Film Review: I, MADMAN (1989, Tibor Takács)

Stars: 3.8 of 5.
Running Time: 89 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Starring Jenny Wright (NEAR DARK, ST. ELMO'S FIRE), Clayton Rohner (APRIL FOOL'S DAY, JUST ONE OF THE GUYS), Stephanie Hodge (BIG TOP PEE-WEE, EVOLUTION), and Randall William Cook (who also did the visual effects and stop motion on HIGHWAY TO HELL, GHOSTBUSTERS, FRIGHT NIGHT, Q: THE WINGED SERPENT and won three Oscars for Peter Jackson's LORD OF THE RINGS). Written by David Chaskin (NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 2: FREDDY'S REVENGE, THE CURSE). Directed by Tibor Takács (Hungarian-born director of THE GATE, METAL MESSIAH, and the SABRINA THE TEENAGE WITCH TV movie).
Tag-line: "Spend the night with a madman."
Best one-liner: "It makes Stephen King read like Mother Goose!"

When you've been a horror fan as long as I have, it can become difficult to find vintage gems you haven't already seen. You sift through a lot of straight-to-video nonsense, and, sadly, it's often not even "so-bad-it's-good." You make it through a lot of movies that not only lack star power, they even lack "character-actor-power." While reading about visual effects legend Randall William Cook (because of the excellent HIGHWAY TO HELL), I decided to take a chance on I, MADMAN, where he not only did the visual effects, he stars as the villain (!).

I, MADMAN was pitched to me as the story of a bookworm whose voracious consumption of horror novels leads to a blurring of reality (sort of a proto-IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS, at least in the abstract), as the villain of these books begins to pursue her in real life.

It sounded intriguing, self-reflexive, and artistic, but also a bit like a feature-length episode TALES FROM THE CRYPT (which is not a bad thing, necessarily). And it's my pleasure to report that this is while it's not quite a masterpiece, it certainly lives up to its pitch.

Jenny Wright (of NEAR DARK) plays Virginia, our heroine. She has a Joan Cusack/Gillian Anderson vibe and was fairly ubiquitous throughout the 1980s, though she hasn't appeared in much at all since 1992's THE LAWNMOWER MAN. As a bookstore employee who loves scary novels, her performance taps into the nostalgia/cozy feeling of curling up with a good book and entering another world, like THE NEVERENDING STORY (for horror fans).

All of the scenes set at her bookstore also feel nostalgic and extremely lived-in, 

 

and her co-worker (played by the hilarious Stephanie Hodge)

does her best to steal every scene she's in.

The director, Budapest's own Tibor Takács, imbues the film with true style. He views Los Angeles through a very European lens, romanticizing all the rundown 1950s apartment buildings and decor, and presenting an extremely stylized vision that, in my opinion, owes a great deal to the films of David Lynch, particularly BLUE VELVET.

This could easily be a screencap from BLUE VELVET, or RABBITS



WILD AT HEART hadn't even been released yet, nor BARTON FINK, if we want to include the Coens

Fetishized vintage lamps, peeling wallpaper, creepy bellhops, flickering lights, beckoning darkness... it's all here!

As the books begin to bleed into reality, we have the aforementioned Randall William Cook playing a character who's equal parts Dr. Moreau, Jack the Ripper, Darkman, and The Shadow... and he embarks on a series of giallo-style murders

across this David Lynch-ian/Edward Hopper-verse. They're formally very effective, employing vivid lighting, surprising visuals, and Sam Raimi-style camerawork. 

There's a track-zoom down this hallway that feels straight out of EVIL DEAD

 

Virginia's policeman boyfriend, "Richard" (Clayton Rohner, a real Jeff Fahey-type)

becomes more instrumental to the plot at this point, though, thankfully, it never truly veers into a police procedural. I won't reveal how it proceeds from here, though I will say there is some unexpected creature work from Randall William Cook (very similar to his FRIGHT NIGHT monsters)

 

 

with that dreamlike, uncanny feel that can only be achieved by a stop-motion master.

 

In a weird bit of trivia, the legendary author and screenwriter Bruce Wagner has a cameo as a sinister piano player, only glimpsed from afar (again, very Edward Hopper via REAR WINDOW), who always plays late into the night.

(You've probably seen some of Wagner's films––MAPS TO THE STARS, WILD PALMS, SCENES FROM THE CLASS STRUGGLE IN BEVERLY HILLS, or A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 3: DREAM WARRIORS––but I also must shout out his novels, like I'M LOSING YOU or THE CHRYSANTHEMUM PALACE; he has a spiritually twisted vision of Hollywood/L.A. as a perverse, feudal New Age cult dystopia and he always manages to shock and engage his audiences.)

 

Finally, I must address one of my longstanding cinematic rules: I've often said "it's not an action movie unless they blow up a gas station," and "it's not a horror movie until you're in the microfiche room," and I'm happy to report that by the latter criterion, this is indeed a horror movie. 

Film Review: TRAUMA (1993, Dario Argento)

Stars: 3.8 of 5.
Running Time: 106 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Asia Argento (MOTHER OF TEARS, THE LAST MISTRESS), Christopher Rydell (ON GOLDEN POND, MASK), Piper Laurie (TWIN PEAKS, CARRIE), Frederic Forrest (APOCALYPSE NOW, FALLING DOWN), James Russo (MY OWN PRIVATE IDAHO, THE NINTH GATE), Brad Dourif (CHILD'S PLAY, ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST). Gore by Tom Savini (DAWN OF THE DEAD, FRIDAY THE 13TH). Music by Pino Donaggio (CARRIE, BODY DOUBLE) and Andrea Bandel.
Tagline: "A new dimension of fear."

I can sum this one up for you in just two words: "Minnesotan Giallo." I could probably make the argument that this is Argento's last great film (before they became at best, mediocre, and, at worst, money-laundering operations), but with a movie this ludicrous, that's probably a meaningless distinction, and I could easily say the same for OPERA (1987) or SLEEPLESS (2001). Nonetheless, I apparently like TRAUMA a lot more than most people do.

Based on screenplay co-written by Dario Argento, T.E.D. Klein (one of the great, underappreciated horror writers of the 1980s, whose novel THE CEREMONIES is an all-timer), Franco Ferrini (PHENOMENA, ONCE UPON A TIME IN AMERICA), Gianni Romoli (producer of CEMETERY MAN), and Ruth Jessup (production secretary on EVIL DEAD II), TRAUMA is a delicious slice of You Betcha Message-Movie madness where the twin cities are, apparently, Minneapolis and Rome (feel free to insert a St. Paul/St. Peter's Basilica joke here).

Like most of Argento's gialli, the plot has plenty of twists and turns, a satisfying/relatively surprising payoff, and notably (that is, for the thriller genre at large, not for Argento), one that holds up to repeat viewings and doesn't cheat the audience. See also: DEEP RED and TENEBRE, who also hide their Big Secrets––like Poe's purloined letter––out in the open, if we care to look. 

 

Also like most Argentos, TRAUMA has a black-leather-gloved killer, well-choreographed murders, stylized gore, avant-garde POV shots, childhood trauma, uncomfortable family member nudity, bizarrely specific animals and/or insects being instrumental to the plot, and more than a few nonsensical (Eurotrash) grace notes. New for Argento are the American milieus (though his segment of TWO EVIL EYES was also shot in the States), a semi-understated De Palma-lite orchestral score by Pino Donaggio (instead of his usual Goblin/Simonetti music), and the decision to make this a "Message Picture." (More on that in a minute.)

I'll attempt to guide you through the joys and bafflements of all this TRAUMA without giving any significant spoilers–– so, without further ado––grab your lutefisk, Vikings jerseys, and dopey ear-flap'd trapper caps, cause dontcha know we're about to delve into My Top Ten Minutiae for Argento's TRAUMA:

 

#10. Americana. 

Argento is so clearly taken with/horrified by what the ol' U.S. of A has to offer that he can't bear to look away. In a hotel hallway scene, it's the drunken man in the background in a Shriner cap:

In a corporate diner, it's what passes for food:

 It's the parking lots: 

The concrete architecture and pick-ups with fiberglass truck caps:

And, finally, in what I can only assume is a moment inspired by Argento's first confusing stay in a corporate American hotel, we see the victim unable to fight off the killer at a crucial moment because the room's lamp is screwed to the table

instead of being loose and easily removable––as it apparently should be––for defending against black-gloved, hammer-wielding murderers:

 

#9. The Message Picture Angle. 

Hoo boy, here we go. Asia Argento––Dario's daughter––plays one of the film's dual protagonists. Having witnessed the murder of her parents, she has acquired a number of problems. From the filmmakers' point of view, the most important of these is an eating disorder. You see, she binges and purges.

This, as we all know, is not a cartoonishly simplified, textbook case of bulimia, but rather––according to Dr. Dario Argento and every character in the film––"anorexia."

 

That's right: Argento decided to make a Message Picture about overcoming an eating disorder and proceeded to misidentify the disorder. To those who are not lifetime aficionados, this is the most Argento thing he could possibly do. In Dario Argento's MONK, Tony Shalhoub would express every symptom of OCD, but they'd call it multiple personality disorder. In Dario Argento's TRAINSPOTTING, Ewan McGregor would spend half the movie shooting up heroin but they'd call it a gambling addiction. This is, obviously, incredible. For instance, Argento would rather put way more time, effort, and detail into something like

#8. Butterfly P.O.V.

It's a dizzying scene, completely unnecessary, and yet it's a perfect moment of Pure Cinema.

#7. But Wait, I'm Not Done Talking About the Message Picture Angle.

Oookay, so he keeps going. There are lengthy monologues and montages about "anorexia" which flirt with absurdity,

 

interrupted by images of sad, skinny women on the streets of Minnesota who may not even know what they're being filmed for

as the "symptoms of anorexia" get weirdly specific (every person with anorexia is deeply attached to an unstable mother?)

Oh, did I say "flirts with absurdity?" I meant, "dates absurdity, marries absurdity, purchases a burial plot beside absurdity..."

Err––WHUT? Let's not ponder that last one too deeply.

#6. Christopher Rydell's bland "David Parsons." The secondary protagonist is a mopey dude who makes a living as a horror sketch artist for a local Minneapolis news station.

 

Huh. Didn't know that was a real, full-time job. Guess I'll defer to the expert on such matters: Dario Argento. 

Even though he's an American who has been featured in such films as MASK, GOTCHA, HOW I GOT INTO COLLEGE, and ON GOLDEN POND, Argento pulls a pouty, Eurotrash performance out of him. He sorta reminds me of Marco Gregorio ("Trash" in Enzo Castellari's 1990: BRONX WARRIORS).

He's a grown man with this sketchy day job and a pretty normal life and a newscaster girlfriend until he meets up with Asia's teenage runaway "Aura" and decides to let her move in with him. (Ostensibly, it's because he also has struggled with drug problems––oh yeah, did I mention that Asia's character is also a heroin addict? That's mentioned once and then buried beneath a lot of bulimia––but the whole thing feels a little creepy.) He wears the kind of 90s outfits you'd see on Chandler from FRIENDS. Oh, hey, look, there's a Chi-Chi's in the background.

That'd be a good trivia question: in which Dario Argento film is there a Chi-Chi's? This one.

#5. Brad Dourif!

He has a bit part here as a former doctor going through a midlife crisis, and he's got the six-day stubble and gold chain/earring combo to prove it. He gives his role some sleaze, some comedy, and some pathos.

He, or his agent, must have insisted on the strange credit of "special appearance by."

It's only weird because there are other, well-known character actors of similar caliber and with a similar amount of screen-time. Actors like...

#4. Piper Laurie!

As an Eastern European psychic and Asia's on-screen mother, Piper offers us shades of CARRIE while hamming it up and laying on a thick Romanian accent.

As always, she's fantastic. Horror royalty in this household. Royalty, I say.

#3. And Frederic Forrest. Another oddball American character actor/Oscar nominee being used very effectively.

That's right, there are three Oscar nominees in this movie. It's a shame that Argento's association with great American character actors pretty much dried up post-1993 (are we counting Steven Weber in JENIFER? No, no we are not), cause they really deliver some earnest post-giallo seasoning to the proceedings here.

#2. Meta-Argento. He gets extremely self-reflexive in TRAUMA. To name a few moments, there is sudden and creepy pre-murder doll placement, as in DEEP RED:

(As a whole, it's very DEEP RED-influenced, from opening with a "séance gone wrong" to using the earlier film's bloody finale as a sly inspiration for the murderer's preferred instrument here.)

Hand-acting by Argento, which can be morbidly comic when things aren't going as smoothly as the murderer would prefer (as in DEEP RED, TENEBRE, OPERA, and elsewhere):

A domestic murder which thematically and literally recalls the iconic, extended crane-shot setpiece of TENEBRE (as well as the nature of the victims):

Impassive animal witnesses to murders, as in PHENOMENA, THE BIRD WITH THE CRYSTAL PLUMAGE, FOUR FLIES ON GRAY VELVET, and elsewhere (here, it's a gecko):

Impromptu, macabre paper dolls, as in DEEP RED: 

And a random child learning more about the murderer (and earlier) than any other character, which is certainly a post-SHADOW OF A DOUBT ur-Hitchcockian idea which lies at the root of many of Argento's films.

That the child in question closely resembles Macaulay Culkin is simply a reminder that this movie was made in 1993.

#1. Reggae Dance Party.

Without spoiling the end of the picture, I will tell you this: it concludes with a reggae concert/dance party on a suburban Minnesotan porch. The lead dancer is, I believe, one of the skinny girls from the earlier street montage. What this is all meant to indicate is, at best, unclear. But who are we to question the maestro's judgment?