DON'T ANSWER THE PHONE

One of the infamous 'Body Count' films that along with Friday the 13 and Maniac instigated the intolerant, often fanatical dull-witted firestorm of controversy against Slasher films, Don't Answer the Phone has long been thought of as a hallmark of the grim hostility of this most troubling of genres. An admittedly cheap, sordid bruise of celluloid, this mean-spirited yet strangely fascinating slice of exploitation anger has served as the unwilling poster boy for everything supposedly wrong with violent horror films. In fact, it enjoyed the dubious distinction of being cited by a certain pair of dullard critics in their Nazi-like campaign against body-count productions, or rather films honest enough to depict the pain, terror, and humiliation of violence -- something that one would assume responsible adult society would embrace. Refusing to ignore or gloss over -- cheapen -- the brutal mental and physical effects of violence -- as so many mainstream movies do -- films like Don't offer up a blunt example of realism, complete with uneventful pauses in the conflict. This painful naturalistic appeal and its depiction of both physical and emotional brutality gives such films an undeniable presence. While this particular sleeper isn't particularly intelligent in either its scripting or performances, and neither its story or directorial style ranks it alongside the truly great slasher films of the gory glory 70s-80s, it's nasty reputation alone makes it worth seeking out. This re-mastered, uncut edition from BCI is an occasion for horror fans to set up and take notice, including scenes missing from the various TV prints floating around for several years.

Combing in its rather dim-witted plot themes from the profitable tradition of Viet Nam drama and women-in-peril exploitation, Don't Answer the Phone is predictable yet intriguing much the same way as a road side accident or freak show. While you may want to look away, your own curiosity makes you stare. Equal parts police procedure drama (perhaps the most tedious element of the script) and a crass thriller more concerned with shocking and wallowing in the worst of humanity than in any pretence of subtlety, this movie offers an invitation to be shocked by the violence while challenging us to understand the motivation behind the killer. Slobbering Kirk Smith (Nicholas Worth) is a murderer who derives pleasure and a form of pathos from the sexually tinged murder of young women. Amidst a rather standard, uneventful struggle of cat-and-mouse between the killer and cops, we also have a wise-cracking radio psychologist Dr. Lindsay, whose patients are picked off by Smith in assorted unpleasant ways. Suspense is created by these intersected threads, with each new murder bringing the three elements to closer proximity: as Kirk Smith strangles lingerie-clad lovelies, taunting Lindsay, indulging in self-confession on her show, Lt. McCable edges closer towards apprehending him . . .

While the murders are certainly disturbing (too much so for some), not celebrating but certainly focusing on violence, the police sub-plot is horribly dull, as are the lackluster moments between murders. In short, there isn't much of a story here beyond the psychosis of at all, but rather a series of discomforting, emotionally effective self-dialogues sprinkled with murders. Thankfully, Worth's performance is alone worth the price of the disc. Worth is completely believable as Kirk, resonating with the power of an element of nature. His self-hating, slobbering, bug-eyed performance is almost too convincing at times, and scenes moments of him stripping/attacking women are indeed sleazy. They are intended to be. For this is a picture of anger and helplessness, not subtle characterizations. Because it achieves its goal of unease too well, it has often found itself accused of amorality. Perhaps . . . Or is it that these seemingly simplistic, mean-spirited attacks against societal self blindness simply see too deep too far? Never pretending to be more than it is, Don't Answer the Phone is an uneven, sordid, yet dirtily compelling addition to the Slasher pantheon.

BCI excels in its respectful, technologically accomplished treatment of this oddity. Presented in anamorphic widescreen, the picture is surprisingly clean. This is easily the best the picture has ever looked. Yet even such loving restoration can't compensate for the cheapness of approach and budgetary constraints, nor should it -- the beauty of this picture is the fact that it does away with much of the line damage and speckling without eliminating the dark, dreary charm. Audio betrays some hissing, but overall is superior to past incarnations.

Extras are comprehensive, particularly for such a troubled movie. Director/co-writer Robert Hammer has his say about the production and his career in the Audio Commentary moderated by Shane Dallmann, which is easily the most significant feature. While suffering from self denial, insisting a bit too much that Don't isn't a horror film, Hammer is an interesting speaker, commenting on everything from his initial inspiration to the gruelling process of preparing, shooting, and releasing the film. A slew of gossipy stories about the people involved, and the sordid events upon which it was largely based, makes one wish that the movie itself moved with such speed. The next event, "Answering the Phone," features an on-phone interview with actor Worth. Intelligent if clearly not a genre fan, Worth's talk is filled with disdain for the story. More interesting, and less irritating is his take on his performance, and how he tried to instil mood/meaning into such a simplistic plot. A Still Gallery completes the gory goodies for this depressingly realistic addition to the Body Count tradition.

Review by William P. Simmons