I can assure you that Mondo Macabro is truly the wild side of cinema. The flicks these guys dish out are of all levels of genre's. Drama, horror, exploitation, euro, thriller, cult, etc.. Nice tot see someone hand out films that are of quality from all walks of life. Crazy love is all about the other walks of life.
O.K., I can understand growing up in a town way out in Belgium somewhere in 55, attending local cinema and becoming enthralled amongst the gleaming screen of persuasion. I'm talking on a male perspective, sorry ladies. You come running home with the thoughts of kissing, petting and other boner reacting thoughts. You hang out with a next door pal which is a little older and tosses you into the whole scheme of things, of supposed love making. You both fail miserably but on you must go. That I can understand. What I can't understand is how someone could freely talk masturbation when you where such a pre teen, then have your buddy whip it out and throw one back in front of you? I don't think so. The director had that happen, and it was his brother. So maybe it could happen but look where he is from. Well, On to 1962, a few years older and a complexion only a mother could love. You feel really bad, you understand what he going through and he still can't land that lady he most certainly loves.
On to the 70's and by now, you would think he would at least have found Mrs. right? Wrong, still no luck and no a drunken loser. He hooks back up with old time budd and for old times sake. Lets steal a corpse and see what he does. You have to see what true love would do to you.
I thoroughly enjoyed the film, other then the jerk of class I was drenched in emotion. Kind of like an after school special if you will. The director talks a little about the flick and his reasoning. Sure, he knows what he's talking about but when he fessed up to the brother showing brother, or brother watching brother part of his life. I sort of turned the rest off and couldn't get that vision out of my head. A disturbing touch to an already disturbing story. An off the beaten path for this label to come out with but cult is cult and the wild side of cinema needs a home somewhere.
O.K., I can understand growing up in a town way out in Belgium somewhere in 55, attending local cinema and becoming enthralled amongst the gleaming screen of persuasion. I'm talking on a male perspective, sorry ladies. You come running home with the thoughts of kissing, petting and other boner reacting thoughts. You hang out with a next door pal which is a little older and tosses you into the whole scheme of things, of supposed love making. You both fail miserably but on you must go. That I can understand. What I can't understand is how someone could freely talk masturbation when you where such a pre teen, then have your buddy whip it out and throw one back in front of you? I don't think so. The director had that happen, and it was his brother. So maybe it could happen but look where he is from. Well, On to 1962, a few years older and a complexion only a mother could love. You feel really bad, you understand what he going through and he still can't land that lady he most certainly loves.
On to the 70's and by now, you would think he would at least have found Mrs. right? Wrong, still no luck and no a drunken loser. He hooks back up with old time budd and for old times sake. Lets steal a corpse and see what he does. You have to see what true love would do to you.
I thoroughly enjoyed the film, other then the jerk of class I was drenched in emotion. Kind of like an after school special if you will. The director talks a little about the flick and his reasoning. Sure, he knows what he's talking about but when he fessed up to the brother showing brother, or brother watching brother part of his life. I sort of turned the rest off and couldn't get that vision out of my head. A disturbing touch to an already disturbing story. An off the beaten path for this label to come out with but cult is cult and the wild side of cinema needs a home somewhere.