Cinema's finest moments #3

Peter Bark tries to fuck his own mother

"Mother, this tit smells of death"

Despite being spoon fed by one of Italy's finest horror screenplay writers, director Andrea Bianchi still, somehow, managed to turn Burial Ground: The Nights of Terror (1981) into one of the most excruciatingly awkward of Italian zombie flicks. Perhaps it was the other way around, maybe it was Piero Regnoli that was sat at his desk, digging his nails into and clawing at any lean slices of plot that looked as though it might fit into the photomontage of his overall 'vision' for the film. Regardless of who is at fault here, whether the idea came from those of the opening credits or whether it was pitched by the sound technician, whoever came up with the incest angle in Burial Ground should either receive an award or a pair of concrete shoes.

To begin with, I wasn't a huge fan of the movie overall. As mentioned above, the story just seemed to drag on while all of its characters appeared like socially inept secondary school students trying to avoid brushing past each other in a crowded hall. At no point during the film did I feel, 'Ah, yes, this pleases me. More of that'. Burial Ground belongs among those few early 80s horror films where each character exists only to die, they are the funfair goldfish of the horror world, mere flesh props. Now, the same can be said for any film of the horror genre, that the characters are simply props to be torn apart, but in my doubtlessly retarded opinion, you'll be hard pressed to find a set of more heinously boring flesh props in a horror flick than you will in Burial Ground. 

So, where is the saving grace here? I'm not even entirely sure if it really did do the film any favours, but the story arc between Michael and his mother most certainly sprinkled the film with something exorbitantly skin-crawling, but ultimately cheap, like a drunk carny's publicity stunt.

Michael, played by midget 26-year-old Peter Bark, spends a lot of the movie attached to his mother's hip. At first we're to believe that he's just one of those anemic little sissy womb-dwellers (Well, I suppose it's not unfair to say he at least aspires to dwell in her womb), but as the film progresses, we see that Micheal's relationship with his mother is far more sinister, even more sinister than the flesh-hungry undead pursuing them. In fact, it's not unfair to say that the story arc between Micheal and his mother is more disturbing than the plot itself. You're not supposed to try and kiss your mother, you're not supposed to try and finger your mother, biting off your mother's nipple is a really, really bold thing to do. Even amid certain doom, none of those things are okay, Peter Bark, you sick fuck.

Regardless of this foreskin plot device, Burial Ground is an acclaimed classic and cult favourite. Whether its fame can be attributed to its horror or its grim and incestuous subplot, that's for you to decide. Give it a pair of eyes and ears, just don't watch it with your mum.