...since it involves birds more than nethers, and is an absolute turkey.
The premise for the dullest film ever made goes like this: Cory inherits his recently deceased father's huge estate, so he travels to Louisiana to check out the place. There he meets the estate's caretakeress and her daughter, and also finds out about a nearby brothel, run by a mysterious woman. So now Cory must decide if he's going to be one of the undead bird people his father apparently rooted for, or just the cool and wealthy loverboy he's clearly thriving for. While he contemplates this for around 80 minutes, various strange occurrences take place. Intermittently.
If prompted, I'm pretty sure I could explain in detail what happens and why in this film but I sure hope that will never happen. At first it feels like it's slightly ripping off Lucio Fulci's spectacular mess of a film The Beyond (the parts concerning unexplained violence and the house inheritance) but then it reminds me of Phantasm (brothel instead of graveyard, seductress instead of tall man, a flying concrete hand with fingers replaced by snakes instead of the flying marble thing). Turns out it is ne(i)ther.
The oh-so-profitable low-budget horror market was winding down by the early 90s, so it was time to try other things. Basic Instinct introduced the modern erotic thriller, and that was hot at the time, so that's the way they went. Directed by David Schmoller (hailed for his work on Tourist Trap and arguably the most well-known Full Moon film Puppet Master) it should have been a fair effort, combining a stylish mystery with the supernatural and the softer than softcore erotica.
The supernatural effects are entertaining, but about 30 seconds of bloodshed and stop-motion snakes in a film that feels like it lasts three hours won't make a difference. The erotic moments are so far-removed from anything touching or enticing that I'd probably get more fired-up by reading out-loud old Jallu Magazines (a finnish adult media primarily known for their raunchy content in the conservative 1970s). The ridiculous and uneventful plot could be forgiven if the film stood out in any of these areas, but it's so dull and uninspired throughout, there's just no salvation.
Having said all that, you have to forgive this film for its flaws, since it was clearly a rushed production not capable to reach its actual potential - whatever that might have been. There are a few silly scenes where it shows notably, like when we see the flying hand from pov perspective and the camera cart's shadow is visible on the wall. There's also a moment when Holly Floria forgets her southern accent, even though through the rest of the film she exaggerates it with such a finesse Daniel Craig would be proud.
To be completely honest, there are a couple of atmospheric moments. The seedy blues tunes played by Edgar Winter sort of strengthen the hazy feeling for people like me from the other side of the pond, that this is exactly what life in the american deep south must be like. There's a cheesy and jazzy love theme as well, played by none other than Bon Jovi's keyboardist. Gladly Mr. Bongiovi isn't there to vocalize the scene, since that would make me automatically remove a star.
The film has a few gags too, some of which I was able to enjoy. The best one is a cameo, played by the director himself, as a bartender who constantly rolls a beer bottle on the tip of his finger. That is a seriously astonishing ability I did not know human beings are capable of. Imagine how many bottles he must've smashed while practicing!
Lastly, I must mention that this film truly testifies that Charles Band and Roger Corman share the same dna. Netherworld has ne(i)ther the starpower or the set designs that made the Poe-era Corman movies memorable, but it does have the exact same sleep-inducing effect. It's not much but it is something!
Also, it can't be completely redundant since it evoked such a lengthy review from me. Thanks for reading!
The premise for the dullest film ever made goes like this: Cory inherits his recently deceased father's huge estate, so he travels to Louisiana to check out the place. There he meets the estate's caretakeress and her daughter, and also finds out about a nearby brothel, run by a mysterious woman. So now Cory must decide if he's going to be one of the undead bird people his father apparently rooted for, or just the cool and wealthy loverboy he's clearly thriving for. While he contemplates this for around 80 minutes, various strange occurrences take place. Intermittently.
If prompted, I'm pretty sure I could explain in detail what happens and why in this film but I sure hope that will never happen. At first it feels like it's slightly ripping off Lucio Fulci's spectacular mess of a film The Beyond (the parts concerning unexplained violence and the house inheritance) but then it reminds me of Phantasm (brothel instead of graveyard, seductress instead of tall man, a flying concrete hand with fingers replaced by snakes instead of the flying marble thing). Turns out it is ne(i)ther.
The oh-so-profitable low-budget horror market was winding down by the early 90s, so it was time to try other things. Basic Instinct introduced the modern erotic thriller, and that was hot at the time, so that's the way they went. Directed by David Schmoller (hailed for his work on Tourist Trap and arguably the most well-known Full Moon film Puppet Master) it should have been a fair effort, combining a stylish mystery with the supernatural and the softer than softcore erotica.
The supernatural effects are entertaining, but about 30 seconds of bloodshed and stop-motion snakes in a film that feels like it lasts three hours won't make a difference. The erotic moments are so far-removed from anything touching or enticing that I'd probably get more fired-up by reading out-loud old Jallu Magazines (a finnish adult media primarily known for their raunchy content in the conservative 1970s). The ridiculous and uneventful plot could be forgiven if the film stood out in any of these areas, but it's so dull and uninspired throughout, there's just no salvation.
Having said all that, you have to forgive this film for its flaws, since it was clearly a rushed production not capable to reach its actual potential - whatever that might have been. There are a few silly scenes where it shows notably, like when we see the flying hand from pov perspective and the camera cart's shadow is visible on the wall. There's also a moment when Holly Floria forgets her southern accent, even though through the rest of the film she exaggerates it with such a finesse Daniel Craig would be proud.
To be completely honest, there are a couple of atmospheric moments. The seedy blues tunes played by Edgar Winter sort of strengthen the hazy feeling for people like me from the other side of the pond, that this is exactly what life in the american deep south must be like. There's a cheesy and jazzy love theme as well, played by none other than Bon Jovi's keyboardist. Gladly Mr. Bongiovi isn't there to vocalize the scene, since that would make me automatically remove a star.
The film has a few gags too, some of which I was able to enjoy. The best one is a cameo, played by the director himself, as a bartender who constantly rolls a beer bottle on the tip of his finger. That is a seriously astonishing ability I did not know human beings are capable of. Imagine how many bottles he must've smashed while practicing!
Lastly, I must mention that this film truly testifies that Charles Band and Roger Corman share the same dna. Netherworld has ne(i)ther the starpower or the set designs that made the Poe-era Corman movies memorable, but it does have the exact same sleep-inducing effect. It's not much but it is something!
Also, it can't be completely redundant since it evoked such a lengthy review from me. Thanks for reading!