DAMBALLA OR BUST:
THE MYSTERIOUS FILMS OF JACK WEIS
Joseph A. Ziemba, 02.01.06
Do you remember
your first real kiss? The awkward,
embarrassing liplock, followed by
a joy of discovery, and then an
instant yearning. It's a pleasant
feeling that fades into nothingness
as the years (and mind) wear on.
Kind of like the films of Jack Weis.
The next time someone tells you
that there are no ambiguous perplexities
left in this modern world of cinema,
don't you believe 'em. In 1976,
legendary director/huckster Donn
Davison made a deal with small
time New Orleans film distributor
Jack Weis. Weis had released a voodoo-tinged,
PG rated exploitation film to stunning
heights of failure. Donn D., forever
on the prowl for a good outlet for
his talents, teamed up with Weis,
intending to score a hit. The two
cut up the film's footage, rehired
an actor or two, and added new scenes.
Crypt Of Dark Secrets was
the result. Utter flop. Back to
the bayou. Two years later, Jack
Weis was once again behind the French
Quarter cameras. Mardi Gras
Massacre, a bonafide scum classic
(and UK Video Nasty) was born. He
would never direct again.
Prostitute: "You aren't weird
are you?"
The Killer: "YES! More different
than you have ever known!"
People say that the unknown is more
attractive than the known. Others
add that what you don't know won't
kill you. Maybe they're both right.
Jack Weis's two-movie strong filmography
walks that fine line between utter
hilarity and bubbling sleaze in
regional American filmmaking. His
productions are perfect suffusions
of the elements that propel only
the uppermost crust of the trash
film genre; illogical situations,
exotic ludicrousness, and graceless,
non-artistic filmmaking. Few uncelebrated
directors have the power to throw
your senses into such an unnatural
funk. Strange then, that the lowdown
behind Weis's peculiar deuce, and
his subsequent activities for the
last thirty years, have become lost
to the winds of the swamp.
New Orleans, Louisiana, 1976. A
pretty exciting place, fueled by
a dingy nightlife of Dixie Beer,
gambling joints named The Club Car
Lounge, and baked oysters at restaurants
like Mosca's. Although the tragic
consequences of Hurricane Katrina
will forever alter the perception
of the French Quarter, there was
a time when romantic notions weren't
just notions. And Playboy Playmates
appeared in low budget horror films.
Jack Weis started out as a regional
distributor in New Orleans, mostly
working with obscure nudies and
similarly themed low budget films.
He may have had a hand in the production
of two extremely obscure southern
dramas, Quadroon (1972)
and Storyville (1974).
However, his real "break"
wouldn't hit until a few years later.
When Weis started laying Kodachrome
to light, the drinks were cheap
and the nights were lit up high.
Enter Damballa.
Ted: "You’re the girl
that swims in the lake. The one
that turns into a snake."
Damballa: "YESSS...I’m
going to tell you my story. The
story of all!"
Crypt Of Dark Secrets
(1976) follows the life of drowsy
Vietnam vet Ted Watkins (Ronald
Tanet), as he buys an island (“No
other humans for 10 miles...”),
deals with robbers, falls in love
with the beautiful (and naked) voodoo
spiritess Damballa (Maureen Ridley),
and shows off a very gay wardrobe.
Introduced by a fright-wigged Donn
Davison during a tacked-on prologue,
Crypt slogs along with
vibrant swamp photography and hysterical
dramatics. The shots are static,
the external noises are booming,
and the plot is moot. Did Maureen
Ridley learn her lines phonetically
AND THEN concede to writhe fully
nude on a mummy casket? Was Ronald
Tanet drunk, stoned, or just really
tired on each day of the shoot?
Does a butter knife to the arm actually
feel just like a stomach ache? Crack
a beer with Sergeant Buck and see
if you can get the answers.
Perhaps audiences in the mid 70s
weren't ready to comprehend the
dreamy trash comedy of Crypt.
The film was destined for complete
obscurity, even thought to be lost
until Something Weird acquired a
beautiful print from Donn Davison
himself in the mid 90s. At least
the shoot was a good time. Pat Alexander,
a close friend of Donn's, commented
that, "Donn conceived the idea
of the naked priestess and was responsible
for her footage as well. Apparently,
everybody on the cast and crew was
trying to bed her! The bit where
[Damballa] is floating in the air
out in the woods, uses the actual
magician's stage apparatus from
Donn's magic show. The levitation
apparatus was actually owned by
Florida magician, Roy Huston...the
same illusion used in the stage
& film version of Magic
Land of Mother Goose."
In an interview with the Times-Picayune
in March of 2000, Ted Watkins himself,
Ronald Tanet, shared his thoughts
on the film. "Look, they paid
me six grand to make an ass of myself
in public and I usually do that
for free. If you live long enough,
anything you do in your youth can
come back to haunt you." Indeed.
Mr. Alexander went on to add, "Nobody
made a dime. Drive-Ins were well
on their way out, leaving small
time distributors like Jack Weiss
out in the cold." So what's
a small time distributor to do?
Bring on the nasty.
The Killer: "Hello. I understand
that you’re the most evil
woman here."
Angela: "Listen, honey. I could
probably take first prize in ANY
evil contest."
Mardi Gras Massacre
(1978) is the disco soaked story
of a man, his rubbing oils, and
the fully nude prostitutes and strippers
that serve as his gore-strewn sacrifices
to an Aztec god. The film has long
been considered an homage to H.G.
Lewis’s ground breaking Blood
Feast (1963). However, Mardi
Gras Massacre has little in
common with Fuad Ramses's supper
plans, aside from a few surface
level patternal tics. Weis’s
swan song is on another plain entirely,
more in check with Lewis's later
The Gore Gore Girls, both
in production values and atmosphere,
but minus the intentioned wit. In
that context, the flow is clear.
The absurd parade of downbeat female
exploitation and violence in Mardi
Gras Massacre (strip to the
pubes, strap to a table, fondle
with oils, disembowel, rinse, then
repeat) may come across as off-putting;
that is, if you can stop laughing
long enough to notice.
In the span of exactly 90 minutes,
Mardi Gras Massacre weaves
a gut-busting epic of illogical,
dirt cheap sleaze. All aspects of
the film defile the bounds of common
sense in the best of ways. Yes,
even the air-keyboarding pimps;
gory hearts the size of cantaloupes;
fake slow motion bar brawls; a cop
and a hooker who drink to "...ships
that will pass in the night,"
then partake of a "falling
in love" montage before a VERY
bad break up; detectives that stop
at “Kelly’s” for
a drink, seconds after a climactic
chase begins. As tape echo sound
effects trade blows with funkified
“People’s Court”
music cues, the ripple effect takes
form. This is a tier of bizarre
filmmaking that plays out so irrationally,
it's a wonder how it was ever conceived.
Mardi Gras Massacre renounced
the adult innocence of Crypt
Of Dark Secrets for extreme
violence and slimy, yet tame, sexual
encounters. It’s like jumping
from junior high to three kids and
a divorce in the span of two years.
Still, in a decade that saw the
earlier release of ferocious exploitation
films such as Last House On
The Left and Island Of
Death, Weis's opus was immediately
antiquated. Most likely due to the
gratuitous nudity, the film’s
modest theatrical success paved
the way for home video flak. In
December 1985, Mardi Gras Massacre
joined 38 other exploitation films
on the Director Of Public Prosecutions’
final “Video Nasties”
list in the UK. Banned for life.
While several of the films from
the “DPP 39” have since
seen acquittal in Britain, Weis's
film remains outlawed to this day.
Mardi Gras saw little success
on home video in America, despite
releases from several companies
through the mid-1980s. The home
video rights remain severely clogged
to this day, making a DVD release
very unlikely. Fittingly, limbo
has done nothing to sully the prestigious
reputation.
Laura Misch, Playboy’s Playmate
of the month in February 1975, starred
as Angela, the first female victim
in the film. In a 2005 article for
Salon, Misch wrote, “I'm sure
you've seen me in Mardi Gras
Massacre, having my innards
cut out by a guy wearing an Aztec
mask...one of the worst movies ever,
ever made. I'm proud.”
Ronald Tanet, returning in Mardi
Gras Massacre as an equally
drowsy detective (did Ted Watkins
have a twin?!), recalled a revival
showing of the film in New Orleans.
"I remember walking out of
the Loew's State on Canal Street
after watching it...this woman came
up to me. She said, 'You're one
of the stars of this movie. I live
in the Iberville projects and I'm
on food stamps. It's the worst movie
I've ever seen. I can't believe
I spent four dollars to see this
movie! It was horrible!'
Tanet added, “She was screaming...I
reached in my pocket and gave her
four bucks. She was right. It was
horrible."
Mardi Gras Massacre has
cemented its reputation as a shocking-yet-hysterical
fever dream of regional filmmaking.
Crypt Of Dark Secrets remains
a magical slice of exotic hogwash.
Good stuff. So how does Jack Weis
feel about all of this, thirty years
after the fact? Great question.
Sergeant Buck: "What do you
make of all this? I just damn can’t
believe it!"
Lieutenant Harrigan: "A lot
of things in these swamps are unbelievable."
Today, Jack Weis may be a seventy-something
retiree living in New Orleans. That
is, if he's still around. Despite
the lingering interest in his films
today (Mardi Gras Massacre's
"banned" notoriety, the
DVD release of Crypt Of Dark
Secrets from Something Weird)
no one seems to know exactly what
happened to Mr. Weis following his
brief motion picture career. It's
the kind of mystery that lends an
even more enjoyable air to the movies
themselves. Then again, the thought
of picking the brain of such a colorful,
if obscure, regional filmmaker is
nothing but engaging. The unknown
may be more attractive than the
known, but who says that's a good
thing?
Jack Weis’s short filmography
is a manifesto on romanticized trash
filmmaking. Like a special, rapidly
fading memory, his is a body of
work that seems destined to be forgotten.
Who knows? Perhaps the spirit of
Damballa still wriggles on in that
cloudy marshland, forever waiting
for her chance to return.
UPDATE: Jack made another one. And it's called Death Brings Roses.
SPECIAL THANKS
to Fred Adelman of Critical
Condition, Pat Alexander, and
Lisa Petrucci & Mike Vraney
of Something
Weird Video for their help and
participation.
WORKS
CITED
Brewster, Francis and Fenton, Harvey
and Morris, Marc. Shock! Horror!
Astounding Artwork From The Video
Nasty Era. England, UK: FAB
Press, 2005
Misch, Laura. When I was a Playboy
Bunny in New Orleans. Salon
8 Sep 2005
Seal, Barry. Carnival 'Massacre'
A Bloody Mess. Times-Picayune
7 March 2000: F8 |
