Rawhead Rex (dir. George Pavlou, 1986)
Imagine, if you will, that the reason for mass sexual repression in a small town in rural Ireland is not because of institutionalized patriarchy as embodied by the Catholic Church, who in their efforts to control and subjugate women would unleash such horrors as Magdalene laundries and anti-abortion laws that would cause only needless death and misery, but instead because an ancient pagan god who is not nearly as phallic looking as his name would imply and will murder you if you get even a little bit randy in your caravan.
This is basically the plot of Rawhead Rex.
The unfortunately named David Dukes star as that most despicable stereotype: the Irish-American who has returned to his ancestors’ native land. He is researching peculiar religious artifacts in an isolated village when a luckless builder just so happens to knock over the rock that was seemingly the only thing preventing an eldritch abomination from rising out of its grave. What follows include unconvincing effects, baptism by monster urine, a cast full of people named Niall, and a simply staggering number of sweaters.
In Clive Barker’s original short story and script, Rawhead Rex is described as essentially a giant walking penis with teeth, a monstrous manifestation of all the worst elements of male sexuality and violence. Here, he’s more like a reject from Gwar whose motivations are interchangeable with any 80s slasher villain. The conflict with ancient paganism and colonial Christianity is barely acknowledged, let alone explored to any depth. Even though a woman defeats the monster, it’s not so much a victory for the divine feminine than it is a sop to an actress who’s had nothing else to do.
All that said, this is a delightfully stupid movie and pure Irish kitsch. I completely understand why Clive Barker would disown it, but I am simply a member of the audience watching a dubiously uploaded copy of it on YouTube decades later and not a man whose vision has been sullied by idiots.
October 5, 2018
oliveresque 