MURDER ROCK

From the fog shrouded castles, necrophilia romances, and grand decadent atmosphere of the traditional Italian Gothic so very popular throughout the 1960's to the psycho-sexual decadence inherent in the Giallo (an intensely violent, provocative species of the murder mystery), Italian horror cinema has never been shy about crossing boundaries of taste or expectation. This fertile period of creativity shed blood, cum, and debauchery in equal portion, raping the mind's eye of a self-satisfied culture numbed into passivity by Hollywood genre fare that offered as little true terror or titillation as it did style. Intensely graphic, wallowing in lovingly depicted viscera, these films proved as interested in exposing cultural hypocrisy, political oppression, and the savagery of the often inhuman human-condition as they were in flinging innards.

An acknowledged if maligned poet of the perverse who delighted in peeling back the raw exterior of existence to probe the soft meat beneath, Italian horror film director Lucio Fulci defied the knee-jerk philosophy of traditional conservative cinema, employing ultra-violent examinations of the flesh and the surreal to study the chaotic bleakness and decay lurking below the crust of the politely restrained.

With a camera lavishing loving detail on decrepit images of decay, Fulci displayed in his lengthy if erratic career the ability to force audiences weaned on the laughably rigid morality of Hollywood horror to investigate new possibilities of physical corruption, emotional lethargy, and spiritual decadence - themes largely ignored by directors who lacked the nerve or aesthetic sense required to treat the macabre in any other sense than playfully or with emotional detachment.

A filmmaker whose defiance of authority was as striking as the blood-and-sex drenched images layering amoral splatter-ballets of nihilism and wonder, Fulci is perhaps best known for the gleefully excessive gut-muncher Zombie (1979). Often (and quite erroneously) referred to as a "rip-off" of George A. Romero's hugely successful Dawn Of The Dead, the grand guignol of Zombie was an international sensation that paved the bloody trail for a quick succession of atmospheric exercises in brutal surrealist, resulting in a Fulcian Golden Period, which included City Of The Living Dead (1980), The Black Cat (1981), The Beyond ( 1981), and House By The Cemetery (1981).

Despised by censors, reviled by proponents of subtle terror, and a victim to both the political/economical factions of his native film industry (and by the intensity of his own thematic obsession with decay, moral corruption, and the questionable integrity of perception -- the very tool by which we define reality and one's place in a larger spiritual and physical context of an often malignant universe -- ) Fulci crafted in his unrepentantly somber, poetically inspired cinematic fragments a geography of fear, grue, and isolation. In the chaotic center of triumphant decay, moral ambiguity, and rampant sexuality, Fulci's vision imbued his own particular fetishistic visions of earthly decadence and supernatural speculation with an infectious enthusiasm and philosophic vitality unavailable in the crude pseudo-documentaries of his countrymen or the uninspired Drive-In fodder of American cinema.

Alas, his inspiration, emotional effectiveness, and energy waned in the last few decades or so of his craft, evident in the weakened artistry of such half-hearted features as Aenigma, Ghosts of Sodom, and Sweet House of Horror. While his flexography after New York Ripper was particularly disappointing , traces of Fulci's former stylistic ingenuity and penchant for the awe-inspiring set-piece occasionally resurfaced through increasingly banal stories. Even in such lackluster efforts as Door To Silence, traces of his atmospheric tension instill an otherwise stilted context with flashes of macabre beauty. While never again reaching the effect of his golden period, duplicating the mood or tension of The Beyond or even the grim nihilism of The New York Ripper, the later part of his career wasn't a complete lost, resulting in the macabre poetry of House of Clocks and the giallo inspired deviancy of The Devil's Honey. Between these smatterings of failures and near successes came the disjointed Murder Rock.

While not a great film, neither stylistically or thematically as successful as his Living Dead trilogy, Murder Rock is hardly as ineffective as many critics claim. Lacking the extreme violence, subversive themes, and decadent atmosphere of his supernatural films, Murder Rock shouldn't even be compared to Fulci's occult flexography. At heart a hybrid between a giallo and slasher, focusing on base human emotions of greed and hatred, this film combines the perverse context of Italian thrillers with the cat-and-mouse structure of more traditional British mystery-thrillers. Lacking the bold social criticism of Don't Torture A Duckling, the sexual subversion of Lizard In A Woman's Skin, or the excellent plot veerings of Murder To The Tune Of Seven Black Notes, neither does Murder Rock boast the uncompromising violence of The New York Ripper or even the basic intelligence of his earliest giallo, One On Top Of The Other. It is, however, stylistically superior to such colorful if idiotic tripe as Aneigma, and successfully interweaves the psychological hysterics of Italian crime with the exploitative verve of American slashers. That is achieves this with an emphasis on nudity and implied if not lovingly shown perversion makes it a unique viewing experience.

Suggesting the violence that he had before lovingly detailed throughout his long career, Fulci creates in this mingling of murder, repressed memory, and dance school silliness a film equal parts camp and carnality. A series of murders disrupt a dance academy in New York. When the psychologically troubled directress, Candice, sets out to find the killer, this designer Gialli kicks into a strange shadow-show of Flash-Dance inspired breast-jiggling, surprisingly suggestive murders, and an inflated story. With the assistance of George, an enigmatic male model, Candice struggles to discover who is murdering the girls at her academy, and why. In the meantime, we're treated to various close ups of female nudity (never a bad thing), subjective shots of creeping death, misleading plot devices, and naturally inept cops. Fulci directs our attention to various red herrings and allusions to other films, intensifying the basic plot by questioning the history/relationship of Candice and George, both of which have an ulterior motive. Both a salute to, and refutation of, classic Giallo, Murder Rock combines such standard conventions as black gloved killers, fetishistic violence, and convoluted storylines with a modern emphasis on the police procedural. While lacking his trademark atmosphere, the film does manage to disturb on a simplistic level, proving worthwhile to the Fulci collector and lover of psychological thrillers alike.

"Violence is Italian art!" Fulci proclaimed, and, indeed, it is in the geography of pain - emotional, physical, and spiritual - that the rebellious artist finds the ideal aesthetic tools with which to lend an understandable face to impulses and anxieties that defy conventional logic. The simplistic unadorned murder method of sticking a pin neatly into the breast of females is disturbing despite itself, hinting at the simplicity and waste of death, and the horribly easy way in which our lives may be ended. Likewise, relationships are depicted as easily dissolvable, mysteries of deceit that are as deadly as the on-screen murders. Fulci tears away in uncustomary restraint the exterior security of cultural institutions, relationships, and the flesh itself. While the primal horror of the situations are hampered by the god-horrible dancing numbers and scenes which occasionally drag on for no discernible reason, and the acting is pedestrian, Fulci creates moments of unease and implied perversion with something of his old panache. Ineffectively paced and lacking either the imagination or atmospheric intensity of Fulci's classic cinema, Murder Rock captures the bare essence (if not the intimate terror or depth of psychological complexity) of his older gialli efforts. An entertaining if not essential addition to your Italian horror DVD library, this serviceable post-modern thriller may be more flash than substance, but the dark heart of its themes -- and the eye candy inherent in its sparingly evoked violence -- lends the picture an undeniable verve. Complex in its implications, and generous in its stylized imagery, Murder Rock is, if nothing else, an echo of Fucli's more effective nightmares, and a one-time suggestion of greater fears to come.

If the story, acting, and direction of Murder Rock is somewhat confused, the picture quality is sumptuous, easily the best this film has ever looked. Definitions are superb, the picture clean and concise. Colors are sharp and full-bodied. No lines, ripples, or speckling is noticeable. Audio, featured in English and Italian Dolby Digital, is just as professional, without the usual distortion that appears in the audio tracks of Italian product. A fascinating audio commentary with cinematographer Pinori is rich in reminiscences, including many amusing stories of the late master's sense of humor, dedication to technical quality, and innovation. As fun to listen to as it is informative, focusing primarily on the technological side of craft, this commentary resembles an intimate discussion.

If the visual and audio presentation of this film is admirable, the extras culled together to celebrate this odd Giallo are little short of spectacular! One can't avoid feeling that the film receives better treatment than it may be worth. In fact, the extras are somewhat better than the feature itself, investigating Fulci's life, career, and attitude. Establishing a historical, social, and aesthetic context with which to better appreciate -- and measure -- Murder Rock, these extras also celebrate Fulci's life in general. In addition to the aforementioned commentary, extras on disc one include trailers of Shadow, Zombi, The Being, and Witchery. The second disc is where the love really begins, particularly in the most substantial featurette, "Tempus Fugit: An Inside Look At Director Lucio Fulci." Featuring candid, insightful interviews with Luigi Cozzi, Antonio Tentori, Dardano Sacchetti, Claudio Argento, Dario Argento, and Claudio Simonetti, this diverting dissection of the Godfather of Gore is intelligent and provocative -- a sound introduction to Fulci's style and work habits. This is followed by "A Portrait of Pinori," an interview with Murder Rock's cinematographer, a photo gallery, "A Portrait of Ray Lovelock," and a further interview with the same. Each of these reveals as much about the speaker/subject as about Fulci. Finally, we end with a special 'Fulci Trailer Reel', including House of Clocks, Sweet House of Horrors, Lizard in a Woman's Skin, Touch of Death, Zombie (3), and Gates of Hell. A delectable package, Media Blaster's presentation of Murder Rock is a loving tribute to Fulci, and a gift to his fans. Quite simply, the extras alone justify the price.

Review by William P. Simmons