Time can be a hell of a drug, especially when it comes to the projected image. There’s an inherent danger in revisiting a film we have fond memories of; is it as good as we recall? Conversely, can a film improve after an initial viewing, one that perhaps was initially dismissed with a shrug and a wave of the hand? Case in point: actor David Keith’s directorial debut, The Curse (1987), a film that inspired nothing in me beyond guffaws 30 years ago. But that was then; now it inspires a sense of awe, because if you’ve ever wondered what an American-flavored Lucio Fulci film would look like, clear a spot in your collection for the class clown of the Class of ’87.

Producer Ovidio G. Assonitis is no stranger to fans of the genre; if you’ve seen Beyond the Door (1974), Tentacles (1977), or The Visitor (1979), then you know he waded through the weird on a regular basis. Ostensibly an adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft’s story “The Colour Out of Space” (although uncredited), The Curse is merely an excuse to parade out lurid, bizarre spectacles such as exploding cows and tomatoes the size of basketballs. (Assonitis’ assertion that it was a commentary on the plight of the local farmer is ridiculous. It’s clearly a treatise on spontaneous cowbustion.)

Zack and Alice (Wil and Amy Weaton) live on a farm in Tellico, Tennessee with their mom (Kathleen Jordon Gregory), new stepdad, Nathan (Claude Akins), and his obnoxious son, Cyrus (Malcolm Danare). Despite the bucolic setting, the Crane household is anything but pleasant. Nathan is all hellfire and brimstone, bible quoting and Zack-beating at every turn, and ignoring his bride’s advances. But don’t worry about mom; she finds solace in the arms of the very hairy handyman, right before a meteor crashes and burns behind their house in a field, oozing alien pus and infiltrating the Cranes’ well water.

And this is where the fun really starts; maggot-filled fruit, killer chickens, homicidal rabid moms, and a gratuitous John Schneider in women’s eyeglasses role (hey, it’s a thing, okay?). Up until the meteor, what you get is an earnest psychodrama, but after that The Curse becomes a bona fide Italian horror flick, the only difference is the budget’s a bit bigger and all the actors use the same language (even if they don’t drink from the same talent trough). And there’s one name that I believe is responsible for this fascinating geekshow: The Maestro of Quease, Lucio Fulci.

Although he’s listed as an associate producer and in charge of optical effects, I firmly stand by my assertion that he directed a lot of The Curse, even though Assonitis claimed that Fulci did some 2nd unit work, but nothing more. If that’s the case, then Keith must be the biggest Lucio lover on the planet, because this thing is slathered in Fulci juice. Even the pre-meteor melodrama has that good ol’ outsized awkwardness so familiar to any fans of, say, The House By the Cemetery (1981). But I’ll give Keith those moments, even if he shows no natural affinity behind the camera. But once the effects enter, Fulci takes over, giddy to be able to paint on a bigger canvas even as he uses the exact same brushes. And the back end of this thing is wall-to-wall gooey; pick any mealtime, for instance: the chicken is grey and slimy, and the fruits and vegetables, while bountiful (and not from God, as Nathan suggests; if they are, God’s kind of a dick) are anything but nutritious.

So, if Keith seems up against it, and Lucio (sorry, “Louis” in the credits) is right at home, what was the script aiming for? We’d have to ask David Chaskin, who wrote one of my favorite Nightmare on Elm Street’s, Freddy’s Revenge (1985), as well as a terrific spookfest, I, Madman (1989). And again, I think The Curse was his homage to the Italians, filled as it is with ludicrous dialogue and scenes that make absolutely no sense (at least to a comparably “normal” North American sensibility). Schneider’s character pops in and out of the movie and really has no bearing on the film until the end, a neighborly medical doctor (Cooper Huckabee) acts as our resident scientist, and Nathan must be the world’s greatest lover for mom to stay even as he pinballs her son around the room. All this plus pitchforkings and a melee with our demonic mom in the basement lead me to believe that Chaskin was very much playing to the strengths of the mostly Italian production (exteriors are of Keith’s own farm, interiors were done back in Rome). It’s hard to make something this ridiculous by accident.

And ridiculously entertaining. The closer The Curse embraces its foreign formula, the more it sets itself apart. Because when I looked back at the Class of ’87, I sure as hell did not expect to see a film that could have excelled in the Class of ’81. But I’m glad it’s there the year of my own graduation; who would have thought that Fulci had it in him to walk the stage again? You go first sir, I insist.

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This retrospective is part of our Class of 1987 special features celebrating a wide range of genre films that were first released thirty years ago. Stay tuned to Daily Dead in the coming days for more pieces celebrating one of the most exciting graduating classes in horror and sci-fi, and check here for the latest Class of ’87 retrospectives.

  • Scott Drebit
    About the Author - Scott Drebit

    Scott Drebit lives and works in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. He is happily married (back off ladies) with 2 grown kids. He has had a life-long, torrid, love affair with Horror films. He grew up watching Horror on VHS, and still tries to rewind his Blu-rays. Some of his favourite horror films include Phantasm, Alien, Burnt Offerings, Phantasm, Zombie, Halloween, and Black Christmas. Oh, and Phantasm.