By 1993, the "Italian Horror Movie" industry was well past its heyday. Lucio Fulci, Dario Argento, Lamberto Bava, and Ruggero Deodato (among others) were starting to lose both steam and credibility as filmmakers (OK, so Fulci never had that much credibility to begin with outside of certain circles), and the few scattered films that were being released were mostly slipshod, highly derivative affairs (even for the Italians). But, Argento prodigy Michele Soavi released four horror films in fairly rapid succession; Stage Fright, The Church, The Sect, and Dellamorte Dellamore (literally, "Of Death, Of Love"). This quartet of films showed Soavi's ever-growing knowledge of film, and that given the right decisions and projects, he could become more than just a guy living in his former mentor's shadow. After Dellamorte Dellamore (now better known under the dreadfully bland title Cemetery Man), Soavi suddenly made the heartbreaking decision to leave filmmaking for a while in order to care for his terminally ill son. While those motivations are among the most noble, Soavi’s rapid rise to the status of de facto savior of the lagging Italian Horror industry and subsequent and all-too-sudden departure left a huge whole in the industry. Unfortunately, it’s an injury from which the great, surreal, gory legacy of Italian Horror never quite recovered. Soavi could have been one of the greatest horror directors of all time…ranking up there with Argento. Still, sad though his departure may have been, we’re left with a handful of films that are true classics of horror. Cemetery Man (as this release from Anchor Bay is known) is, furthermore, the pinnacle of the Italian zombie cycle…a cynical, gory, and blackly hysterical punch line that is the logical end of the recurring themes that were ever-present in the genre.
The synopsis...
Francesco Dellamorte (Rupert Everett) is the caretaker of the gothic, creepy Buffalora Cemetery. He’s a lonely guy whose only company is an oafish but loyal assistant/sidekick named Gnaghi (François Hadji-Lazaro), and occasional contact with the town’s clerk of records Franco (Anton Alexander). Aside from that, Francesco leads a solitary life, spending much of his time interring Buffalora’s recently deceased. There’s a problem, though…the cemetery seems to be “cursed” by a strange force (which remains almost completely unexplained) that causes those buried there to rise from the dead as zombies within seven days of burial. Of course, nobody in town believes Francesco’s stories, so he takes it upon himself to re-execute the newly resurrected dead. With Gnaghi’s help, Francesco dispatches the zombies with his trusty six-shooter, shovels, pickaxes, or whatever’s handy. None of this seems to bother Francesco very much, and when we join his story at the beginning of the film, he’s already become quite jaded and rather indifferent to his little problem. He’s an odd guy, but his situation isn’t helped by the fact that there are some particularly nasty rumors around town that Francesco is impotent, or worse, that he doesn’t have a penis at all! Well, he’s got a dick all right, and soon, he’s got a wonderful excuse to use it. That excuse comes in the form of beautiful young widow known only as “She” (Anna Falchi), whose May-September marriage has just ended. Upon first laying eyes on “She”, Francesco is irrevocably smitten, not least of all by her exotic, hypnotic eyes and her…ahem…other highly attractive assets. In his monotone voiceover, he intones, “She’s the most beautiful living woman I’ve ever seen.” After some creepy “foreplay” in the semi-flooded and bone-filled ossuary (where “She” seems to get turned on by skulls, graveyard mold, and dust), it’s clear that these two unlikely kids are just made for each other. Soon, “She” returns to the cemetery, and into Francesco’s all-too eager arms. As they do the horizontal mambo on her dead husband’s grave (!), the inevitable happens…the old coot pops out and bites his former wife just at the point when she’s about to cum her brains out. Francesco “re-kills” the old guy, and then rushes to treat the wounds of his newfound love. But, it seems it’s too late, and “She” passes out…apparently dead. When she reawakens some time later (but earlier than the usual seven days), Francesco assumes the worst, and shoots her through the head, killing her. Bereaved and forlorn (even more so than usual), Francesco retires into an ever-escalating madness. Soon, he begins seeing various women that look exactly like “She”, all of whom are attracted to Francesco in much the same way that “She” was…which is to say, for all the wrong reasons. Of course, Gnaghi gets his chance at some lovin’, too. When the pretty young daughter of the Mayor dies in a hideous motorcycle accident, Gnaghi becomes enamored with her severed head, which he proceeds to disinter upon reaching the seventh day after her burial. The unlikely couple begin a whirlwind romance (!) which seems to be reciprocated by the reanimated head (!!). Gnaghi places her head in his broken television set, where he proceeds to play his makeshift violin for her at all hours of the day and night (!!!). Of course, like Francesco, Gnaghi’s hasty but passionate love affair is doomed to failure. Meanwhile, Francesco grows more and more withdrawn and even psychotic, and soon, it’s possible that he becomes directly responsible for several brutal murders around town. I’m realizing as I write this that Cemetery Man sounds almost impossible to follow. It sounds like it’s just a collection of weird little set pieces strung together by the flimsiest of threads. Not so. The story, while a bit light on character development and back story, is nevertheless perversely engaging, and no matter how weird and sullen (and violent) Dellamorte might get, he’s still “our hero”, and thus, our sympathies rest completely and unreservedly on his shoulders. Is Francesco crazy? Is “She” actually a real person? What about her various incarnations (for lack of a better word)? Is our hero actually a cold-blooded murder? You decide…that’s part of the fun of Cemetery Man.
Based (rather faithfully) on characters appearing in the Italian graphic novel series “Dylan Dog”, Cemetery Man certainly looks like a horror comic come-to-life. Taking obvious cues from his mentors, Soavi paints his scenes with Argento/Bava-esque washes of vivid color. Vivid blues, greens, and of course reds splash across the screen with disarming ferocity. Soavi was never afraid to use color, to be sure, but here, it’s absolutely integral to the success of the film. The fact that the print version of Francesco Dellamorte was based on Rupert Everett’s features to begin with doesn’t hurt, either. I haven’t read the original comics in their entirety, but from the scattered frames and excerpts I have seen, I can’t imagine a more literal and effective page-to-screen adaptation than what Soavi has accomplished here. The only thing that’s missing is speech and/or thought bubbles. We do, however, get some solid voiceover work by Everett. I usually have voiceover work, especially when the character giving the voiceover is actually onscreen, but here, Francesco’s metaphysical and psychological musings have real weight. The action, too, feels ripped from the pages of a comic book. The over-the-top violence, mostly in the form of various zombies (here called “returners”) and more than a few living people being chopped, pierced, dismembered, splattered, or otherwise mangled, is vivid and often as funny as it is shocking and repellent. Cemetery Man ain’t all shits and giggles, though. In fact, it’s quite a creepy little mood piece when it needs to be. A lot of this comes off so well due to the choice of filming location…a real, working, dilapidated cemetery in the Italian countryside. From what I understand, Soavi and company didn’t have to change all that much before shooting began, as the cemetery struck just the right balance between gothic creepiness and old-world fog-shrouded grimness. I’m not too sure how I feel about using an actual cemetery for filming a movie like this, but hey, what works works, ya know?
Everett is, of course, far better known for starring in lightweight romantic comedies like My Best Friend’s Wedding opposite ol’ horseface herself, Julia Roberts, as well as a succession of Oscar Wilde plays brought to the screen. He’s an outspoken homosexual, and as such, one would expect a degree of discomfort at his numerous sex scenes with various incarnations of Anna Falchi’s hypersexual “She”. Not so, luckily. Everett pulls it off as the embodiment of the European hipster everyman, albeit a somewhat effete everyman. He’s as capable of slinging his six-shooter as he is wielding a spade for, shall we say, less than traditional applications; as rugged and handsome as would be expected from a leading man, but with just the right touch of winsome self-absorption befitting a character of Dellamorte’s depth. Anna Falchi’s no slouch, either. She’s not exactly Meryl Streep, but she pulls off the disparate “She” roles quite well. The common strain for her characters is a somewhat bridled sexuality combined with a newfound excitement for one odd paraphilia or another. Whether it’s a sexual attraction to men without penises or arousal through contact with death or death-related imagery or paraphernalia, Falchi makes us believe there’s something more to her characters than simply pre-Jolie beestung lips and an unbelievable rack (see image above for ample evidence). To me, though, the real “star” of the show is Gnaghi. He’s easily one of the most interesting, quirky, and funny characters in horror film history. On the surface, he’s just a bumbling, mostly-mute dumbass with unflinching loyalty to his “boss”. But, what François Hadji-Lazaro does so well is imbue the character with an almost Bud Abbott-like childish quality that’s at once loveable and fun, as well as sympathy-inducing. Thus, Gnaghi is the character with whom it’s easiest to relate. When horrific things happen, Gnaghi is suitably horrified…in contrast to Dellamorte’s cold detachment and “just another day on the job” attitude toward sending the “returners” back from whence they came.
At its heart, Cemetery Man is really more of an existentialist black comedy than a “horror film”, but it’s so solidly entrenched in the trappings of the Italian zombie genre that it works on a level on which only a few choice films have; namely Peter Jackson’s Dead Alive (aka “Braindead”), Stuart Gordon’s Re-Animator, and perhaps to a somewhat lesser extent, Dan O’Bannon’s Return of the Living Dead. Soavi knows that horror and comedy share the same emotional real estate, so there’s a lot of outright silliness going on here (as with those other films). One moment that sticks in my mind is when a bereaved young woman whose boyfriend has recently died in a motorcycle wreck goes to visit her former “beloved” in the cemetery. The poor dude was buried with his motorcycle (!), and when the sad chick blubbers over his grave, the ground begins to rumble, and suddenly, the guy’s corpse…riding the motorcycle, no less…comes flying out of the grave, Bat-Out-Of-Hell-style. The girl then proceeds to hop on the bike with her dead beau, and they ride merrily around the cemetery. Finally, when a shocked Francesco finds the couple “making out” (in the way that only a zombie and a living girl can “make out”), he finds that the guy is chewing chunks off of the girl’s arm. She seems to be enjoying it, too! So, when Francesco levels his gun at the zombie, the frantic girl cries, “No! Please don’t kill him! He’s only eating me! I shall be eaten by whomever I please!” This kind of obtuse wit spills over from many scenes in Cemetery Man. This isn’t a film to be taken too seriously, is all I’m saying.
Cemetery Man ends on a very weird note…one that will leave many viewers going “huh?” I’m not going to “spoil” it for you, per se, but I will tell you that, given one of the “internal monologues” from Francesco early in the film, there is some question as to the actual existence of a world…or anything…outside of the town of Buffalora. Well, the ending sort of addresses that question, without actually answering it, of course. Suffice it say that things are definitely not quite what they seem…whether those things are characters or locations. Plus, there’s a weird but fairly blatant and exceedingly well done Citizen Kane reference, which is a real rarity in any film, much less a horror comedy. Draw from that whatever conclusions you may, but don’t over-think it…you’ll just get a headache.
After at least a year of hemming and hawing, Anchor Bay have finally put together their release of Cemetery Man…street date of June 13, 2006. The copy that I’m reviewing is the full, complete release, which I was lucky enough to receive well before the actual release date. This long-awaited fan favorite has been seen by far too few people, but now that it’s receiving a proper release, I hope that many of you (particularly you younger readers/viewers) will give it the chance it so richly deserves. It’ll give you some new perspective on a number of now-beloved horror comedies, notably Shaun of the Dead, which owes a considerable debt to Cemetery Man; both films deftly balancing romance, comedy, and outright horror with an artisan’s touch. This edition of Cemetery Man, while inherently suffering from the fact that it’s being released under its weak, Americanized title rather than the much more appropriate “Dellamorte Dellamore, is a pretty damned fine release. We’ve got a sharp, colorful, clear widescreen presentation (enhanced for 16x9, ‘natch), and some very serviceable audio tracks. One note regarding the transfer: it is, in fact, the original presentation ratio of 1.66:1, and it is enhanced for widescreen sets, but due to the 1.66:1 aspect ratio, don’t expect the image to fill up your screen, even on your high-end TV. On the special features end of things, this doesn’t exactly qualify as a “special edition”…at least in the way we’ve grown accustomed to. Still, it isn’t half bad. We’ve got a nice featurette called Death is Beautiful, which includes “all new” interviews and ruminations with Anna Falchi, Michele Soavi, and a few others. It’s a nice feature, but like many “featurettes”, it leaves one hungry for a full-blown directors commentary, which sadly isn’t included here. The only other feature on the disc is a theatrical trailer, which is nice to see, but ya’ know, trailers are a dime a dozen. There is, however, a nice little eight-page “collector’s booklet” (liner notes with about a page worth of material spread out over eight pages), which is nice. Too many companies aren’t even including a simple insert with chapter stops these days, so the inclusion of any extra packaging goodies is always welcome. All in all, a nice, if a bit scant, release from Anchor Bay.
While Cemetery Man is absolutely required viewing for those of us (myself included) who absolutely, positively must see every important Italian horror film (and this one ranks up there with Fulci’s Zombi, Argento’s Terror at the Opera, and others), it’s going to be a little hard to swallow for fans of purely mainstream horror efforts. So, while the strict Friday the 13th and Nightmare on Elm Street should see it, I have a feeling that many of you folks are going to give this a pass for whatever reason. I must stress this, however…don’t miss Cemetery Man…you’ll be sorry you did. It’s one of the best horror comedies ever made, and it’s the absolute pinnacle of Italian horror. And while this release from Anchor Bay isn’t exactly perfect, it still pays appropriate lip service to this verifiable classic. Don’t miss it!
By 1993, the "Italian Horror Movie" industry was well past its heyday. Lucio Fulci, Dario Argento, Lamberto Bava, and Ruggero Deodato (among others) were starting to lose both steam and credibility as filmmakers (OK, so Fulci never had that much credibility to begin with outside of certain circles), and the few scattered films that were being released were mostly slipshod, highly derivative affairs (even for the Italians). But, Argento prodigy Michele Soavi released four horror films in fairly rapid succession; Stage Fright, The Church, The Sect, and Dellamorte Dellamore (literally, "Of Death, Of Love"). This quartet of films showed Soavi's ever-growing knowledge of film, and that given the right decisions and projects, he could become more than just a guy living in his former mentor's shadow. After Dellamorte Dellamore (now better known under the dreadfully bland title Cemetery Man), Soavi suddenly made the heartbreaking decision to leave filmmaking for a while in order to care for his terminally ill son. While those motivations are among the most noble, Soavi’s rapid rise to the status of de facto savior of the lagging Italian Horror industry and subsequent and all-too-sudden departure left a huge whole in the industry. Unfortunately, it’s an injury from which the great, surreal, gory legacy of Italian Horror never quite recovered. Soavi could have been one of the greatest horror directors of all time…ranking up there with Argento. Still, sad though his departure may have been, we’re left with a handful of films that are true classics of horror. Cemetery Man (as this release from Anchor Bay is known) is, furthermore, the pinnacle of the Italian zombie cycle…a cynical, gory, and blackly hysterical punch line that is the logical end of the recurring themes that were ever-present in the genre.
