though hopefully a better
transfer). It is, however, a flawed film and age has not been all that kind to
it, and in today's Smartphone-driven world in which western society has the
patience and attention span shorter than Trump's Mario toadstool, it is not a movie that will
appeal to many.
Castle of Blood is,
perhaps, comparable to some of the more subdued baubles in your grandmother's
jewelry box: it is a real jewel, a beautiful jewel, but it looks and feels of
another age. If you are one who can appreciate such beauty, then you will
surely find this movie worth watching. If, on the other hand, you need the
speed and superficiality of today's perfected flashiness, you won't be able to
appreciate the beauty that this B-film offers.
(Spoilers) Rammbock, at little over 60 minutes in length with credits, is a
bit too long to be a short film and a bit too short to be a feature film, but
in the end it proves just long enough to remain absorbing and offer a double
ending that is both depressing and ironic (for one hero of the film) and as
happily open-ended as a zombie film can be (for the second main protagonist). Financed
in part by German public television, Rammbock
never feels like a television flick and, instead, comes across as a viable
entry in the contemporary canon of fast "zombies". Here, as in 28 Days Later (2002 / trailer), 28 Weeks Later (2007)
and many films since then, the zombies are less undead gut/brain eaters than crazed
and blood-thirsty infected. In this sense, the Berlin Undead title added for the movie's international (or English-speaking countries) release is
incorrect; Berlin Biohazard or Berlin Infected would probably be more
appropriate, if less commercial.
While not exactly ignoring the "undead"
hoards and chomp-chomp deaths expected of a zombie movie, Rammbock has higher aims than just offering a bloody bodycount and
the living vs. "undead". The interest of the filmmakers lies far more
in the human side of the story of a variety of people, but primarily the two
leads, Michael (Michael Fuith) and Harper (Theo Trebs), suddenly caught in a claustrophobic setting as
the world collapses. (The people are for the most part caught in a typical Berlin Hinterhof — tenement back courtyard — while
Michael and Harper are stuck in a Hinterhof
flat.) And while the small cast of people do different things at different
times in response to the danger confronting them, not one becomes the efficient
(and in the end unbelievable) zombie-killing machines so common of too many
contemporary zombie movies. In this sense, Rammbock
— despite being populated with amped-up, fleet-footed zombies — is more closely
related to the original Night of the Living Dead
(1968 / trailer)
than, say, the average Asylum zombie flick or certain currently popular
television series. The people populating this flick are normal Joes and Janes,
not wannabe, pistol-packing, acrobatic deadshots or secret samurais. And in an
almost stereotypical manner, considering Germany's waning reputation as a technology leader, the solutions they come upon are based on
technology, both primitive (battering ram) and modern (flashing luminaries).
Like Night of the Living Dead, Rammbock
starts in a still-sane world before, with no warning, the shit hits the
fan. True, there are a scream or two in the distance, but that isn't really all
that strange for either the big hipster party place Berlin has become or the
rundown, heavy-drinking, working class city it used to be. Michael isn't even
from Berlin, but has traveled up from Austria to visit Gabi (Anka Graczyk), his ex-girlfriend, on the excuse of
returning her keys but actually in the hope of talking her out of leaving him.
But she isn't there; instead, there is a plumber (Arno
Kölker) and his young apprentice Harper — and then the plumber flips out
and attacks. More by luck than anything else, Harper and Michael manage to lock
the plumber out on the stairwell landing and themselves in Gabi's flat….
At this point, Rammbock plays an obvious homage to Rear Window (1954 / trailer),
with Harper and Michael witnessing different developments unfold in the
courtyard and apartments across the way. The pace in which things go south at
the start of the film is easily believable due to the speed and brutality of
the infected. And the infected themselves are likewise as unsettling as
believable. Ashen-faced, occasionally foaming at the mouth, and milky-eyed, they
wobble in place or stumble slowly about until any given noise sends them into a
bloodthirsty, rampaging rage.
No phone, no food, and — as the television
goes from news reports to the emergency broadcast system, and the radio
broadcasts become little more than a looped tape — no hope. Trapped in a situation
as bleak as late-fall Berlin is grey and dank, remaining "safe
inside" means death by hunger. And as Murphy's Law in omnipotent, any step
Michael and Harper take seems only to make their "safe space" smaller
and more unsafe. Including the event involving the homemade battering ram — or
"Rammbock" — that bestows the film its German title. (An
arbitrary title decision, actually: they could have just as well titled the
movie "Camera Flash" in reference to the movie's one new tweak in the
zombie canon: the grey eyes of the infected are also extremely photosensitive.)
Rammbock manages to keep an eye on its protagonists — who they are
as well as how they develop — without totally forgetting the rabid-zombie action.
But while there are enough shock moments, the gore is sparse, limited primarily
to the initial mass attack. In that sense, the movie proves well that buckets
of blood are not the only way to shock or affect the viewer.
Director Marvin Kren, in his (short)
feature-film debut, manages to use his claustrophobic setting to its best
advantage: the movie never feels visually constrained, even if the constrained
situation of the heroes is never forgotten and the sense of confinement and of
being trapped is never lost. Kren also gets believable, if not at time truly
nuanced, performances from most of his cast. (In an interesting play on acting
and filmmaking, at the start of the Rammbock,
when the viewer is first introduced to Michael, he is a lousy actor — but then
it is revealed his is acting out, as in practicing, what he plans to say to his
ex-girlfriend Gabi. As of the point that is revealed, his acting becomes convincingly
natural.) And more than once a finely absurd humor raises its blackly effective
head, though it is usually done so in passing that the viewer can easily miss
it, particularly if one does not understand German.
It is a sign of how well this
semi-chamber play of a movie is made that some of the more obvious flaws are so
easy to ignore. That the film plays freely with the geography of Berlin (it
opens in Chamissokiez, which is
nowhere close to either the river Spree or Westhafen harbor, while the final
scene is even further away in Schweineode)
can hardly be held against it, as fiction does not necessarily require veracity.
(See: Lola Rennt aka Run, Lola, Run [1998 / trailer],
in which the backgrounds of where Lola runs are taken indiscriminately from all
across the city but shown as a continuous, if long, run.) That said, characters
do do some stupid things: for example, when one guy across the way goes
downstairs to try to close the doors to the courtyard, instead of being as quiet
as possible, he and everyone else invariably make as much noise as possible —
so guess how that works out. Also, later, after all the zombies have been
driven out and the courtyard door locked, the zombie mom mysteriously reappears from an
upstairs apartment, a reappearance needed for both the ironic resolution of
Michael's story and one of the best throwaway verbal jokes of the movie (listen
carefully to what the guy running away from the zombie mom is screaming). And
perhaps most glaring: the zombies are revealed to have highly photosensitive
eyes, but the heroes tend to do everything after sundown instead of under the
daytime sun. (That said, Berlin is justly famous for having a lot of incredibly
grey days, particularly during the colder seasons.) The technical aspects for
the MacGyver-style escape vehicle also raise some
questions…
But again: Rammbock is both so tightly made and affectively effective that
kinks like those only come to mind long after the film has ended; the
movie-going experience had while watching the film is remains invariably involving,
if not gripping.
As is the nature of all zombie-outbreak
films, the resolution of Rammbock is
— at least for the survivors — more open than resolute. But the little shimmer
of hope that is given by the final scene is a welcome relief after everything
that precedes it. As is the mood underscored by the wonderful closing music.
Rammbock: low budget, short, well shot, well directed, creepy,
affective and effective — and definitely worth a look, unlike so many zombie
movies nowadays.
