GURU, THE MAD MONK (1970)
Director: Andy Milligan
Retromedia

When I reviewed Image's DVD of THE BODY BENEATH upon its initial release, I said such things as, "[Andy] Milligan has been called the worst director of all the time, and after stomaching THE BODY BENEATH again, I can easily attest that this is fact." Well, I got more than a few e-mails saying I was too harsh on poor old Andy, so now that I'm reviewing Retromedia's disc of GURU, THE MAD MONK, I'll try to leave the insults in the closet and let you judge for yourself.

Running a bit under an hour, GURU, THE MAD MONK was released as a co-feature to THE BODY BENEATH. Both films feature a crooked reverend character -- this time the crazed Father Guru played by Neil Flanagan. The flamboyant Flanagan was the star of several of Milligan's horror flicks, and also donned women's clothing for Andy's FLESHPOT ON 42ND STREET, where he was billed as "Lynn" Flanagan and fancied himself a Warhol superstar.

GURU, THE MAD MONK is one of Milligan's period films, and this one is set in Medieval times on the fictional island of "Mortavia." Mortavia is often condemned in the film as being a "beastly island," and if this is an analogy for Andy's homeland of Staten Island, then there's as much bashing of that turf as you'd find in your average "Lost Honeymooners" episode. Actually, most of it was shot in St. Peter's Church in Manhattan, giving the film a gothic feel, but this doesn't prevent Andy from giving us glimpses of modern light switches or the sounds of early morning traffic.

As you would suspect, Father Guru is up to no good, and he's trying to make life hell for a young couple played by Judith Israel (with early 70s feathered Shirley Jones hair) and Paul Lieber (whose curly locks and heavy NY accent will have you thinking "Sweathog"). Jaqueline Webb plays Olga, Guru's mistress who periodically dons some dime store vampire teeth. She can also hypnotize people by waving the end of a necklace for three seconds. You also get treated to a silly hunchback named... Igor. Like most Milligan films, there's a decent amount of cheap gore (eye gauging, hands being cut off, a crucifixion, a severed head on a tray), and as usual, the lighting is poor and the camera shots are tighter than Fred Mertz' wallet. The stock music painfully drowns the proceedings, and the make-up and costumes are colorful enough, but still have the amateurish air of a high school Shakespeare production. Well, I only said that I'd try to keep the insults in the closet.

For anybody who is a fan of Milligan (and who isn't?), Retromedia's full frame DVD of GURU, THE MAD MONK will not disappoint. There is a disclaimer at the beginning about the inferior source elements on hand, but the print only suffers from some green emulsion scratches/lines, a common affliction to 35mm prints that survived the relentless grindhouse circuit. There are a few jump cuts in the print as well, but the colors look very pleasing and the picture is surprisingly smooth (with minor grain), especially considering that Andy shot these things in 16mm and had them blown up to 35. The mono sound is acceptable, as nothing can remedy the director's misuse of synch sound. It seems that the negatives to Milligan's films have been destroyed, so Retromedia has done a fine job with the 35mm elements available.

Aside from the expected trailer, there's a surprise extra in the form of an interview with Thomas Vozza, a still photographer who worked with Milligan during the final days of his career. In the late 80s and early 90s, Milligan was shooting unbearable direct-to-video West Coast rubbish that even his most loyal fans can't stomach, and Vozza was there to experience it. Although he says he did like the man, he doesn't paint a pretty picture of Milligan, making him sound bitter, temperamental, and even causing actors to cry. His cheapness also caused him to lose his cool when someone broke the filming lights that he purchased from the supermarket! But enjoy the interview, as Vozza can tell a good anecdote, especially when the subject is Andy Milligan! (George R. Reis)

 

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