Ah, Spring. When a young man's fancy
turns to love, romance, and another B-Masters roundtable.
With Valentine's Day just around the corner, what better subject
to bend our collective knives toward than Love? Particularly
the ugly, twisted kind. As always, you can click on the banner
above to visit Tainted Love Central, or click on the individual
links that follow my review. And oh, yes, like most other
reviews around here in the month of February, this review
contains adult material and is suggested for mature audiences
only.
|


This movie is quite educational from the start;
as a shadowy figure creeps up behind a couple kissing on a park
bench, unmindful of the figure behind them with claws for
hands. The educational part is not that these two do not
stop smooching even with a monster behind them (ground already
covered in Invasion
of the Saucer Men); no, it is the fact that two smoochers
can be taken out with a single pad of ether-soaked cotton,
both at once! Now that's something you don't learn in
home ec class!
The two are picked up by muscular men wearing
odd bodysuits and cowls similar to those worn by the Martians
in The Purple Monster Strikes. The unconscious duo is
then loaded in the back of an ambulance - the old 60s type,
which looks unnervingly like a hearse - and are carted off to
parts unknown.
The shadowy figure - known thus far only by his
claws and his shoes (which seem to be Thom McAnns with boiler
plate attached), then proceeds to get quite busy, abducting
a regular laundry list of licentiousness. There's:
- A pair of lesbians (after an
extended make-out scene, of course)
- A sailor outside a bar (and
I say he is a sailor only because he is wearing one of those
stupid striped shirts that only sailors in movies wear) (the
movie's trailer, in fact, refers to him as "the homosexual")
- A young woman surrounded by
beefcake photos and, um, dating her hand, so to speak
- Four
hippies who smoke pot and are in the midst of
an orgy when the Claw comes a-callin'
- A stripper named
Rachel.
It
is Rachel who will grow to be quite a large part of our plot, so
her strip number gets a lot of screen time. This is alright, as
she is actually Gloria Prat, and Ms. Prat is, as we say here in
the
border
states, soothing to the eyes. In fact, she causes the band's saxophone
player to lose his groove. Twice. Or perhaps he is simply unnerved
by the arrival of a pair of boiler-plated Thom McAnns in the establishment,
and their owner: a shambling monster with an inexpressive, ugly
face (okay, mask) with a blinking light in his forehead.
Even more outlandish: he takes a seat to watch Rachel. But wait,
there's more: then everybody else goes back to watching Rachel.
I mean, monsters with blinking lights on their foreheads watching
strippers... I expect stuff like this in New Orleans, but not in...
eh... where are we again? Argentina.
The police - both of them - are predictably baffled.
"Ten kidnappings in ten days! And nobody's got even a lead!" fumes
Inspector Benedict. Well, when the police are useless, we can always
count on the fourth estate to take up the slack; enter two-fisted
reporter George Foran (Richard Bauleo). Benedict is annoyed with
Foran, since in his latest story, he referred to the Police as "impotent"
(continuing the sexual strain begun in the opening and which will
continue through the movie). "You're too sensitive," says Foran.
"I didn't mean it that way."
Benedict
is also none too fond of Foran's theory that the kidnappings have
something to with a similar rash of abductions which occurred in
Italy some thirty years earlier, engineered by a disreputable scientist
who was studying sexual aberrations in woman. "Undoubtedly a madman...
he was seeking a way by sex to improve our species." Oh yeah. That's
mad, since sexual reproduction developed as a way to encourage diversity
and reinforce positive traits in a species, as opposed to just splitting
like an amoeba. But Benedict realizes that Foran is the only person
in his jurisdiction capable of deductive reasoning, and asks him
to bring in the info on that Italian crackpot.
As
audience members, we are privileged to know that there is, indeed,
a mad scientist at work in a secluded mansion (where the hell do
these guys get their funding? Not to mention their realtors...).
Yes, Dr. Humpp (Aldo Barbero) (and we know he's mad and evil and
stuff, because he's got a skull and a couple of white mice on his
desk) goes door to door, administering aphrodisiacs to his prisoners
and issuing commands like "Put the lesbians in one room... I want
to observe them!" And observe them he shall, via a private closed-circuit
system that allows him to watch the couplings in the various rooms
(insert mandatory Cinemax/ Skinemax joke here).
Not only does Humpp's peepshow cause him to hyperventilate,
but strange lesions appear on his hand. His pretty but somewhat
sulky nurse (Susan Beltran) fetches him a formula that causes the
lesions to disappear. Humpp tells her that the effects of his formula
are lessening - he'll need more, and more frequently. It seems that
the only thing keeping the good (?) doctor alive is "extractions"
from couples taken immediately after sex. The downside is that eventually
all this horizontal mambo action will eventually use up his victims,
and they are either turned into automatons like Big Ugly or the
Purple Monsters, or tossed into a furnace.
Nursie
reveals why she's so sullen: "Let me give you all the sex you want!"
she pleads. "Oh, please, use my body to keep you alive!" Humpp
turns her down, with all the sensitivity of a Jerry Springer guest:
"I intend to use you with all the others!" (pause for quick
hurl to floor) "Your love means nothing , your body already
belongs to me, and I'll use in it any way I want... but in my own
time!"
Meanwhile, the bartender at the strip club also comes
to the conclusion that Foran is the only man in town with two neurons
to rub together, and comes to the newspaper office with the tale
of the Big Ugly Guy who came to the strip club the night Rachel
disappeared. Benedict obligingly has a police sketch made for publication,
while Foran holds forth on the Italian angle yet more, while Benedict
uses hateful, hurtful words like "fantasy" and "science
fiction". It seems our Gallic nutcase made men into automatons
- much like Big Ugly - and George has even more details on the man's
work: "The victims were all young, the men virile, and the women
latent nymphomaniacs. The experiments were sexual and perverted."
Which sounds like typical college life to me, but then, that's probably
why I never became a reporter.
Back
at Stately Humpp Manor, the scientist has opened an incision on
Big Ugly's face, claiming that he is searching for the nerve that
controls the libido (?). He then brandishes a lit cigar, claiming
that it is a "positive electrode", and that by holding it against
this nerve, he will develop the technology "to turn people into
veritable screwing machines!" Whatever. All I know is that the cigar
smoke is coming out the mask's eye and nose holes.
You might note that I generally refer to Humpp as
as a "mad scientist" and not a "mad genius". This whole cigar-in-the-mask
incident is one reason (another is that he keeps turning down the
hot blonde, but that's a whole 'nother story). Another reason is
that, requiring the ingredients for more aphrodisiacs, Humpp sends
Big Ugly down to the corner drug store to get them. Yes, even more
remarkable than the fact that you can get everything you need for
a king-hell dose of the world's most potent aphrodisiac at your
local Walmart, is the concept of the Frankenstein Monster walking
into that Walmart, shopping list in hand. Or claw. And expecting
to get away with it.
Unfortunately
for Humpp, the pharmacist reads the newspaper, recognizes Big Ugly,
and calls the reporter (not the Police, of course - they're impotent).
This is also unfortunate for the pharmacist, as Big Ugly kills him
and takes off.
Humpp, depressed by this failure, consults his Brain
In A Jar. What? You didn't know he had a Brain In A Jar? Don't feel
too bad, neither did we, as it isn't introduced until almost forty
minutes into the picture. The Brain is probably the crankiest Brain
In A Jar that would grace the screen until Blood Diner, almost
two decades later... it basically calls Humpp a stupid twat for
sending a monster to get the drugs, making this the first and perhaps
only time in cinema history that a Brain In A Jar has served as
the audience surrogate.
Yhe Brain is really a great creation, basically a
balloon that inflates and contracts in a bubbling tank of water.
Whoever is doing the voice acting for the brain is having a great
time, rolling his 'r's... particularly in "aphrrrrrrodisiacs"...
and generally chewing the scenery. If you can do that without any
teeth.
We
also get a glimpse of what the 'victims' do between bouts of marathon
balling... they saunter about the mansion grounds, while Big Ugly
strums on what looks like a guitar made of neon tubes. Rachel, clad
in her customary see-through negligee, seems an especially appreciative
audience. Personally, it reminds me more than a little of the Eloi
milling about in The Time Machine. Why don't any of these
people try to escape? Oh. Yeah. The non-stop sex. Sorry, forgot.
Either that or they really enjoy the one chord Big Ugly seems
to know on the guitar.
If you're thinking that this version of Time Machine
needs a killjoy Rod Taylor substitute to shake things up, you're
right. Using the shopping list Big Ugly left behind, the good guys
set up a needlessly complex trap: when someone comes asking for
the same ingredients, the pharmacist gives him only one, and directs
him to two other pharmacies for the rest. Benedict stakes out one
drugstore, Foran the other; and as luck would have it, Humpp himself
comes to Foran's store. Leaving no note for Benedict (he's impotent,
after all), the plucky reporter follows the ambulance, but loses
his quarry on a desolate stretch of road. Some searching eventually
turns up a hidden driveway, a hidden mansion, and some not-so-hidden
Purple Monsters. Welcome to prisoner-hood, Mr. Foran, as he awakens
strapped to a bed.
Humpp plans to couple Foran with Rachel, but the reporter
once more proves his mettle by convincing Rachel to overpower Nurse
Wretched and then free him. (Another sign that Humpp is not exactly
Mensa material is that the rooms have bottles of ether and ready-made
cotton pads just waiting for someone possessing more than a notochord
to pick them up and use them). This escape plan is short-circuited,
however, when Big Ugly appears in the room, tenderly bearing a flower
for Rachel. Awwww, the big lug's soft on her! To lead the monster
away from the hidden Foran, Rachel goes for a walk with it - but
Big Ugly locks the door behind them, leaving Foran trapped with
a delirious Nurse who thinks he is Humpp... and having nothing better
to do, he jumps in the sack with her.
Ah,
for the days of Kennedy and Kirk! Much as James Bond provoked a
complete change of heart in Pussy Galore by banging her tambourine,
Foran reels Nursie back from the dark side. Now completely in love
with him, she sets about trying to help him escape.
But not very damned quickly, as Humpp hooks him and
Rachel up to a machine that allows them to make love telepathically.
Why this is important is beyond me (perhaps he had just seen Barbarella?),
but it gives us a chance to look at more naked bodies for no particularly
good reason, while Humpp exults, "Sex dominates the world - and
now I dominate sex!"
Out in the fog-enshrouded courtyard, Foran and Rachel
have an extraordinary exchange:
|
RACHEL
What are you worried about?
GEORGE
They made you into a nymphomaniac.
RACHEL
You shouldn't worry about that. It means you can get it
whenever you want.
GEORGE
It's horrible what they did to you!
RACHEL
Don't say that George. Many women are just like this.
|
Am I the only one who couldn't see this conversation happening in
any film in the last ten, twenty years, much less in real life?
That night, Foran tries to escape again (the locking
of doors in this supposed prison seems to be very arbitrary). He
goes from room to room, conveniently looking in on scenes of fornication,
playing cat and mouse with Big Ugly and the Purple Monsters, and
finally winding up in Humpp's lab. After scoping out the closed
circuit system, and reading Humpp's journal (in which the doctor
actually uses the word 'concupiscent' in a sentence), he flips a
switch that allows the cranky Brain In A Jar to yell at him. Maybe
Humpp isn't so stupid, after all, as I note you can turn off the
Brain's voice box. Which is probably why he's so cranky.
Nursie shows up, and tries to get Foran to escape,
but he tells her he's not leaving without Rachel, with whom he has
fallen in love. And yes, he still expects the smitten Nurse to help
him. Which is probably why, in the first draft of this review, I
thought his first name was "Dick".
He
gives her a message to pass to the bartender so he can pass it to
the Police (ha! Who's impotent now, Mr. Big Shot Wise Guy
Reporter?) This is so Big Ugly can kill the Bartender. From there,
things shift into... well, not overdrive, but at least into second
gear. Humpp injects the traitorous nurse with a solution that will
turn her into a mindless robot, like his other servants, but as
he is no genius (and I am in fact considering downgrading his status
to moron) the solution doesn't work very well; Nurse slips Foran
a gun, he tries to shoot Big Ugly, Big Ugly attacks him, Nurse attacks
Big Ugly, Big Ugly kills her, Big Ugly takes off with Rachel. 'Cause,
he's like, a monster, and that's what monsters always do in the
last reel.
The police finally arrive and start shooting everything
in sight - good thing the innocent people are all upstairs doing
the safety dance, and its just the Purple Monsters who get wasted.
Foran grabs two cops and tells them "The monster has the girl! It's
planning to rape her!" which seems like sheer projection on the
part of our 'hero', but if it will end this movie any more quickly,
I'm all for it. Big Ugly puts Rachel down and advances toward the
cops, who oblige him by shooting - and it's a dang good thing for
Rachel that the cops aren't packing steel-jackets, or that Big Ugly
is unusually dense, as the only thing standing between her and ventilation
is the aforementioned monster.
After
a brief attempt at pathos, Big Ugly falls into a nearby bubbling,
smoking pond, and dies. Come to think of it, damned near everything
bubbles and smokes in this movie. I wish I'd had the dry ice concession.
Which brings us, at last, to Dr. Humpp. Confronted
in his lab, he reveals that he was the first victim of that infamous
Italian nutcase (now reduced to a cranky Brain In A Jar), and was
working on a way to make man immortal through screwing. He then
throws acid in Benedict's face and tries to strangle Foran. Rachel
picks up a sharp thingie and stabs Humpp, and as the doctor goes
through a hideous disintegration in death, Benedict walks up, wiping
his face with a handkerchief. Yes, Humpp, in his last act of stupidity,
used that beaker of smokes-while-it's-on-your-face-but-can-be-wiped-away-with-a-handkerchief
acid, even though it was probably clearly labeled. Idiot.
Oh, and the Brain speaks up one last time and curses
them out for spoiling everybody's chance at immortality. It gets
itself so worked up, it bursts into flames. The end.
Frank
(Basket Case) Henenlotter, in his excellent liner notes for
the Something Weird Video DVD, tells us everything we need to know
about The Curious Dr. Humpp, but didn't know who to ask.
It began life as La Vengenza del sexo, a cheap little melodrama
shot in only two weeks by Emilio Vieyra, one of the few Argentinean
directors to make fantastic films. The American rights for it and
another Vieyra film, Placer sangriento (Bloody Pleasure,
which became The Deadly Organ) were bought by Jerald Intrator,
the director of movies like Striporama (yes, the one with
Bettie Page). Intrator proceeded to insert almost twenty minutes
of nude people into Vengenza, feeling, with it's already
liberal amount of nudity, its proper place was in the adult market.
Even without Henenlotter's helpful list of the additional
characters, they're fairly easy to spot, as these sequences are
all brightly lit, with none of the moody shadows evident in Vierya's
original. Past this, it has to be admitted that Intrator took special
care in inserting these sequences into the continuity; except for
the fact that they run too long, most of them seem to inhabit the
same plot line and location as the Argentinean elements (even if
that solitary hand jive artist, played by porn starlet Kim Pope,
seems to occupy a room in the mansion that is a clone of the bedroom
from which she was abducted...)
The
medical vampire is a subgenré that crops up every so often
in the horror film; what Humpp has to distinguish it is the overt
sexual angle - past that, everything is made-to-order from the neighborhood
cliché store. Handsome doctor, dedicated nurse, hideous monster,
monster's love interest that makes the monster eventually turn on
the doctor. Were it not for the sudden appearance of naked people
every three minutes, this picture would be indiscernable from any
number of Euro-horror films of the late 50s and early 60s.
Barbero's Humpp is played so flatly that he is more
an automaton than his minions, despite the somewhat over-the-top
lines he is given in the dubbing; I don't think he ever utters a
sentence that doesn't end in an exclamation mark. This works so
remarkably against Barbero's performance that the effect is even
more bizarre than intended. The portrayals of Humpp and Nursie are
either tremendously low-key and subtle or just plain bland and workmanlike.
In either case, the occasional appearance of the Cranky Brain In
A Jar is like a breath of fresh air - finally someone on the evil
staff that shows some life! It deserved far more screen time than
it was given. Hell, the movie should have been about it. The Cranky
Brain In A Jar would have made a better villain. Or hero, for that
matter.
And speaking of changes wrought in the dubbing stage
( I was in there, somewhere. Wasn't I?), Humpp was originally
known as 'Dr. Zoide', and the American version identifies the original
Italian Nutcase (and Cranky Brain In A Jar) as "Poontangangelo",
proof positive that whoever wrote the American script, if still
alive, could still be churning out work for Troma.
But what works against Humpp, more than any
of this, is the preponderance of naked flesh on display. Yes, call
me old-fashioned, call me a prude, but every time Vierya begins
to set up a mood or start some high weirdness, we suddenly find
ourselves staring at those same seven actors again, in lengthy sequences
that cause us to lose the narrative thread, such as it is. The fact
that a scene or two seem to be excised in favor of more exposed
skin doesn't help matters, either.
There actually is love of a sort on display
here (this is, after all, the Tainted Love roundtable). The selfless
dedication of Nurse Wretched (one day I'll actually get around to
figuring out her name. Stupid notes), and the monster's high, pure
innocent love for Rachel. Poor Big Ugly, accused of being a rapist,
when he can't even speak in his own defense! Even if his desire
for Rachel's company goes beyond mere flowers and one-note serenades,
it's not his fault that Humpp stuck a lit cigar against his
libido nerve. Both Nursie and Big Ugly are ultimately destroyed
by their love, but what do you expect in a movie that posits mankind's
ultimate salvation can be achieved only through sex, not through
love? You certainly can't expect exploration of those themes
when the movie's - or at least this version's - highest purpose
seems to be to display as much bare skin as possible.
The lure of most exploitation cinema, the frisson
it delivers, is due to the nude scenes being held to a minimum;
like gore, the
more
sparingly nudity is employed, the more impact it carries. It's been
said that if you watch pornography for five minutes, you want to
have sex immediately, but if you watch it for ten, you never
want to have sex again. I certainly had my need for viewing
naked people sated within the first half hour.
Most other reviews of this movie positively gush
with compliments (must... resist... obvious... pun!!!), but
I must go against the grain here... as simple, titillating exploitation,
I suppose it succeeds, but as a horror film - or a movie, period,
trying to tell a story - it fails, weighed down so heavily by scenes
added to satisfy the grindhouse raincoat crowd that, like the monster,
the original work finally sinks from sight beneath a bubbling morass
of flesh. La Vengenza del sexo, fare thee well.