13th May 2009

MContinuing our dive into the depth of malevolent Euro horror, we steal an audience with 1973 “Return Of the Evil Dead”.

In less time than it would take the Templars to hoof it in decelerated motion across a crepuscular continent, the expected sequel to the iconic “Tombs Of The Blind Dead” emerged. Building upon the unsteady framework of half-myth, half-exploitation laid out in its preceding episode, Ossosio’s second stab at archaic survivalist horror, ‘Return Of The Evil Dead’ is in almost every respect the most honed and heady of the quartet.

Much as ‘Evil Dead 2’ would 20 years later, ‘Return…’ appears to gloss over the apocalyptic dénouement that seeped from ‘Tombs…’’s blistering finale. Beginning in flashback, a veritable Frankenstein’s mob lavishes both the bloody cult and our movie screen in indignant, Old Testament retribution. Five hundred years later to the day and the small town of Berzano is celebrating the quashing of the Knights’ tyranny with symbolic fiesta and fireworks. Little do they know that one of their number’s perverse tendencies are about to reanimate the Templars from their slumber for one more night of vicious unrest.

The most immediately notable departure is series composer Abril’s more pastoral score. Though remaining committed to the haunting gutturalisms of its predecessor, there is a thematic resonance to the music that evokes an eerie nostalgia in this expansion of the Templar myth. But nostalgia for what exactly: a yearning by the townsfolk for a more peaceful time? Or, more sinisterly, an implied wistfulness for either the idyllic headrush of mob violence or for the deathly ritual of the Knights themselves? Whatever the case, it casts an effective, melancholy shroud over the very vibrant celebrations we watch unfold.

It’s easy to make out Ossorio’s lean toward poeticism in his early intercutting of images in the prologue. Reminiscent of both documentary and art film of the early 1970s, it signals that Ossorio’s aesthetic aim is commendably (if only relatively) more lofty with this picture. More sanguine in his artistry and sanguinary in his execution, Ossorio is a director who seems to realise his strengths. More importantly, he realises which of these strengths his audience most readily responds to. The attention to character, after ‘Tombs…’ often horrendous displays of caricature, is welcome even if it’s pitch somewhere toward ‘Peyton Place’. Town officials are philanderers and cowards, their daughters sleep around with Carnaby Street-clad no-goods, and the Crazy Ralph hobos -- traditionally the characters within genre iconography who “see all” -- are the homicidal instigators of the very crimes to which they either bear witness to or warn the remaining dramatis personae about.

Original sin, too, oozes from the dialogue: characters are accused of ‘not seeing’ things; they ignore vital, cautionary phone calls; they tend/chose not to notice the obvious deceptions -- both of the head and of the heart -- rife within their jurisdiction. They are as blind to their general fate at hands of the soon-to-be-resurrected Knights, as those maleficent ghouls are to the world. If, as I suspect, the great John Carpenter looked to the resurrection of Virginia in ‘Tombs…’ when he reshot ‘The Fog’s sinister morgue sequence, he surely took note of this more confined/refined sequel for that picture’s main (zombified/mummified) body.

If the opening mob scene of ‘Return…’ can be seen as condensed James Whale, much of the disarming levity on display can surely be traced to that sensitive artist’s influence on aficionado Ossorio. The town’s governor and his maid have a quaint piece of business when the telephoned cries of the town threaten to disturb their farcical bedroom fumbling. It’s uncertain whether this tonal non-sequitur really is plucky homage or merely a lapse in Ossorio’s carefully rendered ambience, but it rounds the piece, humanises it and for that, it feels refreshing.

When the town’s joyous carnival is finally cut short by the appearance of the Knights, action becomes king. And what action it is. Forsaking the gradually malevolent threat of ‘Tombs…’, the set piece massacre of the community, trapped in their festively strewn town square, is economically, but vividly mounted. Shocking and invigorating in equal measure, only our audience-surrogate “heroes” seem to get out alive. Locking themselves instinctively in the sanctuary of the church, the mayor, his rival, his wife and her lover are holed up with another family, desperate to escape, but powerless to leave. Straight-forward action has given way to Romero allusions yet again, but this being Spain (or Portugal -- it becomes increasingly less clear throughout the series which it is), of course the farmhouse has to a true house of sanctuary: a house of God.

Safe, momentarily, from the savagery of the slayers outside their church refuge, it’s now turns to the survivors’ inner demons to challenge life and limb. Tempers fray, fingers point, and the most powerful moment in the picture unfolds. It’s an extraordinarily callous sequence of Lewton-worthy anxiety, involving a child, a coward and an ornate dagger. Truly great cinema. Latching back onto his initial crosscutting technique, Ossorio ratchets the tension up here with a concurrent underground escape attempt (sadly followed by a recapitulated -- though mercifully less indelicate than ‘Tombs…’ -- rape scene).

As with its prequel, it’s not all smokin’ aces for ‘Return…’. Perfunctory characterisation often robs the taut dramatic situations of much needed weight and while the plot clips along at an invigorating pace, too often the momentum and build toward the terror that made for such atmosphere in ‘Tombs…’ is lost. Many of the practical effects (aside from the always-inspired Templar makeup) are also strictly pantomime level, with ‘dummies set alight’ not projecting half as much angst as a ‘flailing mummy ablaze’ ought.

But the eventual payoff for all is gloriously blood thirsty, leading to a genuinely perturbing finale. As incongruous within the mythology as it is, there isn’t a more finely pitched scene in the series. The army of Templars initially seems to betray its super-auditory powers. What is actually revealed is that, like the vampires they are, these creatures are crumbling under a new dawn following this night of living death. They stand frozen in ghoulish repose round the village, impassive and oblivious, unable to witness the remaining living that creep from the church through their ghastly ranks to safety into the morning mist. Ossorio is certainly brazen in his homage to Hitchcock’s ‘The Birds’, but the imminent and indiscriminate apocalypse seems every bit as abrupt and absurd to these bucolic survivors as it must’ve done to Tippi Hedren and Rod Taylor. And now to us.

As purposefully grainy and grimy as when the Templars first plundered the town of Berzano, the superb quality of Anchor Bay’s disc is as much as any fan could wish for. Trailers and a vivid gallery of promotional art are included.An interesting selection of genre titles rounds out the weeks releases, each doing its small part to bring to mind a weekend two decades ago when you could slide the latest Stuart Gordon, slasher and zombie film of the video store shelf and indulge in one night’s glorious trilogy of terror. Choose one or all and make like its 1988:

“Stuck”: Stuart Gordon’s misanthropic and gleefully dark tale of a homeless man run over then hidden away to die in a garage by his assailant is a depraved exploration of the dark side of some very human instincts: ambition, responsibility and honest to goodness trust. None of which many of the characters in this cruel and smart morality play possess to any great degree. Sharp stuff from one of the genre’s great mavericks.

“Laid To Rest”: is it as good as “Hatchet”? Notices have been very kind to this throwback slasher that’s short on budget but long on shocks and slaughter. Newly revitalised horror champions Starz/Anchor Bay release this nifty looking picture starring half the cast of “The Sarah Connor Chronicles”’ (well, Lena Heady and Thomas Dekker).

“The Last Of The Living”: Australasia’s answer to ‘Shaun Of The Dead’ pokes easy fun at a raft of pop culture touchstones and duffs up some ‘dead fucks’ along the way. For fans of “Dazed & Confused” and “The Quiet Earth” alike.