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CITY OF BLOOD (1983)
Directed by Darrell Roodt
Magnum Home Entertainment VHS
Reviewed 02.08.07
Review by Joseph A. Ziemba
THE FILM
Ready to invest? The not-so-scenic
City Of Blood offers South Africa's
largest surplus of expensive prostitutes,
suicidal boredom, and impertinent
helicopter rides. Plus, there's
not much blood. Buy low. Sell high.
Like the obtuse killers from Curtains
(smelly hag) and Horror
House On Highway 5 (Richard
Nixon), an African tribesman is
an astute appropriation of junk-slasher
imagery. Especially when his painted
mask resembles Mr. Bill from Saturday
Night Live. Brilliant, maestro!
Gimme more! As the famous song goes,
you can't always get what you want.
During its 96 minute runtime, City
Of Blood presents 2 minutes
of Tribesman Bill and 94 minutes
of a coroner walking, driving, talking
to prostitutes, and flying in a
helicopter. OHHH NOOO!
Coroner Joe -- who looks like a
wax dummy mix of Beetlejuice and
Jack Nicholson's Joker -- has many
issues. He holds meaningful conversations
with his wife's ghost. He holds
meaningful conversations with shady
cops. Most of all, he holds meaningful
conversations with HOOKERS. C'mon!
Anyway, Joe's dreary city is currently
plagued with prostitute murders.
He thinks the kills might be race
related, as the 'tutes are all Caucasian.
Poor whiteys. There's also a mysterious
plot-thread where various people
approach Joe about signing a death
certificate which accompanies no
dead body. Finally, after an unbelievable
amount of padding (my favorite featured
a little Mr. Bean car driving
around for five minutes), Joe shoots
himself. Great.
Filmed in South Africa and released
straight to video, City Of Blood
eats at an empty table. It's similar
to the atrociously faux-artsy The
Jar, just with a sliver
of badly caulked plot. Unmotivated
Evil Dead camera rip-offs.
Obsessive wide angle lenses. Shots
that won't cut away. A little aftermath
blood. More helicopter rides. These
are the things I remember. These
are the things I wish to forget.
The film ends before we get to see
the Tribesman's neat bear-claw weapon
in action, despite the fact that
it's constantly waved around as
"evidence." Sell, sell,
sell.
AUDIO AND VIDEO
A dopey slapback delay blankets
the entire soundtrack. Everything
else is lost in a muggy darkness.
Fooey.
EXTRAS
I actually own an old Mr. Bill VHS
compilation. Now, I can't wait to
watch it again. Thanks City
Of Blood!
FINAL THOUGHTS
As your trash broker, I'd advise
an immediate disassociation with
City Of Blood. The African
Tribesman-as-a-slasher is a notion
rife with potential, but this languid
film does not respond. Avoid it. |
It's showtime!
Yes, but it's no helicopter ride
Beware, Mr. Hand
No more pipe blowin'
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