Best New-to-Me: July 2022

July has come to a close and I watched a fair amount of new-to-me movies. I know of a couple of themes or challenges people tackled in July but after Junesploitation — I wanted to follow my own yen when choosing films to watch. The result was a fair amount of crime flicks, lots of French films, and a smattering of horror. I had a few notable re-watches including The Beyond which was part of the Cinema of the Macabre screenings last month. I’m not going to write more about The Unknown Man of Shandigor or Last Known Address here but you can look at my reviews of both as they were certainly among my favorite things I watched in July.

Alphaville (1965) — I think this is actually a re-watch but it’s been so long that it felt new. I’ve had a copy sitting on my shelves for ages and had not found the right moment to put it on. Samm Deighan lists several movies in her commentary for Shandigor to help contextualize that film and Alphaville alongside Dr. Strangelove seems like a critical touchpoint. Alphaville strikes me a far less satirical but a nonetheless fascinating and entertaining distillation of film noir through an arthouse/sci-fi lens. This would be such a treat theatrically.

Tough Guys Don’t Dance (1987) — A film that is notorious for its mind bendingly over the top dialogue and one that I’m finally seeing in total thanks to the Vinegar Syndrome blu-ray release. It’s hard to discern what is parody or just drug-fueled wildness but the outsized noir stylings should not be missed. Each line delivery is a revelation and each narrative turn is a “holy shit!” moment.

Maigret Sets a Trap (1958) — I watched the first two of the three Maigret films featuring Jean Gabin as the Parisian inspector. Definitely worth checking out if you are a mystery fan — they’re both engrossing, well composed narratives and Jean Gabin is his usual charismatic presence. Gabin manages to be both affable and believably tough in his interpretation of Maigret and I enjoy his everyday interactions with people almost as much as I appreciate the crime solving. Lots of fun actors turn up in these but Maigret Sets a Trap features a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it appearance from Shandigor’s Daniel Emilfork.

A Pain in the Ass (1973) — This was a blind buy for me after hearing it referenced in the Projection Booth episode covering the Billy Wilder remake with Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau. Though I love Lino Ventura I haven’t seen many of his comedic performances and Pain in the Ass is from the same writing/directing team who made La Cage Aux Folles so this seemed like a good place to start. I had a blast watching this! Jacques Brel plays the perfectly neurotic foil to Ventura’s increasingly frustrated hitman. If your idea of a black comedy includes some bloodshed and Lino Ventura hilariously moving from irritation to red-faced fury then this is well worth checking out.

Max and the Junkmen (1971) — I wrote earlier this month about how Last Known Address turns the frustrated cop narrative on its ear by having the protagonists lean into solid, by-the-books detective work rather than going rogue. In Max and the Junkmen the independently wealthy judge turned renegade cop goes full blown class warfare on a group of petty scrap thieves by manipulating them into attempting a bank heist only to bust them. It’s an absolutely wild story compellingly brought to life through Claude Sautet’s direction and excellent performances from some of my favorites — Michel Piccoli, Romy Schneider, Bernard Fresson, and Boby Lapointe. Must watch for French crime enthusiasts.

Homebodies (1974) — I might actually do a full-length review of this one so I’ll be brief here, but Homebodies is a delightfully weird slice of regional genre filmmaking that delves into some novel territory. It’s the story of a group of elderly apartment dwellers who don’t want to move after their tenement building has been purchased by a developer. Progress on the development is delayed after the accidental death of a construction worker they band together to engineer further “discouragements.” This gets labeled as horror and has a review in Nightmare USA but might fit more in the broader exploitation category. Well worth your time if you like regional strangeness.

The Diabolical Dr. Z (1966) — Another follow up watch from Shandigor for me. This is Jess Franco’s pulpy take on Eyes Without a Face and I found it absolutely captivating. Gorgeous black & white photography, bizzarro mad scientist set pieces, murderous fingernails, and of course some glorious zooms. I’ll probably have to add a copy to my growing Franco collection.

The Wages of Fear (1953) — One of my mantras — lifted from Edgar Wright — is that it’s never too late to see a great movie. I think the length of Wages always kind of put me off watching it but the mood was right so I finally put in on. Astonishing. It takes its time to get moving but then it is white knuckle tension through and through. The stunning film craft is the primary reason to watch but the ferocious critique of capitalism, colonialism, and energy policy are sadly just as resonant today. 

Two Men in Town (1973) — José Giovanni’s brutal indictment of the French criminal justice system and the death penalty. It’s a good drama further buoyed by terrific performances from both Jean Gabin and Alain Delon. As I mentioned in my Last Known Address review — it’s hard to give Giovanni’s societal critique much credulity when you understand the nature of his criminal past. However, I read a tremendous article regarding Giovanni by author Imogen Sara Smith and to quote that — “In every heart there are undiscoverable gardens.” If you can hold Giovanni’s filmmaking at arm’s length from his biography — there’s a lot to appreciate here. Also, did you know that France used the guillotine as the only available means of execution until the death penalty was abolished in 1981? I did not.

The Man from Hong Kong (1975) — Man from Hong Kong is one of those films I’ve been holding off on watching until the right opportunity presented itself and what better possible venue could I have hoped for than seeing one of the only 35mm prints in existence at the Trylon? A staggering, swaggering blend of Golden Harvest martial arts mayhem and Brian Trenchard Smith’s stunt action. In fairness — Jimmy Wang Yu isn’t my favorite kung-fu performer but there’s a grittiness to his style and his legendary off-screen ferocity seems to translate on-screen as well. I think the real pleasure here is the stunt sequences — cars smashing & crashing, explosions, free falls, lots of hang gliding, and George fucking Lazenby on fucking fire. Sheer madness. It was also a real pleasure to see so much of the cast of Stone — particularly Hugh Keays-Byrne who inexplicably plays the straight laced cop despite maintaining much of his biker look. There is some racist garbage featured here that wasn’t welcome but Man from Hong Kong is still primarily about Jimmy Wang Yu storming the hell out of Australia and — maybe I’m reaching here — brought to mind some of the anti-imperialist themes from Tsui Hark’s Dangerous Encounters of the First Kind. Politics aside — this was an absolute delight to see projected and as a bonus I got to hang out with some folks from the Cult Film Collective who have been instrumental in some of my favorite local screenings.

Arcana (1972) — Though I have seen and enjoyed Giulio Questi’s oddball giallo Death Laid an Egg — Arcana wasn’t really on my radar until it was recently covered in an episode of the Unsung Horrors podcast. Lance and Erica prepared me for a film that wouldn’t deliver a lot of narrative clarity and could be potentially frustrating but they were drawing in so many other great film references I had to check it out. I loved it. Despite the crappy transfer I watched on YouTube — I thought Arcana was strange and captivating and definitely thought provoking. I watched the ending twice and then went and re-listened to parts of the podcast and I still don’t quite know what to make of it. There’s a scene that’s some kind of ritual or exorcism underscored by this hypnotic droning violin music that is so much my kind of deal — and that’s even before Lucía Bosé legitimately starts spitting up live frogs. I would LOVE to see a restored version of this. How about a second volume of the Severin folk horror box?

That pretty much does it for my favorite new-to-me watches. As always — I’d love to hear your thoughts on these or further recommendations if you’ve got any!

To Know Paris is to Know a Great Deal - Last Known Address/Dernier Domicile Connu (1970)

Police procedurals of one form or another have been part of film and television since their respective inceptions  — but it was during the late 60s and 70s  that they were infused with a real anti-authoritarian streak and a pervasively bleak attitude. This proved to be a big hit with audiences internationally and cops-against-the-system films were churned out all over the world. José Giovanni’s Last Known Address/Dernier Domicile Connu is very much a part of that wave of pessimistic 70s crime stories but it also subverts the form in surprising ways. It features excellent performances from blog favorite Lino Ventura and the delightful Marlène Jobert but the premier star of this particular story is Paris — featured in exhaustive detail throughout. 

The opening of the film introduces Marceau Leonetti — Ventura — a tough cop whose competence and bravery land him a promotion to chief inspector. After a long shift Leonetti has the misfortune of coming across an erratically driving man and his terrified girlfriend. The man is apparently dead drunk and Leonetti places him under arrest. It is revealed that the man is the son of a powerful Parisian lawyer who is able to manipulate the system in such a way that threatens Leonetti’s job. To avoid a department scandal — Leonetti is busted down to desk duty in a sleepy suburb where investigating a case of stolen pigeons is the highlight of his day. An old friend on the force is able to recruit him for a special vice detail and he is partnered with a young auxiliary — Jeanne Dumas played by Jobert. The two orchestrate a series of sting operations at adult cinemas where they use Dumas as bait to ensnare serial harassers. The assignment isn’t glamorous but the two work well together. Leonetti and Dumas are then saddled with finding a missing witness in the murder case of an influential gangster. The other witnesses in the case have met unfortunate ends and this missing witness is the final chance for a damning testimony. No other investigators have been able to find this witness for years and it’s entirely possible that Leonetti and Dumas aren’t meant to either. Dumas thrills at the opportunity to do actual investigative work and what follows is just that. Leonetti and Dumas scour the city and the narrative delves into sometimes tedious minutiae of an investigation. To complicate matters — the gang of the accused murderer is tracing Leonetti and Dumas hoping that they can reach the witness first.

Last Known Address is an interesting chapter in cop films of the decade. It shares the anti-authoritarian bent of its American or Italian contemporaries — the system is clearly dysfunctional and obstructs the pursuit of justice. It also presents a similar picture of pervasive mistrust of societal systems — everywhere Leonetti and Dumas go they are faced with people who casually discuss their dislike of police. Unlike so many other police narratives — Leonetti and Dumas do not overcome systematic corruption or dysfunction by working outside the rules. Instead of becoming violent mavericks they lean into diligent, shoe-leather detective work  — combing through records, interviewing witnesses, and chasing down leads. Their investigation leads them all throughout Paris — apartments, hotels, second hand shops, pharmacists, cafes, schools — while the two develop a mutual respect and friendship. I can understand if some viewers find Dumas’ girlishness and Leonetti’s paternalism a bit cloying but I found them totally charming. This was helped in no small part by the charisma of the actors in these roles. The focus on urban locales, mystery, and the dynamic between the main characters made Last Known Address feel less like Dirty Harry and more like a subdued They Might be Giants. Diehard fans of hard boiled crime cinema may not find enough grit to satisfy them here — but the brief scenes of violence have impact and the ending is surprisingly grim.

There is a definite cynicism to Last Known Address that paints a picture of a society in decline where the competent and the good hearted cannot hold corruption at bay. What further complicates the message put forward is its director — José Giovanni. Giovanni had a criminal background, spent over a decade in prison, and was even placed on death row for a time due to his involvement in a triple homicide. Giovanni was publicly open about this part of his past and he channeled his experiences into a series of successful books and screenplays. Politically Giovanni was complex — arguing for the end of the death penalty and humane prisons while simultaneously defending conservative values and strong law enforcement. The final shot of Last Known Address includes the overlay of a quote from conservative poet Mihai Eminescu — national poet of Romania but also one celebrated by the right wing. Through this lens it’s possible to see Giovanni presenting a Paris and a France degraded beyond the best efforts of the well intentioned. A reactionary portrait met more with melancholy than the ferocity of his international contemporaries. Later in his life it was made public that Giovanni was also a collaborationist and a member of fascist gangs during World War II before he went to prison. Not only was he involved in murder but he was also involved with extorting Jews during the Nazi occupation — it’s a past demonstrating the extremes of cynicism and degradation. How such a person credibly indicts society is hard to rationalize.

Giovanni's biography aside — I think Last Known Address is an interesting text and a genuinely entertaining mystery story. The Parisian photography is magnificent and provides endlessly engaging scenes for fans of the city. Ventura and Jobert are immensely appealing together and the rest of the cast is filled with faces that will be familiar to French crime cinema enthusiasts — Michel Constantine, Paul Crauchet, Philippe Marche, and others. The original soundtrack from François De Roubaix is excellent — jazzy and propulsive with a fairly hard hitting main theme. I’m not certain how Last Known Address was received at the time but it definitely feels underseen now. It’s an easy recommendation to French crime or neo-noir fans and one I was able to see via Kanopy. I could see this being a great release for Kino Lorber and I would certainly like to have a copy in my collection.

Vengeance is Futile: Un Borghese Piccolo Piccolo/An Average Little Man (1977)

 Mario Monicelli’s Un Borghese Piccolo Piccolo/An Average Little Man opens with a scene of Alberto Sordi — Mafioso — savagely beating a fish to death with a rock and tearing its guts out. This proves to be excellent foreshadowing to a film that lulls you into complacency and then wrenches your psyche with narrative twists that defy simple genre categorization. I should say that there’s no real way to discuss Un Borghese without some kind of spoiler-y talk. Here’s the short version — this is a good movie that you should watch. It might be best to go in blind or only having read the synopsis on IMDB — A meek middle-aged man finally takes justice into his own hands. This both gives you some idea of what you’re in for without preparing you at all for how it unfurls. However if you’ve already seen it or don’t mind a major spoiler — please proceed.

Un Borghese is the story of Giovanni Vilvadi — Sordi — a middle-aged bureaucrat and his son Mario — Vincenzo Crocitti — who is coming of age to enter the workforce. “Meek” is probably an overstatement as Giovanni boasts and fantasizes about Mario’s future success, drives like a man possessed to get to work, and bellows at his long suffering wife played by an wonderful if understated Shelley Winters. While he is willing to be brash around those in his personal life, Giovanni consistently defers to his superiors at the pension office that employs him. In his attempts to secure Mario a position, Giovanni doesn’t hesitate to beg and plead with the officials in his office. He buys them gifts, writes long, adoring letters in Mario’s name, and even joins a masonic lodge in an extended and hilarious scene that most resembles Monicelli’s other strictly comedic films. In fact — for the first hour of run time — Borghese plays out much like other commedia all'italiana. It’s a lightly comic story of a man with ambitions for his son battling bureaucracy and a depressed economy.

The shift in tone comes completely without warning in a shocking moment of violence. On their way to the professional exams — Giovanni and Mario encounter a bank robbery and Mario is killed by a stray bullet from one of the thieves. The scene hits like a wrecking ball and is brilliantly executed both in direction and Sordi’s performance. The news of the killing is immediately broadcast and Amalia Vivaldi — Winters — has a stroke and becomes nearly catatonic upon hearing. Giovanni makes some attempts to proceed according to law and custom — he cares for his ailing wife, he cooperates with police, he accepts the condolences of his colleagues — but the undercurrent of failing systems is ever present. During a second police lineup Giovanni declines to identify the murderer. Instead he stalks him —  waiting until dark — where he beats him over the head with a tire jack and hauls the unconscious criminal to his fishing cabin. 

There is a way a story like this plays out in typical genre fare and you could be forgiven for thinking Un Borghese becomes an Italian Death Wish knock off but Monicelli is working with more subtlety than that. While the failure of systems is a major theme throughout the film — Giovanni does not get catharsis by working outside of them. This is a deeply pessimistic story and the finale is more tragic than it is thrilling. Part of what makes Monicelli’s work here so fascinating is how disparate elements of comedy, tragedy, genre, and even nihilism are blended together. While the second half of the film is decidedly darker — it’s not without absurdity. One of the more memorable scenes is at a cemetery where Giovanni is now looking for an appropriate resting place for Mario — mirroring his search for a position with the pension office — and he’s told again that he must be patient and that they’re doing all he can. He’s then led to a kind of warehouse where all the coffins of all the people awaiting burial are stacked on top of each other. It’s a chaotic scene of wailing and confusion and disinterested forklift operators that Giovanni takes in with resignation. Unable to toss flowers onto the coffin of a loved one, a grieving woman simply states that it doesn’t matter. It’s a tragic scene that is darkly comedic and hopeless all at once. 

Both Monicelli and Sordi are comedic masters with a gift for portraying everyday Italian life and those facilities are certainly on display in Un Borghese Piccolo Piccolo. However this film is a savage indictment of a society in decline — faltering systems and economic anxiety with no refuge offered by religion or philosophy. It is very much in line with the pessimistic sentiment of the poliziotteschi even if it doesn’t offer similar action thrills. It’s a beautifully executed film with some marvelous performances. Winters is perhaps underutilized — she’s dubbed over in Italian as was common — but she has a couple of excellent scenes of anguish and frustration. Sordi’s long expressive face is the perfect and perhaps only canvas to express the complex blend of sentiments contained in Un Borghese. I’m uncertain of how appreciated it was outside of Italy in 1977 — it won several Italian film awards at the time — but it certainly seems underseen today. It would make an excellent candidate for a Criterion edition to go along with some of Monicelli’s other films like The Organizer and Big Deal on Madonna Street.

Un Borghese Piccolo Piccolo can currently be found on rarefilmm and I highly recommend checking it out: http://rarefilmm.com/2017/12/un-borghese-piccolo-piccolo-1977/

Espionage, Absurdity, and Apocalypse: The Unknown Man of Shandigor (1967)

Delightfully weird with a singular aesthetic — Jean-louis Roy’s pop art cold war farce has been largely forgotten following its 1967 debut. Fortunately it has been restored and released on blu-ray via Deaf Crocodile so that a new audience has the chance to rediscover this Swiss curiosity that exists somewhere alongside Dr. Strangelove and Godard’s Alphaville.

The central conceit of The Unknown Man of Shandigor is relatively simple and fails to convey the depths of strangeness that it delivers in just over 90 minutes. A renowned physicist — Herbert Von Krantz — develops a technology that can render nuclear weapons inert. Rather than share this discovery with the world — Von Krantz isolates himself in his secluded home/laboratory with his daughter and loyal assistant. As a result various factions of international spies descend on the Von Krantz home in an attempt to steal the formula for “The Canceler.” How this narrative plays out is actually quite abstract and is almost more of a series of vignettes further underscored by title cards that appear when new chapters begin. 

Herbert Von Krantz is played by Daniel Emilfork — best known to many for his similar role in Jean-Perre Jeunet’s The City of Lost Children. Though Von Krantz’ discovery is of a seemingly benevolent nature — he is a paranoid egomaniac in classic mad scientist mode. His daughter Sylvainne is played by Marie-France Boyer who dreams of her lover Manuel — the titular unknown man played by American Ben Carruthers — when she isn’t being verbally berated by her father. Marcel Imhoff plays Von Krantz’ long-suffering assistant Yvann who seems to attract abuse from everyone he encounters. The initial espionage factions introduced are the French, the Russians, and the Americans. The Russians are a team of trenchcoated spies led by the maniacal, monocled Shoskatovich — Jacques Dufilho. The head American is a former Nazi-turned-agent Bobby Gunn — the Americans are featured in several firearm heavy scenes — played by Howard Vernon who has connections to Alphaville, Jeunet, and several science-gone-mad narratives himself. The most instantly recognizable faction are the French — a troupe of black clad, totally bald agents called the “bald heads” or the “bald ones.” The leader of the bald heads is the distinctly not-bald singer, songwriter, artist, and pop culture icon Serge Gainsbourg. 

Though the plot is essentially a spy novel cliche — it is approached with a deeply absurdist, surrealist bent. Elements such as the Americans being headquartered in a bowling alley or Shoskatovich torturing his captives by blasting “capitalist rock music” at them are played in a deadpan manner but are possessed of a wonderfully odd humor. There are moments that even lend themselves to the fantastique — such as when Sylvainne is instructed to feed “the beast.” This beast is never shown in full but apparently some kind of sea monster lives in the churning swimming pool on the Von Krantz estate. In what is likely destined to be the most memorable scene of the film — the “bald heads” perform a candlelit embalming/funerary rite for one of their fallen comrades while Serge Gainsbourg performs a haunting lounge number “Bye Bye Mister Spy.” The final chapter introduces yet another faction and the disparate plot threads converge in ways both ridiculous and pessimistic — as is only appropriate for a narrative so steeped in Cold War paranoia. 

As Unknown Man moves from bizarre plot point to plot point — its immediate impact is rooted in its amazingly rendered visual world. The comic strip inspired science fiction/espionage story is set in a series of striking locations — some of which were clearly constructed sets but many are real locations with minimal art direction flourishes. The result gives Roger Bimpage’s expressionist black and white photography a somewhat Kubrick-ian feel but unlike Kubrick — Roy and Bimpage used their television experience to shoot quickly and at a fraction of the cost. The most notable of these location-as-character sequences is when Sylvainne escapes her father and travels to Shandigor — composed almost entirely of shots of Gaudi’s architecture in Barcelona. Roy also did a tremendous job of filling his ensemble with remarkable faces that help bring his heightened absurdist world to reality. Emilfork, Howard, Dfulho, and Gainsbourg all possess visages that reflect the weird universe that surrounds them. The largely anonymous “bald heads” were all truly bald non-actors cast for their look — though the most recognizable among them is played by Unknown Man screenwriter Gabriel Arout.

Though Unknown Man may prove too abstract or delivered too dryly for some audiences — I think the exceptionally strange imagery and world conveyed as well as the unique assembly of personalities is more than enough to recommend it. Fans of Jeunet, fans of Gilliam’s more dystopian visions, and certainly anyone interested in New Wave adjacent 60s cinema are going to find a lot to appreciate in Roy’s film. I will say that while I enjoyed my first viewing of Unknown Man — it has really opened up to me as a text through pursuing the extras with the blu-ray release. There’s an excellent essay from writer/punk rock legend Chris D. that I read before watching and the archival Swiss television special is such a great find — it includes interviews with Roy and several of the cast members giving their thoughts on the production and their approach to filmmaking and acting. Writer/film historian Samm Deighan’s solo commentary is terrific and best helped me contextualize the film — not only in giving some background on Jean-Louis Roy but connecting Unknown Man to a list of films that I’ve been both discovering for myself or revisiting after a long absence. Given the journey that I’ve gone on with this film — The Unknown Man of Shandigor will undoubtedly make my best new-to-me list for the year.

Best New-to-Me: Junesploitation 2022 Edition

 After several years of watching from the sidelines I decided to take the plunge and participate in the annual Junesploitation celebration from the fine folks over at F This Movie! The premise is simple enough — you watch a genre/exploitation film every day in June and you are provided themes/prompts/categories for each day. Then you can share what you’re watching via social media or posting comments on fthismovie.net or letterboxd reviews or whatever moves you. How you interpret the categories is left to your discretion and at the end of the month you’ve managed to watch some — hopefully— enjoyably cheap, violent ridiculousness and cross some items off of your watchlist. My movie watching had languished a bit recently and I was traveling in June so I knew this would be a bit of a challenge for me — I still caught the bug somehow and I’m happy I did it. I have the full list here and I included the films I watch at Ex-Fest though I’ve already written about those. I wasn’t able to watch everything in order and I did miss the “prison” category — but in the end I watched 31 films and several of them featured prison/imprisonment themes so I’m calling that good for my first time. One of the cool things about Junesploitation is the spirit of inclusion — the participants are frequently encouraging and insist that there’s no wrong way to do it. Having fun is the point and I was successful using that criteria. 

Here’s my rundown of top new-to-me Junesploitation watches that do not include the Ex-Fest films I’ve already covered. I watched a ton of great stuff so trimming down the list was more of a challenge than getting the films watched.

Day 2: Westerns! Cemetery Without Crosses (1969) — Directed by and starring Robert Hossein — and featuring a writing credit from Dario Argento — Cemetery Without Crosses is a desperately bleak French/Italian co-production. The dialogue is spare, the locales are desolate, and the brief moments of violence erupt from the screen. Both Hossein and Michèle Mercier are masterful as the haunted gunslinger and his recently widowed former lover. It’s a beautifully shot revenge film that is profoundly sad while containing a seething undercurrent of rage. By contrast it features a killer toe-tapping main theme that stuck in my head for days.

Day 8: Cars! Watch Out, We’re Mad! (1974) — I’ve been aware of Bud Spencer and Terrence Hill for ages and yet their comedies have escaped my attention until now. I’m not always the biggest fan of comedies and it’s hard to know where to start with their extensive filmography. I absolutely adored Watch Out, We’re Mad! The unlikely duo star as rival stunt drivers who tie for first place in an off-road race and have to share the prize - a new dune buggy. The buggy is destroyed by the local mafia and the two form a partnership to get a new car from the gang. What ensues is an absolutely madcap affair of hotdog eating contests, choir practice, dance numbers, motorcycle fights, Donald Pleasance, and a TON of delightfully choreographed brawling. I couldn’t stop laughing and was put in such a great mood watching this one. The De Angelis Brothers’ alter ego Oliver Onions provides the music including the unstoppable earworm “Dune Buggy.” If you’re looking for premium buggy content — Watch Out, We’re Mad! has you covered.

Day 13: Italian Horror! The Long Hair of Death (1964) — There’s a lot of ground to cover with a theme like Italian Horror but I decided to go with some classic black & white gothic featuring Barbara Steele — I can’t ever seem to get enough of these. Admittedly Long Hair of Death creaks a bit in the middle but it’s bookended by truly striking sequences of medieval torture and death. Long Hair is wholly enveloped in atmospheric touches — castles, cobwebs, secret portals, hidden crypts, desiccated corpses, corrupt aristocrats, vengeful curses, and ghosts! There is a distinct lack of murderous tresses — so don’t think you’re going into a 60s Italian version of The Bride with White Hair or anything. Also — The Long Hair of Death has multiple kickass posters. This is an easy recommendation for Steele fans or Italo-gothic enthusiasts and one I’m very happy to have gotten to.

Day 14: Blaxploitation! J.D.’s Revenge (1976) — Upping the sleaze content a bit with this slice of violent supernatural New Orleans revenge. Clean cut college kid Ike is possessed by the spirit of a vengeful 40s gangster — J.D. Walker — during a nightclub hypnotism show. Turns out J.D. was framed and killed for a murder he did not commit and his spirit has been unable to rest. Ike’s life starts to take a downward slide as J.D.’s persona creeps further and further into dominance. Though his grievances are valid — J.D. was still a violent creep and generally awful guy. When he is not pursuing revenge against those responsible for his framing he is taking out his frustrations on everyone around him — particularly Ike’s girlfriend. It’s a sordid affair but Glynn Turman turns in a fantastic performance as he transforms into J.D. Walker throughout the film. It’s also a wonderful snapshot of 70s New Orleans and everyone looks amazing in this. 

Day 17: Fulci! The Conspiracy of Torture (1969) — I finally took the good advice of Erica and Lance over at the Unsung Horrors podcast and caught up to Lucio Fulci’s underseen period piece and I’m so glad I did. Supposedly Fulci’s favorite of his own films — Conspiracy of Torture is in many ways a different side of the maestro but also contains undercurrents of his future work. It’s the story of a tyrannical landowner — Francisco Cenci —  who imprisons and abuses his teenage daughter Beatrice. When she can no longer stand it she enlists the aid of one of her servants — played by a fairly restrained Tomas Milian — in killing her father and making it look like an accidental death. What follows is an absolutely brutal investigation led by officials of the church implicating the entire Cenci family in their patriarch’s death. The narrative is somewhat convoluted at times due to the flashbacks employed but it’s an absolutely gorgeous film. Fulci’s deep seated distrust of power structures — particularly religious ones — takes center stage here and yes, there is a remarkable moment of orbital trauma.

Day 23: Giallo! Nothing Underneath (1985) — Sex! Murder! Fashion! Donald Pleasance eating spaghetti at a Wendy’s! Mid-80s giallo Nothing Underneath really has it all. Park ranger Bob travels from Wyoming to Milan because he has psychic visions of the murder of his fashion model twin sister who has disappeared. Bob’s fish-out-of-water experience in the Milanese fashion world is exacerbated by the fact that nobody seems to readily accept the fact of twin telepathy — outrageous! More models die and the mystery unravels as Bob and Donald Pleasance’s Commissioner Danessi uncover more secrets and conspiracies bubbling underneath a veneer of glamor. I recently picked this up from Vinegar Syndrome and had an absolute blast watching it. It moves quickly and the finale is nothing short of spectacular. This wound up being a Pride weekend watch for me and while I’m not going to say it provides the best LGBTQ+ representation in the world — it does feature a runway sequence set to Gloria Gaynor’s I Am What I Am. I think that counts. 

Day 24: 90s Comedy! Coldblooded (1995) — I’ll fully admit that I watched better movies last month than largely forgotten 90s black comedy Coldblooded — but I wanted to include it in this list because it was such a pleasant surprise. It features Jason Priestly as a low level mob employee — Cosmo —  who is suddenly “promoted” to hitman under the mentorship of a veteran played by Peter Riegert. Cosmo mostly ambles through the world with a blank, almost childlike affect — but it turns out he is an amazingly talented hitman. While Cosmo is celebrated both by Riegert and his boss — dealing with the emotional burden of killing people leads him to try a yoga class where he inevitably falls in love with Jasmine — his instructor. Complications ensue and bodies pile up as Cosmo attempts to find a way to leave his new profession and start a new life. There was an absolute glut of quirky crime and hitman movies during the 90s so I suppose I’m not shocked that Coldblooded got lost in the shuffle somewhere. Still, I found this to be genuinely funny and charming and shockingly violent in moments. The cast is a lot of fun with Riegert, Robert Loggia, Janeane Garofalo, Kimberly Williams-Paisely, Josh Charles, a Michael J. Fox cameo, and Priestly turning in an admirably weird performance. It’s definitely one of those movies that deserves wider rediscovery and appreciation. Part of the fun of doing a challenge like Junesploitation is pushing yourself a little and finding something outside of your normal inclinations that you really enjoy and Coldblooded was very much that for me.