SXSW
The Claudio Fragasso Challenge: Monster Dog
Unquestionably the breakout hit of this year's SXSW was the documentary "Best Worst Movie" covering the stars and cult phenomenon that surrounds the movie Troll 2. The documentary is very deserving of the praise, it's surprisingly emotional, you really connect with the characters and it's just better than any movie on the subject of Troll 2 has any right to be.
Oh, and I'm not just saying this because I appear in the film.
One event that I ended up attending during the fest was the SXSW BBQ run, where they took a van full of people out to Lockhart to get the real authentic stuff... After 2-and-a-half months of living in LA, I couldn't wait for it. On the ride over, I shared a van with Troll 2 actor/Best Worst Movie director Michael Paul Stephenson and Cinematical/FearNet writer Scott Weinberg. While many things were discussed, movies at the fest, Twitter, that sort of thing. Eventually the subject of Claudio Fragasso, director of Troll 2 came up. In Best Worst Movie Claduio makes great claims to be a great film director, and that Troll 2 is a great, political film that fans are embracing because it's so good. While it's easy to refute the stuff pertaining to Troll 2, it soon became clear that nobody in the van had ever seen another Claudio Fragasso film.
Thus, the challenge. Scott Weinberg put it up (naming me specifically) and going with the whole, "Wow, that's a terrible idea, it's going to be hilarious when I do it" vibe that inhabits a lot of my life, I soon began crawling the internet to find the rest of Claduio's catalogue.
The Problem
The filmography of Claudio Fragrasso is deceptively long, IMDB lists him as the director of 22 films, but looking further into them, most of them he co-directed with prolific schlock director Bruno Mattei. Mattei is infamous, himself, for just churning out low-budget films in the 70s, mostly dealing in rip-offs and "sequels" to movies that he had nothing to do with, both of which are staples of Italian cinema at the time. Mattei's work mostly covers zombie films, Black Emanuelle films (the unauthorized Emmanuelle films starring Laura Gemser, the beauty who would end up doing costume design for Troll 2), and even ended up doing a rip-off film called Terminator 2 (which, of course, had nothing to do with the series we all know and love).
Mattei would frequently team up with Fragrasso or other filmmakers such as Joe D'amato (who would end up doing a movie called Troll 3), so that he could churn out movies back-to-back just to get more products out into the marketplace. Fragasso is additionally credited on his Mattei team-ups as Assistant Director, making his function on these films much less clear.
Out of the 22 films Fragasso has credit for, he only did 14 on his own. Of those 14, only 2 are readily available in the United States (Monster Dog and Troll 2). I'm working on figuring out which Italian DVDs have English subtitles, but it's very difficult, as even finding the Italian versions is proving to be very difficult, and they're not consistent in their feature listing. Some don't even have official Italian releases, only living on in the grey market DVD-R world.
This is proving more difficult than I had anticipated.
Monster Dog
Monster Dog is the first film both written and directed by Claudio Fragasso (using the pseudonym "Clyde Anderson" for the directing credit)- no co-writer, no co-director, nothing. It's the only film that he would both write and direct on his own, leaving it the only "pure" example of what Fragasso was trying to accomplish in his film career.
While nothing that compares to the cult phenomenon that encircles Troll 2, Monster Dog, surprisingly, has its own cult following - mainly because the lead role is played by none other than Alice Cooper. Cooper, of course, one of the innovators of "shock rock", seems like a fitting person to head up a low-budget Spanish film directed by an Italian. The film features two songs by Cooper that would not be available otherwise until 1999 - these would also be the only times that Cooper's voice is in the film. For whatever reason (either Cooper's refusal, money concerns, or Fragasso's simple not caring) Cooper did not dub his line for the English version of the film.
Here's the song that begins the movie:
Now, let's be fair about this video - immediately following it Cooper's character of Vincent Raven (Not a bad rock name for any aspiring rockers out there) comments on the video, saying that it's awful and the reason for their road trip (hence the long drawn out shots of the van) is to make a new video (which they end up shooting, but to a completely different song). [The Texan Film Nerd in me wants to point out really quick just how wrong it is to have his James Bond iteration using a revolver, thus proving that some stereotypes about Texans are true.]
So how does the movie compare to Troll 2?
It's an utter disappointment.
While Troll 2 is by most every metric a bad movie, it has a certain charm, a certain "what the fuck?" factor to it - scenes that are out of nowhere, a plot that makes little-to-no-sense, irrational actions by characters... it's completely foreign to all of our senses and it leaves us wondering what kind of nutball made it. No, Monster Dog fails in the worst way it could have - it's completely generic and forgettable. Instead of being another piece of bizarre fascination for us, it serves as just another bad horror movie that would find it's home in a stack of VHS movies just like it at a 1995 pre-teen sleepover.
The movie disappoints in such a unique way, I picked up hoping that I'd neither be able to make heads nor tails of it, but instead... it's a straightforward "teens"-in-a-cabin-in-the-woods movie. Yes, it's supposed to be in a small town, but they never leave the house (which is a Nosferatu-esque mansion for reasons that are never addressed in the movie). It has all the tropes you would expect in a nameless movie from the genre: a forewarning from a mysterious stranger, a nightmare sequence, something trying to get inside, somebody hiding their sinister secret... but nothing done in any sort of new or interesting way, even for the time. It is completely indistinguishable from anything else in this genre from this time period.
Monster Dog also disappoints by actually having some funny exchanges - some intentionally funny exchanges - between Cooper and the rest of his crew. Nobody says anything completely outlandish, it all makes relative sense. Sure, some of the stuff doesn't make perfect sense - but in relation to the genre, it falls in line... For instance, when first arriving at the house and searching for the caretaker Raven takes along a fully-loaded shotgun, where other times when it would be more appropriate to be armed, he goes without. It's not quite logical human behavior, but with the standard set so high... it's hardly worth noting.
No, with watching Monster Dog, we have to re-examine our look at Claudio Fragasso. Sure, he's not a great director by any means - the performances are terrible, technically it's not that well made (The dubbing is bad for even an Italian film of the era), but he's not the complete psycho that we were all hoping for. Instead, he's just another guy who put out lame movies.
The Upside
This leaves us in an interesting position - if Claudio Fragasso is not the sheer lunatic that we were hoping for, why is Troll 2 so insane? Fragasso establishes himself as a completely competent writer in this film, making us ask things like "Where did things like the popcorn-laden sex scene come from? How did the whole 'Row-Row-Row Your Boat' being 'that song I like so much' exchange originate?" Looking over this film and its construction makes me wonder if Rossella Drudi, Fragasso's co-writer on Troll 2 and wife, is the real source of the lunacy.
That's not to say that it doesn't explain some aspects of Troll 2, the Monster Dog itself is a poorly made puppet that has basically cannot move besides its mouth and needs to be mostly obstructed. The setup of the two films is essentially the same - a group of people out in the middle-of-nowhere who become attacked by some sort of unnatural beast that inhabits the area. But these similarities aren't enough to connect the two in any real meaningful sort of way. Basically put: If I didn't know that Claudio Fragasso had directed both movies, I would have never made the connection.
Usually when a film leaves us asking questions it's a good thing, it's caused us to examine some part of ourself, to take another look at a value that we hold dear, but no, Monster Dog leaves us asking questions because it has accomplished pretty much nothing.
Oh, and I'm not just saying this because I appear in the film.
One event that I ended up attending during the fest was the SXSW BBQ run, where they took a van full of people out to Lockhart to get the real authentic stuff... After 2-and-a-half months of living in LA, I couldn't wait for it. On the ride over, I shared a van with Troll 2 actor/Best Worst Movie director Michael Paul Stephenson and Cinematical/FearNet writer Scott Weinberg. While many things were discussed, movies at the fest, Twitter, that sort of thing. Eventually the subject of Claudio Fragasso, director of Troll 2 came up. In Best Worst Movie Claduio makes great claims to be a great film director, and that Troll 2 is a great, political film that fans are embracing because it's so good. While it's easy to refute the stuff pertaining to Troll 2, it soon became clear that nobody in the van had ever seen another Claudio Fragasso film.
Thus, the challenge. Scott Weinberg put it up (naming me specifically) and going with the whole, "Wow, that's a terrible idea, it's going to be hilarious when I do it" vibe that inhabits a lot of my life, I soon began crawling the internet to find the rest of Claduio's catalogue.
The Problem
The filmography of Claudio Fragrasso is deceptively long, IMDB lists him as the director of 22 films, but looking further into them, most of them he co-directed with prolific schlock director Bruno Mattei. Mattei is infamous, himself, for just churning out low-budget films in the 70s, mostly dealing in rip-offs and "sequels" to movies that he had nothing to do with, both of which are staples of Italian cinema at the time. Mattei's work mostly covers zombie films, Black Emanuelle films (the unauthorized Emmanuelle films starring Laura Gemser, the beauty who would end up doing costume design for Troll 2), and even ended up doing a rip-off film called Terminator 2 (which, of course, had nothing to do with the series we all know and love).
Mattei would frequently team up with Fragrasso or other filmmakers such as Joe D'amato (who would end up doing a movie called Troll 3), so that he could churn out movies back-to-back just to get more products out into the marketplace. Fragasso is additionally credited on his Mattei team-ups as Assistant Director, making his function on these films much less clear.
Out of the 22 films Fragasso has credit for, he only did 14 on his own. Of those 14, only 2 are readily available in the United States (Monster Dog and Troll 2). I'm working on figuring out which Italian DVDs have English subtitles, but it's very difficult, as even finding the Italian versions is proving to be very difficult, and they're not consistent in their feature listing. Some don't even have official Italian releases, only living on in the grey market DVD-R world.
This is proving more difficult than I had anticipated.
Monster Dog
Monster Dog is the first film both written and directed by Claudio Fragasso (using the pseudonym "Clyde Anderson" for the directing credit)- no co-writer, no co-director, nothing. It's the only film that he would both write and direct on his own, leaving it the only "pure" example of what Fragasso was trying to accomplish in his film career.
While nothing that compares to the cult phenomenon that encircles Troll 2, Monster Dog, surprisingly, has its own cult following - mainly because the lead role is played by none other than Alice Cooper. Cooper, of course, one of the innovators of "shock rock", seems like a fitting person to head up a low-budget Spanish film directed by an Italian. The film features two songs by Cooper that would not be available otherwise until 1999 - these would also be the only times that Cooper's voice is in the film. For whatever reason (either Cooper's refusal, money concerns, or Fragasso's simple not caring) Cooper did not dub his line for the English version of the film.
Here's the song that begins the movie:
Now, let's be fair about this video - immediately following it Cooper's character of Vincent Raven (Not a bad rock name for any aspiring rockers out there) comments on the video, saying that it's awful and the reason for their road trip (hence the long drawn out shots of the van) is to make a new video (which they end up shooting, but to a completely different song). [The Texan Film Nerd in me wants to point out really quick just how wrong it is to have his James Bond iteration using a revolver, thus proving that some stereotypes about Texans are true.]
So how does the movie compare to Troll 2?
It's an utter disappointment.
While Troll 2 is by most every metric a bad movie, it has a certain charm, a certain "what the fuck?" factor to it - scenes that are out of nowhere, a plot that makes little-to-no-sense, irrational actions by characters... it's completely foreign to all of our senses and it leaves us wondering what kind of nutball made it. No, Monster Dog fails in the worst way it could have - it's completely generic and forgettable. Instead of being another piece of bizarre fascination for us, it serves as just another bad horror movie that would find it's home in a stack of VHS movies just like it at a 1995 pre-teen sleepover.
The movie disappoints in such a unique way, I picked up hoping that I'd neither be able to make heads nor tails of it, but instead... it's a straightforward "teens"-in-a-cabin-in-the-woods movie. Yes, it's supposed to be in a small town, but they never leave the house (which is a Nosferatu-esque mansion for reasons that are never addressed in the movie). It has all the tropes you would expect in a nameless movie from the genre: a forewarning from a mysterious stranger, a nightmare sequence, something trying to get inside, somebody hiding their sinister secret... but nothing done in any sort of new or interesting way, even for the time. It is completely indistinguishable from anything else in this genre from this time period.
Monster Dog also disappoints by actually having some funny exchanges - some intentionally funny exchanges - between Cooper and the rest of his crew. Nobody says anything completely outlandish, it all makes relative sense. Sure, some of the stuff doesn't make perfect sense - but in relation to the genre, it falls in line... For instance, when first arriving at the house and searching for the caretaker Raven takes along a fully-loaded shotgun, where other times when it would be more appropriate to be armed, he goes without. It's not quite logical human behavior, but with the standard set so high... it's hardly worth noting.
No, with watching Monster Dog, we have to re-examine our look at Claudio Fragasso. Sure, he's not a great director by any means - the performances are terrible, technically it's not that well made (The dubbing is bad for even an Italian film of the era), but he's not the complete psycho that we were all hoping for. Instead, he's just another guy who put out lame movies.
The Upside
This leaves us in an interesting position - if Claudio Fragasso is not the sheer lunatic that we were hoping for, why is Troll 2 so insane? Fragasso establishes himself as a completely competent writer in this film, making us ask things like "Where did things like the popcorn-laden sex scene come from? How did the whole 'Row-Row-Row Your Boat' being 'that song I like so much' exchange originate?" Looking over this film and its construction makes me wonder if Rossella Drudi, Fragasso's co-writer on Troll 2 and wife, is the real source of the lunacy.
That's not to say that it doesn't explain some aspects of Troll 2, the Monster Dog itself is a poorly made puppet that has basically cannot move besides its mouth and needs to be mostly obstructed. The setup of the two films is essentially the same - a group of people out in the middle-of-nowhere who become attacked by some sort of unnatural beast that inhabits the area. But these similarities aren't enough to connect the two in any real meaningful sort of way. Basically put: If I didn't know that Claudio Fragasso had directed both movies, I would have never made the connection.
Usually when a film leaves us asking questions it's a good thing, it's caused us to examine some part of ourself, to take another look at a value that we hold dear, but no, Monster Dog leaves us asking questions because it has accomplished pretty much nothing.
The Name on the Marquee.
It's that time of the year again - people are packing up their bags and heading out to Park City, Utah for the most important festival in the United States - Sundance. I'm not headed out this year, so I get to sit on the sidelines and be jealous of my friends who are (although all of them have reported extremely high stress levels in conjuncture with the fest).
The Sundance Film Festival is seen as the forefront of American Independent Film, mainly for the headline-grabbing reports of huge sales, discovered talents, glitzy star-power and big scene that's put on. The image has mutated from being a small, but important film festival tucked away in the middle of a snowy ski retreat. The exponential growth and commercialization has attracted a number of attackers to the fest - often railing against the implied image of the festival - claiming that it's lost it's "Independent" nature.
I hear this attack often for a number of festivals - Cannes, SXSW, etc. A lot of my colleagues have subscribed to the false paradigm of film festivals being solely intended for the independent film and see any sort of studio or corporate involvement as a breach of some sort of implied social contract. Recently, I was talking with the director of a film that I was working on, discussing his festival strategy. Naturally, as anybody in film does, his inclination was to imagine the biggest, brightest, best-case scenario he could and then work his way down the ladder, working his way to more reasonable and more achievable goals (but, of course, still tossing the money towards the largest festivals - which, if you ask me, the submission fees to those are worth it just to dream about getting in). This director, who I consider a smart guy, completely shocked me when he said, "While I'm sure it'd be fun, I don't really know what the value of a Sundance premiere is anymore - didn't they play Be Kind Rewind this year?"
While Be Kind Rewind certainly gets no love from me, the assertion that a film festival is of a lesser status because of its marquee screening is downright unfair. I've heard the same accusation lobbied at Cannes for their marquee screening of Star Wars Episode 3: Revenge of the Sith - which, for the detractor, the association of the fest and that film must be particularly satisfying.
But it's not so out of place.
With Episode 3, yes, you do open yourself up for criticism, but the bemoaning from my fellow independent filmmakers is unwarranted. As cool as it is to accuse others of selling out, it's simply not the case - it's always been this way.
A quick look at the history of Cannes tells us the original intent of the festival. Born from the severe political climate that was Europe in the 30s, Cannes emerged to showcase films without bias or political censorship. In, other words - film nerds of the 30s just wanted to watch films from all over the world that they wouldn't have been able to otherwise. It's easy to take the anti-regulatory, anti-censorship nature of the statement and claim that it was in support of "alternative" cinema, but the argument doesn't really hold water. In 1945 there weren't too many filmmakers making films "outside the system". Plus, the first Cannes lineup included The Lost Weekend (Paramount), Notorious (RKO), Make Mine Music (Disney) among others.
As the film industry has evolved so has the festival, but the intent of showcasing and honoring films that might not be seen otherwise hasn't changed. However, instead of the fear of fascistic censorship, the fears are of lack of distribution and the fear of not "finding an audience" even if you do have a distributor - a fear that nobody is immune from.
Today's marquee films are a vital part of the film festival. Whether the marquee is Star Wars or from an indie darling such as Michel Gondry, it's primarily
The other popular jab regarding the marquee is the idea that the film takes up a slot, so by virtue of the large film being at the festival somebody's small film isn't. Simply put, it doesn't work that way. Like with other categories, say a category for regional filmmakers, if you don't fit the criteria, you can't get in. No matter how good your movie is, you can't be programmed into a "Shorts from North Carolina" package if you're from and shot your movie in Oregon. Likewise, your film made for under $3,500 isn't going to premiere opening night in the largest theatre even if it is the best film that the festival has ever received. The marquee position is reserved for a movie that's friendly to the festival's audience from a distro that will put up a decent amount of money (Of course, the mental image of George Lucas burning off a DVD of Episode 3, eagerly filling out the submission forms and writing the check, sending it all off and praying to get in is amusing).
Now, while that may upset some that there are positions up for sale (at some, not all festivals), it's important to remember that the slots are very limited (mostly to prevent that amount of anger, and to focus on the other films) and it's pretty much always been this way (which, admittedly, in and of itself is not a justification, but a reminder that the pristine image of a completely free-of-outside-influence festival is an image of a festival that pretty much never existed). The money paid in isn't lining some rich programmers' pockets, either. Festivals are increasingly more expensive to put on and badges and submission fees often do not cover the cost of operations. Without marquee films, many film festival simply wouldn't exist, at least not in their modern form.
For the die-hard rebellious "fuck that man" types, here's how to look at it. When you make your film, the one that's going to take down the system, and you manage to get it into festivals - it'll be the big boys' money that's paying for the theatre rental and your free badge.
Now that's cool.
The Sundance Film Festival is seen as the forefront of American Independent Film, mainly for the headline-grabbing reports of huge sales, discovered talents, glitzy star-power and big scene that's put on. The image has mutated from being a small, but important film festival tucked away in the middle of a snowy ski retreat. The exponential growth and commercialization has attracted a number of attackers to the fest - often railing against the implied image of the festival - claiming that it's lost it's "Independent" nature.
I hear this attack often for a number of festivals - Cannes, SXSW, etc. A lot of my colleagues have subscribed to the false paradigm of film festivals being solely intended for the independent film and see any sort of studio or corporate involvement as a breach of some sort of implied social contract. Recently, I was talking with the director of a film that I was working on, discussing his festival strategy. Naturally, as anybody in film does, his inclination was to imagine the biggest, brightest, best-case scenario he could and then work his way down the ladder, working his way to more reasonable and more achievable goals (but, of course, still tossing the money towards the largest festivals - which, if you ask me, the submission fees to those are worth it just to dream about getting in). This director, who I consider a smart guy, completely shocked me when he said, "While I'm sure it'd be fun, I don't really know what the value of a Sundance premiere is anymore - didn't they play Be Kind Rewind this year?"
While Be Kind Rewind certainly gets no love from me, the assertion that a film festival is of a lesser status because of its marquee screening is downright unfair. I've heard the same accusation lobbied at Cannes for their marquee screening of Star Wars Episode 3: Revenge of the Sith - which, for the detractor, the association of the fest and that film must be particularly satisfying.
But it's not so out of place.
With Episode 3, yes, you do open yourself up for criticism, but the bemoaning from my fellow independent filmmakers is unwarranted. As cool as it is to accuse others of selling out, it's simply not the case - it's always been this way.
A quick look at the history of Cannes tells us the original intent of the festival. Born from the severe political climate that was Europe in the 30s, Cannes emerged to showcase films without bias or political censorship. In, other words - film nerds of the 30s just wanted to watch films from all over the world that they wouldn't have been able to otherwise. It's easy to take the anti-regulatory, anti-censorship nature of the statement and claim that it was in support of "alternative" cinema, but the argument doesn't really hold water. In 1945 there weren't too many filmmakers making films "outside the system". Plus, the first Cannes lineup included The Lost Weekend (Paramount), Notorious (RKO), Make Mine Music (Disney) among others.
As the film industry has evolved so has the festival, but the intent of showcasing and honoring films that might not be seen otherwise hasn't changed. However, instead of the fear of fascistic censorship, the fears are of lack of distribution and the fear of not "finding an audience" even if you do have a distributor - a fear that nobody is immune from.
t
here as a promotional tool, both for the film and for the distributor. When New Line brought Be Kind Rewind (which I just noticed is a title lacking in much-needed punctuation) to Sundance, it symbiotically attracted a lot of attention to the film and to the film festival. New Line brings in the director, stars, producers, execs, etc. and makes a presence at the festival, saying that New Line cares about smaller film and independent film and might even buy your film someday. The media writes up about Jack Black or whomever being there, who he's with, how much he weighs, etc., mentioning the film and Sundance in every write-up. While it's far from the only reason that Sundance is a part of America's film-related consciousness, the annual mentions in US Weekly do help a lot to establish a sense of importance for the festival in the minds of the people - even people who would never ever be interested in going. The other popular jab regarding the marquee is the idea that the film takes up a slot, so by virtue of the large film being at the festival somebody's small film isn't. Simply put, it doesn't work that way. Like with other categories, say a category for regional filmmakers, if you don't fit the criteria, you can't get in. No matter how good your movie is, you can't be programmed into a "Shorts from North Carolina" package if you're from and shot your movie in Oregon. Likewise, your film made for under $3,500 isn't going to premiere opening night in the largest theatre even if it is the best film that the festival has ever received. The marquee position is reserved for a movie that's friendly to the festival's audience from a distro that will put up a decent amount of money (Of course, the mental image of George Lucas burning off a DVD of Episode 3, eagerly filling out the submission forms and writing the check, sending it all off and praying to get in is amusing).
Now, while that may upset some that there are positions up for sale (at some, not all festivals), it's important to remember that the slots are very limited (mostly to prevent that amount of anger, and to focus on the other films) and it's pretty much always been this way (which, admittedly, in and of itself is not a justification, but a reminder that the pristine image of a completely free-of-outside-influence festival is an image of a festival that pretty much never existed). The money paid in isn't lining some rich programmers' pockets, either. Festivals are increasingly more expensive to put on and badges and submission fees often do not cover the cost of operations. Without marquee films, many film festival simply wouldn't exist, at least not in their modern form.
For the die-hard rebellious "fuck that man" types, here's how to look at it. When you make your film, the one that's going to take down the system, and you manage to get it into festivals - it'll be the big boys' money that's paying for the theatre rental and your free badge.
Now that's cool.