DEEP RED (1975) The quintessential Italian slasher, this terrific murder mystery put Dario Argento on the map and took the giallo to new, respected heights. After witnessing the brutal murder of a renowned psychic (Macha Méril), who earlier foresaw her own death, a jazz pianist (David Hemmings) becomes obsessed with finding the killer, and is subsequently pursued by the murderer, putting himself and others in danger. Soaking in Argento’s flamboyant style, Deep Red works on multiple levels and delivers a totally unique slasher/thriller that transcends the genre; with its complex storyline and well-rounded characters, including themes of self-loathing and post-traumatic stress, the film isn’t a disposable bloodbath, but a thoughtful and intelligent piece of psychological horror. It also features some suspenseful moments that would make Hitchcock proud. A–
THE NEW YORK RIPPER (1982) The pinnacle of Lucio Fulci’s American-filmed bloodbaths, The New York Ripper is perhaps the perfect Eurotrash slasher. Set against the sleazy backdrop of early ’80s New York City, NY Ripper spins the gleefully ludicrous tale of a duck-voiced maniac carving up the local female population with a straight razor, steak knife, and, in one of the film’s more notorious scenes, a broken bottle. The killer, in between their brutal escapades, calls up friends of the victims and taunts them with a hilariously awful Donald Duck impression! No, I’m not kidding. Your typical hard-boiled detective (Jack Hedley) becomes obsessed with finding the deranged Disney slasher, especially after his spunky hooker girlfriend is turned into mincemeat. Gaudy, gory, and campy as hell, NY Ripper is in a category by itself: dark, violent, and batshit goofy, it’s a movie that has its fingers in many genre pies – including comedy! – but mostly hovers between the giallo detective story and gory horror. It simply never ceases to be spectacularly absurd, and highly enjoyable. B+
NIGHTMARE BEACH (1989) “Welcome to Spring Break. The annual migration of the idiot.” Those wise words are spoken within the first ten minutes of Nightmare Beach, a surprisingly witty, full throttle, Italian-grade cheesefest filmed in Florida. In the wake of the electric chair execution of gang leader Diablo, arrested for the murder of a young woman, a leather-clad killer begins bumping off the babes and jocks of Manatee Beach by using a motorcycle rigged to cook its victims alive. Has Diablo risen from the dead, or is the real killer still at large? A good cast (John Saxon, Michael Parks, Lance LeGault), likable characters, a punchy attitude, and some gooey make-up FX – including a poor beach bunny’s melting face in a fireball – make Nightmare Beach a nice surprise, even when it’s not always working. One of the few ’80s Euro-slashers made Stateside that actually feels American-made. Director/writer Harry Kirkpatrick is actually Umberto Lenzi. B