video naschy.

I love Paul Naschy.

I love Maria Kosti.

I love corpses.

But scarily I've never had an opinion on dragonflies.

Rewatched this gem last night and realised that the review of it from years back has only been looked at twice so I'm reposting it in the hope that someone might actually read it.

I wont say too much about it tho' because:

A. I don't want to give too much away.

B. I'll make it sound shit.

but more importantly

C. I really can't be arsed.

Enjoy.

A Dragonfly For Each Corpse (AKA Una libélula para cada muerto, Red Killer, 1974).
Dir: León Klimovsky.
Cast: Paul Naschy, Erika Blanc, Eduardo Calvo, Ángel Aranda, Antonio Mayans, Maria Kosti, Ricardo Merino, José Canalejas, Rafael Albaicín, Susana Mayo and Maria Vidal (not the one that sang Body Rock).

Welcome to the  fashion capital of the world, - tho' you wouldn't guess that from the state of the ties and collars -  the groovy city of Milan where a mentalist murderer clad in a ladies raincoat and massive red flares that are oh so slightly too short is busy ridding the city of what they term as 'undesirables'.

You know the types, monkey-faced junkies, various dirty ladies and skinny bearded men in big white pants who are dispatched using a variety of implements ranging from ceremonial swords to umbrellas with sharpened tips.

Which is nice.

But with this being a Giallo (as opposed to a common or garden slasher) the killer - by law - must leave a bizarre clue cum calling card which in this case is a shoddy dragonfly broach which appears to have been made by the producers hook handed blind child.

BBBBZZZZZ!!!!

Leading the investigation is girdle-wearing, bewigged bad boy of the old bill Inspector Paolo Scaporella (the legend that is Paul Naschy) - mustached machoman who loves nothing better than slapping perverts whilst chewing on a big cigar.

Oh yes, and cooking spaghetti whilst wearing a pink apron.

As the corpses pile up (tho' not literally mind) Paolo soon realises - with the help of his gorgeously ginger missis Silvana (The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave's Blanc) and their group of high society dinner party pals (which appears to include Jess Franco's evil twin) that all the victims are members of the cities criminal underworld and that the dragonfly is an ancient symbol used to denote bad people.

And whores obviously.

Blood on mah thigh!

As is the way with these films tho' it appears that many of their 'friends' have their own dark secrets which means that any one of them could be the next victim.

Or even the killer.

With a head full of conjecture and half-arsed theories, Paolo finally discovers a clue, it seems that one of the victims put up a wee bit of a struggle tearing a massive 'fashion' button from the killers coat so our hero enlists the help of his Kaftan-clad, haute couture homosexualist designer friend, Vittorio to try and track down the button's owner.

No, really.

But with the killer aware of Paolo's plan and Silvana taking to studying crime scene photos in the nude it's a race against time and good taste (plus a gang of biker neo-Nazis) to find the killer before there's no-one in the cast left to kill.

Or any viewers left to care.

Title.

Obviously bored with being stuck inside a furry suit 24 hours a day when making Waldemar Daninsky werewolf movies Paul Naschy decided to try a different tact  with A Dragonfly For Each Corpse and emulate the erotically charged Giallo's spewing forth from Italy at that time.

Well it was either that or he fancied a free holiday to Milan.

The result is, shall we say interesting.

George and Mildred: The Yewtree years.

Tho' nowhere near as polished or as accomplished as it's Italian counterparts Dragonfly is still a load of fun, partly due to the always watchable Naschy (and his mighty man breasts) alongside genre stalwarts Erika Blanc and Maria Kosti (or Kosty as she's credited here) but mainly because of the sheer amount of early seventies fashions on show.

Especially the ties.

No, really there are kipper ties, crotch covering paisley ties, ones with squared off edges and some so thin you'd mistake them for a hunger striker.

It's like a down at heel charity shop made flesh.

Add to that an arse end sixties style score, a stripper clad only in a crotched doily lounging in a coffin, Erika Blanc's tan lines, a group of geriatric Nazi boot boys and a climax featuring Naschy chasing a bandy legged transvestite thru' a kiddies playpark and you have all the elements needed for a top night in.

Recommended.

devil nae care.

The Devil's Nightmare (AKA La plus longue nuit du diable, La terrificante notte del demonio, The Devil Walks at Midnight, Vampire Playgirls [yes, really] - 1971).
Dir: Jean Brismée.
Cast: Erika Blanc, Jean Servais, Jacques Monseau, Ivana Novak, Lorenzo Terzon
Shirley Corrigan, Colette Emmanuelle (not this one), Christian Maillet, Christian Maillet, Lucien Raimbourg, Lucienne Bogaert and Daniel Emilfork.

Can You Be Possessed By The Devil?- Does the Pope shit in the woods?

We begin our tale in Berlin at the arse end of World War II, where nifty Nazi Baron Barry von Rhoneberg (Belgian superstar and creator of The Office,  Servais) is busying himself polishing his medals as he awaits the birth of his child, the sound of allied bombings echo around him.

Yup the audio quality is that bad.

Luckily tho' the whole thing is sepia toned as to better match with the stock footage of the aforementioned bombings.

Or it would if that footage wasn't scratched to fuck and dipped in treacle.

Anyway, as is the way in such films Von Rhoneberg’s (very) young wife unfortunately dies giving birth (I mean unfortunately as she's in the film long enough to have it on her resume) to a healthy baby girl, which seems to upset the baron no end.

Well I assume he's upset (to be honest he looks like he has trapped wind) because on hearing the news he ushers everyone out of the room before taking the bairn down to the basement and stabbing it to death with his bayonet.

Fair enough.

"Finally! A bottle of pure, unfettered Autism!"

Cue Crayola credits and a (quantum) leap forward in time to the present day where ace reporter Brenda Snatch is busy bugging von Rhoneberg for an interview regarding his home and its history, but the baron just wants to be left alone and grumpily sends the reporter packing with order to  - under any circumstances - never ever take any photos of his overgrown garden.

Sounds legit.

Obviously the reporter pays absolutely fuck all attention to this and snaps away with gay abandon as she's leaving which means that because she's concentrating so much on getting a 'good shot' (which is the actual technical term - I checked) that she totally fails to notice the huge 'something' that appears via a handy wind machine and kills her.

To death.

Later that day one of the locals comes across her body (well it is still warm) on his way back from a fishing trip remarking that it looks as if the poor woman had died of fright - as opposed to death by binman bumming as usual I guess.

The only unexplainable thing is the odd burn mark on her left wrist.

 Well that and the fact of her fashion choices.

Meanwhile across town a tour bus driver by a sweaty fat man named Matt (Maillet from your dad's favourite film Take Me, I'm Old Enough) full of the kind of folk you only find in EuroHorror movies - a grumpy old bloke in plaid trousers named Mason (human testicle Raimbourg), a hunky young priest named Alvin (Monseau), the constantly bitching husband and wife Howard (Lady Frankenstein’s  Terzon) and Nancy (Belgium's answer to Jill Gascoine - Emmanuelle), close 'friends' raunchy Regine (Corrigan from Dr. Jekyll and the Werewolf) and kinky Corinne (Novak) - are having a terrible time trying to get to the ferry that will take them to their destination, the holiday resort of Spent that's just on the border.

Probably.

To be honest I wasn't paying attention as I was more interested in figuring out if this was the same tour company from La Orgia Nocturna de los Vampiros before imaging an entire Eurotrash bus-based series.

The road is blocked and there are no toilets for miles which is causing everyone to become a wee bit edgy - as in they're getting upset, not that anyone is getting piercings or tattoo's - luckily out of the blue a totally not at all sinister local in a skin tight mime outfit and huge white gloves appears with an offer of help.

The stranger (Emilfork the ferret-fanged star of City of The Lost Children amongst other things) informs the driver that they might as well head over to the Baron's castle and ask if they can stay overnight because they've missed the last ferry and there wont be another till morning.

By the look of his outfit I was half expecting him to pull a Mickey Mouse mask on as the drove away.

Pulling up outside the castle the party are met by von Rhoneberg has his butler, Hans (who no doubt shot first) — who welcome them with open arms, explaining that a mysterious woman rang to explain the situation and that everyone's rooms are prepared and supper is in the oven.

Which is nice.

That's your dad that is.

As Hans shows everyone to their quarters, he regales the group with the terrifying tale of horror that have taken place in each of the rooms: exorcisms, violent bummings, murders and bizarre accidents that don't appear to put any of the guests off staying in the slightest.

Which means that they're either made of stern stuff or that Hans is really shite at telling stories.

a wee bit like Rian Johnson.

With the guests settled and an hour to kill before supper there's just enough time for Corinne and Regine to indulge in some saucy (yet cringingly uncomfortable)  lescapades before joining everyone in the dining hall for food, wine and excited chat.

Just as the group are about to tuck into a bowl of Angel Delight the meal is interrupted by the doorbell and Hans goes to investigate* and finds a lone traveler named Lisa (Ginger haired Goddess Blanc from The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave) begging to be allowed to stay the night.

Casual.

Upon encountering our redheaded raver, Mavis the maid (Bogaert, whom readers will no doubt recognise from Les dames du Bois de Boulogne) does her damnedest to turn her away by telling her that there are no free rooms, but Hans (who has obviously read the script) helpfully points out that the box room where the baron stashes his porn has an inflatable mattress in it - and a bicycle pump to inflate it with.

Sorted.

Stopping only for a quick shit and to touch up her eyeliner Lisa enters the dining room just as Lita comes to dinner just as the baron is helpfully explaining that an ancestor of his made a pact with the devil and according to legend each firstborn daughter of the von Rhoneberg family is cursed to become a succubus - a female demon who uses her charms to steal mens souls and send them into a life of torment.

So, basically just a normal woman then.

The guests laugh politely at the tale and head off to bed, particularly relieved that not only does the baron not have a daughter but by the fact that the whole story sounds like utter bollocks.

You can tell where this is going can't you?

As the party prepare for a good nights sleep, Matt has other ideas and heads down to the kitchen for some (more) food but is surprised to find Lisa already there and slaving over a hot stove preparing a sumptuous feast for him.

Being a greedy bastard Matt scoffs the lot but whilst washing it down with a small glass of wine chokes to death as a now hideously transformed (well they shaved her eyebrows) Lisa gazes at him giggling.

Put it in me!

As the night goes on each of the party will fall foul to their hedonistic desires as Lisa offs each and every one of them like some proto-Seven serial killer -  Nancy, being a wee bit greedy drowns in a pit of powdered gold, Howard and Corrine are beheaded and spiked respectively in a post-coital tryst, Regine is bitten by a snake as she sleeps (they were kinda struggling for 7 deadly sin murders by this point methinks as I'm sure loudly snoring isn't an actual sin) whilst poor old Mr Mason is thrown out of a window.

Due to the sin of wearing hideously high waisted nipple warming trousers obviously.

As dawn breaks only Alvin is left, seemingly immune to Lisa's ample charms (yes I mean breasts), spurning her advances toward him whilst fingering his crucifix and chatting about God.

Each to there own I guess.

"Are you the blind man?"

Bored with all this religious chat the devil himself soon makes an appearance and wouldn't you know it, it's the spooky guy who gave them directions to the castle in the first place, it appears he's just decided to turn up for a bit of a gloat but Alvin sees an opportunity to save the poor passengers who have died, offering as he does his own soul in exchange for theirs.

And why would the devil accept such an offer?

Well Alvin explains that by taking him it means one less priest to do God's work and save folk from sin.

Plus I reckon it'd keep a fair amount of kids safe from another fiddling father too so it's win/win really.

The devil agrees and the next morning, Alvin awakes to find that the bus passengers are all still alive and the entire event appears to have been a dream.

Thinking nothing of it he heads down to join the others for breakfast before they depart but as they're buttering the toast the baron - who is indulging in an early morning fencing bout with Hans (as you do) - is mortally wounded and Alvin rushes to his aid, offering to stay with him as they wait for an ambulance.

As the party head to the bus the Baron confesses that he did indeed have a daughter but killed her in her cradle but as he tells the terrible tale Mavis appears and beckons Alvin over for she too has something to tell the priest.

It seems that the child the baron killed wouldn't have actually become a succubus as Lisa was actually the eldest von Rhoneberg daughter, born from an affair she had with the Baron's brother, Rudolph.

It's like an entire year of Eastenders squeezed into 10 minutes.

But with better teeth obviously.

"I'm sorry....I have my woman's period!"

Alvin thinks the old woman is talking bollocks and comforts Lisa as the passengers board the bus and drive away.

But the calm is short lived as suddenly the bus is forced to swerve in order dodge a rag and bone cart - driven by the devil no less - before plunging of a cliff and bursting into flames, killing all aboard.

As Alvin watches in horror (or it may be constipation) Lisa and the devil (that'd make a great film title by the way) share a smile, happy in the knowledge that  they have claimed everyone's souls.

Yup, even yours just for watching the film.

The only feature from Belgian director Jean Brismée, The Devil's Nightmare delivers everything you'd expect from an early 70s EuroHorror - from closed mouth, uncomfortable lesbianism to clenched arsed uncomfortable acting (especially from Jacques Monseau when Lisa attempts to seduce him, honestly I felt like giving the poor sod a hug) the film drunkenly veers from gothic chiller to dribbly food porn to discourse on faith and religion without skipping a beat as it throws in (and up) everything from rudimentary gore, hideous brown underwear and outrageous fashions along the way and all set to one of those throaty vocal scores you only find in late 70s European horror films.

Honestly it's a veritable check list of clinches that nevertheless is as entertaining as it is sometimes terrifically tacky.

Plus Erika Blanc's tummy is quite nice.

I don't know what's more repulsive....the wallpaper or the underwear

Mad, bad and down right dangerous to know, it's Blanc's luscious Lisa the Succubus teaser that holds the whole film together, at once flirty and dirty  yet sweet and naive, all big eyes and even bigger hair she makes even the most outrageous costumes and even more outrageous posturing seem natural and demure whilst exuding a sense of sexual menace I've not encounter since being stuck in a cupboard with my  old scoutmaster as a boy.


I'll be honest even if the rest of the film was utter pants (which luckily it isn't) it'd be worth watching just for her.

Recommended.

Just don't get too excited and accidentally purchase/watch the poverty row 2012 remake by Shlock Meister David Zagorski instead tho' as it's utter pants.

But saying that steampunk superstar cum director (and part-time) drummer Seregon O'Dasseyin looks very pretty in Lisa role.

And she does wear a terrific blouse.

* Obviously I mean answer it as he really doesn't need to investigate the bell as he's heard it before.

evelyn whoaaar!

With preparing for Frightfest, launching The Three Mothers and finishing up illustration duties on Dead Funny (available here and here) I've had precious little time to watch any movies of late.

Except the Paul Naschy classic A Dragonfly for Each Corpse (which scarily I'd never seen before) and this, which I had.

Hmmmm....I think I may be becoming a wee bit obsessed with Erika Blanc.

Again.

La Notte che Evelyn uscì dalla tomba (AKA The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave, The Night She Arose from the Tomb, The Night That Evelyn Left the Tomb. 1971).
Dir: Emilio Miraglia.
Cast: Anthony Steffen, Marina Malfatti, Erika Blanc, Giacomo Rossi-Stuart, Enzo Tarascio, Umberto Raho, Roberto Maldera and Joan C. Davis.

Welcome to the world of the filthy rich yet nutty as squirrel shit Sir Alan Cunningham (Steffen, AKA Antonio De Steffe, B-movie beefcake for hire) who, when not escaping from the local lunatic asylum on a monthly basis is hiring seedy down-at-heel hookers from down at the local docks for tuppence a time.

And the fact that Sir Alan uses fake number plates when picking up these sensuous ladies of the night really doesn't help the feeling that he may be after more than a wee bit of slap and tickle.

Arriving at his ramshackle stately home one night with a particularly rouge faced, ginger haired old slapper named Terri (no doubt played by your mum) Sir Alan leads her to a sumptuously seventies (in a kinda Roger Moore way) living room where he prepares a few glasses of J&B Whiskey (the Eurohorror drink of choice) while she slowly undresses in an incredibly bored manner.

Yup, definitely your mum.

Leslie Judd, up the casino, Wigan, 1974.....YESCH.

Stripped down to her market stall suspenders and big black Grannie pants she seductively follows Big Al into what she thinks is the bedroom.

So imagine her surprise when she discovers she's actually been led into a medieval torture chamber.

Before you can say bloodied breasts, Terri Whore finds herself strapped to a block of wood whilst Alan whips her before branding her soft white skin and finally stabbing her to death in a mentalist frenzy whilst screaming something about some woman named Evelyn.

Which is nice.

Early next morning Albert the grounds-keeper (Maldera, in a performance worthy of his own spin-off series), is angrily accosting Alan on the front lawn.

It appears that all the stabbings and torture kept poor Albert awake the night before and now he's too knackered to even consider mowing the grass.

Alan, being a considerate sort of chap gives Albert £30 in the hopes of winning him over (which indeed it does) so the crafty gardener heads into town to stock up on tissues and Pot Noodles, but not before a huge explanatory scene that serves to reveal that Evelyn was not only Sir Al’s (red haired) wife but also Albert's wee sister.

Stranger things are to come tho' as we discover that she died under 'mysterious circumstances' shortly after her husband became aware of the fact that she was having an affair.

Could this be related to the huge number of dead ginger whores in the cellar?

Eye hen.

That night, craving a wee bit more of the old sex and violence (well, it keeps him off the streets I guess....oh right), Alan phones his equally hatstand relative, George (the late, great Murdock star of The Etruscan Kills Again) to see if he fancies a night on the town.

George, next in line to the Cunningham fortune is the brains behind the operation, being the one that picks the 'nite spots' and back alley's that the duo frequent as well as deciding which red heads Alan should murder.

Which is more than any cousin of mine has done for me, except for that one time with the head in the fridge but that wasn't my fault.

All dressed up in the latest high fashions, the kinky pair head into town to the famous Barnsley Strip Emporium and Bingo Club where the harsh faced yet appealingly carrot topped stripper Susie (Blanc, the breast revealing star of A Dragonfly for Each Corpse and Will Our Heroes Be Able to Find Their Friend Who Has Mysteriously Disappeared in Africa?) is about to strut her stuff.

Oh, and get her tits out obviously.

Alan and George attempt to cover their tracks.

By the end of the evening, Sir Alan has hooked up with Susie, offering her a massive £1000 (in old money) to come back to his house for a stabbing.

I mean a shag.

Returning to Sir Al's pad, it's not long before Susie finds herself bra-less (tho' suitably huge panted), bound and standing in the middle of the torture chamber with Alan sweatily rubbing his hands together with glee as he approaches her menacingly.

A swift knee to the happy sacks gives Susie enough time to leg it into the garden, vault the fence and take refuge in a deserted chapel.

Within minutes the sinister sir has found the poor maiden, sneakily approaching her, his arms outstretched and his feeble erection rubbing against the thin polyester of his loon-pants, for the kill.

Luckily for Susie he's overcome mid throttle by vivid visions of his dead ex missis.

Next morning Sir A goes about his business as normal with no mention or sign of Susie, which is a good job really seeing as he has an appointment with the head psychiatrist from the asylum he used to regularly escape from (Rossi-Stuart from Gate of Hell, War of the Robots, The Last Man on Earth and Kill, Baby... Kill! playing the Doc not the asylum, obviously).

It's a pity then that Doctor Timberlake, sorry Timberlane (for that is he) appears to be as nutty as he is.

Not only is he confused as to whether his former patient should really be going out butchering sleazy burds but he reckons that holding a séance to get in touch with Al's dead wife to let her tell her hubbie to move on would be a good idea.

This has come about due to Doc Timberlane discovering that Alan’s Aunt Agatha (Davis, looking more like Al's younger sister) is a bona fide psychic medium.

Lionel.

The séance (rather unexpectedly to them but obviously not to us) is a huge success with Evelyn hovering above the dining table, but as she goes to speak Alan has another seizure, making the idea of having another ghostly chat experience a wee bit of an embarrassing idea for all involved.

So it’s back murdering gin soaked whores for Sir Alan.

And where better place to start than a cheap and tacky high society 'do' organised by the always helpful George?

Everything seems to be going to hell in a handbag until George introduces Al to an incredibly beautiful yet frighteningly big chinned girl with the amusingly unsexy name of Gladys (Malfatti from All the Colors of the Dark).

Enjoying her excited chat and horse-like laugh it's obvious that Sir Alan is besotted, so much so that it comes as a shock to all involved when he gets down on one knee and proposes to Gladys there and then.

Gladys all over.

With a swing in his step and a song in his heart Alan begins to restore the family mansion and put his past life of whore slashing behind him, gathering his entire family (well, his aunt and cousin plus Albert) alongside a bevvy of saucy blonde maids to begin preparations for what could be a wedding to rival the late, great Jordan's for out and out freak value.

not too surprisingly it's not long before things start to go wrong (and no, I don't mean that Al's fiancee is shite at cage fighting and wears a dress) when the theft of an an antique dinner service by a mysterious redhead dressed in a French maid outfit (wahey!) causes Alan’s Evelyn fixated hallucinations to begin again.

Putting two and two together to make 'random horror logic jump', Gladys begins to think that Evelyn might not be dead at all.

"Curses He-Man!"

Sod stolen tea sets and wedding bollocks tho' because after the spate of prostitute murders in the films first half the audience is now gagging for some more killings (preferably by a black gloved mentalist).

Well don't worry we won't have long to wait.

First up poor Albert is attack with a big snake and buried alive after being rendered unconscious by the reptiles vile venom then Aunt Agatha has a housebrick dropped on her (bulbous) head before being fed to Alan's pet foxes.

Ouch.

How the story may have been reported by
the press if it were real.(and yes I know he's a Lord but it wouldn't work if i put that).

And if that wasn't enough to keep the film lurching excitedly towards it's climax then the fact that glamorous Gladys has started seeing Evelyn floating outside her window at night  should make even the most jaded horror fan shriek with, oh I don't know...mild apathy I guess?

But what's this? Alan himself finally saw her too this time, so off he goes to the deserted chapel where her coffin lies.

Once inside, Alan is relieved to find not only the stolen dinner set (they're not cheap you know) but also Evelyn, who frighteningly still has a full curvy figure and ample breasts but alas also a face of utter skull fuckness.

Like Skeletor's head stuck on Lorraine Kelly's body.


Feeling a tad better for seeing his dead wife's breasts again, Sir Al is just about to seal her coffin when Evelyn suddenly opens her eyes and sits bolt upright!

A by now even more unhinged Alan starts to dribble before dropping to his knees and pissing himself (with fright, not laughter), his mind totally broken by this supernatural act.

Stepping out of her coffin and wandering off into the night, Evelyn waits till she's out of her husband's field of vision before pulling off the shoddy skull mask to reveal......

Gladys!

It appears that everything has been a big elaborate (some may say over elaborate) plot by George to get his hands on Alan’s title and fortune.

The dirty sod.

Celebrating his new found wealth George takes Gladys to his secluded love nest just outside Bridgenorth to celebrate, but once a sly bastard always a sly bastard and he turns on the big chinned chick too, poisoning her Champagne.

As Gladys lies on the sofa, foaming at the mouth and pulling a scarily accurate Bruce Forsyth cum face (I know what that looks like, my nan told me), who should walk in but Susie!

Yup, she was working for George too.

For fuck sake this is convoluted.

Gladys, half dead yet still bouncy, picks up a handy bread knife and lunges at Susie, sticking it into her shoulder-blade, Susie retaliates with a broken bottle.

Soon both ladies are cutting chunks out of each other with various handy household items as George looks on with a kinda manic glee usually seen on your mum's face when your best mate visits after swimming.

It's not long before the pair of them are lying dead in a huge pool of their own blood, leaving George with no witnesses or loose ends, just a huge pile of cash.

Leaving his house to begin his newly acquired playboy lifestyle, George is shocked to find Alan standing in his flower patch cradling a huge bag of nitric acid fertilizer to his bosom.

It seems the madness (well some of it) was just a ruse to out George for the bad man that he is and now Sir Alan wants revenge...

"Look at the dog!"

My God, Miraglia what the hell had you (and not to mention co-writers Fabio Pittorru and Massimo Felisatti) been drinking when you concocted this massively brilliant mess of a movie?

I mean, it took longer to explain the plot than it did to watch the film.

What director today would have the audacity to have a lunatic, whore slashing inbred English aristocrat as the put upon hero?

Then cast a swarthy Italian to play him?

But as it stands the whole film is just an excuse for a variety of deliciously red-headed Eurotrash babes to get their kit off at every given opportunity whilst the rest of the cast wander around gaudy as fuck sets in outfits that dear old Peter Wyngarde wouldn't be seen dead in spouting inane dialogue with all the emotion and feeling of a bag of clothes pegs.

And really, you can't argue with that can you?

If that's not enough to convince you tho' there are some fantastically shot scenes of undisputed genius in the film as well.

OK, there are two but who's counting?

Oh yeah, me.

Alan’s maddening pursuit of Susie from the torture chamber to the chapel alongside Evelyn's resurrection from the dead are heart stopping moments of sheer terror that really need to be seen to be believed and the films dementedly mad plot and choppy editing actually add to the overall joy to be had from Evelyn (both before and after her rise).

Essential family viewing.