Empire Of Evil
If Derek Jarman had an evil twin, and if that evil twin had a love child with Ed Wood, George Kuchar’s "Empire of Evil" might well have been the result.
"Empire of Evil" was made for $600, and seemingly takes a defiant, lo-fi pride in that fact. The abysmal writing is saved only by the even more atrocious acting... or, rather, non-acting. The result, however, is dazzlingly funny, even if it is also utterly incoherent:
An investigative journalist is caught up in the machinations of a "vile vixen" named Cristina Salazar, who is both a stripper and an international criminal mastermind. Salazar’s orgies are debauched spectacles in which neckties are bitten by frenzied nymphos and innocents are corrupted (and, on occasion, gunned down). Betrayal, redemption, and tragedy ensue, along with an awfully lot of clunky, if riotously inapt, dialogue ("She smelled like puppies and roses" is a good sample line).
This is the stuff that midnight-showings-only cult classics are made of. By the light of day, this project barely qualifies as a film at all, but come the fall of night and the onset of delirious fatigue (or a few cocktails), and this movie takes on a strange and fascinating quality: It’s like peering through a window into a realm worthy of Hieronymus Bosch.
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