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NIGHT OF THE BLOODY APES
(1969)
FEAST OF FLESH (1967)
aka THE DEADLY ORGAN
Directed by Rene Cardona Sr./Emilio
Vieyra
Something Weird DVD
Reviewed 08.17.06
Review by Joseph A. Ziemba
THE FILMS
Men. They can be such pigs. As the
saying goes, there's only one thing
on their minds. Scratch that. Make
it two.
In the early 1980s, Wizard Video
released a trailer compilation tape
called The
Best Of Sex And Violence.
Emmanuelle Around the World?
Dolemite? Zombie?
Please. They weren't even close.
Today, thanks to the wonders of
DVD, we get the raw truth about
"sex" and "violence".
Namely, it takes two to tango, but
an additional dry-humping gorilla-man
doesn't hurt. Either does a rubber-masked
organist with a syringe full of
heroin. Now, through the cerebral
eyes of Night Of The Bloody
Apes and Feast Of Flesh,
we witness the evils that men do...all
for breasts and blood! Oink.
Mexico, 1969. Father and son trashers
for life Rene Cardona Sr. &
Jr. (Junior: Night
Of A Thousand Cats; Dad:
Santa Claus) decide
to remake Pop's Doctor Of Doom
from 1963. In color. With boobs.
And something else. Since the earlier
film feels like it lasts for ten
years, the Cardonas were on the
right track. Then you watch Night
Of The Bloody Apes. Dear God,
Cardonas. What have you wrought?
Julio has leukemia. Julio's Dad,
surgical expert that he is, decides
to transplant the heart of an orangutan
into the body of his son. You guessed
it! Unbelievably gruesome surgery
footage turns Julio into a goatee'd
gorilla-man who likes to rip women's
clothes off, roll on top of them,
and engage in random acts of surreal
brutality. Meanwhile, Lucy wears
a red Catwoman suit and climbs her
way to the top of the professional
wrestling heap. If you're expecting
the two teams to meet up at some
point, forget it. Cardonas can't
think of everything.
Goddamn. Though datedly quaint with
its intentions, Night Of The
Bloody Apes is a complete shock
to the senses. But that's all it
is. Flavorlessly shot and devoid
of personality, this UK Video Nasty
feels like Barry Mahon on an angst
pilgrimage. That's not such a bad
thing, but it's no celebration,
either. The authentic, extended
surgery sequences (two in all) are
less surgical, more "Hey, let's
rip this guy apart while his heart
is still beating!" The cheap
gore (eye-gooshing, decapitation)
is surprisingly brutal and bathed
in crimson neon. Arbitrary women
are attacked, stripped, and splatted.
Between all of that, you're left
to fast-forward through wrestling
scenes and doze while people literally
sit around and talk. I need some
fresh air. I'm in luck.
Argentina, 1967. Offbeat and stylish
director Emilio Vieyra decides to
kick off his sex-horror jams. In
black and white. With a Wurlitzer.
And so much more. In 1971, Vieyra
would cap the crass weirdness with
The Curious Dr. Humpp,
but in '67, it was warm up time.
Feast Of Flesh aka The
Deadly Organ stews with flesh
and frenzy, but its no dummy. In
fact, the film is too smart to worry
about anything. The ocean calls.
A strange man tolls the beach, clad
in a rubber mask, a black wig, hairy
gloves, and a windbreaker. He likes
the women. The women like him. Through
the mesmerizing strains of his organ
and 45 RPM single, the man beckons
women to his mod ranch home, gropes
'em, injects some crank, then dumps
the bodies by the sea. Police. Love.
Bongos. Portable turntables. People
frolic on the beach while lesbians
tease and Dr. Bermudez gets name-dropped.
I still don't know who he is, but
I'm too hypnotized to care.
At times, Feast Of Flesh
will put you to sleep. The nightclub
and beach padding, the doctor discussions,
the indefinite characters; it can't
be helped. But then, there are the
shadows. The open spaces. The silent
waves crashing on the beach. Vieyra
builds a mood with these elements,
an eerie, random cloak of style
that blankets the trashier elements
(brief nudity and blood, odd sexual
suggestions) and ultimately saves
the film. The killer's unsettling
segments clearly escaped from the
same poetic spookhouse that houses
the ballroom from Carnival Of
Souls. They're just as tingling,
albeit on a cruder level. As a whole,
the film swims in senselessness,
but I'd be surprised if Emilio Vieyra
was concerned with that.
I am a man. I watched the sex. I
watched the violence. I liked it.
I'm so ashamed.
AUDIO AND VIDEO
Both films appear exactly as they
should. Lotsa scratching, a few
lines here and there, and dazzling
picture clarity. Night Of The
Bloody Apes is full frame and
bulging with over-saturated colors.
Feast Of Flesh is widescreen
and chocked full of black and white
contrast. The mono sound was fine
for both, although the music tended
to be a little louder in Feast
Of Flesh. You kind of need
that for the organ bits.
Night Of The Bloody Apes
was also released on DVD by the
fleeting Beverly Wilshire Filmworks
in 2000. It was a mess. More recently,
the film has been paired up on a
double feature DVD with K. Gordon
Murray’s Curse Of The
Doll People from BCI’s
Deimos line. Something Weird’s
exact transfer was utilized for
that release, while the original,
tamer Mexican cut is also included
as an extra.
EXTRAS
Packed and jammed. The supplements
are all pretty terrific, so a laundry
list is the only way to go.
Feast on it: 3 minutes of Night
gore outtakes (similar to the outtakes
on the "Blood Trilogy"
discs), four combo theatrical trailers
(including one for the features,
as well as the defining The
Blood-Spattered Bride/I Dismember
Mama), seven theatrical
trailers, four TV spots for the
features, the 11 minute "Gorilla
& The Maiden" (saucy burlesque),
a 9 minute women's wrestling match
from the 1950s, the 2 minute ape-nudie
"Artist's Paradise" ("A
Hollywood Art Featurette!"),
the 10 minute "White Gorilla"
(an excerpt from the 1945 film),
fun liner notes about Night
from Travis Crawford, and finally,
a gallery of 1970s monster magazine
covers with modern blasts from The
Dead Elvi.
FINAL THOUGHTS
Ignore your "ethics"!
Forget those "morals"!
These films are what they are. Flawed,
sleepy, or nerve-rending; the effects
are hard to ignore. If the clock
is approaching midnight, watch this
DVD in its entirety, from start
to finish. That's what I did. Now,
I'm a new man. |
Step on it, Lucy
Julio's Room: NO GURLS ALLOWED
Gimme the splits
Nighttime lez
Mr. Perfect
Pass the syringe
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