There's a certain vibe one gets when exposed to movies of this caliber. It's like that time you went sniffing around sweet old auntie's cupboards and came across something not meant for your eyes. You feel a need to talk about it, but you can't since you've done a bad thing, might possibly cause some needless embarrasment for your dear auntie and what's worse, they'd label you as the broken pervert you are.
So what do you do? You pretend. Pretend you never saw it. You never even thought about it. See, phew, it's gone. What's Frozen Scream? Is Disney making ice cream now? Oh, boy...
But it doesn't work, now does it? Oh, no. Visions of awful music (also present in another audiovisual travesty called Don't Go Into The Woods), a completely botched dubbing track, pointless plot devices, dialogue scenes that feel like outtakes and quite random violence with no rhyme or reason fill your head. You have seen it. You have witnessed it. Now there is no turning back.
So how do you save yourself? Well, you try to see the funny aspect of this thing munching on your dying brain cells. Like the strange german accent of the main villainess, played by bargain bin movie veteran Renee Harmon. How to describe it? Well, she's no Ilsa, that much I can say.
First I thought the accent felt funny because it reminds me of Tommy Wiseau, but then it escalated into a theory that what if Mrs. Harmon was Tommy's mother in real life. It would explain SO MUCH, but then it freaked me out, so I had to change my theory. Just watch it thinking that's Jim Carrey in complete Man on the Moon -era Latka-mode and you're set.
Another thing that baffles me about this film is that it ended up on the Video Nasties-list, which probably is the main excuse as to why it was ever acknowledged at all. Now, after putting myself in the mindset of a conservative british auntie in the early 80s (might be the same auntie as in the first paragraph - or not) I can understand why so many violent films caused upheaval. By the standards of the time, something like Tenebre must've felt shockingly realistic. But this!?
My guess is that someone on the board of censors (or whatever they called their silly knitting crew) stumbled upon this waste of tape and just went "I can stop people from seeing this... I CAN STOP PEOPLE FROM SEEING THIS!" and that was that. They could've just let it be the ultra rare obscurity it is, but nooooo. Vinegar Syndrome did their thing and now literally anyone can see it. I seriously consider this a case where they just should not have bothered.
See how I struggle to actually say anything about it. Oh, you wanna hear about the scenes that probably caused the film's reputation as an obscene creation? Well, there is a barely topless woman, presented in a dream-like non-erotic manner, and the murder scenes are indeed graphic in nature. I might call them fairly realistic, if this was a homebrew film shot by a bunch of enthusiastic teenagers. What I think really caused its notoriety though is the henchmen. Those wild-eyed Harry Reems- and John Holmes-lookalikes seem like they must be packing some seriously hot stuff under those villainy robes. Like make-you-faint-by-a-sheer-glimpse -level hot stuff. Whatever it might be.
So by now you already know if you should or shouldn't see this, just as by now you know if you should or shouldn't have eaten all that Mac&Cheese that had been lying around in your fridge for a month. You wanna feel strange in a violated way? Frozen Scream is your gateway to that exact feeling.
So what do you do? You pretend. Pretend you never saw it. You never even thought about it. See, phew, it's gone. What's Frozen Scream? Is Disney making ice cream now? Oh, boy...
But it doesn't work, now does it? Oh, no. Visions of awful music (also present in another audiovisual travesty called Don't Go Into The Woods), a completely botched dubbing track, pointless plot devices, dialogue scenes that feel like outtakes and quite random violence with no rhyme or reason fill your head. You have seen it. You have witnessed it. Now there is no turning back.
So how do you save yourself? Well, you try to see the funny aspect of this thing munching on your dying brain cells. Like the strange german accent of the main villainess, played by bargain bin movie veteran Renee Harmon. How to describe it? Well, she's no Ilsa, that much I can say.
First I thought the accent felt funny because it reminds me of Tommy Wiseau, but then it escalated into a theory that what if Mrs. Harmon was Tommy's mother in real life. It would explain SO MUCH, but then it freaked me out, so I had to change my theory. Just watch it thinking that's Jim Carrey in complete Man on the Moon -era Latka-mode and you're set.
Another thing that baffles me about this film is that it ended up on the Video Nasties-list, which probably is the main excuse as to why it was ever acknowledged at all. Now, after putting myself in the mindset of a conservative british auntie in the early 80s (might be the same auntie as in the first paragraph - or not) I can understand why so many violent films caused upheaval. By the standards of the time, something like Tenebre must've felt shockingly realistic. But this!?
My guess is that someone on the board of censors (or whatever they called their silly knitting crew) stumbled upon this waste of tape and just went "I can stop people from seeing this... I CAN STOP PEOPLE FROM SEEING THIS!" and that was that. They could've just let it be the ultra rare obscurity it is, but nooooo. Vinegar Syndrome did their thing and now literally anyone can see it. I seriously consider this a case where they just should not have bothered.
See how I struggle to actually say anything about it. Oh, you wanna hear about the scenes that probably caused the film's reputation as an obscene creation? Well, there is a barely topless woman, presented in a dream-like non-erotic manner, and the murder scenes are indeed graphic in nature. I might call them fairly realistic, if this was a homebrew film shot by a bunch of enthusiastic teenagers. What I think really caused its notoriety though is the henchmen. Those wild-eyed Harry Reems- and John Holmes-lookalikes seem like they must be packing some seriously hot stuff under those villainy robes. Like make-you-faint-by-a-sheer-glimpse -level hot stuff. Whatever it might be.
So by now you already know if you should or shouldn't see this, just as by now you know if you should or shouldn't have eaten all that Mac&Cheese that had been lying around in your fridge for a month. You wanna feel strange in a violated way? Frozen Scream is your gateway to that exact feeling.