Shakespeare’s celebrated adage “that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet” may carry some weight, but it’s fair to say that when it comes to exploitation movies, by any other name they might not get such great numbers. Director Abel Ferrara’s more-or-less debut feature (he’d previously directed hardcore porno Nine Lives of a Wet Pussy under a psuedonym) may well have courted controversy and gained a cult following under any title, but would it have gained anything like the same attention had it not been given the attention-grabbing moniker of The Driller Killer?
Thinking back on my vague memories of the video nasty era (I was but a wee lad at the time, four years old when the VRA was passed), Driller Killer was one of three films – the others being The Evil Dead and The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (the latter of which, I know now, wasn’t strictly speaking banned as a video nasty) – which were the most whispered of in the playground, epitomising this strange, truly terrifying realm of forbidden material. These were titles whose mere mention was liable to leave young minds scared shitless, yet also burning with curiosity. They were also titles which seemed to tell you everything you needed to know about the films in question: one was about dead things that were evil, one was about a guy from Texas going on a massacre with a chain saw, and the other was about a guy who killed people with a drill. Simple as, right…?
Of course, anyone who’s seen any of the aforementioned three films (which I rather think applies to just about anybody reading BAH) knows that there’s perhaps a little bit more to each film than that – and most emphatically so in the case of The Driller Killer. Yes, the film does indeed centre on a man who goes on a killing spree using an electric drill, and as such it does boast a number of lurid and grisly death scenes. However, this is by no means the be-all and end-all of Ferrara’s movie. While the deliberate brutality is a vital element, to an extent this is merely an extension of a largely psychological portrait of a mind cracking under the pressures of late 1970s life in urban New York City; and given the time period and setting, The Driller Killer also winds up arguably one of the definitive punk movies. Above all, though, it’s unmistakably the work of a director with high brow aspirations, attempting to straddle the fence between arthouse and grindhouse, but just how successful it is in doing so may be a point of contention.
On top of directing, Ferrara also takes the lead (under stage name Jimmy Laine) as Reno, a young painter who would appear to be living the bohemian dream: doing his craft for a living, shacked up in a squalid but spacious New York apartment with two girlfriends. Still, as has long since been widely documented, NYC was hardly a paradise at the time, and Reno’s neighbourhood is up to its eyeballs in the homeless, the bulk of them mentally ill and/or alcoholic, whilst gang violence and crime is rife. Reno knows he’s only a hop skip and a jump from that himself, as his money’s running low and the bills are piling up, yet he can’t secure a further advance from the gallery owner who commissioned his latest painting, nor can he bring himself to finish the damn thing despite the financial need. Reno’s already suffering violent nightmares when a punk band moves in upstairs, practicing into the early hours on a daily basis, and as relationship tensions grow, Reno’s need for release intensifies. Then he sees a TV ad for a handy belt-mounted device that can be used to power electrical appliances in the great outdoors; just the thing Reno needs to enact his homicidal fantasies on the derelict population of the New York streets, armed with his trusty drill.
As much as the film, from its title in particular, may have been contrived to cash in on The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (Ferrara admits as much in a new interview shot specifically for this Blu-ray edition), in execution it clearly owes a far greater debt to Taxi Driver: NYC, deeply troubled protagonist fixated on wiping the scum off the streets. However, where Travis Bickle was in his own curious way a sympathetic character as a traumatised Vietnam veteran with little to no employment or relationship prospects back in the real world, it can be a challenge to regard Reno as anything more than – well – a bit of a dick. Okay, so he’s struggling to cover the bills, his place is a bit of a dump and he’s got noisy neighbours, but he’s still able to make money from his art and lives with two beautiful women. Many millions of us can be forgiven for not wanting to break out the violins for him. That said, we all know that mental illness doesn’t discriminate based on personal circumstances, nor does it by any means render its sufferers inherently sympathetic, and with that kept in mind Ferrara – as both director and actor – gives us an effective portrayal of someone in the grip of a breakdown.
However, Ferrara the director is also interested in exploring other facets of late 70s New York, most pointedly via fictitious punk rock band The Roosters fronted by the absurdly flamboyant Tony Coca-Cola (D.A. Metrov, also responsible for all the artwork used in the film). Given how tangential these characters are to the main thrust of the plot, it’s surprising just how much screen time the film dedicates to them, with a series of long scenes covering their apartment-based rehearsals. It’s these drawn-out sequences of self-important pretentious artists, more so than any of the murders, which make The Driller Killer a real endurance test. They may be worthwhile inasmuch as they further the unrelenting mood of the film; it’s bashing us over the head with punk-era New York until we’re positively anxious to see it drowned in the blood which the infamous cover art promises will run in rivers. However, it may prove a little anti-climactic, particularly as – minor spoiler now – none of the band members wind up dead.
Looking at it now more than 30 years on from the Video Nasty panic, is The Driller Killer necessarily a definitive title of the era? Honestly, I don’t think so. Where Tobe Hooper was able to successfully temper his artistic tendencies through broadly accessible horror in Chainsaw, Ferrara’s really just trying to shoehorn stuff that sells into what is first and foremost an art film, both with the gore and with an almost completely superfluous lesbian sex scene in the shower. Small wonder, then, that beyond the unforgettable title and cover art – which, we can scarcely fail to note, had a greater role to play in its Video Nasty status than anything in the film itself – The Driller Killer tends not to be held up in quite the same esteem today. Still, it set the course for Ferrara as a director with an almost pathological compulsion to shock, appall and divide opinion (Bad Lieutenant, anyone?), so it’s only fitting that his breakthrough movie should be very much an acquired taste.
And if you do have a taste for The Driller Killer, you should most likely be happy with this new edition from Arrow Video. Given the film was shot on 16mm, it should be understandable that, even in HD, the sound and picture are still pretty grainy, and fans will no doubt appreciate the interview with Ferrara. We also have the option to watch in the original pre-release version or the theatrical cut (I just watched the pre-release version so I can’t comment on how they differ – sorry, but I’ve only got so much free time), and Ferrara’s full-length 2010 documentary Mulberry Street, which will be a nice bonus for completists. Beyond that, the key extra is a ‘visual essay’ on Ferrara’s career. We seem to be seeing these quite often now on Arrow releases, and I must admit I’m not keen on them, preferring a more informal, less academic approach. But whatever floats your boat.
The Driller Killer is out on Blu-ray on 28th November from Arrow Video.