Tuesday, October 26, 2010


No one would condemn you for venerating the seventies cinema. There is so much that is good there, from roughening horror to blaxploitation to a myriad of TV movies that it's easy to view the seventies as some unfallen, golden age of cinema (which makes all of us weirdos in contrast to the many stateside folks who glorify the sixties as the apex of happenings and wonderfulness). But ten years is a long time and there are a lot of cracks into which mediocrity can settle. Hola, MAS NEGRO QUE LA NOCHE!
A quartet of girls settle into the formerly-aunt-owned mansion which has fallen into one pair of their hands. A catch comes with it in the form of a black cat named Bequr. You can guess what comes next and, as long as you say "Cat dies + hauntings", you would not be incorrect.
This is professionally rendered on both sides of the camera, but MY GOD IT DRAGS. It's reminiscent of TV movies and the dullest of the "old dark house" films. No nudity, little bloodshed, one million yawns. It's not actively, aggressively terrible, but unless you are a die-hard fetishist for slow pans, shadows, and divorcee subplots, you are likely to regret the time you invest in this.
#26 of 31. Almost home.

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