The Toolbox Murders (1977)

Toolbox Murders

In the space of two consecutive nights a quiet, though well kept and seemingly secure, apartment complex in Los Angeles becomes the scene of a series of cold-blooded murders that rock the tenants to the hearts of their collective tenancy. Three young women fall victim to a balaclava-clad madman on the first night; one brutally slain with a power drill, the other two mutilated with a claw hammer and screwdriver (respectively). When Police detective Jamison (Donnelly) shows up post first-night murders, caretaker Vance Kingsley (Mitchell) is visibly shaken by the seemingly random killings. Neighbouring family the Ballards, are equally horrified by the brutality of the murders. The following night, the Ballards downstairs neighbour is slaughtered with a nail-gun and 15 year old Laurie Ballard (Ferdin) is abducted by the masked assailant.

With the tenants fearing for their safety, and their lives, Det. Jamison determines to get to the bottom of the case, though no vital clues have been uncovered, and no immediate evidence points towards Laurie having been abducted. Dissatisfied with police progress, Laurie's brother Joey (Beauvy) decides to venture a little investigative work of his own, managing to rope in best friend, and nephew of Kingsley, Kent (Eure). In the meantime, Laurie is alive, though maybe not so well, held captive in the home of perpetrator of the bloody murder spree. While Joey and Kent turn up their own leads, Laurie's life begins to descend into a traumatising, living hell. Her captor is clearly mentally unbalanced.

Going into "The Toolbox Murders" with little more than a handful of press and media reviews to go by, any self-respecting slasher fan would undoubtedly be more than disappointed with the net result of TV director Donnelly's solo cinematic venture. Shot for around US$165,000 in 18 days in 1977, "Toolbox" is about as far removed from the later slasher cycle of horror films opened up by John Carpenter's "Halloween" the following year as one would be likely to expect. Instead, this curiously engaging sojourn into the depths of familial psychosis owes more to its direct inspiration, Tobe Hooper's "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" (1974), than the films that would follow in its successors wake. There's grisly murders aplenty in the first half hour, most notably Marianne Walters' infamously bloody demise, but once the "meat" of the plot is dealt with the film pushes forth into an altogether more disturbing territory, that of the motivations and machinations of the criminal psychotic mind. This may dismay gorehounds, but it should delight those looking for something with slightly more of a cerebral slant in the build up to its punchline.

As mentioned, director Dennis Donnelly originated from a television background (most notably "Charlies Angels", "The Man From Atlantis" and "Dallas"), thus newcomers to the film shouldn't expect the gaudy colour drenched stylings of an Argento gialli here, but instead a more measured, almost television-oriented styling. The film is shot very "matter-of-fact", much akin to television dramas, and the performances are uniformly adequate without being exemplary (excepting, of course, Pamelyn Ferdin, who shines). Former "High Chaparral" star, the late Cameron Mitchell, drew some unnecessary criticism for his role here (perhaps largely as the film was clearly a "drive-in exploitation" piece), but his performance is suitably restrained, and subtle, enough to elicit chills on a couple of occasions.

Fans of the Jason/Michael Myers/Freddy Krueger cycle will clearly loathe a picture like this, apart from its brutal early murder scenes, as it moves into straight "television-drama" plot development fairly swiftly, before shifting gears and bowing out into disturbing psychotic dementia by it denouement. Some have found the final payoff a "sick twist", however this viewer did not. Not only was it (the closing image) a literal extension of the material that preceded it, it was a disturbing, haunting image that resonated in this viewer's psyche for long after the screen had faded to black. By no means a "classic" of the genre, but certainly a pleasantly unsettling cult item that rises above its scurrilous reputation.

Blue Underground have knocked out a simply amazing disc for their DVD release of "Toolbox", going back to the original negative to strike a new anamorphically enhanced transfer. Letterboxed at close to 1.78, there's not a mark nor blemish anywhere to be seen here, colours are rich, and detail is quite stunning. Who would've ever thought that a "B-grade slasher film" could look so good? Audio is nice, clear Dolby mono, which is legible at all times, and services George Deaton's largely string-oriented score extremely well.

As always, there's more! An informative audio commentary by producer DiDio, star Ferdin, and cinematographer Graver, rushes along at a fair clip, and is full of great nuggets of info and behind the scenes facts (it's also very complimentary towards late star Mitchell). As an added bonus, "I got nailed in THE TOOLBOX MURDERS" is a brief though interesting interview with Marianne Walters, covering her famous moment, as well as touching on her work in the adult industry under the pseudonym Kelly Nichols. Rounding out the package are the original theatrical trailer, a TV spot, some wonderfully lurid radio spots, a pleasing stills gallery, and a comprehensive biography for Cameron Mitchell.

Of the overall package, there's nary a thing I can fault here, bar the necessity for Blue Underground to "doctor" the cover image (obviously as a concession to the larger US chain stores who might get a little 'antsy' over a little cleavage exposure), which makes this one very impressive disc indeed. If you're a fan of the film, or seventies psycho-horror, this is definitely a disc to invest your reddies in!

Review by Mike Thomason


 
Released by Blue Underground
Region All - NTSC
Not Rated
Ratio - Widescreen 1.78 (16:9)
Extras :
Audio commentary by Tony DiDio, Gary Graver & Pamelyn Ferdin; Interview with Marianne Walter; Theatrical trailer; TV spot; Radio spots; Poster & Still gallery; Cameron Mitchell profile
Back