From Betacam To Big Box:
Shot On Video Trash In The 1980s (Part Two)
Joseph A. Ziemba, 06.01.05
It's a brisk
Friday night in June, 1987. You
scraggle into "Dave's Video"
again, hoping for a sparkling new
release to calm the stresses of
the past work week. Shuffling around
on the dust encrusted, poo-brown
carpet, you pass by a big box for
Blood Cult. Remember that
one? You got all revved up for a
night of solid horror chills, only
to be stabbed in the back with a
"movie" that looked like
a visit to Mr. Rogers's neighborhood.
Hi, neighbor! Good thing you've
learned your lesson, huh? On the
other hand, it's been awhile since
you've rented a horror movie. And
hey, that Video Violence
cover art looks pretty scary...
After United Entertainment struck
sparks with Blood Cult
and The Ripper in 1985,
shot on video (SOV) horror films
staked their claim. In the world
of exploitation film business, it
made sense. Since rental audiences
were unable to distinguish the filming
methods of a movie based solely
on box art, producers discovered
a thrifty method of turning a profit.
Not to mention getting their own
vid-films on the shelves. Today,
the films range from dated hilarity
to unwatchable filth, but the proliferation
of this bizarre mini-genre remains
enchanting. From 1986-1988, dozens
of mysterious regional titles spewed
forth more gore, more slasher derivativeness,
and even less coherence. It really
is true: freaks do come out at night.
As new SOV titles began to hit the
shelves, Bill Blair’s company
felt the need to expand. Thanks
to the success of United’s
previous two SOV releases, Revenge
(Christopher Lewis, 1986), a sequel
to Blood Cult was shot
on 16 mm film. It went on to become
United’s biggest hit yet,
even gaining notoriety in several
major foreign markets. “I
had viewed a few of the films that
popped up in Blood Cult's
wake,” notes Bill Blair, president
of United and VCI Entertainment.
“We needed to step things
up...we went on to produce Terror
At Tenkiller, Forever
Evil, and The Last
Slumber Party (the worst film
ever made). Forever Evil
was probably one of our most successful
films, monetarily.” United
moved on and up, leaving behind
the realm of SOV. Here comes the
flood.
In 1986, the rimshot of United’s
hits began to have some resonance
with video distributors. One-shot SS Video delivered
Spine
(John Howard/Justin Simmonds, 1986),
a nurse-obsessed stalk ‘n’
slash; Synchron offered up their
sole release Splatter:
Architects In Fear
(Peter Rowe, 1986), a fake documentary
about a fictitious film (whoa!)
that piles on the boobs and (making
of) gore. Fly-by-nighters Mogul
Video released Demon
Queen (Donald Farmer,
1986), the first in a long series
of camcorder gore-fests from director
Farmer, who continues to produce
no-budget fluff to this day. Even
established companies like Magnum
Entertainment jumped into the SOV
fire, releasing Jeff Hathcock's
follow up to Victims!,
Night Ripper,
in 1986. Judging from their absolute
obscurity in 2005, none of these
releases seemed to make much of
a ripple when compared to United's
titles. That is, until Gary P. Cohen
came along.
A video store in New Jersey, 1986.
A woman, with two youngsters in
tow, grabs a copy of I
Dismember Mama off the
shelf. Approaching the counter,
she asks store owner Gary Cohen,
"Does this have any nudity?"
Gary replies, "No, I don't
remember any, but that film has
decapitations and all sorts of other
gore." Naturally, the woman
shoots back, "Oh. Ok, then
the kids can watch it." Video
Violence was born. True story.
Released by Los Angeles-based Camp
Video in 1987, Video
Violence (Gary Cohen,
1987) survives today as the most
widely distributed (and well known)
SOV horror film next to "Blood
Cult." According to Cohen,
"[Video Violence]
was created for two purposes --
to reflect the idea that violence
is okay but sex isn't -- and for
us to have a good time. I carried
a few shot-on-videos in my video
store, so we thought, once it was
done, we'd see if any distributors
were interested. Certainly our actors
were as mediocre as the ones in
the others films! If they could
do it, damn, we could too!"
With a few hundred dollars and some
3/4" U-Matic video equipment,
Cohen and company hit the streets
of Frenchtown and Bound Brook, New
Jersey to film their epic gore mess-terpiece.
As the box says, "When renting
is not enough!"
The plot is simple, albeit unique.
A married couple (him; bald and
mulleted, her; fresh in hott teacher
garb) move to a New York suburb
and open a video shoppe. The rude
patrons of the store are only interested
in two things: slashers and XXX
hits. After discovering that a returned
rental tape has been swapped out
with a homemade snuff film, our
Video Wizards desperately try to
crack the mystery, without much
help from an asinine police chief.
The townspeople, including anti-heroes
Howard and Eli, continue their maim
‘n’ tape snuff hobbies.
Along for the ride is a surreal
movie within a movie called “The
Vampire Takes A Bride” and
a baker’s dozen of hysterical
acting experts. It’s dreary,
mean-spirited, yet curiously mysterious;
a slow blitzkrieg of all-time-cheapest
gore, bare breasts, and swirling
synth blips, as the cult of snuff
film devotees unveil their plans
to take over the town! Oh yeah,
and somebody rents Blood Cult
too, patterned after Cohen’s
real life video store encounter
with I Dismember Mama.
Remember, in a town of 300 people,
“They all have VCRs.”
Art...life...art...my head is spinning.
After editing over two consecutive
midnight sessions at a local cable
station (three were booked, but
the station’s owner found
out what the film was about and
called it off), Mr. Cohen began
to shop around the finished product.
Eventually, he settled on the now-legendary
Camp Video for distribution. As
Gary points out, “Camp offered
the best deal...they were going
to make posters and use big boxes.
That alone clinched it!” Soon
after its release, Video Violence
started to show promise. The first
big box edition completely sold
through, leading to an entire second
pressing with new cover art (unfortunately
in a regular sized box). SOV horror
had lived to see its second big
hit; the director of Video Violence
was just getting started.
Hot on the trail of Gary's first
hit, production began on a second
SOV feature, Captives
(Gary Cohen, 1988). Although shot
in 1987, the film wasn't completed
for release until 1988, when it
was retitled Mama's Home,
edited, and released unceremoniously
by Majestic Video. Possibly the
most obscure feature to be covered
here (Cohen holds the only true
master copy and refuses to acknowledge
the butchered Mama's Home),
Captives may also be the
most accomplished, at least in "real"
movie terms.
The setting: Suburbia, USA circa
'88; Max Headroom and Rainbow Brite
posters, wood paneled home entertainment
centers, and a soundtrack comprised
of third rate Journey impressions.
The story concerns a day in the
life of a suburban New Jersey family.
As the minutes unfold in near-real
time, a woman and her family (baby,
mother-in-law) find their home under
attack from a trio of sibling weirdos
(butchie chick, "crazy"
guy, and a seemingly retarded fat
guy). Of course, the house-jackers
are out for revenge against the
woman's shady husband (played by
Cohen himself), who indulges in
a little lunch time nose candy with
a hooker. Why the revenge? Turns
out this Father Of The Year had
a previous marriage and baby with
the female member of our band of
killers...and consequently set a
house on fire, killing said kid.
Evil momma, who was blamed for the
crime, sez, "I've been waiting
too friggin' long to screw this
up now!" Dead doggie, a knifed
babysitter, and a nearly smothered
baby; indeed!
Despite the obvious drawbacks (there's
nothing quite like watching everyday
people mug their best "psycho"
characters), Captives is
well plotted and even a little unsettling
in its gritty, real time presentation.
You'll recognize most of the cast
from Video Violence and
they do a decent job here. This
was Cohen's attempt at something
more on the level, trading in gore
and laughs for a serious tone. To
a certain extent, he succeeds, which
makes the film's obscurity a bit
of a shame. Captives remains
the most accomplished SOV horror
film from this era, so hopefully
it'll see a rediscovery at some
point.
So Captives was a bit
of a slump on the business end of
things. Gary Cohen wasn't through
yet. Due to the success of Video
Violence (it was even nominated
for an American Film Institute Award
as best independent film in 1986),
Camp Video was interested in a sequel,
with the promise of larger scale
advertising and more big box production.
After the absurdness of Video
Violence and the serious tone
of Captives, there was
only one way to go with a sequel:
Ketucky Fried Movie for
the gore set. Sever a thumbs-up
for Video Violence 2...The
Exploitation! (Gary
Cohen, 1987).
In awesome late 80s fashion, a pirate
public access TV show is interrupting
New Jersey’s cable box airwaves.
It’s “The Howard And
Eli Show”! Cue the crap-tastic
video effects screens! For the next
hour, we join our two maulin’
misfits from “Video Violence”
as they host a snuff film variety
spectacle, complete with commercials
(you seriously won’t believe
the “Wilbur” bit), priceless
standup (“BWAUGH-HA-HA-HA!”),
contributions from at-home viewers,
and an electric piano-playing sidekick
named Gordon (dead ringer for Napoleon
Dynamite). After the skits unfold
-- electric chair, extended topless
girl torture, gratuitous, and I
mean gratuitous, “college”
girl dance party, a return to the
Video Violence store --
Howard and Eli wrap up the show.
What could possibly enthrall you
next? Try picking up right where
the first film left off, complete
with several surprise endings. Or
maybe check out the infomercial
for ordering VV2, complete with
appearances from Freddy, Jason,
and Michael Myers? Lordy!
The concept of Video Violence
2 is obviously righteous; luckily,
the entire film follows suit. While
it still retains a base level of
mean-spiritedness, the humor works
both intentionally and subversively,
kind of like a Herschell Gordon
Lewis production for the 80s. Gary
Cohen adds, “We had an even
better time with VV2 -- which is,
in my opinion, actually an intentionally
funny movie.” Right-o, and
therein lies the delight; you can
laugh at the so-fake-they’re-genius
gore effects, the perfect snapshot
of 80s home video production, or
the really dumb jokes. Better yet,
slap your knee with all of it and
admire the accomplishment and scope
of the film, especially for a SOV
horror production.
In the years following his SOV legacy,
Gary Cohen founded a theater company
(Celebration Playhouse), acted as
an agent for the William Morris
Agency, chalked up numerous stage
credits, authored a book on community
theater, and currently acts as Producing
Director for Middlesex County, New
Jersey’s “Plays In The
Park” series. He also serves
creative credits with the soon-to-hit
Broadway musical, “Frankenstein:
The Musical.” But he hasn’t
left Howard and Eli in the dust.
In 2006, eiCinema will be releasing
an extras packed double feature
DVD of Video Violence 1
& 2 with Cohen’s full
participation.
The increased prominence of Cohen's
big boxes led to the emergence of
even more SOV titles in 1987, much
like the influence of Blood
Cult’s success just two
years earlier. The long-running
Troma Studios released Redneck
Zombies (Pericles
Lewnes, 1987), a brainless zombie
romp for extreme gore sickos; homemade
BC Video pressed up Tales
From The Quadead Zone
(Chester Turner, 1987), a three
story anthology from the director
of the blaxploitive Black
Devil Doll From Hell
from 1984; United dumped Blood
Lake (Tim Boggs,
1987) onto the market, a slasher-lite
featuring a cabin, a lake, and several
bloody teenagers; Camp Video struck
again with Cannibal
Hookers (Donald Farmer,
1987), a title which needs no explanation;
late 80s SOV staples Donna Michelle
Productions delivered Splatter
Farm (John and
Mark Polonia, 1987), a gross-out
belch of bad taste that marked the
first appearance of SOV lifers John
and Mark Polonia. 1990 fast approaching,
the glut of SOV product began to
dissipate, at least for a few years.
But it wasn’t over yet.
In the first part of this SOV odyssey,
I mentioned something about films,
filth, and ten garbage bags. Welcome
to 555
(Wally Koz, 1988)! On the cruddy
streets of Chi-town, Illi-noize,
a “60s hippie” (fake
beard, rayon hawaiian shirt) spends
his evenings brutally murdering
couples, then having sex with the
deceased females. Five couples,
five nights, every five years (555,
get it?). In case you’re wondering,
yes, we get to see the “after”
act performed twice. Hot on the
case are a couple of coppers, one
of which needs to take a serious
chill pill. In-between lunches at
“Pepe’s Hot Dogs”
(hot dogs, beef sandwiches, bratwurst),
our severely vindictive officers
argue with a female reporter and
chase around their only suspect,
a beady-eyed war vet in a safari
shirt. The rest of the runtime involves
false leads, lots of lengthy blood
‘n’ boobs gore, and
a serious negative slant towards
women; every female character is
referred to as a sex object and/or
hacked up while the camera lingers
on bare, blood-caked breasts. They
even use the “c” word.
Just what the doctor ordered, eh?
Shot on 1” video tape entirely
in Chicago’s Ukrainian Village,
555 hit the shelves courtesy
Slaughterhouse Entertainment/King
Video Distributors. King Video was
director Wally Koz’s homegrown
company, kick-started to distribute
this film and future releases (there
weren’t any). Koz’s
project featured a large advertising
push towards video stores, complete
with full-sized posters and press
quotes like, “Has a story
line and a plot,” and “Blood,
gore, sex, nudity, and other things
we can’t mention.” In
the scheme of SOV history, 555
remains notable today because it
shows just how far these unchecked
videos were willing to go. Juxtaposing
the most hilarious fake sex scenes
I’ve ever seen (“Ooh...aah...don’t
stop now...do me...”) and
equally ridiculous dialogue (“A
real sicko, wanting to screw dead
meat...different strokes for different
folks!”) with disturbing gore,
the film lands firmly in the dirt
and never looks back. It’s
a straight up sleazer; dreary, extremely
cheap, and packed to the teeth with
bad taste. Well, at least we’ve
got the bedroom keyboard licks of
Frankie “Hollywood”
Rodriquez and a few sweet Chicago
accents to keep us company.
The last two years of the decade
produced a handful of new vids,
all of which remain utterly rare.
Donna Michelle Productions returned
with Cannibal
Campout (Jon McBride,
1988), the debut from still-active
SOV director McBride, in which a
trio of backwoods cannibals lays
into the extreme gore via a group
of college backpackers; Camp Video
let out its last gasp by producing
Death
Row Diner (B.
Dennis Wood, 1988), a truly bizarre
horror-comedy concerning a reanimated
death row inmate on the bloody loose
during a movie shoot; modest distributor
Southgate Video let loose with the
horror-comedy Phantom
Brother (WIlliam
Szarka, 1988), in which a strange
family of white trash ghosts butcher
a few partying teens and a movie
crew; Raedon Home Entertainment
delivered the first of several SOV
films, Fatal
Images (Dennis
Devine, 1989), a $10,000-budgeted
satanic slasher that seems to have
disappeared completely; following
up Cannibal Campout, Donna
Michelle Productions released Woodchipper
Massacre (Jon
McBride, 1989), a tongue-in-cheek
story of dysfunctional kiddies and
their aunt’s adventures in
a woodchipper. And with a poof of
blood red kayro syrup, that was
that.
As the 90s hit and technology expanded,
the girth of SOV horror product
multiplied tenfold. Lacking the
dated, first-dib charms of the Rubik's
decade, the 90s proved that anyone
with a camcorder and a rubber machete
could hawk their basement abominations
through fan conventions, mail order,
and later, the internet. As mom
and pop video stores closed shop
and DVD took over the world, big
boxes became extinct; the mystery
and novelty had evaporated. Admirable
in their successes and strangely
alluring with their dirt-cheap productions,
people like Bill Blair and Gary
Cohen helped to forge new ground
in the development of home entertainment.
For that reason, 80s SOV horror
films will always be sought-after
relics, reminiscent of a time when
exploitation filmmaking was still
a tangible, viable option. Even
if the results were sometimes iffy.
As I place my tattered big box of
Video Violence back on
the shelf, I’m still not sure
what to make of the film. I guess
it doesn’t really matter.
Every time my eyes cross that beaming
yellow copy, I can’t help
but smile. “Could this happen
at YOUR video store?”
Be
Kind And Rewind: BACK TO
PART ONE
Special thanks
to Fred Adelman of Critical
Condition, Bill Blair of VCI
Entertainment, and Gary Cohen
for their help and participation. |
