Directed by Joe D’Amato
Written by Roberto Gandus and Renzo Maietto
Starring Melissa Chimenti, Sirpa Lane, Maurice Poli, and Dakar
To me, Joe D’Amato (the main pseudonym of Aristide Massaccesi) is the schlocky director of the barbarian adventure Ator, the Fighting Eagle and the cannibalism horror Anthropophagous. I dearly love these movies, while admitting that they’re fairly terrible. What I knew about but had never sampled was his extensive pornographic catalog. I have now filled that hole in my viewing.
Directed by Mario Bava and Lamberto Bava
Written by Allesandro Parenzo and Cesare Frugoni
Based on the story Man and Boy by Michael J. Carroll
Starring Lea Lander, Riccardo Cucciolla, Maurice Poli, and George Eastman
Wes Craven made his writing and directorial debut in 1972 with The Last House on the Left. The film has its flaws, but its commitment to showing the denigration and torture of the teenage victims makes for unparalleled cringing horror. Not to be outdone, two years later legendary Italian director Mario Bava turned out the suspenseful crime movie Kidnapped. (Originally Rabid Dogs, it was renamed when it was restored.)
This is a tense and uncomfortable film. The only peace occurs during the opening credits, which are plain text over a black background. Almost immediately, the audience is thrown into a bloody heist. From there, it’s pretty much a feature-length car chase. You’re wondering how that’s horrific. Imagine a car with six passengers: three desperate criminals, a woman held hostage, an unconscious young boy wrapped in a blanket, and the owner of the hijacked vehicle. Now have one of the thieves (“Stiletto”) be quick to flash a knife and another (“32”, played enthusiastically by George Eastman) obsessed with having post-caper coitus. The driver, meanwhile, keeps begging them to let him go so that he can take the boy to the hospital. The mastermind (“Doc”) has only fragile control of his thugs, and he’s frankly a sociopath himself.
So it’s not a pleasant trip. If, like me, you grew up dreading family outings, this creates exactly that horrible, stomach-churning anxiety. Only more so. It induces nausea, and I swear that every time Maria is accosted, I just want to turn it off and walk away. It’s not quite as awful as watching parts of I Spit On Your Grave, but it’s not easy to witness. In addition to the ever-present threat of sexual assault, there’s the tension of the child who needs emergency surgery and the constant presence of weapons.
As if all that’s not enough, there are incidents along the way that raise hope in order to tighten the screws. Riccardo, the driver, runs into a friend while under the watchful eye of 32 at a rest stop. A gas station attendant notices something peculiar about this anxious group of travelers. A police car pulls up to a tollbooth moments after their quarry passes through going the other way. It’s all maddening, and it keeps you on edge. It’s so engrossing that even clunky English dialog and dubbing doesn’t break its grip on your spine.
I enjoy the experience of watching Kidnapped, of draining my own anxiety by expending it on the behalf of the imaginary characters in an impossible situation. I also feel like I need a really long bath, a therapy session, and the PayPal address of a good cause. It’s not I movie I recommend lightly; but if you can stomach assault, high tension, and bleak depravity this is a film that applies them with the assured hand of an experienced director. And his son.