Diabolical Danger

A Spanish film inspired by the Italian giallo craze, 1978's Trauma (in Spanish: Violación fatal), directed by León Klimovsky, opens in a rather fascinating way – a writer, Daniel (Heinrich Starhemberg), dressed in an overly flamboyant outfit, including an ascot (think of a pudgy, slightly nerdier middle-aged version of Fred from Scooby-Doo), drives to a secluded bed and breakfast. . . wait a minute, he’s also wearing a pair of black gloves like the killers always do in these types of movies. . . could solving the mystery be this easy, or does the ascot negate said gloves? Finding his way down a dirt road to a most picturesque historic home (that sits beside a serenely calm lake), inside he meets Veronica (Ágata Lys), the frustrated young woman who runs the establishment. Burdened with the management of the place while also caring for her crippled husband in the attic (a man who we mysteriously never see, but can be heard when he gets into fits of rage), she finds little solace in the peaceful calm and tranquility of the locale. . . though she does enjoy spending time with her new guest (and making antique-looking figurines that she is very possessive of).

How can one define ‘raw’ music? That elusive energy that record executive Richie Finestra was desperately looking for in the sadly short-lived HBO series Vinyl. . . it can be found in the first few seconds of the MC5's “Kick Out the Jams” – the listener immediately learning that they are trying to melt your face right off; or in Jimi Hendrix’s reworking of Bob Dylan’s “All Along the Watchtower” – his inventive, inspirational guitar work seeping into your very bloodstream; anarchy can literally be felt in every single note of The Sex Pistols; while Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” emits a primordial energy that never lets you go. Truly transcendent, it transports you to a different plane of existence. . . a confounding place which finds vexing combinations of pure natural energy diluted with sex and drugs, innocence clashing with the realization that life isn’t fair – it is like living in the gutter of heaven itself. . . still perfection (after all, it is heaven), yet in a way you couldn’t imagine possible in such a place. A combination of youthful exuberance and unbridled energy that captures lightning in a bottle, that raw sound is not something that can be sustained. Coming from a creative and energetic place when youth meets adulthood, where simplicity combines with complexity, two things inevitably happen – you either evolve into something more refined and mainstream, or you burn out/die. An excellent example of this lengthy definition, 2010's The Runaways, written and directed by Floria Sigismondi, depicts the short lived run of the titular band.

We often generalize that old movies are dated. . . and, in some ways, this is true. Sometimes dialogue, fashion, cinematography, and numerous other aspects of a production can come across as old fashioned, yet human beings don't evolve quickly, and a well written romance, drama, comedy, or satire is practically timeless. For an example not related to the film being reviewed today, Charlie Chaplin's cocaine joke from Modern Times (though closing in on 90 years old), is still as funny today as it once was. A satire as rich and relevant today as it was when it was released back in 1969, Putney Swope, written and directed by Robert Downey Sr. (yes, Iron Man's father), holds a comedic magnifying glass up to our present predicament in regards to race and business. Opening with a magnificent overhead shot of New York City, a rather shockingly dressed Southerner (motorcycle gang member meets redneck) arrives in the Big Apple to provide a consult for an executive board of directors of an advertising firm (a large group of middle to aged white men with a token black man - in charge of the music department).

The essence of Rambo meeting the good-hearted 'save the community' nature of Billy Jack set within the arena of B movie western style silliness can be found in 1985's Savage Dawn, a little seen wild experience from director Simon Nuchtern. As the hot desert sun roasts the sandy arid landscape of back roads Texas, one motorcycle driving man, aptly named Stryker (Lance Henriksen, never looking more threatening - if that's possible), a speak softly and carry a big stick Vietnam vet drifter with no home, makes his way to the closest thing to it. . . the dying town of Aqua Dulce (an ironic name, as there is no water left in the community). Water once helped the gold mine locale thrive, but now it, and its people, are struggling to survive. It is here that he finds his only true friend, wheelchair bound Tick Rand (George Kennedy) - another former vet with a MacGyver-like ability to fashion deadly weapons out of anything at hand. He also gets reacquainted with Tick's two children, Danny (Michael Sharrett) and Katie (Claudia Udy) - who clearly has a thing for the strong silent type.