An awkward and snivelling psychopath named Jay Preston has taken a shine to the nightclub dancer he regularly sees perform. This brooding fellow, who goes out in jacket and tie yet lives in an apartment with white brick walls and an iron-framed bed resembling those of a prison cell, is beginning to revolt against his dependency on nudie magazine pin-ups, prostitutes, and the blow-up doll that he keeps readily at hand in the corner of his room. The dancer, named Jennie, is a family-minded woman who is only trying to save money for her wedding and isn't the least bit interested in this twerp whom she doesn't realize is violently obsessed with her and only able to find satisfaction when terrorizing the people around him. Enraged by seeing Jennie with her fiancé, Jay decides to take her hostage at gunpoint and we seem to know just where things are headed...
Born in 1935, Canadian transplant Lindsay Shonteff had a fairly prolific career that began in the early 1960s and lasted into the 2000s, almost entirely on the British exploitation market. Shonteff, who crossed the Atlantic for directing opportunities like his friend Sidney Furie, proved able to work in multiple genres and seemed to be making large early strides under producers like Joseph E. Levine and Harry Alan Towers. Shonteff, however, also peaked early, partly due to his squabbling over and rejection of offers by Columbia and 20th Century Fox, opportunities that tend to only come around once. By the early 80s, having become a self-producer with his wife Elizabeth Gray, he was one of several UK-based exploitation directors getting crowded out amidst rising production costs and increased competition from Hollywood.
'Lipstick and Blood,' a thriller showing every sign of its minimal to non-existent budget, is one of at least two titles that Shonteff filmed directly onto videotape during this mid-80s economic crunch. It was at this time that British exploitation directors were making films solely to test a home video market that was unregulated but eventually tightened by stricter classification and licensing rules. This film, listed by various sources as being released in 1984 but having a 1986 copyright in the end credits, was produced and directed by Shonteff along with 'The Killing Edge,' a scant post-apocalyptic tale that came out around the same time.
Many of Shonteff's professional and aesthetic decisions can be questioned when looking back at his career but it is unfortunate to see a filmmaker of decent ability reduced to this level. 'Lipstick and Blood' contains everything you can imagine from a direct-to-video exploitation flick: opening and closing credits that are of the Commodore 64 desktop variety, an horrendous synth-pop soundtrack made up of about five cues that keep recurring, locations, costumes, and props that don't truly reflect the intended setting, and a cast of obscure actors. All of these things are here; but Shonteff, whom we can assume directed ('Robert Bauer' is only listed as writer for two other Shonteff films in the 80s) and who perhaps did all of the scriptwriting and editing, used his experience to somehow enliven a ho-hum plot with a mesmerizingly warped male character and a couple of twists that cause the story to unexpectedly change its direction. While this still pans out to a standard rape-revenge drama, Shonteff somehow keeps the viewer engaged in a bottom-level production that has everything working against it.
His driving factor is the ever-psychotic state of Jay, played by Joseph Peters, an actor with several television credits that include 'All Creatures Great and Small' and 'ITV Playhouse.' Jay is a thoroughly repellent man whose existence seems to be built around the pornographic models he ogles, fantasizes about, and hangs on his bedroom walls, viewing them as 'if only' targets of his sexual violence and whom he even proceeds to shout down ("Oh, she's better looking than you!...Oh, yeah...She's got class! Real CLASS!"). He starts to imagine his perverted ideas being fulfilled in Jennie and, after a failed attempt at introducing himself, decides to stalk her in hopes of living a 'normal' existence.
Willing to turn over anyone in his path, Preston kidnaps Jennie and forces her to drive his boxy subcompact through a different kind of honeymoon; moving from one hotel to another, he makes Jennie dance for him in the style of her nightclub acts, repeatedly rapes her (thankfully, without being shown the details), and rants at her when not looking too enthusiastic about their new 'relationship.' By the time that Jennie is in his clutches, Preston has already started on a rash of killings to get whatever material comforts he wants or to obtain payback for feeling slighted. These cold-blooded deaths include a prostitute he hires but who only heightens his feelings of inadequacy, Jennie's fiancé, a gas station attendant whose till he empties, an American couple whose Lincoln Continental he drives off with, and, after she manages to escape, both of Jennie's parents.
The sex-crazed sadistic male is a prototype that dots Shonteff's catalog, reaching back to the slasher in 'Night, After Night, After Night,' the lovingly-named Rock Hard who is always looking to engage in kink with Harriet Zapper, and even Charles Vine with his bed-hopping between shootouts in 'The Second Best Secret Agent in the Whole Wide World.' 'Lipstick and Blood,' however, takes this to the nth degree, following a sex deviate in total meltdown before gleefully dishing out his comeuppance. As its title suggests, the film may have been influenced by that 1977 rape-revenge benchmark 'Lipstick,' though Shonteff had plenty of material to borrow from his own work. There is also some critique of capitalism visible, as Preston uses murder to get the woman, cash, and car that his society is demanding every virile male to have. Needless to say, Preston doesn't get any closer to feeling satisfied and begins taking Jennie to task for understandably looking down ("Why don't you cheer up?!" he rages).
Although there is nothing special in Peters's performance as Jay, his erratic psycho manages to carry the film when there is little acting to be had elsewhere. Jay is the element that 'Lipstick and Blood' clings to, as the other roles don't command much of our attention. The role of Jennie is played by an actress named Jane Linter, who only seems to have appeared in this one film. Linter fills the role passively, being pleasant to look at but never energetic. In scenes after which another murder has taken place, Jennie mopes around quietly and looks more tired than scared, though it strangely works at times when Jay is belittling her with his rants or forcing her into another degrading act. The other roles, including Jennie's mother and father (who apparently shelter her, so why did she need to take up stripping?), are not given much screen time for us to know them, besides the fact that most of this film's acting is well below standard.
There is not the amount of blood that one would expect in this film, as Jay Preston's victims are shot or stabbed without a lot of gruesome detail. There is no nudity, with Jennie never actually stripping in the club and having only two other suggestive episodes when she stands in a hotel shower for Preston while dressed and gets a glass of milk poured onto her robe. None of this matters in the broad picture of things, of course, and the film's main problem besides its lack of budget and acting talent are the ridiculous gaps in logic, which Shonteff seemed to be content with throughout his career. 'Lipstick and Blood' seems to exist in a parallel universe where there is no law enforcement - you would think that Jay will eventually be seen in the act and Jennie's parents, her fiancé's family, or her employer would be phoning up after they've gone missing. Common sense also goes out the window when Jay pulls his gun on a pair of guests in the club (amongst an audience of five or six people) and none of the club staff seem to care about it. Near the film's end, Jennie pilfers a shotgun that was kept by the club manager, is later asked if she'd seen it, then performs with it on stage (seems like a bit of a clue as to where that gun went, don't you think?).
There is plenty else to ridicule in a film like this but no one can be expecting art from a videotape that was never going to escape obscurity. There's also no point in ripping up what might have been a project of the director and his own family or friends. While of interest to the most hardcore fans of Shonteff and exploitation videotape collectors, 'Lipstick and Blood' might also be useful to those with a stake in British film and video history, as this came from an odd time when filmmakers were trying new avenues. To my knowledge, this film only exists in its original VHS format and bootlegs. It has been making rounds on YouTube lately and a few odd tapes may be circulating on the Internet but it's definitely not something the average viewer should go hunting for.
Born in 1935, Canadian transplant Lindsay Shonteff had a fairly prolific career that began in the early 1960s and lasted into the 2000s, almost entirely on the British exploitation market. Shonteff, who crossed the Atlantic for directing opportunities like his friend Sidney Furie, proved able to work in multiple genres and seemed to be making large early strides under producers like Joseph E. Levine and Harry Alan Towers. Shonteff, however, also peaked early, partly due to his squabbling over and rejection of offers by Columbia and 20th Century Fox, opportunities that tend to only come around once. By the early 80s, having become a self-producer with his wife Elizabeth Gray, he was one of several UK-based exploitation directors getting crowded out amidst rising production costs and increased competition from Hollywood.
'Lipstick and Blood,' a thriller showing every sign of its minimal to non-existent budget, is one of at least two titles that Shonteff filmed directly onto videotape during this mid-80s economic crunch. It was at this time that British exploitation directors were making films solely to test a home video market that was unregulated but eventually tightened by stricter classification and licensing rules. This film, listed by various sources as being released in 1984 but having a 1986 copyright in the end credits, was produced and directed by Shonteff along with 'The Killing Edge,' a scant post-apocalyptic tale that came out around the same time.
Many of Shonteff's professional and aesthetic decisions can be questioned when looking back at his career but it is unfortunate to see a filmmaker of decent ability reduced to this level. 'Lipstick and Blood' contains everything you can imagine from a direct-to-video exploitation flick: opening and closing credits that are of the Commodore 64 desktop variety, an horrendous synth-pop soundtrack made up of about five cues that keep recurring, locations, costumes, and props that don't truly reflect the intended setting, and a cast of obscure actors. All of these things are here; but Shonteff, whom we can assume directed ('Robert Bauer' is only listed as writer for two other Shonteff films in the 80s) and who perhaps did all of the scriptwriting and editing, used his experience to somehow enliven a ho-hum plot with a mesmerizingly warped male character and a couple of twists that cause the story to unexpectedly change its direction. While this still pans out to a standard rape-revenge drama, Shonteff somehow keeps the viewer engaged in a bottom-level production that has everything working against it.
His driving factor is the ever-psychotic state of Jay, played by Joseph Peters, an actor with several television credits that include 'All Creatures Great and Small' and 'ITV Playhouse.' Jay is a thoroughly repellent man whose existence seems to be built around the pornographic models he ogles, fantasizes about, and hangs on his bedroom walls, viewing them as 'if only' targets of his sexual violence and whom he even proceeds to shout down ("Oh, she's better looking than you!...Oh, yeah...She's got class! Real CLASS!"). He starts to imagine his perverted ideas being fulfilled in Jennie and, after a failed attempt at introducing himself, decides to stalk her in hopes of living a 'normal' existence.
Willing to turn over anyone in his path, Preston kidnaps Jennie and forces her to drive his boxy subcompact through a different kind of honeymoon; moving from one hotel to another, he makes Jennie dance for him in the style of her nightclub acts, repeatedly rapes her (thankfully, without being shown the details), and rants at her when not looking too enthusiastic about their new 'relationship.' By the time that Jennie is in his clutches, Preston has already started on a rash of killings to get whatever material comforts he wants or to obtain payback for feeling slighted. These cold-blooded deaths include a prostitute he hires but who only heightens his feelings of inadequacy, Jennie's fiancé, a gas station attendant whose till he empties, an American couple whose Lincoln Continental he drives off with, and, after she manages to escape, both of Jennie's parents.
The sex-crazed sadistic male is a prototype that dots Shonteff's catalog, reaching back to the slasher in 'Night, After Night, After Night,' the lovingly-named Rock Hard who is always looking to engage in kink with Harriet Zapper, and even Charles Vine with his bed-hopping between shootouts in 'The Second Best Secret Agent in the Whole Wide World.' 'Lipstick and Blood,' however, takes this to the nth degree, following a sex deviate in total meltdown before gleefully dishing out his comeuppance. As its title suggests, the film may have been influenced by that 1977 rape-revenge benchmark 'Lipstick,' though Shonteff had plenty of material to borrow from his own work. There is also some critique of capitalism visible, as Preston uses murder to get the woman, cash, and car that his society is demanding every virile male to have. Needless to say, Preston doesn't get any closer to feeling satisfied and begins taking Jennie to task for understandably looking down ("Why don't you cheer up?!" he rages).
Although there is nothing special in Peters's performance as Jay, his erratic psycho manages to carry the film when there is little acting to be had elsewhere. Jay is the element that 'Lipstick and Blood' clings to, as the other roles don't command much of our attention. The role of Jennie is played by an actress named Jane Linter, who only seems to have appeared in this one film. Linter fills the role passively, being pleasant to look at but never energetic. In scenes after which another murder has taken place, Jennie mopes around quietly and looks more tired than scared, though it strangely works at times when Jay is belittling her with his rants or forcing her into another degrading act. The other roles, including Jennie's mother and father (who apparently shelter her, so why did she need to take up stripping?), are not given much screen time for us to know them, besides the fact that most of this film's acting is well below standard.
There is not the amount of blood that one would expect in this film, as Jay Preston's victims are shot or stabbed without a lot of gruesome detail. There is no nudity, with Jennie never actually stripping in the club and having only two other suggestive episodes when she stands in a hotel shower for Preston while dressed and gets a glass of milk poured onto her robe. None of this matters in the broad picture of things, of course, and the film's main problem besides its lack of budget and acting talent are the ridiculous gaps in logic, which Shonteff seemed to be content with throughout his career. 'Lipstick and Blood' seems to exist in a parallel universe where there is no law enforcement - you would think that Jay will eventually be seen in the act and Jennie's parents, her fiancé's family, or her employer would be phoning up after they've gone missing. Common sense also goes out the window when Jay pulls his gun on a pair of guests in the club (amongst an audience of five or six people) and none of the club staff seem to care about it. Near the film's end, Jennie pilfers a shotgun that was kept by the club manager, is later asked if she'd seen it, then performs with it on stage (seems like a bit of a clue as to where that gun went, don't you think?).
There is plenty else to ridicule in a film like this but no one can be expecting art from a videotape that was never going to escape obscurity. There's also no point in ripping up what might have been a project of the director and his own family or friends. While of interest to the most hardcore fans of Shonteff and exploitation videotape collectors, 'Lipstick and Blood' might also be useful to those with a stake in British film and video history, as this came from an odd time when filmmakers were trying new avenues. To my knowledge, this film only exists in its original VHS format and bootlegs. It has been making rounds on YouTube lately and a few odd tapes may be circulating on the Internet but it's definitely not something the average viewer should go hunting for.
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