BARBARA STEELE
"I started out playing this woman from the deep, and I went on doing it
forever." Barbara Steele (b. 1937 in England) lamented in an interview with Michael Godwin in 1978, the same year she took a small part in Joe Dante's satire of Jaws, Piranha. The "depths" of her career encompass a memorably wide range of subterranean roles and a wide geography, from the resurrected witch in Bava's masterful Black Sunday to the adulterous anima figure in Corman's The Pit and the Pendulum. With her stylized gestures, glaring green eyes, and smoldering sexuality, Steele found most accommodating the demimonde of low-budget, personal filmmaking. Her roles in more mainstream films, such as Fellini's 8-1/2, Louis Malle's Pretty Baby, and I Never Promised You a Rose Garden, were mostly tiny, and sometimes reduced to near invisibility in the final cut.
Like Mary Woronov, Steele is also a painter, and they share a sub-career as exotic window dressing in several New World Pictures along with a devoted cult following that dutifully searches out even their most obscure films and there are many, for both for a glance at them. While her work for Bava, Corman, and Riccardo Freda is considered her best with Black Sunday particularly thrilling because she gets to play two parts she's well remembered for adding her peculiar darkness to two New World pictures. In Demme's Caged Heat she brings humor and power to the role of a sexually repressed, wheelchair-bound, quasi-lesbian warden in a women's prison. Reportedly she disliked her work in the film, but few who have seen it will forget her dream sequence where she appears as a sexy cabaret artist demanding the women give her "contrition!" Steele has said that she begged Joe Dante for the meatier role of the doctor played by Kevin McCarthy in Piranha, but was told the investors would never stand for it. But there's some compensation here when a smiling Steele, playing a pitiless military scientist, gets the very last close-up in the film.
ECO-TERROR
One of New World's more political subgenres let's call it "eco-terror" for convenience harks back to 1950s monster movies in which secret government experiments go out of control and terrorize humanity, usually in the form of messy mutated animals or people. Corman made his share of such films, among them The Day the World Ended (1956) and Attack of the Crab Monsters (1957), both of which explicitly link their horrors (respectively, murderous mutations and giant crabs) to America's suicidal flirtation with the atomic bomb. By the 1970s, there was room in the culture to blame specific areas of the military-industrial complex for such problems, along with profit-mad corporations willing to sacrifice ecosystems and native cultures for short-term gain.
Joe Dante's Piranha, the working man's Jaws, articulates a common counterculture idea of the time that has since proved far from fantastic that the government is engaged in heinous biological experiments that it is ill equipped to contain. The terror in Piranha are mutated carnivorous fish created "to destroy the river systems of the North Vietnamese." These radioactive mini-monsters are inadvertently released into a corporate "aqua park" and a kids' swimming area, where they frenziedly chomp their way through blood and bone. Piranha puts a beautiful face on its cruelties: Barbara Steele as the coopted fish geneticist who, apprised of the destruction, says simply, "Some things are more important than a few people's lives." Conversely, the audience gets the pleasure of seeing her counterpart, a devious colonel who's also a corporate investor, getting chewed to bits by the creatures whose existence he refused to acknowledge.
The effects of another kind of genetic experiment in Barbara Peeters' Humanoids from the Deep (1980) are much messier and involve kinkier sex than even New World devotees were used to seeing. Variety noted that the film had "more nudity and gore than
any exploitationer in recent memory," but they paid less attention to the political angle. A corporation destroys a native salmon fishing business by introducing a growth hormone that climbs the food chain to change coelacanth-like creatures into studly gill-men who kill men and rape women. These monsters are the next cinematic-evolutionary step in the development of the Creature from the Black Lagoon; the sexual promise of that sad 1950s creature is violently visualized by director Peeters in scenes that show the gill-men raping the townswomen in grueling, seaweed-drenched detail.
NEXT PAGE: Woronov mesmerizes
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