Directed by Nico Mastorakis
Starring: Not applicable, really.
Image Entertainment
I'd
never even heard of "Island of Death" until I read David Kerekes'
seminal Video Nasties bible "See No Evil". It was on the infamous
LIST, banned in the UK forever, and from the description, seemed
like a barrel of sleazy, queasy laughs. But, you know, Kerekes has a way
making everything seem like a wild new Satanic kick, so I filed it
away in my reptile brain and went back to my steady diet of hardcore
pornography and Guns N' Roses videos. A few months later, I stumbled upon a website that was selling a new, digitally transferred DVD of the film. They wouldn't even show the fuckin' artwork on the cover, such was the notoriety of this obscure Greek freakfest, and baby, I'm never one to pass on such unrivalled bad-assery. So, I asked them to send me a screener. It arrived a few weeks later. I was distracted by whatever nonsense I was up to for a month or so, and I finally just asked Paul Gaita, the dark prince of cinematrosities, if he'd seen it already, and whether I was up for a real good time, or a slow ride to shitsville. He had seen it, of course. He told me that Island of Death did, indeed, have it's share of sick kicks, and offered to trade off verses, just like Cracktorch, if I was so inclined. Well, sure, I'm inclined. Steeling my nerves with a Nyquil/Paxil cocktail (not really), I popped it in one Saturday morning not too long ago, and prepared myself for the inevitable shock and awe that would surely ensue. Ahem.
First, the jive, highly subjective synopsis:
So, there's this young couple, who decide to take a vacation on Mykinos, a quaint Greek island (of Death!). The guy looks like the cat on Kids in the Hall that plays the disturbed teen metalhead (Bruce McCulloch), and I really couldn't get that image out of my skull the whole time I was watching this, which really chopped the shock factor down to nothin' for me. This whole film could just as well be an extended 'Kids in the Hall' sketch, really, just with tits and blood and a few extended rape sequences. Not a very funny sketch, obviously, but a sketch, nonetheless. The chick looks kinda like Kelly Rippa, and gets naked about 4 times, which is clearly the highlight of the whole sorry affair. Anyway, they get a room, thanks to an aging, mincing American nancy-boy who looks about as much like Tiny Tim as anyone ought to, and settle in for a weekend of fun and frolic. And Death!
Seem the guy has it in his vapid, curly-haired head that he's some kind of avenging angel, and spends his entire vacation searching for "perverts" to exterminate, even going so far as to offer up his girlfriend/wife/sister/whatever she is as enticing sexual bait. That's it, the whole fuckin' plot. At one point, Shaft shows up to arrest him, but he dispatches "That crazy nigger" (I didn't write the dialogue, Jack) with an entirely unconvincing aerial trick. Otherwise, the murdersome duo roam freely throughout the Island, fucking and killing and taking photos for their demented scrapbook. I should mention that the guy fucks a goat, too.
I saw Island of Death two or three years ago for a magazine article on video nasties (seeing the film in England was a crime punishable by fine or jail time in the early '80s, and even today, it can't be legally seen in its uncut version) and absolutely loathed it. I thought Mastorakis was writing checks that his ass couldn't cash-the movie was loaded with gruesome murders and putrid behavior, but those scenes were the high point of the movie, and the filler that surrounded it was close to unbearable-the acting was painful (the cast was culled from models and amateurs who happened to be in the area), the direction flat and those songs ("Get the sword! Kill them all!")…Worse still, the transitional device of the camera shutter seemed an annoying artsy way to implicate the viewer in the killings-to point a finger at those who would condemn it by saying that they were just as guilty for watching it. I gave it a snotty bashing in the article and forgot about it until Image sent me the DVD.
Although he was right the first time, Paul's about to flip-flop. Before he
does, I'd just like to mention that although the hippy songs are indeed
putrid, there's some truly bitchin' speed-bongos on the soundtrack, and a
few synth-shock slashes that are pretty cool, too. That "Get the Sword"
song really does suck, though. See the goddamn music videos in the DVD's
"extras" section for further, ear-splitting proof. Well, upon second viewing, I've got to admit that I like Island of Death. I think the brief talking-head interview with Mastorakis helped turn me around-he talks about making the film primarily to generate some cash; after seeing how much green was raked in by The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, he figured that a film even more gruesome and disturbing would really clean up (and he was right). His statement allowed me to put aside the brick I reserve for when I hear the word "art," and simply watch the film. And surprisingly, I found a few interesting aspects to the characters that helped to considerably raise its stock.
I like the childishness of Christopher and Celia-they're like bratty prep school kids with a snoot full of cheap pills and booze who want the world to revolve around them, and have absolute, unwavering beliefs in their own personal religion-one in which Christopher pretends to act as God's divine hammer to excuse his homicidal tendencies. He knows that this line is a pile of bullshit (he flip-flops the rules and regs of Christian dogma to suit his own needs, just as any good fanatic would), but he's had so many people throughout his life tell him that he's right and good that it's seeped into his brain like rainwater in a cellar and festered there. He's got a built-in excuse for killing, torture and rape-God said it's okay.
God says that a lot of fucked-up things are OK, doesn't he? Maybe God ought to start saving his judgement for, uh...judgement day, or something, because he's really been mucking up the waters down here lately. But I digress.
I think the interesting thing about the Chris/Celia relationship is that
she's so fuckin' out to lunch that she can't even tell the difference
between murder, mayhem, or a motorcycle ride through the countryside. She
just maintains an edge of cranky boredom no matter what they're up to. The
fact that Christopher is a homicidal lunatic never even crosses her thick
skull- she really just wants do something, anything interesting.
Amazingly, though, even when they're crucifying a French painter (see
below) or disemboweling a screeching tranny, she never gets her wish-
nothing interesting EVER happens. The pair's childish qualities are well developed-Mastorakis has a good handle on these two, and their actions and reactions have the sort of cracked logic that real psychos exhibit, unlike most movie lunatics, who possess a kind of come-and-go rationale that allows them to be clever and cunning at certain moments and complete nitwits at others (usually when they're about to be killed). Christopher has a great outburst when he sees the French painter for the first time ("I don't like that man. He's a dirty bastard") that smacks of the top-to-bottom whitewashing kids give to things that rank their groove (ironically-or not--the Frenchman gets a stomachful of whitewash not seconds later, along with roofing nails in his hands and a flurry of well-placed kicks to the head).
They also overdose and French-fry a cute lipstick-lesbo junkie chick, gut the aforementioned gay fella (and shoot his skinny lover-boy in the face), lance a couple of Jethro Tull-looking rapist/rockers, piss on and strangle an aging hooker, and sickle a showering brunette hottie to death. Oh, and Christopher slits the goat's throat after he fucks it.
The murder of the Frenchman, as well as all the killings, also have a
childish quality to them-these people aren't just killed but annihilated,
ground into non-existence, like a child who crushes a sand castle into
oblivion because he's unhappy with it. The murders are messy and painful,
as they would be if you carried out those acts in real life (which makes
them more powerful and memorable than the neat, almost fetishistic
killings in the slasher films of the period-no pain, no misery, just
cool-looking blood) And their reaction to the murders rings true as
well-they instantly revert to scared and guilty snot-noses once they see
the horrible mess they've made. It's details like these that you look for
when you submerge yourself in exploitation-the little bits that ring true
or land a punch or just make your head spin. With its explosive violence,
psychosexual mayhem and perverse yet fascinating main characters,
Island of Death delivers a trifecta of turmoil that justifies its notorious
reputation as well as its must-see status.Well, I dunno. The chick is pretty hot, and I do like bongos, but 'Must See'? Pervirella is a must see. Anal Expedition is a must see. This one's more of a Nasties-completist-only kinda deal, or a half-decent timewaster for regular ol' exploitation freaks, if you ask me. But hey, Paul's the one that writes for Fangoria (True!), so mebbe he's right about Island of Death, but personally, I was more freaked out that time I had to go out to George's Island for a fifth grade class trip, and got attacked by an angry rooster. That fucker had way sharper claws then this goofy movie, that's for sure.
-Paul Gaita (Good Cop)/ Sleazegrinder (Bad Cop)