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“We better face the fact that zombies have declared
war!” Originally to be directed by Jess Franco (Sadomania,
Oasis of the Zombies), this cheap-as-chips slice of Eurociné cheese
was, for many years, disowned by its replacement director Jean Rollin (A
Virgin Among The Living Dead). In a remote French town, several years
after the end of World War II, something deadly – and bright green – is rising
from the so-called 'lake of the damned'. Zombified Nazis, bare boobs galore, and a complete disregard for the laws of continuity dominate this movie, which was destined to be a drinking game only for those with the hardiest of livers...
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“Let's say I would like an unusual little yarn about
that weird lake of yours.” A young woman (Pascale Vital) goes
for a stroll through the idyllic Gallic countryside and happens upon a lake.
Naturally, this is the perfect time to strip off her kit, sunbathe atop of a
fallen tree like a Playboy model, and go for a dip. Unluckily for her, though,
beneath the surface – which most assuredly isn't a swimming pool with a bit of
black tarp half-hung in the background – lurks a zombie, and not just any
zombie, but a zombie Nazi! It emerges from the depths and kills her, and so
begins a succession of murders that befall the nubile – and regularly nude –
residents of this quaint village.
“Well, the fact is girls are being slaughtered. Get
this straight, boy, nobody's going to accuse us!” / “Yeah!” / “Thank you!”
After a second death – of a local girl, whose body is delivered to the front
door of the town's Mayor (Howard Vernon, The French Sex Murders) – journalist Katya (Marcia
Sharif) arrives to uncover the mysteries of the 'lake of ghosts'. As
relayed to her by the Mayor (during what must be one of the longest
flashbacks in cinema history), the town's lake has a deadly history. As if
it wasn't bad enough that black masses, witchcraft, and child sacrifices took
place there, the current townsfolk slaughtered a platoon a retreating German
soldiers and tossed their bodies into the lake – and now they've returned to
exact revenge. As the body count continues to rise, can the villagers fight
back, will two outsider policemen be open to the bizarre truth, and can the
curse be lifted?
“Wild beast, my ass! Poor idiots. Unbelievable. What
do they know?” Suffice it to say, and without an iota of shock in delivering
this news, Zombie Lake is a cheap and tacky exploitation movie. However,
for all its faults and ridiculous elements (of which there are a great many),
it's a lot of fun in that “so bad it's good” kind of way. This isn't to
say that the film has no heart to it, because – quite surprisingly for a
Eurociné production – there is a rich vein of something deeper buried
underneath the pile of bared flesh and day-glow fake blood. During the
flashback we see a German soldier (Pierre Escourrou) save the life of a
village woman (Nadine Pascale) before they enjoy a fleeting tryst in the
mill. Tragically, nine months later, the mother dies after giving birth to
Helena (Annouchka) and, of course, the father is slain by the French
resistance. Several years later, and with the zombie soldiers rising from the
lake, the father returns to the home of his love and meets his child. The
cheese factor is high, and yet the delicate – and similarly brief – undead
father/living daughter relationship speaks of deeper things. The spectre of war
looms like a funereal pall as the horrors of combat literally rise from the
depths. Helena is an orphan of the war who finally gets to meet her father –
but he's one of the undead – while the father returns only to discover that his
lover has died. The fiery climax at the mill, meanwhile, offers up a perverse
full-circle as the place of Helena's conception becomes, simultaneously, the
site of great violence and eternal relief. Despite all the absurdity, the
little girl's plea of “Don't forget me” packs a surprisingly poignant
punch.
“The lake! The lake! The lake!” That all said,
in the end what Zombie Lake is all about is two simple things: tits and
zombie Nazis. The film's crowning achievement (a relative term, of course)
is the scene in which an entire female basketball team turn up the lake for a
clothing optional splash about, only to be dragged under by the undead platoon.
So unabashedly straight forward in its B-Movie goals, the scene was clipped out
and inserted wholesale into the clip-show format film Zombiethon,
replete with Daniel White's frivolously catchy 'mellow twinkles/dissonant
clangs' score. It's amazing that the filmmakers were able to find this many
ladies willing to not only strip en masse, but be photographed from below in a
swimming pool (the aforementioned piss poor match for the lake's depths).
Rewind to the days before broadband Internet, and a videotaped recording of Zombiethon
from Sky Movie Max was an eye-opening experience!
“Nothing but apocalypse will reduce them to ashes and
give them eternal peace.” Enough about all the norks flopping about,
though, what about those pesky zombies? The byword for their look would have to
be “inconsistent”. Evidently green body paint and water don't mix, and as such
“continuity” proves to be a term that the production mustn't have heard of, as
from one shot to another the one-eyed zombie soldier goes from plain-as-day
flesh tone skin to bright green paint. Indeed, some of the other zombies are
only green up to their wrists, have prosthetic appliances peeling away from
their skin, or have their hair sticking out from underneath poorly-fitting bald
caps! For a budget this tight it's almost remarkable they managed as much as
they did, as the zombies yo-yo in and out of the lake to regularly spew some
red paint onto the necks of unsuspecting villagers. Although, the aerial
bombing scene in which the actors on the ground have to react to nothing more
than sound effects isn't fooling anyone.
“It may be a waste of time, but I'd like to look into
it.” Have I mentioned that this film is cheap, and a little bit shoddy
in its execution? This, though, is part of the film's charm. The functional,
perfunctory direlogue (listen out for the incongruously jaunty “careful” in
one of the pub scenes), the dodgy dubbing (and editing), the
complete disregard for day/night continuity, giggling extras, crew members
traipsing around in the shot (bottom left of frame as the first victim
rummages through her bag), power cables and lighting stands left within the
frame, and the zombies walking like drunken Brits on holiday with their arms
out at a “you want some?” angle, all make for an entertaining watch.
“I fear there's a lot more to this than meets the
eye.” From the villager's complete, total, and utter lack of surprise
at a topless girl bursting into the pub screaming her head off, to the Eurociné
idea of foreplay (mashing a closed mouth against some norks), there is
much to enjoy with a wry smile. It may be one of a great, great, great many
zombie flicks that cashed-in on the epic wake that George A. Romero's landmark
film Dawn of the Dead left behind, but Zombie Lake – despite
being a complete shambles – is a scrappy, scruffy, and surprisingly fun slab of
European B-Movie exploitation. Connoisseurs of cult movies will be in for a
treat with this one, but build a drinking game around it at your own risk!
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