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Plot: not everything is what it seems in this retirement home….

La Nuit de la Mort! (or Night Of Death! back at home, re-released in 1988 by Colombus Video as the more colorful Les Griffes de la Mort or The Claws Of Death to fully exploit the advent of the American slasher as a subgenre) is a quaint and often overlooked little oddity from that time the once-fertile French cult cinema landscape had been reduced to a barren desert. In just a few short years the fantastique had become, for all intents and purposes, a relic of a bygone era and the arrival of the American slasher as the logical (d)evolution from the old terror and suspense films was felt in the French countryside too. Night Of Death! breathed new life into an old formula by injecting it with what was popular at the time. Released the same year as Cannibal Holocaust (1980), Friday the 13th (1980), and Altered States (1980) history has failed to remember director Raphaël Delpard, unwittingly or otherwise, as the father of the French Extreme and Night Of Death! as the first of this violent new breed. Not bad for a barely remembered little French shocker made for next to nothing and starring nobody in particular. As recent as 17 April 2019 it was shown as part of the Cabinet des Curiosites section on the 12th edition of the Hallucinations Collectives, Le festival de l'Autre Cinéma at Cinema Comoedia in Lyon, France. Vive la France!

Raphaël Delpard’s charming (and only) excursion into pastoral horror arrived at an interesting time in French horror and fringe cinema at large. Jean Rollin was still active but the halcyon days of the female vampire were well and truly over. Instead of looking outward Delpard looked inward and with that put a new spin on an old formula. By taking the central conceit of, say, Herschell Gordon Lewis’ Blood Feast (1963), and Two Thousand Maniacs! (1964) or that of Ivan Reitman’s Cannibal Girls (1973) and transporting it from the American heartland to the idyllic French countryside he could produce a horror on a miniscule budget and with no name-stars to speak of. Delpard was simultaneously trained in theater and puppeteering with Jean-Loup Temporal and worked as a screenwriter for Jean-Pierre Mocky. His other claim to fame is the comedy Les Bidasses aux Grandes Manoeuvres (1981) (an early role for future Hollywood star Jean Reno) and after perservering with cinema for a few years longer he reinvented himself as a multi-award winning novelist and non-fiction writer from 1993 onward. In that capacity he wrote on the Occupation, the Indochina War and the Algerian War. Allegedly sold in the United States, Germany, England, and Italy and counting the late Tobe Hooper among its most vigorous supporters (he even send Delpard a telegram to congratulate him) Night Of Death! has the good fortune of pre-dating other legendary splatter horror classics as Norbert Georges Moutier’s Ogroff (1983) and Antoine Pellissier’s Folies Meurtrières (1984). Before other infamous French (and Francophone) horror exports as Rabid Grannies (1988) and Baby Blood (1990) there was Night Of Death! Oh yeah, apropos of nothing, this was released the same year as Anthropophagus (1980) and Zombie Lake (1980). Somebody has to be the first.

After an 8-month dry spell Martine (Isabelle Goguey) has sorted her life out. She will soon be starting employment as a nurse-governess at Doux Séjour (Soft Sojourn, for some reason changed to the more grim sounding Deadlock House in the international English version), a stately manor and hospice de vieillards somewhere in the pastoral French environs, and for that reason breaks up with her boyfriend of some time Serge (Michel Duchezeau) through a hasty writ. Reporting for duty on her first day Martine makes her acquaintance with groundskeeper Flavien (Michel Flavius) as well as iron-fisted châtelaine and administrator Hélène Robert (Betty Beckers), in that order. Madame Hélène is clearly frustrated (and makes no effort to hide it) that Martine taking office before her colleague’s two months are up is not done and she’s thoroughly scolded for just that. Martine soon befriends current (and beleaguered) nurse Nicole Clément (Charlotte de Turckheim) who, despite experiencing opposition from her superiors, has no intention of leaving her position. Les pensionnaires sont the usual bunch of eccentrics, loonies, and lonely but there’s no denying that they’re remarkably well-preserved for their advanced age. One day Martine is told that Nicole picked up and left and that a maniac known as the Golden Needle Killer is on the prowl. As she starts investigating Martine discovers that things at Doux Séjour aren’t what they seem.

Delpard stacked his cast with stars, old and new. Among the elderly Betty Beckers, Jeannette Batti, and Germaine Delbat were stately monuments of pre/post-war French cinema and television and Jean-Pierre Mocky regular Georges Lucas (imagine being him in a post-1977 world) would later turn up in The Return of the Living Dead Girls (1987); ostensibly drawing the attention are Charlotte de Turckheim and Isabelle Goguey. That de Turckheim was destined for greatness was all but a given. As the daughter of Adrien de Turckheim and Françoise Husson of the Lorraine-Dietrich automobile and aircraft engine manufacturer and cousin of composer/director Cyril de Turckheim she initially worked as a secretary, clothing store clerk, and French teacher. Charlotte debuted in the Bernard Launois porno The Depraved of Pleasure (1975) in the demanding role of “a cyclist” and shared the stage with Eurociné regulars Olivier Mathot and Rudy Lenoir as well as sometime Jean Rollin muses Marie-Pierre and Catherine Castel. Mais oui, the same Bernard Launois who would go on to direct the utterly deranged gothic Devil Story (1986). In 1979 Coluche wrote and produced her first stand-up show, simply called One Woman Show, that premiered in the Théâtre d'Edgar in Paris in 1981. From there she quickly went on to bigger and better things beginning with Claude Berri’s Schoolmaster (1981), My Other Husband (1983), Dirty Destiny (1987), and Wonderful Times (1991). De Turckheim shared the screen (often several times) with Alain Delon; the Claudes, Brasseur and Chabrol, Michel Aumont (father of Tina), Philippe Noiret, Gérard Depardieu, Daniel Auteuil, as well as Jean-Pierre Marielle, Sophie Marceau, Dominique Lavanant, and Virginie Ledoyen; Night of Death! is sure to stink up an otherwise impressive resumé.

Mon Dieu, Isabelle Goguey is what the French call une fille bien agréable. After appearing in the comedies The Big Recess (1976), The Phallocrats (1980), and A Dream Night For an Ordinary Fish (1980) la jeune mademoiselle landed her most enduring role in Night Of Death! assuring that long-desired cinematic immortality. Had Bruno Gantillon ever made a follow-up to his féerique Girl Slaves of Morgana Le Fay (1971) la jolie rouquine should have been at the center of it and such a thing would surely would’ve transformed her into an international sex symbol or at least a cult favourite. La belle rousse could, nay, should have been a star in a dream-like fantastique from Michel Lemoine, a pompous bodice-ripping Italian gothic or giallo, a Spanish El Hombre Lobo epic from Paul Naschy, or even a not quite as glamorous British knickers and knockers romp from Pete Walker or Norman J. Warren. Sacré bleu, that such a thing never transpired. Delpard was so good to give de Turckheim and Goguey a nude scene each. Charlotte’s happens early on but it’s Goguey who has the most memorable. After Night of Death! demand for redheads like herself dried up and economic anxiety forced Isabelle into working with her father Claude Pierson as a production assistant and assistant director on the numerous pornos (usually with France Lomay, Nadine Pascal and/or Cathy Stewart) he was filming at the time. Goguey would have been right at home in Jean Rollin’s The Living Dead Girl (1982). No doubt Isabelle Goguey could have been a bigger star given the right project and role.

Perhaps it’s somewhat too charitable to call Delpard a provocateur the way Joël Séria was. Night of Death! is a lot of things, but it’s hardly a masterclass in subversion as such. Regardless, surely Delpard was trying to make some kind of point (which is never exactly clear, but it’s the sentiment that counts) with the bourgeoisie quite literally eating the proletariat to retain its youth. It was something of a throughline in 1970s counterculture cinema at large, as was the generation gap and the attendant changes in morals and values. There’s something skincrawlingly eerie about the old feasting on the blood and gnawing on the bones of the young. Certainly Night Of Death! tries to say something (again, it’s never exactly clear what, but still) about class conflict, the struggle between the ruling – and the working class, the patricians and the plebeians, and the capitalist construct of social stratification. Jules, the resident card-carrying Communist, not only “knits the sweaters of the Revolution” but assures Martine that when has he “finished knitting, the Revolution of the old people will begin!" Does it say something about the treatment of the elderly, the infirm, and the mentally unfit? Probably. By the same token it decries that these elderly homes are permanently underfunded, understaffed, and its employees always on the verge of bankruptcy. The decade of untethered ego and greed was characterised by the disintegration of community, the dismantling of tradition, and fear of institutional, establishmental, and government overreach. None of which are necessarily bad in and of themselves but in unison tend to generate an explosive mix of fear and paranoia. Night Of Death! might not be a work of great socio-political critique but it’s definitely there.

While the gore is pretty much limited to one or two scenes it’s more than enough to qualify Night Of Death! as the earliest example of what history would come to call the French Extreme. Whereas in the 1970s directors as Jean Rollin, Mario Mercier, Michel Lemoine, and enfant terrible of French comedy, Joël Séria arguably were dominant forces by the time the next decade rolled around only Rollin, Lemoine, and Séria would remain active. In their decade-long reign of terror Eurociné unleashed some of the worst that exploitation and Eurocult had to offer. Night Of Death! has the good fortune of preceding Ogroff (1983), Devil Story (1986), and The Return of the Living Dead Girls (1987) by several years. Only Baby Blood (1990) from Alain Robak a decade hence would attain similar historical importance and cultural significance. That is to say, until Fuck Me (2000) but would do a similar thing another decade later. It’s rather interesting how French cinema upped the ante about every decade or so. A long way from the fantastiques and gothics of old Night Of Death! was a signifier that French fringe cinema wasn’t afraid to evolve with the times. The French Extreme begins here.

Plot: aunt Marta will kill to see her estranged family – or are they already dead?

Don't Be Afraid Of Aunt Marta (released domestically as Non aver paura della zia Marta and for some reason released in North America as either The Murder Secret or The Broken Mirror) is part of I maestri del thriller (what the English-speaking world knows as Lucio Fulcio Presents), a nine-part television and home video series wherein producers Antonio Lucidi and Luigi Nannerini envisioned bringing Italian horror to the small screen with the help of ailing and over-the-hill horror master Lucio Fulci. Don't Be Afraid Of Aunt Marta is late-stage 80s Italian erotic thriller dirge masquerading as either a very lethargic giallo or a hugely ineffective suburban gothic. If it’s remembered for anything it’s that it pretty much was the last straight-up thriller Mario Bianchi would direct before his focus shifted entirely towards hardcore porn in 1989. Don't Be Afraid Of Aunt Marta is a sobering eulogy for the once-formidable Italian gothic. Twenty years after the innovations of Riccardo Freda and Mario Bava this is where the gothic dies. What other reason to check out Don't Be Afraid Of Aunt Marta than to see Maurice Poli hamming it up, a truly emaciated Gabriele Tinti a mere three years before he would succumb to cancer, and Luciana Ottaviani flaunting her delicious shapes and forms?

To keep costs as low as possible and make most of crew and locations this was filmed in between Reflections Of Light (1988) and The Ghosts Of Sodom (1988) retaining much of the principal cast with only the leads rotating. Mario Bianchi was a consummate professional who could be trusted to routinely direct whatever was doing well at the box office within the alloted budgets and time. As such Bianchi has directed spaghetti westerns, peplum, poliziottesco, sex comedies, and the occassional horror. After Satan’s Baby Doll (1982) he retired his long-time exploitation alias Alan W. Cools and like so many (Joe D’Amato, Jess Franco, Jean Rollin, et al) he focused almost exclusively on filming hardcore pornography (usually under his trusty nom de plume Martin White and frequently with Marina Hedman and Ilona Staller sucking a wholly different way) from 1983 onward.

Written by Bianchi and photographed by Silvano Tessicini there’s no way Don't Be Afraid Of Aunt Marta could in any way compete with Fulci’s classic tenure with director of photography Sergio Salvati or his giallo with Luigi Kuveiller and Sergio D'Offizi. Don't Be Afraid of Aunt Marta not only looks cheap the way only a television movie can the cast reflected just how impoverished of a production this was. Tinti and Poli ostensibly were the draw here with Russo and Ottaviani as elder and younger stars. Them excepted the remainder of the warm bodies were, for all intents and purposes, nobodies. If there wasn’t for the inclusion of brief flashes of nudity and extreme gore this could’ve been passed off as a failed 90-minute pilot to an unproduced television series. Here Fulci acted as co-producer and oversaw the gore effects with special effects technician Giuseppe Ferranti. Even in the Ottaviani/Moore canon this (and the two other titles that Luciana/Jessica appeared in) is but a curious and forgotten footnote.

In 1958 Richard Hamilton (Gabriele Tinti) was witness to his mother (Anna Maria Placido) confining her sister (and his aunt) Marta (Sacha Darwin, as Sacha M. Darwin) - who up to that point had acted as his guardian - to a psychiatric ward to get access to her fortune. Not helping is that his mother flung herself out of a window of the house later. Thirty years pass and one day Richard receives a letter from Aunt Marta. She cordially invites Richard and his family to come visit her at the old family seat in the sticks now that she has been released from the clinic. Coming along for the visit are Richard’s wife Nora (Adriana Russo), his daughter Giorgia (Luciana Ottaviani, as Jessica Moore), and his son Maurice (Edoardo Massimi). Also arranged to come over for the getaway at the estate is Richard’s son from a previous marriage, Charles (Massimiliano Massimi). At the estate they are welcomed by administrator (and groundskeeper) Thomas (Maurice Poli) who informs them that Marta has been delayed on some pressing business and will rejoin them the next morning. Richard spents the night in sweat-drenched panic upon receiving a silent phone call. When Marta fails to materialize in the days that follow tensions within the family start to mount. All of this prompts Richard to do some investigating of his own. As long-buried family secrets come to surface members of the family start dying… or were they already dead to begin with?

Arguably the last of the great Italian screamqueens (together with Florence Guérin, Lara Wendel, and Margie Newton) we have warmed up considerably to Luciana Ottaviani over the years. Ottaviani had both the curls and the curves and she was never afraid about flaunting either when and where it mattered. In a blitz career that lasted only four years and 9 movies (three of which were made-for-television bilge) luscious Luciana hid behind 3 different aliases (Jessica Moore being her most widely known) and worked with the likes of Bruno Corbucci, Joe D'Amato, and Mario Bianchi. If there’s one way to describe Luciana’s career it’s that she was the figurehead in lamentable late-stage abortions of once-great Italian exploitation subgenres. While mostly identified with her role as escort-turned-journalist Sarah Asproon in Eleven Days Eleven Nights (1987) and Top Model (1988) Ottaviani debuted in the nunsploitationer Convent Of Sinners (1986) and just before being typecast as the latest softcore sex sensation with the turgid Reflections Of Light (1988) (where she starred alongside Pamela Prati, Loredana Romito, and Laura Gemser) she took on the ghost horror with our current subject, a mild il sadiconazista with The Ghosts Of Sodom (1988), and a light giallo murder mystery with Escape From Death (1989). Suffice to say, in each and without fault Ottaviani was reduced to tits requiring nothing more from her than her usual routine of smiling pretty, flaunting her curls and curves, and getting horrendously murdered for her trouble. Ottaviani was pretty much forced into an early retirement the moment she stopped accepting erotic roles at behest of her partner. No doubt miss Ottaviani could have made a fortune in Spain’s Cine-S and it’s a question for the ages why we were forever denied a Tinto Brass feature with her.

Don't Be Afraid of Aunt Marta was the second in the nine-part I maestri del thriller (or Lucio Fulci presents in the English-speaking world) series of made-for-television and home video horror. As legend has it was cinematographer Silvano Tessicini who got Fulci involved with the operation. Old Lucio had just returned after his Zombi 3 (1988) ran into production woes on the Philippines. With his health deteriorating and cranky the project being overtaken by hired hands Claudio Fragasso and Bruno Mattei (with none of whom Fulci got along), Tessicini figured that this was the distraction Fulci needed. The main series comprises of The Curse (1987), Don't Be Afraid of Aunt Marta, The Red Monks (1988), Massacre (1989), Bloody Psycho (1989), Escape from Death (1989), and Hansel and Gretel (1989). Initially attracted as supervisor Fulci ended up directing two features - Touch of Death (1988) and The Ghosts Of Sodom (1988) – from scripts he had penned earlier with Carlo Alberto Alfieri years before all the same. Even under the most optimistic circumstances Fulci’s involvement throughout was tenuous at best and completely hands-off at worst. Whatever his feelings on the subject Fulci and producers Antonio Lucidi and Luigi Nannerini mined six of these features for special effects footage for the supreme cut-and-paste hackjob A Cat in the Brain (1990).

You know just how impoverished a production is when pulp veteran Gabriele Tinti, Euroshock pillar Maurice Poli from Cross Mission (1988), Adriana Russo (the lesser known sister of comedy evergreen Carmen Russo), and Luciana Ottaviani retroactively can be considered the marquee stars. Tinti and Poli were old hands at this sort of thing and by 1988 both Russo and Ottaviani had carved out enough of a niche for themselves to be considered semi-stars. Sacha Darwin and Anna Maria Placido both were nobodies with mostly indistinct filmographies. To be charitable, Darwin was the daughter of Austrian Golden Age actors Wolf Albach-Retty and Trude Marlen and she was the younger half-sister of Romy Schneider – which probably accounts for how she parlayed her world-famous pedigree into a modest acting career. Placido on the other hand had none such luck – and she was no Mariangela Giordano, Dagmar Lassander, Daria Nicolodi, or Franca Stoppi either. Not even Tinti (who starred in his fair amount of dreck during the wicked and wild seventies) nor Poli deserved ending up in something as lamentable as this. Tinti had at least the good fortune of sharing the sheets with miss Laura Gemser. For a television movie this is quite explicit (Ottaviani has an extended soapy shower scene straight out of the Gloria Guida playbook) and the gore is off the charts when and where it appears. As a sort-of-but-not-really hybrid of Psycho (1960) and Carnival of Souls (1962) it is deadly dull in parts and only sort of gains a faint pulse whenever Poli or Ottaviani enliven proceedings with their hams. Unfortunately there’s more of the former than of the latter. After all, not even luscious Luciana’s ever so inviting tits and ass could save something this dreadful.