Article: Heist, Heist, Baby - Face (1997)

 Ray used to stand for something. Throughout the runtime of Face, he is called a commie, a left winger and a socialist. In the film's numerous flashbacks, Ray is on the front lines of protests, demonstrating for workers' rights with his mother. His girlfriend, Connie (Lena Headey) who he met during protests, looks after child refugees in a London boarding house. Ray’s beliefs are somewhat vague in their entirety, however. He leans left politically. At least he used to incline that way. One of the more potent themes in Face is how capitalism stamps over idealism. Ray may have held principles in the past, but those days are in the rear-view mirror of his youth. Ray is now an armed robber, more focused on money for himself than the virtues of his past. Even though he would have earned a better crust on the straight and narrow than what he gets now. The problem is capitalism has an interesting way of skewering a person’s view.

Face was released in 1997, a year before the dick-swinging mockney gangsters of Guy Richie infiltrated cinema. Don’t get me wrong. There’s plenty of room for Richie’s flashy aesthetic, with his early work showing a sense of populist cinema I would mind seeing more from British filmmaking nowadays. But Antonia Bird’s shadowy crime feature of a heist turned sour is equally compelling although in a different way. Face’s conflicted criminals with compromised souls are very different from shallow “Cool Britannia” energy that radiates from Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels.

Narratively Face is no different from many heist movies before or after it. A motley crew of criminals headed by the morally conflicted Ray (Robert Carlyle) fall into trouble when a spate of incidents befouls them after the successful undertaking of their latest heist. Tension is already high since the crew doesn't manage to swipe the minimum amount they aimed for. Now, someone has taken the money from them. And murmurs of a rat in the group grow steadily larger. Ray leads the charge to discover what happened and how they can reclaim their money. The plot of Face doesn’t sound too different from the dozens of post-modern, Tarantino-spliced movies that littered the 90s. But Antonia Bird’s feature (written by Ronan Bennett of Top Boy fame), while stylish, is draped in a political cynicism that someone like me is crying for to come back.

When it feels like societal change and community building is a task worthy of Sisyphus, how willing are you to give up those beliefs and take the bag? This question resides at the heart of Face, which is unflinching in that the 80s ideals of the left have failed, and now, in the 90s, the only thing you can do is take the money and run. Perhaps the most revealing moment comes late on in the film when a character bluntly states that there is no public service, only money and the people who can obtain it. It’s a marked moment in the film that hits home even more after 14 years of modern conservatism. The film feels even more barbed as it came out only a few months after Tony Blair became Prime Minster with New Labour taking over Britain. Then there’s an element of discombobulation remembering pictures of Oasis’ Noel Gallagher wining and dining with Blair at the beginning of his tenure.

Meanwhile, Blur’s Damon Albarn appears as a young member of Ray’s gang. As if Oasis and Blur didn't just draw battle lines with Roll with It and Country House. Albarn’s appearance holds an element of stunt casting, he’s not in the film for long. But it is telling to see him in this film as his debut, with the outer knowledge of his future activism. Elsewhere, Oasis drew controversy with their dynamic pricing in their comeback tour…

Antonia Bird captures the strong sense of alienation felt by people frustrated by years of doing what they felt was morally sound. She fills the background with billboards which yell Enough is enough and Graffiti that argues “Vote Apathy”.  A prang of jealousy can be felt when Ray meets up with his right-hand man Dave (Ray Winstone) before preparing to do the job. Winston’s character has benefited well from criminality and his London suburb home is evidence of that. If Ray was even less married to his principles, would he be found here, far away from the protests and politics? This is the dopamine bliss money provides: Ignorance from a world that needs saving. The tensely shot heist stands out as it has Ray look at the honest workers he’s stealing from with Bird cross-cutting them against the faces of protesters and the needy he stood with years before. Solidifying him as a man of certain standings who has lost his way. If Ray was less married to his politics, would he be here?

Robert Carlyle shows his worth here. Almost more than he does in his more noted performances. Ray is a more complicated character than the likes of Trainspotting’s Bigbie. While you wouldn’t be surprised that both characters could have the same velocity, there’s a simmering intensity to Ray, that suggests a more profound sense of danger.  This is blended with Ray’s values. While a guy like Bigbie shows clear warning signs, it’s harder to see such things in Ray. What’s fascinating is watching Carlye have Ray constantly wrestling with his conscience in almost every scene. Carlyle's turn reminds us of how potent the actor was in the 90s and early 00s. Ray Winstone is also strong here. His role of David is a lot more shaded than so many of his “geezer” characters. Winstone’s performance feels like a stepping stone towards his iconic performance in Jonathan Glazer’s Sexy Beast (2000) only 3 years later.

Films such as Face and Sexy Beast almost feel like anomalies by the early 00s. Face has one foot in the bygone eras of decades past. Feeling much more like The Long Good Friday (1980) than anything that came after it. By the next year, the game had changed. With Guy Richie’s cheeky chappies ushering in something more over the top and cartoonish than before. It’s not surprising that Bird’s film loses a bit of its potency in the third act of the film when the film becomes more conventional, and action-packed. Although it’s worth noting how well-staged the shootouts are. Managing to pack a real punch as the film winds towards a path well-travelled. The late Antonia Bird had this to say about her movie:

“It’s set in the East End where I’ve lived for the past 20 years and it’s about the people I know and care about... You could have a drink with a lot of guys I know, and you’d never guess that they were involved in crime... In Face, I wasn’t trying to show them in a good light, but I was trying to say these are real people with real inner lives. They have the same emotional responses and needs as you or I because that is truer to what I know.”

With this said it’s bittersweet that the film’s narrative bows itself to movie convention in the finale. This doesn’t mean Face loses relevancy. If anything, the dark cynicism that ebbs throughout the film only feels more precedent as each year passes. The desire of Face to be a confident genre piece that also happens about something has only strengthened the film as time goes on. Mostly because it feels like we’re seeing less of this sort of thing. Films stumbling at the final hurdle is absolutely fine if it means we could get more of this ambitious, well-crafted fare back. It’s not like the material isn’t there. We just need folk to pick up the mantle.

Article: Going Gothic – I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House

 If you happen to be the son of the actor who portrayed one of horror’s greatest villains, I think it’s safe to say you probably have a certain measure of pedigree. Oz Perkins, son of Anthony ‘Norman Bates’ Perkins, hit paydirt with the 2024 marketing hype beast that was Longlegs. While the 90s period procedural made pay dirt with a solid advertising campaign which turned heads, it is safe to say that the film polarised viewers with its refusal to bend to typical expectations...or logic. Believe me as a lowly film writer, I have no desire to lie to you. Longlegs doesn’t make complete sense. And yet the film’s interest in “vibes” still makes it a compelling watch with a climax that, while slightly goofy, still harbours one of the most concerning final moments of 2024…if you were down with what Perkins was selling.

The traction of Longlegs (2024) was unexpected. Especially when considering the horror features Perkins directed before it. As a genre director, he deals with deliberate slow burns which grow and build like mould in the corner of a damp room. His films are exercises in extended suspense. Shots get held longer than one would expect. Nothing ever feels conventional, and things are rarely fully explained. I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in The House is in the same wheelhouse as Long Legs or The Blackcoat’s Daughter (2015). It is deliberately paced and uninterested in submitting to the horror status quo.  The film is gothic in its purest form. Taking a past tragedy and having it become a rotting stain or a burnt shadow which never fades. Perkins delivers horror films which linger and infect. Like Session 9 (2001) it suggests that such dread lies dormant in the shadows until the chance arises to infect the weak and the wounded.

Ruth Wilson plays Lily, a live-in nurse sent to a remote house in Massachusetts to look after Iris Blum (Paula Prentiss), an elderly female writer who suffers from dementia. Lily scares easily. With little in the house apart from Iris’ penny thrillers for entertainment, Lily’s imagination, or what appears to be her imagination, begins to play tricks on her. She begins to sense something supernatural is in the house with Iris and herself. Something connected to the books, and possibly events that previously occurred within the house itself.

There’s a layer of chill that rests on the surface of Perkins's film. The jump scares if indeed you can call them that, are mild in their execution. However, Perkins’ use of empty and liminal spaces brings a sense of uneasy stillness, making you wish something should happen to break the suffocating tension. While this may sound like an oxymoron, nothing happens and that’s the point. To a sub-section of horror fans, this film will piss them off. To those who find something within films that deal with the saddening deaths of lonely, forgotten women, they may absolutely find a new favourite film. There’s a subtlety to IATPTTLITH that can really connect with a viewer allows it. The film deals with a narrative of female abuse and loneliness that is as quietly upsetting as it is unsettling. What’s difficult is that not everyone will be able to cling to this theme. Narratively the film is so slight it’s easy to feel that you might have missed something. The film moves from beginning to end in a way that may feel inconsequential in its execution.

But there’s effectiveness in its atmosphere. Some films are louder with their scares but aren’t as disquieting with their sense of dread. Wilson is the perfect actress for this kind of story. A performer whose looks can’t be placed easily within the past or present. It’s easy to absorb her fear as she frets around the house, unsure of herself, or the abode she’s been asked to reside in. A lot of IATPTTLITH works because of how convincing Wilson is. A bundle of nerves, unsure of where to place herself. Either within the house or in conversations. The dominant aspect of Wilson’s performance lies in her creepy narration which slips into pockets of the film, helping to build the unease of the film’s sparse compositions.  

Much like the films of Kiyoshi Kurosawa, the film captures a bleak tone that often resides in the Gothic. We see remnants left by ghosts unable to save others from their possible doomed existence. An elderly woman dying of dementia. Her disease is doing its best to take away her personality and essence at the end of her life. This also leaves Iris unable to fully inform her carer of what may lie ahead of her. Iris’ book that Lily reads, is based on the film's main ghost, Polly and what may have happened to her within the walls of the house, the women are living in. It is mentioned in the book that Polly never gets to elaborate on what occurred to her, although the audience does. She is a woman unable to clarify what happens to her. Lilly also illustrates within the film’s narration, that her story is cut short, with her chronicle to be forever embedded within the house. The weight of dread lies heavy in this collection of stories by women who aren’t allowed to close the book on themselves.

This sad aspect brings out one of Perkins’ strengths as a director. A Lynchian love for his female characters, something also seen in Longlegs and The Blackcoats Daughter. As vague as Perkins' films may be, he still finds reason to tell the saddening fate of these three women. Furthermore, as a horror formalist, he does this with a formidable command of mood. Many will want the film to “do more” with the material. But I Am The Pretty Thing That Lives in the House is much like Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) in that less is more here. The film tells you enough. Possibly even more if you’re willing. But it’s important to note that Perkins wants to envelop people with mood. If you have the patience, the film will reward you. However, you must be interested in what Perkins is selling. You must be willing to get with the vibe.

I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House can be found on Netflix

Dug what you read? Support me on Ko-fi

Article: Going Gothic - The Others

Finding films like The Others is becoming taxing. The film is now almost 25 years old and has reminded me of the relentless and pressing march of time moving ever forward. To imagine it being pitched to a non-A24 studio executive now would require an amount of guile. It’s hard to see such a traditional style haunting finding an audience as well as it did in the early 00s. The film made $210 million from a meagre $17 million budget. Such a feat feels less and less likely as the years move by.

Even though it’s been over two decades, The Others still manages to provide a chill. Even if you already know how the story plays out. The silent moments and knowing glances still hold a stern effectiveness. The film doesn’t have as many frightening set pieces as I recall. I was shocked that the film doesn’t have as many bumps in the night as previously remembered. But what makes The Others successful is the precision of its storytelling and its wonderfully vulnerable central performance. The focus on the eerie atmosphere more than makes up for its lack of typical jump scares. Combined with its command of its story and lack of blood and gore, the film is a wonderfully formative horror movie. Providing the right amount of tension and suspense to guide younger audience members into the realms of the macabre, without its scares being too alienating.

Set in 1945, Nicole Kidman plays Grace, who resides in a remote country manor in Jersey with her two uncommonly photo-sensitive children. The arrival of three new servants has Grace explain the strict rules of the house. Locked doors and heavily drawn curtains restrict the light that enters the house. The combination of a father missing overseas due to the war and overzealous, near-religious rules installed by Grace takes an emotional toll on all involved, with Grace and her new servants struggling with substantial friction. There is also strain between Grace and her children as a dramatic event occurred in the recent past between them. Things take a drastic turn when a series of uncanny events occur, bringing things to a chilling supernatural conclusion.

Does Nicole Kidman get her due? Despite being Hollywood's top brass, I’ve always felt that Kidman straddles between being well-regarded yet undervalued. Detractors make superficial observations of the actress as cold and dispassionate. However, my enjoyment of Kidman has always come from how well she plays women who regulate their emotions, only allowing small moments passions flow over. Her sexuality is often carefully calculated, calibrated and used like a weapon. Dead Calm (1989) and To Die For (1995) are perfect examples. Moulin Rouge (2001), released in the same year as The Others, almost plays as a parody of what Kidman does, flaunting herself so extravagantly that it felt too false to some at times. Although said falseness seemed to be the point.

The Others is a significant example of Kidman repressing and regulating. Pretending everything is ok even when evident cracks are starting to show.  Her demeanour is perfect for the type of paranoia and mania beset on protagonists in Gothic fare.  Kidman’s performance of Grace fits quite comfortably in the sub-genre of her work: A repressed woman slowly losing her mind in a vast empty house. For other examples see Stoker (2013) and The Beguiled (2017). Both themselves are compulsive Gothic dramas. Much like The Shining (1980), it’s evident that hysteria has already reached a peak before things start to bump in the night. Grace opens the film properly by screaming herself awake. It’s a moment which strengthens the story after its first viewing. Starting this way only helps indicate how deep the descent into mania might be.

Kidman is solid throughout the film. Eschewing the so-called Ice Queen persona – an identity that seems more akin to her red-carpet appearances/interviews than her film performances – and delivering a heightened, expressionistic display of matricidal fear. Often wide-eyed and shrill throughout the film, Grace is also a strongly determined woman, willing to do whatever she can to protect her children, even though it sometimes feels like she dislikes them.  It is perhaps why The Others stands out in Kidman’s filmography. It’s a film which shows her as a woman who is both strong-willed yet naïve and conflicted. Kidman’s character of Suzanne Stone in To Die For is full of similar traits. There's little surprise that these roles stand out amongst her filmography, as Kidman seems to excel in such displays where the women seem to be hiding scorn for those around them while also doing their best to swallow their contempt for themselves. 

Director Alejandro Amenábar deftly controls the story of Grace’s growing irrationality, By drip-feeding the information and misdirection into the story where needed. The stellar supporting cast also bolsters events. Including committed supporting turns from Fionnula Flanagan and child actors Alakina Mann and James Bentley. In rewatching The Others, the telltale signs are far more apparent than once remembered. I was pleasantly surprised at how the burden of time allowed me to forget just how early it lets you in on some of its secrets. However, Amenábar’s tight grip on the narrative and the well-drawn-out characters allow a viewer to get swept up in the story instead of trying to figure everything out. And as suggested earlier, knowing what occurs never ruins the enjoyment. It merely adds to it.

Amenábar is less interested in cheap scares as he is in extended periods of suspense. This is not to say that the film does have shocking moments. A sequence in the piano room still holds a high grade in unexpectedness. Meanwhile, the film's visuals are a grand exercise in creating a discomforting atmosphere. Cinematographer Javier Aguirresarobe pulls out a simple but effective bag of tricks ranging from unorthodox camera angles and movements to inspired uses of light and reflection. The set design is also noteworthy. The Jersey manor, the only location, is constantly shrouded by thick fog. The use of low light and murky fog not only creates a sense of inescapable and oppressive dread but also a visual metaphor of uncertainty, which matches the growing insecurity held by Grace as the film continues.

As a Gothic period piece, The Others is a traditional Ghost story which leans a lot on the Haunting (1954) and The Innocents (1966) with the film taking on similar creepy aesthetics. However, the notable themes of isolation, dread and paranoia caused by family dysfunction echo in films such as The Babadook (2014) and Hereditary (2018). So, while it’s becoming harder to see studio executives as interested in such a period horror now as they were back then, Nosferatu (2024) withstanding, the elements which make The Others such an enjoyable tale live on in albeit overt, mutated forms. 24 years on, The Others still holds a gem of a Nicole Kidman performance. And as a piece of Gothic horror, it still shines brightly.

 

 The Others is currently streaming on ITVx. I however have it on disc.

Dug what you read? Support me on Ko-fi

Article: Going Gothic - Dracula (1958)

Even though January is nearing its end, the days have remained gloomy. The night sky still appears to be darker than usual. In this cold, dark month I decided to watch a small collection of gothic features. These films are designed to chill the spines of those who watch them. However, I hope the films I picked, warmed my typing fingers as the cold nights set in. The first film is one I’ve never seen before. One I should have perhaps seen by now. Hammer Horror’s first Dracula entry.

Shockingly, I had seen Gerard Butler’s unremarkable display as Drac in the regrettable Dracula 2000 (2000) before I’d seen any of Christopher Lee’s iconic turns in the role. More fool me. The bigger surprise came when I realised the number of creative liberties the Hammer adaptation takes with the material. Terrence Fisher’s Dracula is abridged and truncated in ways that would make modern fanboys lose their mind. Budget limitations and time constraints ensured that canon was not the main concern. Because of this, Dracula, or Horror of Dracula as it was retitled in America, becomes a rather lean revenge thriller. Having a similar affected production situation as a Marc Forster Bond film, one could call this version of Dracula A Quantum of Coffins. Not like that makes a lick of sense, but then again did Quantum of Solace?

Bad jokes aside, this Dracula rendition feels streamlined because it's leaner than turkey. Many of the bones of Stoker's original story remain. However, the changes implemented in the story alter the fabric of the narrative substantially. One example occurs right at the beginning of the movie in which Johnathan Harker travels to see Count Dracula in the guise of a commercial venture. Unlike Bram Stoker's original story where Harker is rather innocently heading to Dracula Transylvania for real estate matters, in this Hammer rendition, Harker is travelling to Klausenburg intending to kill Dracula already on his mind. Harker’s already-acquired knowledge about vampires is a startling twist. So also, is his fate in which Harker is dispatched early in the film. This sets forth an altered arrangement of the sequences and characters from the original narrative. Here Dracula feels like a strongly concentrated vendetta upon the Harker and his kin.

Of course, Dracula‘s hunting and stalking have always been predatory. But there’s a joyless, tragic nature to proceedings here that’s not always sensed in other renditions of Dracula. In John L Flynn’s Cinematic Vampires: The Living Dead on Film and Television, Christopher Lee states how he saw the character: "I've always tried to put an element of sadness, which I've termed the loneliness of evil, into his character.” Lee’s Dracula seems hellbent on dragging Harker and those around him down. The loneliness that Lee considers can be felt after the film when you realise that Dracula only has sixteen lines in the whole picture. He’s said all of them by the 10-minute mark. Most if not all of them are shared between himself and Harker, the man who has set his sights on killing him. Lee also says of his development of the character “Dracula doesn't want to live, but he's got to! He doesn't want to go on existing as the undead, but he has no choice." This brings a strange underlying tension to the narrative. Nothing is shocking about a vampire with a death wish, fighting to survive. However, in fighting against Harker and embarking on an aggressive attack on everyone he loves, the “plague” of Dracula feels concentrated in a way that differs from other versions.

It’s a stark contrast to Francis Ford Coppola’s 90s overblown adaptation of the material which focuses heavily on the idea of Dracula being so deeply bereft of love that his need of Mina is a love that bleeds through the ages. Coppola’s OTT interpretation of the material is extremely on the nose. In one of its more memorable sequences, a literal beast ravishes a young woman during a storm. The '58 Dracula, despite its bold colour palette, honking score and dramatic performances, is more subtle in its design, and more controlled in its metaphors. This can be considered in the aftermath of the first attack on Mina by Dracula. Van Helsing has Mina’s husband Arthur give her a transfusion due to the amount of blood loss. The process is straightforward and clinical in its execution. Drained of cinematic flair or fancy. The procedure also feels unemotional given the relationship between the two patients. This sexlessness in the operation helps distinguish the eroticism given by Lee’s Dracula. Fisher believed that Dracula preyed upon the sexual frustrations of his female victims. And felt that the relationship between Arthur and Mina was a sexually frustrated one. Mina, much like Lucy earlier on in the film, never hides the anticipation of her and Dracula's encounters.

Removing precautions and defences to ensure his presence. And while Dracula’s encounters are never explicit, we see the profound desire he creates with his victims in the aftermath.  Mina’s transfusion with Arthur is as mannered and stiff as their interactions. The irony is that the lifesaving operation involving her husband holds no allure as opposed to becoming Dracula’s undead bride. Lee places a stamp on this in an interview with Leonard Wolf:

 "He had also to have an erotic element about him (and not because he sank his teeth into women) ... It's a mysterious matter and has something to do with the physical appeal of the person who's draining your life. It's like being a sexual blood donor... Women are attracted to men for any of hundreds of reasons. One of them is a response to the demand to give oneself, and what greater evidence of giving is there than your blood flowing literally from your own bloodstream? It's the complete abandonment of a woman to the power of a man."

Arthur and Dracula might be both doing the same thing. But when it comes to one of them, things just hit differently.

What makes the 1958 Dracula stand out is the remarkable way that it is still quite startling. Today’s audiences may perhaps have a more sophisticated palette and are less scared of repressed sexuality in technicolour. However, Lee’s Dracula brings a varied distillation to the vampire templates set by Bela Lugosi in Tod Browning’s Dracula (1931) and Max Scheck in Nosferatu (1919). His tall, dominating presence is something other incarnations of Dracula don’t necessarily have. His charming, British manner early on is in stark contrast to the “foreign” persona of Lugosi and Gary Oldman in Coppola’s 90s rendition. The othering that inhabits some versions of the character could now be seen as kitsch. It’s not surprising that Lugosi’s version is still ripe for parody. But the elaborate politeness from Lee in the few scenes in which he has lines, disorient the viewer for when Dracula acts. The most shocking moment is when Dracula reveals himself to Harker early on. The shot switches unexpectedly from a typical mid shot to an extreme, shocking close of Dracula’s face. Blood is dripping from his mouth.  His eyes are bulging and bloodshot. His smile is manic and unhinged. It’s difficult to believe it’s the same person smattering Harker a few scenes ago. Fisher and editor Bill Lenny use a similar tactic when Lucy tries to lure Tania, daughter of the Holmwood’s maid, to a graveyard. Both close-ups of Dracula and Lucy emphasise the drastic change undertaken by the characters and how uncanny and removed they now are from society. For all the lavish art direction and effects in Coppola’s version of the story, nothing in it captures the simple sinisterness found here. From the narrative change involving Harker to the very simple scares that are found in the movie. This Dracula is the most unsettling of the versions I’ve seen.

There’s a boldness in the film’s presentation which sets Dracula ’58 apart from its counterparts. Its narrative changes help maintain a sense of loss and tragedy. Its colour and eroticism set itself apart from what came before it. The simplicity of the storytelling makes it more memorable than the films that come after it. Christopher would become Dracula 6 more times for Hammer and was Dracula ten times in total. It was a role that, while perhaps his most iconic, one that he never truly relished, despite what he infused into it. He may not have necessarily enjoyed the work, but he is perhaps the person who wanted to understand the assignment best. Funny how these things happen.

 

I caught Dracula streaming on Amazon Prime.

Dug what you read? Support me on Ko-fi

 

 

Article: First Watch of Maniac Cop

I always remember the poster of Maniac Cop being slapped up on independent video shops in my town. A dark, mean-looking poster that promised horrible things would happen in the movie. “You have the right to remain silent…FOREVER!” What a tagline. Such succulent marketing. Was there any doubt about the type of movie that you were going to get? 

Indeed, grim events do take in Maniac Cop, an exploitation feature that is part procedural, part authoritative corruption, pulled down a supernatural slasher film funnel. The film is lean and mean and doesn’t like to hang around. Yet despite its short run time, a glut of intriguing themes are pulled from its plot. Situated in 80s New York, a volatile period when the city was still in a mode of economic and societal recovery, Maniac Cop delivers slight but pointed commentary on ideas of police brutality and corruption.  Asking the question: What would happen to a Dirty Harry-style cop if the hierarchy started to turn the screws on their antics. Nothing has time to be explored with any complexity. But while it’s not academic it certainly feels like it wants to prod at the thin blue line.

Detective Frank McCrae (Tom Akins) begins an investigation into a series of brutal murders which at first seemingly have no pattern yet have enough clues to convince the officer that the killings are coming from one of their own. Jack Forrest (Bruce Campbell) fits the bill of the killer at large and is taken in under suspicion. However, when the attacks are still occurring, it falls to Forrest, McCrae, and Forrest’s partner Theresa (Laurene Landon) to find out what’s happening. 

Maniac Cop is the creation of filmmaker William Lustig. Director of low-budget, exploitation features such as Maniac (1980) and Vigilante (1982).  Maniac Cop is perhaps Lustig's most well-known feature, becoming a cult hit in the 80s and succeeded by two sequels after the 1988 original. It’s easy to see Maniac Cop did so well. While it may be an exploitation vehicle at heart, the film is still a well-made piece of trash. For a low-budget movie that may not even reach 90 minutes without its end credits, Maniac Cop packs a lot into its characters, while handling some effective set pieces. Nothing outstays its welcome, which makes it understandable why some people expected more meat on the film’s bones. 

Yet Maniac Cop is a film that is succulent with some of the things that it says. The film’s first murder feels unnerving not least for the victim, Cassie, to mention nonchalantly to her Bar colleagues: “I’d rather face the muggers” when someone cracks wise about her leaving the establishment. She is then chased by some would-be thieves before running into the Maniac Cop.  Glimpsing the uniform, Cassie believes she is safe, only to meet a ruthless and violent end. It’s a moment that reaches into something quite primitive. When people see the authorities, they expect safety. 

The film plays on this well. 15 minutes in and tension in the city is so high enough that citizens are more than willing to unload on police folk. Unfortunately, due to how the city goes about its policing, the film happily suggests that this is the NYPD’s own doing. When a black kid on TV is interviewed at one point, he is frank:

“I’ve seen plenty of my friends murdered by cops. Shot in the back, shot when they didn’t have a gun or a knife, claiming the suspect had a shiny object. You know, Cops like killing…That’s why they’re cops…who’s gonna be next?!”

The lines don’t appear in the quote section of the film’s IMDB page, yet they feel like a haunting precursor to recent history. When Cassie is examined by the coroner after her death, another officer is flippant that a cop would do such a thing. And yet, we know that officers can and will. Watching the news says enough. 

I was a little upset to see reviewers being as sour on the movie as they were. Perhaps due to the expectation of the film to be more for what it is. It’s a film that is quite serious and cynical at times but never really penetrates any of its topics with any academic depth. It’s an exploitation B-movie through and through, but it’s not as outrageous as one may expect from its premise. I can’t say I didn’t expect slightly more from its premise, but as a trimly cut action horror, it’s solid in a way direct-to-stream movies of the modern ages are not. It’s uncomplicated, uncompromising and far better crafted than it gets credit for. I do not expect the logic of a possibly supernatural cop to hold up well. However, I will praise the subversive nature of casting the man who would risk his neck for his brother man as a corrupt and calculating commissioner. I’m also willing to forgive the film's lack of extreme violence for its simple, yet effective set pieces. There’s something I find profoundly ominous about a cop terrorising a couple at a deserted traffic stop. The idea of having to drag a dying cop who’s handcuffed to you has an odd chill to it too.

But what perhaps made Maniac Cop work the most for me is the sense that everyone in the production is looking to do a little with the little they have via resources. This is a movie that has a strong visual style visually. The night scenes are solid, while the action has a good sense of geography. The cast know the kind of movie they’re in and act accordingly with Bruce Campbell showing himself to be a far more vulnerable leading man than he’s ever really had the chance to showcase. Far from the gloopy pratfalls of The Evil Dead series, Campbell shows off the B-movie acting chops fans have always loved him for. He’s flawed, angry, and a little sensitive. It works. 

It's a shame that not all of it pays off. The film’s slenderness ensures some head-scratching. However, watching Maniac Cop in the current era feels fresh. The film feels like it wants to take a few jabs at the establishment while being a Friday-night actioner and a slasher movie. The film hedges its bets a little. But that said, I’ve been told that the second film is the thing to see. And there are enough good things in Maniac Cop to place its sequel higher up on my watchlist. And if a movie is entertaining enough to do that, then it’s worth a watch.    

Maniac Cop is currently streaming on Amazon Prime. 

Dug what you read? Support me on Ko-fi