The Arena (Steve Carver/Joe D'Amato, 1973)

One year after sharing the screen on BLACK MAMA, WHITE MAMA (1973), Pam Grier and Margaret Markov met once again in the odd genre mixture of THE ARENA, a historical fantasy set against the colourful and decadent background of Imperial Rome, although one reference to the Spartacus revolt of 71 B.C., is enough to show that the film has no intention of letting something like historical accuracy get in the middle of all the fun. And that is not necessarily to the detriment of the film, as it works surprisingly well as an atypical WIP film, enriched by some acute (although by then not too original) social commentary.

Despite some very trite and sometimes syrupy dialogue, the movie exceeds on a purely visual level, allowing the viewer to “read” the story in every frame, no small feat for the shared directing chores of Steve Carver and Joe D’Amato (Aristide Massaccesi) and swift editing by a still young and unknown Joe Dante. But above all, it is the screen presence of Markov and Grier that once more ignite a special chemistry between viewer and the events on screen. Even more markedly than in BMWM, both actresses play determined women who fell afoul on the hands of injustice, violence and degradation.

Bodicia of Brittany (Markov), a priestess, and Mamawi (Grier) a tribal African dancer, are captured during raids from Rome’s provincial forces and dragged to the city of Brundisium where they’re sold as slaves to Timarchus (Daniel Vargas), a games editore and the owner of the title’s gladiatorial arena. At the hands of Timarchus, the girls are forced to entertain his slobbering guests at his abject orgies and to serve the patrons while they’re watching the fights at the arena.

Under the tutelage of Timarchus’s housekeeper Cornelia (Sara Bay), the girls are subject to other public humiliations, fostering even more the differences among them – particularly in what concerns Livia (Marie Louise), another slave, who pretends to be of Roman ancestry, a claim that will prove disastrous to the group’s unity further on. In one of the parties where the girls are forced to serve and entertain, the haughty Bodicia slaps a Roman who tries to grope her and is then “punished” by being raped by another guest amidst the leering partygoers, while Mamawi, ever the adaptable survivor type, looks on with a mixture of haughtiness, disdain and sorrow.

The fights, however, are not going well to Timarchus, as the patrons seem to be getting tired of always seeing the same spectacle – a growing ennui that will later grow to symbolize the indifference of a brutalized society confronted with organized suffering. So, when a particularly vicious fight erupts in the kitchens between Bodicia (who wants to fight the system and escape) and Mamawi (who believes her more restrained way of coping with adversity will get her better results), the wet an messy confrontation spurs Aemilius (Christopher Oakes) to suggest to Timarchus that if the girls could fight like that in the Arena it would be a tremendous crowd-pleaser.

And so it is, as the first fight pits Bodicia against a sexily inebriated Deirdre (Lucretia Love), in a fun and gay fight that ends with the crowds cheering and allowing both girls to live. However, that easy first trial doesn’t fool the girls, all to well conscious that just as it was happening to the male gladiators, one day they may be forced to kill one another. And that happens just the next day, when Livia, claiming Roman ancestry is spared from fighting Mamawi, who ends up being forced to kill Lucinia (Mary Count). Truth is just too crude to allow hope to go on. Their choices are simple: escape or die fighting in the Arena.

All considered, THE ARENA is, plot-wise, pretty standard fare, rehashing by the numbers the structure of any run of the mill WIP film, with the final third entirely reserved for the escape from prison through the jungle (or, as in the present case, through the catacombs). Where it departs from others is in the meticulous atmosphere of some of its settings (the idyllic opening, the bath scenes, or the dark kitchen, among others), and the magnificent presence of Grier and Markov, both of them haunting the screen with almost supernatural beauty. More than the crass dialogue they’re given to munch, it is their total physical performance that conveys who and what their characters really are. When they face each other, the screen sizzles with intensity, and it’s their eyes, their posture, that lead us from their initial mutual distrust, through their apprehensive cooperation, to their final fight together.

Although the film has some very funny moments, and doesn’t shy away from goofiness in the form of the effeminate Priscium (Sid Lawrence) or the drunken Deirdre, it is smart on not allowing that goofiness to spread to the fights in the arena; moreover, there are some very clever moments – brief glimpses, sometimes humorous, sometimes not – that evokes Eisenstein’s editing to underscore some social points so in keep with the racial tensions of the time (that is, the American 70s). Consider, for instance, the moment when Cornelia is tripped during the kitchen fight and Livia, she of Roman ancestry runs to her aid, only for Cornelia to grab Livia’s skirt to clean herself up; or the way Mamawi is quick to adapt to every circumstance (she fights when she needs to fight, she dances for the Romans as she danced for her tribe), mirroring the black’s situation on the inner city. And the film is not free of irony as well, as attested by the way Livia ends gang raped by her “fellow-citizens”.

Romans that are so brutalized by the games, so insensitized to violence, so dominated by ennui, that even the fad of the women fighters quickly turns boring to the point that when Bodicia and Mamawi finally face each other on the arena, their struggle is not even seen by the crowd lost in its own search for pleasure. Which makes Mamawi’s plea to be allowed to spare Bodicia’s life even more poignant.

But, as I said above, this is truly Markov’s and Grier’s film, the one in which their beauty goes unsurpassed, the one where their eyes and their faces and their bodies are allowed full expression. And it is wonderful to behold the silent complicity that bonds both women when they fight each other to the death, respecting each other, honouring each other. And the beauty of the moment when Mamawi, endangering her own life, decides not to kill Bodicia, is unsurpassed by any other exploitation film ever. Just scroll up and watch the girl’s eyes and posture in the scenes where they are together, admire the subtle promise of a smile on Markov’s face when Grier’s trident bites the sand near her head. While Grier went on to be queen of the exploitation scene and, in time, to become an icon of the twentieth century, I’ll never understand why hasn’t Markov become a major player in the industry.

Black Mama, White Mama (Eddie Romero, 1973)

Although usually reviled by both critics and viewers alike, I find that BLACK MAMA, WHITE MAMA, is not only the best film Eddie Romero has ever directed, but also one of my favourite exploitation films of the seventies. In part that is due to the wonderful performances of Pam Grier and Margaret Markov, surprisingly restrained in terms of camp and nudity, but nonetheless pretty rich in warmth and complicity. Add to that some memorable performances from a bevy of supporting actors, from the sexy lesbian couple of guard and warden played with some affection by Lynn Borden and Laurie Burton, campy cowboy bounty hunter Ruben (a wonderful Sid Haig), seedy lowlife drug baron Chen (Vic Diaz) and the surprisingly fit and funny revolutionary leader Ernesto (Zaldy Zschornack), and you’ll get a little gem of a film that will shine through the nooks and crannies of the admittedly scant plot to its bittersweet ending.

Said ending is one of the points of contention among detractors of the movie that think it a denial of everything that happened before; and to some extent it is… but that is life’s way, and although one can not claim that BMWM is a realistic portrayal of life in a female penal colony in some tropical island in the seventies (the movie was lensed in the Philippines), we can not use that fact to deride the few elements of political and social allegory that Jonathan Demme’s script wove all over the fantasy core of the narrative.

And what is the narrative, filled with subplots as it is? Lee Daniels (Pam Grier) and Karen Brent (Margaret Markov), a hooker and a revolutionary, arrive at a female correctional facility run by lesbian warden (Burton) and overseen by her partner Logan (gorgeous actress Lynn Borden), who has the habit of peeping on the prisoners while they shower and to demand sexual favours in exchange for a better treatment. Following a catfight in the prison cantina between Daniels and Brent, both women do a stinch on a hotbox prior to being transferred to a maximum security prison on the city, where they will be interrogated concerning the drug traffic of Daniels’s pimp and the guerrilla’s activity of Brent’s insurrectionist group. Before they get to their destination, the paddy wagon is ambushed by the guerrillas trying to free Brent, and during the ensuing fire-fight both women escape into the jungle, chained to one another, in a clear rehash of THE DEFIANT ONES (Stanley Kramer, 1958).

Although free from the police, they both have distinct agendas: Daniels wants to regain possession of a loot of some 40.000 dollars that she stole from her pimp/boyfriend, and Brent needs to be reunited to her guerrilla companions for she is the only one who can broker a weapons deal that will allow the revolutionaries to fight the corrupt government. That puts them at odds with one another, as they both remain chained to each other and want to follow in different directions. To complicate their difficult and unwanted cooperation, they are being pursued not only by the police, but also by a bounty hunter hired by one of the cops, Cheng’s gang of assassins and Ernesto’s Guerrillas, all of which will have a major showdown on the Fiipino docks in the fiery climactic battle.

Although the heart of the movie resides on the cementing of Grier’s and Markov’s character’s friendship and trust, we feel that they are bound to one another long before they get chained on the paddy wagon. For they are – or seem to be – complete opposites; and as every physics student will tell you, you can’t put two opposites in the same box without them being violently attracted.

The relationship between both women is clearly clichéd, but it is also that relation that justifies the unpopular ending of the film. The mutual despite is obvious from step one, and maybe better voiced when near the end Daniels tells Brent that “I’ve been a revolutionary since I was 13 – the first time I was paid to do it”, hinting that her descent into prostitution was a kind of stance against the system, a means of survival, a strengthner of character. In contrast, Markov’s revolutionary feels more like a pampered rich girl that got bored of having every whim satisfied and wanted to try some action fighting for the poor, something she never was. And the film seems to bear testimony to it.

When we first see Karen Brent on the police wagon that is taking her to prison, she seems more annoyed than frightened or worried with what she was about to experience. She visibly dislikes Daniels that is in the wagon with her, a dislike of which the hooker partakes, eyeing Brent as if she was just a child playing at being a revolutionary with her shiny golden hair, pouty lips and clean battle fatigues. And indeed, despite being a prostitute, Daniels refuses the sexual advances of Logan, asserting her determination to face whatever conditions she would be dealt, but keeping the power to decide what to do, with whom and when. Not so Brent, who easily accepts the unwelcome attention of the guard, as if she is not used to be treated roughly and will do anything in her power not to be hurt. Here it is Daniels who is the revolutionary and Brent the prostitute.

When they fight in the cantina, it is because Daniels shows resentment for Brent surrender before the corruption of the system, and the way Brent deals with it is more akin to a spoilt child than a mature revolutionary. Later on, already chained, when they first fight over which direction to follow – in one of the most erotic bitch slapping contest you can think of (although there is no nudity or clothes-tearing) – Daniels has no trouble in overpowering the weaker girl, showing her totally unfit for guerrilla warfare.

Then, although the plot is to thin to allow room for deep character building, it is during their run from their pursuers that they begin to respect one another, to learn to cooperate and to love each other, a moment of bonding that occurs when Daniels kills Luis (Subas Herrero) when he attempts to rape Brent. If when they escaped the wagon Daniels seems to kill Logan out of pure revenge for the corruption she stands for, and Brent seems more like a unwilling participant, when it comes the time to kill Luis it is for survival, true, but it is also to protect a friend.

And that is why Brent must die. After growing from a pampering rich girl into a true revolutionary, she must die with boots on and a gun in her hand, helping Daniels escape from the killers. Just as had recently happened to Che Guevara - another Ernesto - whose pictures exposed by the CIA made him look Christ-like. It is a shocking and unexpected death, but it is a beautiful death nonetheless. Elegiac, one could say, as it seems fit for a hero – for a revolutionary fighting against the corrupt system that we’ve been shown all over the film, where the girls meet no one that is sympathetic. And it is the expression of pain and loss in Daniels face that most clearly shows us that Brent has grown up to be that hero she used to play at. And no ending could be more fit to this movie.

PAM GRIER: She's a Whole Lot of Woman

Pam Grier is one of the few fortunate persons who become icons. She’ll probably never be a symbol for feminists, but she’ll forever be the hallmark of the true liberated, independent and assertive Woman.

Discovered by Roger Corman while working as an office assistant at American International Pictures, she would star on a handful of movies between 1971 and 1975, each of which would prove to be surprising commercial successes and gather a growing cult following throughout the years.

From early supporting roles on such cult classics as HIT MAN (1971) and COOL BREEZE (1972) where she is still billed as Pamela Grier, she caught the rising wave of the highly profitable and surprisingly popular black action films (since then known under the moniker of Blaxploitation), establishing herself as the archetype of the modern black woman that wouldn’t stand still when confronted with corruption, injustice or racism (“That’s miss nigger, to you”). But it was the series of WIP films she made for AIP between 1971-1972, THE BIG DOLL HOUSE (1971), WOMEN IN CAGES (1971), BLACK MAMA, WHITE MAMA (1972) and THE BIG BIRD CAGE (1972) that propelled her to stardom as Pam Grier, paving the way to the iconic and iconoclastic trilogy that would put her in the history books as an icon of popular culture: COFFY (1973), FOXY BROWN (1974) and FRIDAY FOSTER (1975).

In these films, Grier pulls no punches, backs before no one and looks as good as one can desire. Dealing death and castration like some unleashed goddess, she was the first (and remains unrivalled) bad ass mama. Sexually alluring, moving with the graciousness of a black panther, and acutely smart, Grier built a persona out of the several characters she played in her movies; a persona with whom black women of the 70s could identify and every male (whichever the colour) could desire and fear.

A persona that could almost be encapsulated on the demise of Grizelda, which Grier played in 1971’s HIT MAN: like a black goddess out of the darkest jungle, it takes a lion to attempt to tame her… and as we avert our mesmerized gaze, we’re left to wonder if it will do the trick.

Grier was so identified with the Blaxploitation phenomenon that she went under the radar almost at the same time as the genre was waning: by 1975, Spielberg’s JAWS was taking exploitation out of the drive-in and the flea-pits and into the mainstream family theatres. And in 1976, white man and black man exchanged violent punches on the Oscar winner of that year, John G. Avildsen’s ROCKY. Blaxploitation had nowhere else to go and so it is not surprising that same year to see the billing of Pamela Grier once more on screen as a tamed slave girl in DRUM (1976) the misshapen follow-up to MANDINGO (1975), loosing even the public’s attention to the scene stealing beauty of a young Cheryl “Rainbeaux” Smith.

But those crazy years of 1971-1975 burned Pam Grier in the popular consciousness, igniting a slow burning fire that would be once more revived in Quentin Tarantino’s 1997 homage JACKIE BROWN. But that is an altogether different story…For now, just enjoy this trip down memory lane as we, here at HOUSE OF SIN, join Darius Whiteplume's DIRTY AND NERDY to hold a complete PAM GRIER WEEK, starting NOW!

Missing in Time

While writing my last post I got myself thinking of how frequently we find an actress in some old cheesy movie or TV series that immediately grabs our attention, fills a void we didn't know was there, and then simply disappears down the mad whirlwind of time never to be seen again.

Coraly Zahonero in THE MIRACLE OF ALICE AMES (1989)

Case in point: Coraly Zahonero, the French actress that so sensuously played Alice Ames, a young hooker suffering from stigmata while having sex, in the curious episode The Miracle of Alice Ames (1989) from the TV Series The Hitchiker (1983-1991). Young Coraly plays the title character with a mixture of innocence and pathos, clearly prefiguring the talent that would bestow on her the Prix Daniel Sorano in 1995 for her role in La Double Inconstance. Although she was never to be seen again in a horror or erotic role, we can see more of her in R.I.S, police scientifique (4 seasons, 2006-2009), and several other TV series and films (as well as several plays).

Joanna Pang in THE SECRET OF ISIS (1975-1976)

But what about Joanna Pang, the hotty teenager that played Cindy Lee on the children's TV Series The Secret of Isis between 1975-1976? With full pouty lips, doey eyes and a figure at fifteen capable of obfuscating the mini-skirted toga clad Isis (JoAnna Cameron), she must have been the wet dream of many a horny teen. Sadly she practically disappeared after the series was cancelled, being glimpsed in minor roles in only three more films between 1979 and 1984. Having played the role of an adventurous teen that frequently beat the boys at their own dares and capable of taking care of herself in some dangerous situations, she clearly deserved more and better work..

Andree Maranda in THE TOXIC AVENGER (1984)

And then we have Andree Maranda, who played the sultry blind girlfriend of the Toxic Avenger in the 1984 cheesy Troma classic of horror and laughs, never to be heard of again. And yet, she burned her place in our retinas in that movie, dig her hole in our hearts with her joyful interpretation of a dumb girl with a heart of gold, even when being bent over a table to be anally raped in one of the most inanely funny jokes of the film.

Three girls, three faces, three bodies that will live forever in our memories, preserved in eternal youth on the plastic museum of our video libraries. In a way, they gain a kind of immortality that even the great writers and historic figures lack: they live forever young, firing our dreams with unfulfilled promises.

Home Again

I’ve been away from this house, lately, wandering the dark streets of the night, aimless among the neon pools on the wet asphalt where lost souls go to share their despair. I’ve been pondering the sinister beauty and gleeful joy of decadence and depravity. They say you can get lost on your own thoughts. I almost did.

But it is now time to come back home. What with the amazing Pam Grier Week coming up under the sage auspices of blogmeister Darius Whiteplume? Time to rev up the brain engines, grab the discs from the shelf and force the DVD player into some serious workout. Our chocolate-coloured queen of the 70s awaits our visit in the candy coloured haze of the past.

Besides, if I didn’t get home soon, it was possible I wouldn’t be allowed in. Our sexy neighbour the Sexy Witch was evicted from Blogger on charges of improper conduct. If so sweet abode of beauty and grace could be so branded, what of my humble lair of sin and depravity? I fear the mobs carrying torches.

Truth is, god is once again prowling the dark alleys of the night, harbouring great fear and bigger resentment. He sees sin where is only beauty, and he knows no beauty where there’s no pain.

He pretends to offer solace to those that are lost…

…but as always has been his way, when you offer him one cheek…

…he demands the other as well.