Good old Ruggero Deodato. He made his name in the late '70s/early '80s with his video nasty cannibal flicks, and then he delivered a series of ridiculous horror films in the 1980s along the lines of BODY COUNT, PHANTOM OF DEATH and DIAL: HELP, the most ridiculous of them all (at least THE WASHING MACHINE didn't feature a killer appliance!). Perhaps the most surprising thing about this film is that, in a way, it works. Sure, it's a stupid as the killer snails in Lucio Fulci's AENIGMA, but that doesn't stop it from being an enjoyable effort – for all the wrong reasons.
The biggest draw for the male viewer is the actress in the leading role. Charlotte Lewis might be forgotten today, but back in the late '80s, she was a big star after her turn in THE GOLDEN CHILD. Why she signed up for this role is unknown, but the emphasis is on her throughout: perhaps surprised that he got a popular actress in his film for once, Deodato strives to include Lewis in almost every shot. Her acting might not be so hot, but Lewis certainly is an utterly beautiful woman, half-British and half-Arabic. She emits oozing sexuality throughout the flick and guys will be in for a treat, as she strips down to some sexy underwear for basically the last half hour, with some brief nudity thrown into the mix in a hilarious, inexplicable, frolicking bathtub moment. The sexiest woman ever seen in a film? Possibly – she sure is up there at the top.
Now, it's important to remember that the 1980s was the decade of excess, and nothing was done in half measures. You think the idea of a killer telephone is stupid, you know there are going to be plenty of ridiculous scenes in this film. I was surprised, though, at how effective some of the supernatural moments are: shots of a neglected office, complete with a corpse in the cupboard, are atmospheric and fun's to be had from the spooky voices and noises from the receiver, like in WHITE NOISE. Such moments are tempered by the utterly ridiculous kills thrown in every now and then: folk are strangled by telephone cords and electrocuted, while two particular deaths are notable for their cheesiness. The first is cameoing William Berger, whose pacemaker explodes out of his chest in an ALIEN-style kill. The other is a would-be rapist, hunting Lewis in the subway, who's killed when coins fly out of a public call box, hitting him with the impact of bullets! Also be sure to check out the delirious climax, in which Lewis is strapped to a desk with tape, while menaced by possessed fans and scissors. All cheesy highlights in a fun B-movie.
Another surprise is Deodato himself: he does good work here, putting in some nice chase sequences, especially with that creepy guy in the subway. His camera-work is quality and he adds a veneer to the film that it probably shouldn't have. Alright, so the acting isn't up to much – especially the awful Carola Stagnaro, who I was surprised to find appeared in Argento flicks – but when a film is this much fun, you don't care. DIAL: HELP: the epitome of '80s cheese, a dumb idea resulting in an oddly successful little movie.
The biggest draw for the male viewer is the actress in the leading role. Charlotte Lewis might be forgotten today, but back in the late '80s, she was a big star after her turn in THE GOLDEN CHILD. Why she signed up for this role is unknown, but the emphasis is on her throughout: perhaps surprised that he got a popular actress in his film for once, Deodato strives to include Lewis in almost every shot. Her acting might not be so hot, but Lewis certainly is an utterly beautiful woman, half-British and half-Arabic. She emits oozing sexuality throughout the flick and guys will be in for a treat, as she strips down to some sexy underwear for basically the last half hour, with some brief nudity thrown into the mix in a hilarious, inexplicable, frolicking bathtub moment. The sexiest woman ever seen in a film? Possibly – she sure is up there at the top.
Now, it's important to remember that the 1980s was the decade of excess, and nothing was done in half measures. You think the idea of a killer telephone is stupid, you know there are going to be plenty of ridiculous scenes in this film. I was surprised, though, at how effective some of the supernatural moments are: shots of a neglected office, complete with a corpse in the cupboard, are atmospheric and fun's to be had from the spooky voices and noises from the receiver, like in WHITE NOISE. Such moments are tempered by the utterly ridiculous kills thrown in every now and then: folk are strangled by telephone cords and electrocuted, while two particular deaths are notable for their cheesiness. The first is cameoing William Berger, whose pacemaker explodes out of his chest in an ALIEN-style kill. The other is a would-be rapist, hunting Lewis in the subway, who's killed when coins fly out of a public call box, hitting him with the impact of bullets! Also be sure to check out the delirious climax, in which Lewis is strapped to a desk with tape, while menaced by possessed fans and scissors. All cheesy highlights in a fun B-movie.
Another surprise is Deodato himself: he does good work here, putting in some nice chase sequences, especially with that creepy guy in the subway. His camera-work is quality and he adds a veneer to the film that it probably shouldn't have. Alright, so the acting isn't up to much – especially the awful Carola Stagnaro, who I was surprised to find appeared in Argento flicks – but when a film is this much fun, you don't care. DIAL: HELP: the epitome of '80s cheese, a dumb idea resulting in an oddly successful little movie.