MAKSQUIBS CINEMATHEQUE: CAULDRON OF BLOOD (aka BLIND MAN'S BLUFF) (1970)

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Wednesday, September 2, 2015

CAULDRON OF BLOOD (aka BLIND MAN'S BLUFF) (1970)

Alas, no cauldron of blood in sight. Would a cauldron of flesh-melting acid do? This very cheap, very late Boris Karloff chiller (he died before it came out) has the feel of an Italian giallo horror pic . . . minus blood, female nudity, scares or perversity. So, what’s left? A variation on one of those Wax Museum tales, Karloff’s blinded sculptor uses the bones of real cadavers to build his statues from the inside out. What he doesn’t know is that Viveca Lindfors, the wife who blinded him (don’t ask) finds it’s easier to kill than collect; murdering likely candidates, then boiling their flesh off and setting up the skeletons so blind Boris can get down to work. If only photo-journalist Jean-Pierre Aumont didn’t get in the way with a magazine assignment on the famous artist. Ugh. Pretty tepid doings. And while Karloff had gotten used to this sort of claptrap, Aumont at least had Truffaut’s DAY FOR NIGHT/’73 to look forward to.

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: Karloff’s last decent film was probably TARGETS/’68, Peter Bogdanovich’s debut pic. Not a total success, but Karloff gets off a memorable monologue that serves as a proper personal eulogy.

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A last thought before we go.

Well, enough from me. But before we sign off, here's a great quote from Emile Zola's L'OEUVRE (THE MASTERPIECE), which is about painting rather than the yet to be invented medium of film, but which points a fine critical eye toward the whole idea of art criticism. It's a good, if chilly, thought to keep in mind, especially when you surf the net.

"Has it ever struck you that posterity may not be the fair, impartial judge we like to think it is?

"Suppose the artist's paradise turned out to be as nonexistent as the Catholics, and future generations prove just as misguided as the present one and persisted in liking pretty pretty dabbling better than honest to goodness painting. There are some accepted masterpieces for which I myself wouldn't give a twopenny damn.

"Classical training has given us a wrong view of everything and forces us to acclaim as geniuses a lot of fellows who are no more than well-balanced, facile painters, while what we might really prefer is the work of more emancipated but less even artists known only to an initiated few. Immortality at present depends entirely on the average, middle-class mind and is reserved only for the names that have been most forcibly impressed upon us while we were still unable to defend ourselves...

"Perhaps that's the sort of thing that's best left unsaid. It's certainly the sort of thing that gives me the shudders!"- Emile Zola

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Now Over 5500 Reviews and (near) Daily Updates!

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

CAULDRON OF BLOOD (aka BLIND MAN'S BLUFF) (1970)

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A last thought before we go.

DROP ME A LINE