Filmgore

Filmgore is an idiosyncratic production of 1983, filled with blood, sweat, and undoubtedly, a lot of gore. This movie is an anthology of the most grotesque, horrifying, and graphic scenes from a wide-ranging selection of horror movies, curated together in an hour-and-a-half gruesome extravaganza. At the forefront of this freak fest is the incomparable Cassandra Peterson, who takes on the famed role of Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, a cult gothic figure dressed in black, cutting a distinct figure with her overflowing love for the world of the supernatural and the macabre.

The film commences with our hostess, Elvira, narrating from her dungeon-esque lounge filled with oddities and kitsch, setting the mood for the grotesque banquet of movie clips to follow. As a horror aficionado and a cult figure, Elvira, with her zany humor and double-entendre remarks, guides the audience through the bloody onslaught. Her epigrammatic commentary on the scenes draws the audience further into the world of horror, busy as it is with spine-chilling screams, blood-curdling murders, eviscerations, mutilations, and all other variants of blood, guts, and gore.

Filmgore, produced by Charles Band, is unapologetic in showcasing explicit scenes from various horror genres, focusing primarily on B-movies from the 70s and early 80s, comprising lengthy clips from renowned splatter films. This movie is essentially a homage to the gore genre, mirroring a ‘highlight reel’ rather than a narrative-driven entity. This distinguishes Filmgore as a shared experience for gore enthusiasts, and fewer of a narrative feature film.

Among the multitude of horror flicks sampled in Filmgore are notorious B-movies such as "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre," "Zombie," and an array of productions from the fertile yet disturbing imagination of Spanish director Amando De Ossorio. There’s a high level of campiness involved, as would be expected, that complements Elvira's inherent charisma and distinction. The juxtaposition of humor with the grotesque makes the viewing a bizarre experience, tapping into areas of horror that typically remain underrepresented in mainstream cinema.

Filmgore is all about its gore, and there are no attempts to tone down the explicitness of the clips shown. The intent, rather, is to showcase them in all their bloody, disturbing glory, proving the sensation of gore has the power to mesmerize and shock viewers simultaneously. However, the graphic nature of the movie is offset by Elvira, her comedic timing and entertaining dialogue. The smoky-voiced siren connects these horrific snapshots with answers to horror trivia, sarcastic remarks, and just the right amount of campy humor that provides brevity amidst the brutality.

Though Filmgore may not be a conventionally structured narrative film, it nevertheless paints a vivid portrait of the gore genre's evolution during the era. It captures the essence of an age that was besotted with graphic depictions of horror, signaling the growth, demand and unconventional appeal of splatter cinema. It is, in a way, a time capsule encapsulating a piece of horror heritage.

Still, one cannot overlook the critical role of Cassandra Peterson's Elvira as the glue that holds this narrative-less movie together. This is the first incarnation of the character in a film and represents her ghoulish charm and idiosyncratic sex appeal that has since catapulted her into the hall of fame of the great horror hosts. Peterson's engagingly entertaining performance layers the film's deluge of disproportionately brutal scenes with engaging continuity and delicious, dark humor.

In essence, Filmgore stands as an early example of supercuts and highlights reel, not just for its graphic content but also for its historical insight into a distinctive era of visceral, gruesome horror. It evokes a sense of nostalgia for horror cinephiles and serves as a benchmark for newcomers interested in the genre. Donning a tongue-in-cheek attitude, Filmgore is a tribute to an eccentric subgenre of horror that still manages to draw and captivate audiences decades after its creation. Expect no plot or storyline here; instead, prepare for a sensory bombardment of vintage gore and mayhem, interspersed with Elvira's delightful commentary and humor.