Editor’s Note: We first reviewed this indie horror-comedy during its run as a festival entry. We’re pleased to announce Allen C. Gardner has finalized a worldwide streaming distribution deal with Indie Rights Movies. You can visit their platform on Facebook. You can start streaming Cold Feet as a PPV on September 26, 2021, via IRM’s Amazon Prime page, along with a later, free-with-ads stream to come on IRM’s You Tube portal.

As of 2022, Cold Feet is now appearing on various Smart TV digital platforms — with limited commercials; as of January, The Roku Channel users can watch the film.

You can watch several of Allen’s earlier efforts with easy via in his LinkTree that will direct you the Amazon, Tubi, Vudu, and You Tube streaming platforms.

At a Memphis, Tennessee, rented house (where the film was shot), Eddie (writer, director, actor, producer, editor Allen C. Gardner), a sensible high school English teacher, is having that ubiquitous attack of the ol’ “cold feet” with his impending marriage to Jenny. And you know what that means: first comes love, then comes marriage . . . then mortgages, kids, and, most likely divorce. So it’s time for one last blow out with the guys before Eddie becomes a soccer dad and mini-van pilot, and overall pompatus-prisoner of love. And, with that, his motley crew of best friends rent a home from an affable gent named Oscar (the familiar and welcomed John Speredakos, who got his start with Kevin Smith in Jersey Girl and multiple appearances in the Law & Order franchise; you know me and my L & O fetish!).

Now, Eddie’s a good boy. He loves his to-be wife (well . . .). And that means, to the chagrin of his buddies: no strippers. But a slutty nurse-uniformed Courtney shows up — that none of Eddie’s buddies invited. And guess who’s hooking up (emotionally, natch) with the stripper: Eddie. And Eddie confides to Courtney that, while he loves Jenny, he’s hot for his friend Kim, a fellow teacher.

Uh, Eddie, a piece of advice: never confide in hookers. This isn’t Milk Money or Pretty Woman. You’re a character in Cold Feet, bro. Didn’t you read the screenplay you’re in? There’s no kind-hearted hookers here. . . .

Yep! The mystery-hired Courtney the Nurse texts Kim, steals all of the smart devices and laptops in the house — and stabs herself in the heart. (Da-frack? Okay, Oscar, what’s your game?) And Eddie and the guys can’t call the cops. And when they try to leave the house to go to the police — a sniper fires a warning shot. Then, when they hunker down in the house to avoid the sniper, a pissed off ghost shows up. (Oops, sorry Oscar . . . well, maybe not.)

Yeah, there’s nothing quite like a dead hooker, a sniper, and a ghost to chill one’s debauched heels and test those delusional, “tight” bounds of friendship. For when that ship starts to sink, be prepared to be the only rodent (Or is that red herring?) left on deck.

Cold Feet ended up being a well-written not-sure-where-this-is-going surprise. If Judd Apatow and Sam Raimi got into a room and clashed their propensities for raunch and cabins — and peeled the fishy-oily newspapers off a few of Dario Argento’s red herrings — you’d be inside the cabin environs of this, the seventh writing-directing effort of Allan C. Gardner. (Gardner co-directed with his friend Brad Ellis; their mutual friend Laura Jean Hocking served as editor.) Only not as tasteless-funny as an Apatow flick. And not as bloody-campy as a Raimi flick. We’ve been there and are not “noseblind” to those frames of sun-rotting, scaly aquatic celluloid.

Now, that’s a good thing, because that’s what you expect to happen in Cold Feet, but Gardner’s adept at the Final Draft change-up to give us the unexpected. And in the competitive, stream-clogged world of the VOD environs in the digital ethers, we need the unexpected to assure us those credit card charges for our VOD movie fixes isn’t money flushed down the digital drain. Gardner may or may not have used Apatow, Raimi, and Argento (just my smarmy, critical cortex a-sparkin’) as a jump-off point, but he checked the expiration dates on his influences to give us a Febreze-fresh flick.

Cold Feet was recently nominated for “Best Feature Film” and “Best Writing for a Feature Film” at the 2019 NOLA Horror Film Fest — so if that doesn’t tell you this is a quality film, then nothing will. Old School Pictures and Open Dialogue Productions is currently in the film markets seeking distribution and you can stay abreast of when it will debut on various PPV and VOD platforms via the Cold Feet Facebook page. Until then, you can watch Allen C. Gardner’s other films over on Amazon Prime.

And Allen isn’t a guy who sits around and lets his heels cool. He’s currently in post-production on the comedy/drama Baby, Come Home, and in the pre-production stages on the country music-fueled drama Breaker Breaker (no, there’s no Chuck Norris arse-kicking . . . at least we don’t think there is!), the serial killer thriller (say that three-times fast) Burn It Down, the horror-thriller Sold (vacation-white slavery or a haunted trinket/home?), and the dating app-themed dramedy Data Date Soul Mate. Of course, when those films are completed, you’ll read those reviews first, right here on B&S About Movies, where we not only coddle the obscure and the forgotten films of the VHS, UHF, and Drive-In yesteryears, but we dole out the emoji hugs for unsung, indie films, as well.

And we emoji-love Cold Feet. But not like Quentin Tarantino. That would be, like weird.

Again, as of September 26, 2021, you can stream Cold Feet on Amazon Prime via Indie Rights Movies’ Amazon portal.

Disclaimer: We were provided a screener for the film by October Coast, the film’s P.R firm. That has no bearing on our review.

About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies and publishes on Medium.

The inspirational goddesses of literature, science, and the arts, a Muse, a female deity who infuses man with the gift of poetry and song, began as a source of myth and legend in Greek culture, then spread to Roman culture. That Greco-Roman concept of supernatural inspiration inspired Irish poet W.B Yeats to expose the modern world to the leannán sídhe, aka “Fairy-Love,” a beautiful, vampiric female who seeks out creative souls, i.e., painters or poets, musicians or writers, to be her lover; in exchange for the artist’s devotion, the muse will bless them with artistic inspiration — as the artist spirals into a love of madness and, eventually, death.

Thrust into this supernatural vortex is the socially-awkward Adam (which returns us to the biblical story of Eve, The Garden, Adam’s first wife, and the first “muse,” if you will: Lilith), an artist with technical talents to spare, but he lacks the heart to transform into an artist of distinction. Desperate for cash (another rent increase on his cavernous studio hovel), he drives his seedy neighbor into the woods to do a drug deal (and scores $300 bucks). It’s there he hears the whispers of and meets an entrancing, silent blonde muse — who’s already killed two men fixing a flat tire near her wooded domain. And now that Adam’s laid his eyes on her, she’s latched onto his soul.

Back at the studio, where the muse now lives, Adam begins to feverishly sketch and paint images of her; his drug-dealing neighbor sees her as a “loose end.” She quickly begins dispatching those who threaten her and come between her and Adam. Even when she’s caked in blood, Adam embraces her — and cleans up after the mayhem. And he soon begins to ensnare others to “feed” her.

In the world of indie film, horror is the most popular of genres among aspiring filmmakers, since the format lends itself to be shot cost-effectively without splashy practical effects (e.g., the works of Eli Roth, such as Hostel), instead relying on light and shadows, and a slow burn of darkness and suspense. Such is this ninth film and second feature film overall (the first was 1999’s The Beast; Legends of the Muse is the first to receive widespread distribution) by director John Burr.

The level of quality of this psychological, atmospheric tale — pushed beyond the limits of beauty by cinematographer Damian Horan — mesmerizes in the same way that Nicolas Roeg brought a level of class and style to the Italian Giallo genre with his 1973 masterpiece, Don’t Look Now. (If you’re familiar with Roeg’s classic editing style employed in that that film during its “sexually graphic” love-making scene between Julie Christie and Donald Sutherland, you’ll understand my comparison of this film to Roeg’s work.)

And it’s not just Burr’s eye and Horan’s lens: all of the film disciplines are at their finest the in frames of Legends of the Muse — but we must single out the performance of Elle Evans (the wife of Matthew Bellamy of, ironically, the band Muse; you may have previously seen her in Scouts Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse). A true standout in the acting department as The Muse, she captivates without a syllable of dialog, employing only facial expressions and body language.

This is a beautiful film and certainly not the last we’ll hear from writer and director John Burr.

Legend of the Muse is currently streaming on Amazon Prime — with other platforms to follow — courtesy of TriCoast Pictures/Rock Salt Releasing. The joint-studios also recently brought us the equally engaging horrors of The Soul Collector and Case 347, along with the Michael Polish-directed drama Nona, the Eric Roberts-starring political potboiler Lone Star Deception, and the return of Alex Cox to U.S. cinemas with Tombstone Rashomon.

Update 2022: In addition to making its debut as a free-with-ads stream on Tubi, you can watch Legend of the Muse on several Smart TV On Demand streaming-with-ads platforms.

Here’s the rest of the great films released under the Rock Salt Releasing/TriCoast Worldwide co-banner we’ve reviewed:

Agatha Christine: Spy Next Door
Blood Hunters: Rise of the Hybrids
Bombshells and Dollies
Dollhouse
It All Begins with a Song
My Hindu Friend
Revival

Disclaimer: We were provided a screener by the film’s P.R firm. That has no bearing on our review.

About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies and publishes on Medium.

“Surely God would not have created such a being as man, with an ability to grasp the infinite, to exist only for a day! No, no, man was made for immortality.”
— Abraham Lincoln
16th President of the United States

As we’ve said — many times — in our reviews of new films in the streaming realms: casting is what makes us hit the big red streaming button. And Immortal, from the competent co-writing and directing teams of Tom Colley and Jon Dabach, and Danny Isaacs and Rob Marqolies, is no exception.

Regardless of how big or small the part of the superfluous-or-pivotal Eric Roberts-kind (the recently reviewed The Evil Inside Her), all we need to know is that we’re getting a dose of the actors we care about: Tony Todd (of Candyman fame), the great Dylan Baker (excellent in the recently reviewed Nightfire), and Mario Van Peebles (nailing it in the recently reviewed A Clear Shot). That acting trio-de jour is in support of a cast that features a grown up Neal Schweiber from Freaks and Geeks (Samm Levine, a solid actor in Eric Roberts-mode with an already 120-credit strong resume) and Vanessa Lengies (Sugar Motta from TV’s Glee), along with Agnes Bruckner (effectively transformed herself into Kris Kardashian in The Murder of Nicole Brown Simpson) and she’s-everywhere actress Robin Bartlett (gal-pal Debbie Buchman on TV’s Mad About You, along with effective support roles in Shutter Island and Lean on Me).

Immortal gets right into the what-the-hell-where-is-this-going story in fewer than 15 minutes: We have a quote about man’s immortality by Abraham Lincoln. We have slutty school girls heading to class in strappy-spiked heels (only happens in “movie” high schools, natch), creepy-lech track coaches, dorky, kindly-lech teachers clad in short-sleeve plaid shirts, and a blonde track star’s kidnapping-by-poisoned dart.

So what in the hell does a zip-tied girl with a sack over her head have to do with the 16th president of the United States? Oh, no. . . . Not another undisclosed killer via camouflage and combat boots. . . .

“Jinkies!” Shaggy! It’s the kindly, self-professed “normal old guy” Dylan Baker citing Lord of the Flies as his reasoning for kidnapping high school girls. And what’s ol’ Mr. Shagis’s kink: he likes to hunt people in the cellphone-dead, deep neck of the booby-trapped woods that he refers to as “The Labyrinth.”

Okay, so what’s all this have to do with President Lincoln and immortality? Turns out the tweaked literary and history buff Mr. Shagis has discovered the secrets of immortality—so we think. And instead of sharing his secret with the world, lo’ Shags has decided to shed all of his inhibitions and indulge in his dark desires. . . .

And what we think is going to be another low-budget retread of The Hunt (aka American Hunt) with Dylan Baker’s character kidnapping and hunting people as a deranged savior of the wayward, well, you’d be wrong (although, you can’t get enough Dylan Baker, so we’d stream that film). What we have here is a modernized, anthology throwback to the twisty Amicus films of old as unscrupulous people face brutal deaths—and are revived as a form of punishment from an unseen-beyond force. This is a world where the one you think is evil, is not . . . and the “pure in heart,” is evil.

Kudos to teams Colley-Dabach and Isaacs-Marqolies scoring their named-cast of actors; for if this low-budgeter had gone with an unknown cast-for-cost, we would have ended up with just another run-of-the-mill horror-streamer with a cast of dedicated-but-strained performances buoyed by Roberts-styled walk-on-the-box credits to inspire us stream the movie. However, the cast-mix of solid commodities, character actor undercards, and unknowns is effective—with Baker and Todd owning (but, of course) their ulterior-motive driven characters.

The only caveat is that regardless of Tony Todd’s voice-over driving the trailer, he is not a Candyman-styled protagonist in a wraparound story jelling the tales as he deals out the supernatural comeuppance Peter Cushing-style. But that’s a good thing, because that’s what we were expecting. And in today’s world of so many accessible movies—especially in a COVID lockdown—we need the unexpected in our movies to keep our minds sharp.

All in all, Immortal is a smart, insightful (drama, not horror) script by Jon Dabach with nicely-done anthology segments buoyed by solid cinematography from Tom Colley, who has worked on a bevy of reality TV series and streaming series. So the skill set is there. And you’ll do alright by hitting the big red streaming button.

MOVIE SIGN! Siskel and Ebert in the house!

Doh! Every now and then, Sam and I, through scheduling snafus and our giddy, celluloid drunkenness over our recent “Rock ‘n’ Roll” and “Fast and Furious” Weeks, and our upcoming “Wolfman,” “Dracula,” and “Rock ‘n’ Roll II” Weeks . . . plus our annual November tribute to another Mill Creek 50-films box set (this year: Sci-Fi Invasion), we sometimes review the same, new indie release — twice (Doh, again! Check out our unplanned, B&S-cum-S&E review of Dollhouse).

And just to be clear: I’m the “Siskel” and Sam is the “Ebert.” Yeah, that aisle seat ain’t big enough for the both of us. And, Samuel, no more cracks about me being “Gypsy” and you and Bill Van Ryn are Tom Servo and Crow. That’s not cool — even if you are the Chief Cook and Bottlewasher of B&S and I am just the dumpster pad and grease pit scrubber ’round ‘ere.

Sam’s Take:

Written, directed and produced by Rob Margolies (although IMDB lists three other directors and a different writer), this anthology follows the lives of several people who suddenly discover that they can’t die.

Chelsea (Lindsay Mushett, Blue Bloods) is a high school track star who confesses abuse by a teacher too late. Gary and Vanessa (Agnes Bruckner, who was Kris Jenner in The Murder of Nicole Brown Simpson and Anna Nicole in the 2013 Anna Nicole cable film) are a couple who figure that death can solve their money woes. Ted (Tony Todd!) has to deal with euthanizing his wife Mary. Warren (Freaks and Geeks) discovers new gifts after he dies. And hey — is that Mario Van Peebles I see? It is!

This is an interesting way to approach an anthology film. It’s more drama than horror, but you still may discover something interesting in it.

Currently rolling out on the festival circuit, Immortal will premiere as a DVD and VOD in September via Stonecutter Films and Different Duck Films through Wild Eye Releasing.

Disclaimer: We were provided a screener by the film’s P.R firm. That has no bearing on our review.

About the Authors: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies. Sam Panico is the curator of B&S About Movies.

You have to hand it to French director and screenwriter Roger Vadim: he had a way with the ladies. Unfortunately, he always cast those wives and girlfriends in his movies. His wife Marie-Christine Barrault starred in four of his French TV movies, Bridget Bardot starred in And God Created Woman, and Jane Fonda in Barbarella. And when he opted for a longtime affair in lieu of marrying Catherine Deneuve (Fréquence Meurtre, aka Frequency Death), she starred in Vice and Virtue. And Annette Stroyberg (credited here as Vadim) starred in this “art house” lesbian vampire romp.

If you’ve never experienced Vadim’s work, one must take into consideration that he got his start in the visual arts as a fashion photographer; for his films he employed famous French cinematographer Claude Renoir. So Vadim’s version (French title: Et Mourir de Plaisir; aka And Die of Pleasure; Americanized titles: Blood and Roses/To Die With Pleasure) of Sheridan Le Fanu’s influential short story “Carmilla” (part of his 1872 collection In a Glass Darkly) forgoes the adaptation conventionality of Hammer Studios’ early ‘70s “fleshy” trilogy variations of (the highly-suggested watches) The Vampire Lovers, Lust for a Vampire, and Twins of Evil, aka “The Karnstein Trilogy” (and Hammer’s other effective vamper, Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter, acts as sidequel). Others lurking in the La Fanu catacombs are the more straightforward, third adaptation, Terror in the Crypt starring Christopher Lee (1964); the first was Carl Theodor Dreyer’s equally-dreamy Vampyr (1932). The creepiest and most atmospheric of them all (unofficially) is Mario Bava’s looser-read of Black Sunday (1964) (which also pinches from Nikolai Gogol’s 1835 Russian vampire tale “Viy” contained in his collection Mirgorod) that stars the heart-weeping Barbara Steele as a vampire-witch hybrid (one of the film’s alternate-titles was, in fact, Revenge of the Vampire).

If you’re raised on cinema’s modernized, CGI-blood suckers—ones that blatantly swish through screenwriter-guru Syd Field’s Paradigm, coughing and wheezing under a rising sun on the run to the medi-script offices of Golden, Towne & Truby—then Vadim’s vamps aren’t your goblet of corpuscles. For this ain’t no fanged fiend of the Al Adamson Blood on Dracula’s Castle variety. This is a vampire of class and style: a Nantucket vampire; not a Bowery bloodsucker.

Vadim is all about impressions. He gives you rich set designs and stunning cinematography awash in colors enveloping dreamy visuals; he fills your eyes with pleasure (a singular drop of blood across flesh of breast; a dreamscape view through a set of French Doors of Carmilla swimming a water-filled room); he fills your cortex with the psychological and the ambiguous.

Is it real? Is it a dream? Is a stunning female vampire thou art loose on the lush Euro-estate of young Carmilla’s family? Or is she experiencing a mental breakdown as result of suppressing her homosexuality for her bisexual girlfriend Georgia (Elsa Martinella of Elio Petri’s “art house” take on Richard Cornell’s The Most Dangerous Game: The 10th Victim) who’s rejected her for marriage to a young squire? As Carmilla ran off to wallow in self-pity, did she stumble into the tomb of vampire? And is that vampire in control and causing Carmilla to commit acts of murder?

Two “Thumb Up,” right Sam? So, have we decided: Am I the “Siskel” here?

About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies.

This second of five Herzog-Kinski romps* is an impressionist-stylized remake of F.W. Murnau’s unauthorized, 1922 black-and-white silent adaptation of Bram Stoker’s Dracula (loosely chronicled in the drama Shadow of the Vampire). But how did Herzog manage to make this film without the same copyright issues that plagued Murnau’s version? Simple. The day the copyright expired on Stoker’s novel and entered the public domain, Herzog began his adaptation.

As with all of Herzog’s films, this is scored by the West German progressive rock group Popol Vuh who, when it comes to soundtracks, are that country’s greatest musical export, next to the commercially better known Tangerine Dream**. And as with Tangerine Dream, Popol Vuh released both independent studio albums and soundtracks. Seriously. The soundtrack is incredible. (I played the album until it split apart like a cinnamon roll.)

And we’ll leave it at that, as Sammy P, the bossman at B&S About Movies, did a commendable job at reviewing this masterpiece of horror. No disrespect to Max Schreck who scared the sand out of me, but Kinski giving a “voice” to the character really ups the game. A highly recommended horror watch if there ever was one. You know me and Kinski.

You can watch this as a free-with-ads stream on TubiTv. And Kinski made a pseudo-sequel with Christopher Plummer and Donald Pleasence in Italy—1988’s Nosferatu in Venice, which you can also stream for free on TubiTV. You can see Sam’s take on the film from 2019, HERE.

* Be sure to check out our exploration of the Herzog-Kinski oeuvre with our “Drive-In Friday: Kinski vs. Herzog” featurette.

**And don’t forget our review of all the films Tangerine Dream scored, with our “Exploring: 10 Tangerine Dream Film Soundtracks” featurette.

About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies.

Okay. So we told you about the celluloid hodgepodges of two the Harrys, aka Hope and Tampa, with their respective films Smokey and the Judge (from our “Fast and Furious Week”) and Nocturna (from our now showing “Vampire Week”).

Now, if you enjoyed (I sure did!), but thought Hope’s grafting hicksploitation into disco was nuts, and that Tampa’s splicing vampires into disco was insane, then you’ll go bonkers for this intercontinental boondoggle of a co-production between Britain’s horrormeisters Hammer Studios and Hong Kong martial arts purveyors Shaw Brothers:

In 1804 seven vampires clad in gold masks were resurrected by Count Dracula. 100 years later, in 1904, Professor Van Helsing is hired to kill the fanged hoards.

We’re not kidding. That’s the plot: A mix of ancient Chinese legends with Bram Stoker-inspired vampires—who just happen to be martial arts masters—and experienced Hammer vampire hunter extraordinaire Peter Cushing. The ensuing 75-minutes of karate bloodsucking mayhem became one of the biggest bombs in cinema history and shut the doors on Hammer Studios. And caveat those alternate titles of The Seven Brothers Meet Dracula and Dracula and the Seven Golden Vampires. In the end, is this as bad as the bunny-hopping vampires in the Mill Creek public domain ditty Robo Vampire (1988)? No. Did this need, not backflipping vamps, but Qing Dynasty Jiangshi-inspired vamps of the Midnight Vampire variety? Yes. . . but this Roy Ward Baker-directed fangsocky is way, way better than Nocturna, that’s for sure. (We’re blowing out Robo Vampires as part of our tribute to the 50-Film Mill Creek set, Sci-Fi Invasions, in November; sorry, shameless plug.)

So . . . do we blame Roy Ward Baker for this? Hah, he gave us Quartermass and the Pit (1967), the Hammer-Warner Bros. piece of the Kubrick pie with the “space western” Moon Zero Two (1969) (a childhood favorite, but another Hammer film-hybrid flop that contributed to their demise), The Vampire Lovers (1970; Ingrid Pitt! Schwing!), and Sam’s favorite, The Monster Squad (1989). So all is well, Mr. Ward Baker.

Hi-yah! Sensei Ward!

You can watch this on You Tube or pick up the Shout! Factory DVD restoration that’s wildly available at traditional and online retailers.

About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies.