Really Awful Movies

Without Warning begins with B-movie stalwart Cameron Mitchell goading his blonde, porn-‘stached son to get up and out of the caravan for the day’s hunt (“I’ve been up for an hour lately, hubba, hubba!”). As CM and his “sissy” son track down whatever big game it is that they’re after, they’re attacked without warning (we went there) by spinning disks of flesh (with very visible strings attached) that attach themselves to their skin and insert proboscises into them.

In the next scene, two girls and a couple of guys are gearing up for a day at the lake. One of the dudes is played by David Caruso, later of NYPD Blue and CSI: Miami fame. In this one, he’s wearing an exceedingly short pair of blue Adidas shorts, and the juxtaposition of his brightly colored britches with his pasty ginger thighs is quite jarring to the retinas.

Caruso doesn’t stick around for very long, however, as once they get to the lake, him and his girlfriend are soon attacked by the same otherworldy creatures, as is a hapless Cub Scout leader. The creatures, which resemble giant flesh-raviolis with tentacles and teeth, are quite effective looking once they stop spinning.

The remaining two teens, Sandy and Greg, find a saloon and seek help. Of course, no one believes them save Fred (Martin Landau), but nobody believes him as he’s a shellshocked nutter who still thinks he’s fighting in whichever war it was that he fought in. Fred, or Sarge as he’s more commonly referred to, slips from periods of semi-lucidity to flashbacks where he acts like a way-less intimidating R. Lee Ermey.

Their other ally is Joe Taylor, played with customary grit by Jack Palance. Taylor knows there are “critters” out there but is reticent to let on in the bar for fear of being mocked like poor Sarge. Taylor and the kids head out to try and stop the menace.

Eventually, the trio takes refuge in a cabin where they are attacked by a green, giant-headed alien who throws the flesh-raviolis as if they were Ninja stars. The man in the alien suit is the late Kevin Peter Hall, a 7’4” actor who went on to play both the original Predator and Harry in Harry and the Hendersons.

Without Warning gets a mild recommendation. After a crackerjack opening, it settles into a somewhat slow second act before recovering for a dynamite final third. It’s also a treat to see future Oscar-winners Palance and Landau.

It’s certainly not the best creature feature, but it’s also far from the worst. What it is is a mildly entertaining throwback to the films of the drive-in heyday, and for that it earns

** 1/2 (out of five)

A Traviata Travesty? Dario Argento’s sweeping operatic horror is a masterpiece, and he’s a true virtuoso; when he’s on-point, there’s no better director.

Each and every scene is a painting, a picture — the vent/railing/conductor cut/pan up is magic.

The plot? It’s almost immaterial. Even a Dario Argento juicer infomercial would be something to behold.

Apparently, the curse of “the Scottish play” translates to operas as well. This reviewer was not aware that the hex has connections to the Verdi opera: in 1988, a man apparently committed suicide at the Met, plunging from the top balcony during one of its productions.

In Argento’s Opera, understudy Betty is concerned that her lead role as Lady Macbeth is tainted by that long-standing curse that’s rendered Shakespeare’s creation, “the play that dare not speak its name.”

And she’s right to be nervous. A floodlight falls as she’s belting out an aria in her debut, as behind the scenes, members of the crew are mysteriously dying. In one of the private boxes, an attendee is strung up on a hat rack, much more convincingly than in the prologue to Hospital Massacre! (See it and other weapons in our book Death by Umbrella! The 100 Weirdest Horror Movie Weapons). Betty’s suddenly also haunted by memories of her dead Diva mom.

But she’s got bigger fish to fry, namely, a gloved, masked killer who is skulking about, variously trapping Betty, tying her up and placing needles under her eyes. Thus, she’s forced to be a spectator while he goes about his grisly business. In one scene, absolutely gutting a stage manager in front of her like a stuck pig.

Ever the self-promoter, Dario entertained a William Castle-esque stunt, easily as cool as John Waters’ Odorama, itself derived from Smell-O-Vision: handing out pins attached to tape, for audiences to reproduce Betty’s experience from their seats. Too bad it never materialized.

As in Tenebre, Argento goes after his critics with gusto (the production’s director gets critical drubbings usually reserved for Dario) and there’s beautiful bloodletting that’s unparalleled in cinema.

The hallways, the camera movement, the corridors, the stairwells, the basements, the rain…All under Argento’s gaze, these are rendered beautifully.

**** (out of 5)