Psychomania [1973]

I almost don't care what else happens in a movie that opens with slow-mo motorcycle stunts executed against the background of misty standing stones and set to the sounds of fuzzy wah-wah guitars.  If that kept up for ninety minutes, I'd be suitably entertained.  The fact that the rest of "Psychomania" is so delightfully insane is proof that mad geniuses walk among us.  It's a true genre-basher, crafted with care to be simultaneously kitschy and creepy.

Dapper young gent Tom Latham (Nicky Henson), whose mother makes a rather fine living conducting seances in the family estate, heads up a motorcycle gang called The Living Dead--a group of youths with an insatiable lust for hooliganry.  Their deeds range from riding rings around unsuspecting shoppers and knocking over fruit carts to running motorists off the road.  Tom persuades his mother and her manservant Shadewell (George Sanders in his final role) to let him in on the occult secrets they harbor.  After discovering that all one needs to do to achieve immortality is to believe he'll rise from the grave after his suicide, Tom persuades his biker pals to join him in undeath. Only Tom's girlfriend Abby, who possesses a gentler soul than that of the other delinquents, stands between the group and an eternity of vandalism and violence.

Because seriously--FUCK TESCO.

All of this mayhem is supported by a fantastically groovy score by John Cameron. Psychedelic guitar work, sinister choral arrangements, and portentous organ chords cement the time, place and atmosphere of the film. I'd argue that the soundtrack to "Psychomania"is right up there with that of "Suspiria" in terms of playing an essential role in the success of the film.

Hot-pants-enhanced hooliganry

Director Don Sharp helmed two Christopher Lee/Harry Alan Towers Fu Manchu films, a handful of supernatural horror flicks, and some TV episodes, but nothing in his career is as compellingly weird as this film. "Psychomania" blends eccentricity, black humor, and occult themes to create a film that is absolutely unique and quintessentially British.

Eccentricity is perhaps the greatest renewable resource of the British Isles, and unusual world-views are tolerated and even nurtured in a way they simply aren't in the U.S. Rugged individualism is one thing, but unless it involves beating something (animal, geographical or human) into submission, Americans aren't incredibly interested in hearing about it. Britain's history of inherited lands and titles undoubtedly fostered the British eccentrics, and the character of Tom Latham fits neatly into this tradition.  He's the son of wealthy occultists, who were probably supported in their interests by indulgent, also-wealthy and also-eccentric progenitors.

Tom is surrounded by a motley bunch of friends, seemingly without a care for their diverse places within the social hierarchy.  His mates in the Living Dead seem to come from a variety of backgrounds: Hatchet is rough around the edges, Jane itches for a fight like a prototypical Ladette, and Hinky is a soft-spoken hippie.

I'm trying to suss out a way to cleverly mention that Tom looks great in leather, but I'm coming up empty. So let's just take a  moment to enjoy those leather trousers, shall we?

Creating a comedy that hinges on suicide might seem a strange choice, but British humor has a history of embracing unusual and controversial topics.  The Inquisitors, gay lumberjacks and Mafiosi of "Monty Python's Flying Circus" reflect a cultural ability to elicit comedy from confrontational material. As many an earnest upholder of politically correct social norms would remind us, there's nothing inherently funny about suicide.  There are, however, buckets of funniness in the suicidal biker gang montage in "Psychomania," during which the characters find a number of creative ways to raise havoc while offing themselves.

And then there's Tom's funeral, during which he is placed in the ground astride his bike while the rest of the gang weaves commemorative floral arrangements. Hinky's memorial song, "Riding Free," contains such brilliant lines as the couplet "he really got it on/he rode that sweet machine just like a bomb."  Fans of Italian horror will note that this scene--minus the folk song--is evoked in Michele Soavi's "Dellamorte Dellamore."

Nothing that begins this beautifully would disappoint me.

The occult is infused into pretty much every frame of this movie, from that great "slo-mo at the standing stones" intro through the resurrection theme that drives the story to the final (and, sadly, inevitable) come-uppance.  Blending hoodoo witchcraft with astral/metaphysical concepts, the magic in "Psychomania" can be used for benevolent or self-serving ends.  The devil isn't necessarily a bad dude--he just takes his business deals very seriously.

In this world, frogs hold major occult significance.  Frogs are the only animal mentioned during the movie--none of the photogenic bats, wolves or cats one might expect can be found.  Instead, there's a very stoical toad who seems to be a locus of resurrection and destruction.  Which--let's face it--is really absurd and excellent.

Steeped in 70s aesthetics and possessed of a sharp wit, "Psychomania" is a movie that's very close to my heart. It manages to be a document of its time as well as a genuinely entertaining romp for those who aren't as obsessed with cinematic anthropology.

Check out more images from "Psychomania" on Flickr.