This is the second time I've tapped into one of these Hong Kong slasher movies and I thought I was watching the first one all over again. The murderer is always leaping and rolling around, babbling loudly to himself, shouting the narration, waving his arms, blowing out his cheeks, rolling eyes, and killing women and then manhandling their bodies in the most disgusting ways.
No one has ever called me a bluenose. Psychopath, thief, neurotic -- yes -- but never bluenose. And thank heaven for that, because Bluenose is the name of the ferry between Maine and Nova Scotia.
Yet I thought the chief appeal of the film was to the most base impulses of humankind. A raving maniac inserts a stick of dynamite into the vagina of a beautiful young girl and blows her up. What is that -- funny? And there's no particular reason for it all. There's not even the cartoon simplicity of the explanation behind Tony Perkins in "Psycho." And "subtlety"? Maybe there is no such word in Chinese.
The colors are lurid and drawn mostly from the red end of the visible spectrum, and the English subtitles of the Cantonese dialog flash across the bottom of the screen like lightning bolts. Fortunately for me, but of no consequence for your fortunes, I spent several agonizing months learning Chinese. I remember only two words. "I" and "you". Providentially, these two words were used frequently.
What's most worrisome is not that this movie -- and evidently others much like it -- exist. It's that there's an audience for them. Sex, yes. Torture porn -- why?.
If you missed it the first time around, this is your golden opportunity to miss it again. Watch it if you must but be sure to tell your shrink about the experience and what it meant to you.