Writer/director/star Michael Fredianelli once again dares to tread where few filmmakers do, bravely melding layers of unsettling racial themes with the current trend of 70's grindhouse throwbacks. In The Minstrel Killer, officer Tex Holland is called to a backwards Texas town to assist with the investigation of a vicious whipping murder, a rarity in those parts beyond the scope of their limited force, namely the local lawman, Pike McGraw (television star Eric Andersen in the part, who brings his considerable experience with such roles to the table). Several more deaths occur shortly after his arrival, involving a hanging and cruel tar-and-feathering. As the slave-orientated murders stack up, additional help arrives with Tyrell Jones (played by the very capable Anthony Spears), a sharp, levelheaded, black officer. All this resonates deeply within Holland, as he deals with a personal problem of his own; he recently discovered his wife (newcomer Vanessa Celso in the demanding role) cheated on him with a black man. And for him, the atrocities of the case have only just begun to unfold
The Minstrel Killer establishes its suspenseful, gritty roots of post-1960's horror with reverent enthusiasm. Right off the bat, the film opens with a fantastic stalking sequence of a bikini-clad female who is sunning herself in the countryside, a scene that will instantly make any grindhouse fan feel at home, before jumping into effectively crude animation panels that accompany the opening credits. The story does get somewhat sidetracked early on, with a 'left field' subplot involving a family of cannibals (cue Texas Chainsaw Massacre imagery). After it gets there, however, the scene plays out fairly well, with every actor giving convincingly filthy and depraved performances, as if it were second nature to them. Fredianelli's ability to secure and place such talent in these types of roles has always been admirable. For me, though, where the film shines brightest is with the Minstrel Killer himself. In black face, emotionless, complete with suit, white gloves, and top hat, he is a mysterious, striking, and wholly unique cinematic killer. Credited (fittingly) as the Shape, he lurks with chilling menace before swiftly striking at his prey. All his shots are filmed beautifully, whether they are his quickly approaching feet in a victim's background or a simple low-angle close-up, the exposure from the sky making his grotesque face so dark as to only just see the white of his eyes. The part is played by a nearly unrecognizable Michael Nosé and, despite having no dialogue (technically, though his demeanor speaks volumes), it may go down as one of his very finest performances. Whether he's whipping an unfortunate soul or dancing a jig willy-nilly, he owns this character fully.
Fredianelli, an artist who never shies away from controversial themes or graphic content, delivers yet again with The Minstrel Killer, my favorite full-length feature of his so far. The path his troubled character, Tex Holland, leads us down leaves us shaken and provoked, elevated all the more by his powerful portrayal, both emotive and intense. Is Holland consumed by racist rage, or driven to it? Who is the Shape and what is his true motive? Or is he more a metaphorical character, an ironic reflection of prejudice and punishment clashing? Unlike the black and white narrative of 1977's Fight For Your Life, The Minstrel Killer leaves us with complicated questions and, perhaps to a fault, precious few answers but one thing is certain, you won't be the same human after viewing it par for the course with a Wild Dogs Picture.
On a final note, the original music by Aaron Stielstra (who also has a small part as a scummy, micturating, lowlife hood) must not be forgotten. The extremely moody synth tracks and terrifying stingers, which would've been well suited for any Fulci gut-muncher, fit this film like a greasy glove. I think it is Stielstra's best score work yet.
The Minstrel Killer establishes its suspenseful, gritty roots of post-1960's horror with reverent enthusiasm. Right off the bat, the film opens with a fantastic stalking sequence of a bikini-clad female who is sunning herself in the countryside, a scene that will instantly make any grindhouse fan feel at home, before jumping into effectively crude animation panels that accompany the opening credits. The story does get somewhat sidetracked early on, with a 'left field' subplot involving a family of cannibals (cue Texas Chainsaw Massacre imagery). After it gets there, however, the scene plays out fairly well, with every actor giving convincingly filthy and depraved performances, as if it were second nature to them. Fredianelli's ability to secure and place such talent in these types of roles has always been admirable. For me, though, where the film shines brightest is with the Minstrel Killer himself. In black face, emotionless, complete with suit, white gloves, and top hat, he is a mysterious, striking, and wholly unique cinematic killer. Credited (fittingly) as the Shape, he lurks with chilling menace before swiftly striking at his prey. All his shots are filmed beautifully, whether they are his quickly approaching feet in a victim's background or a simple low-angle close-up, the exposure from the sky making his grotesque face so dark as to only just see the white of his eyes. The part is played by a nearly unrecognizable Michael Nosé and, despite having no dialogue (technically, though his demeanor speaks volumes), it may go down as one of his very finest performances. Whether he's whipping an unfortunate soul or dancing a jig willy-nilly, he owns this character fully.
Fredianelli, an artist who never shies away from controversial themes or graphic content, delivers yet again with The Minstrel Killer, my favorite full-length feature of his so far. The path his troubled character, Tex Holland, leads us down leaves us shaken and provoked, elevated all the more by his powerful portrayal, both emotive and intense. Is Holland consumed by racist rage, or driven to it? Who is the Shape and what is his true motive? Or is he more a metaphorical character, an ironic reflection of prejudice and punishment clashing? Unlike the black and white narrative of 1977's Fight For Your Life, The Minstrel Killer leaves us with complicated questions and, perhaps to a fault, precious few answers but one thing is certain, you won't be the same human after viewing it par for the course with a Wild Dogs Picture.
On a final note, the original music by Aaron Stielstra (who also has a small part as a scummy, micturating, lowlife hood) must not be forgotten. The extremely moody synth tracks and terrifying stingers, which would've been well suited for any Fulci gut-muncher, fit this film like a greasy glove. I think it is Stielstra's best score work yet.