
Body Count: Volume 8
One of the many disadvantages of living in a place like New Hamsphire is that you have to live on the edge vicariously through the lives of people who live closer to the action through correspondence so it was a while before I got into the depths of crazy horror movies. Though I’d been watching horror for years, we never had the convenience of one of those video stores that bought one of everything from their distributors and the horror sections around these parts were woefully understocked. If you wanted to watch A Nightmare on Elm Street 6, you could find it just about anywhere but if you wanted to go out on a limb and see something wildly exotic, you were screwed. Getting your hands on stuff bearing names like Lenzi, D’Amato and Deodato you had to drive into Boston and pay premium prices on factory pre-records and overpriced bootlegs. So when affordable dial-up internet access came along in 1994, I snatched that up immediately, headed to the search engines I’d been reading about in Mondo 2000 and entered the following search string: “splatter movies”. An entirely new world was opened up to me.
My journey began with the most taboo shit I could find. I established a reasonably good reputation as a video trader early on and amassed a respectable trade list that ensured access to just about anything I wanted. Accidentally buying a copy of Jess Franco’s then extremely rare, Female Vampire, meant that I could have whatever I wanted and that meant cannibal movies. The seriously malicious splatter found in those maneaters was like nothing I’d ever seen. These days I couldn’t care less about cannibal movies because my feeling is that if you’ve seen one, you’ve pretty much seen them all. But how they started and why they became such a force in the genre is a mystery to me. Very few of them are actually any good and even fewer bothered to push the boundaries. So here’s an overview of one of horror’s nastiest experiments.

Cashing in on the populairty of the Mondos and the 1970 picture, A Man Called Horse, starring Richard Harris was the 1972 movie that really started it all, Umberto Lenzi’s, The Man From Deep River, starring genre vet, Ivan Rassimov. For all intents and purposes, it contains all the necessary ingredients to make an exploitation movie: It borrows the plot from another, more successful movie; it’s full of T&A and it’s pretty violent. The story concerns the ordeal of a westerner taking photos in Thailand who becomes the captive of a primitive tribe in the jungle. Ultimately he undergoes an initiation rite and becomes one of them, even marrying one of their women. Late in the movie, a rival tribe invades and are depicted eating one of their victims in a reasonably tame scene that director Lenzi has admitted was never meant to be the focus of the movie. The Man From Deep River is supposed to be the natural evolution of the Mondo but wound up inspiring a series of far more intense cannibal movies several years down the road. While Man From Deep River is considered tame by comparison to other cannibal movies, the ones to come were some of the genre’s most depraved troglodytes.

Others would throw their hats into the ring, such as Astride Masaccesi, better known to you and me as Joe D’Amato, whose blurring of the horrifying and erotic was often questionable but legendary among euro-sleaze fans. D’Amato is a Eurotrash journeyman, though, and among his expansive filmography of movies specifically horror and specifically pornography is the Black Emanuelle series which was often confused as to what sort of movie it was. Starring the unnaturally gorgreous Laura Gemser as the titular Emanuelle, D’Amato would underscore her deliriously sexy adventures with grotesqueries of snuff films, beastiality, white slavery and a cheap excuse to flash boobs, bush and blood while capitalising on the popularity of cannibals with Emanuelle and The Last Cannibals aka Trap Them and Kill Them, among the nastiest of the Black Emanuelle series.


Deodato, with a shot at Hollywood genre success, took his Cannibal Holocaust formula and with a cast of cult movie icons like Richard Lynch, Lisa Blount and Michael Berryman made Cut and Run which pits Lynch as a Jim Jones style cult leader in control of the savages in the jungle and the drug trade. Coked out Charles in Charge cast member, Willie Aames, must be rescued from these people but this was the final nail in the cannibal coffin. It’s a nasty picture but a sure sign that there just wasn’t any juice left. Cannibals were dead, leaving in their wake a brief burst of legendary depravity that marks a small but powerful spot on the extreme horror landscape. Connoisseurs of extreme horror often point to this period of Italian horror as a high water mark for the extremes of horror cinema. Many are awful, but the few legends among them are genuine tests of endurance for even the most jaded of horror fans.
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Bryan White
Editor, Cinema Suicide
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