For the ardent cult film fan, discovering the works of a new filmmaker is a pivotal moment. Similar to the realization that touching ourselves isn’t the bad news adults made it out to be, we cannot wait to go somewhere private with our cult film and watch it over and over again. Problematically, sometimes when we do this repeatedly, the films that provided us so much joy lose a bit of their flavor, causing a yearning for something new.
Luckily, that’s where the Cult Filmmakers You Should Know series can lend a hand. For those of you just joining this party, the goal of this series is to highlight filmmakers who work within the field of horror, exploitation, and cult cinema for those wayward film fans who feel they’ve seen it all.
…and if I’m doing my job, then it’ll be like I helped you discover touching yourself all over again, because the filmmakers in this series are just that good.
For our second ever installment of Cult Filmmakers You Should Know, I am pleased to introduce to you all to someone whose work most certainly can live up to such hype. His name is Alan Rowe Kelly, and when it comes to independent horror, he is incomparable. One of New Jersey’s finest writer/directors, Alan’s is a name some of you children of the popcorn may recognize. For those of you All About Evil fans keeping track of this summer’s unfolding nationwide tour, you may recall that Alan Rowe Kelly was listed as a special guest for the New York date. While it is certainly a great honor to be joined in the Big Apple by such an illustrious filmmaker, it is through no small coincidence that Alan and Peaches will be uniting their forces of darkness that evening. You see, in addition to being someone whom I admire greatly, Alan Rowe Kelly has his own personal stake in the universe of Peaches Christ, and if you’ll allow me to indulge in a little story before further highlighting this awesome man, I’ll gladly explain.
Once upon a time, San Francisco filmmaker Joshua Grannell set out to make a movie that would come to be known to all of you as All About Evil. Considering how fitting a title this turned out to be, it may surprise many to learn that All About Evil was not, in fact, the film’s original moniker. At one stage, it was Grannell’s desire to call his film The Blood Shed, based on a conversation he once had with Herschell Gordon Lewis concerning a movie theater from Lewis’s past. As Grannell forged forward with this new nomenclature, on the other side of the country, news of Grannell’s Blood Shed had caught the attention of Alan Rowe Kelly. Kelly, who had recently completed a movie of his own, coincidentally also titled The Blood Shed, grew concerned that Grannell’s movie would cause potential confusion with his.
Kelly contacted Grannell, writing a polite and impassioned letter regarding his concerns about the identical names of their films. Grannell was touched by Kelly’s earnest and direct approach, and as a filmmaker, understood Kelly’s point of view. He knew he’d be concerned if another filmmaker tried to use the name of his movie for their own, so he gladly made the change. Thus, All About Evil came to be dubbed as such and Alan Rowe Kelly got to keep The Blood Shed.
However, the connection didn’t end there. As it turns out, Grannell and Kelly really enjoyed corresponding, and kept in touch long after the name change. In fact, when Grannell finally saw Kelly’s The Blood Shed, he enjoyed it so much he passed it along to some of his friends, including cult icon Peaches Christ. Peaches took one look at the film, declared Alan Rowe Kelly a “kindred spirit,” and the rest, as they say, is history.
On my end, I had been aware of Alan Rowe Kelly long before Peaches Christ shared with me the story that embeds Alan into her world. Alan’s first movie, I’ll Bury You Tomorrow, was one of those films that I openly praised and tried to push on everyone after my initial viewing. It was disturbed, atmospheric, and had a brilliant cast. It was everything that most indie horror was lacking. Alan and I were eventually introduced by a mutual friend of ours, cult filmmaker Mike Watt (you’ll be meeting him next week, hint hint), and I knew instantly that Alan was my kind of person. Bawdy conversation, a respect for the genre, and just an all around presence, this guy was the real deal.
Following our meeting and a continued correspondence thereafter, I revisited some of Alan’s films and truly absorbed the work he was doing. His quality and commitment to the craft was staggering. Imagine my joy when I discovered, through casual conversation that Peaches loved Alan’s work as much as I did. After a mutual lovefest of a discussion, it was obvious I was going to have to share our love with all of you. But, dear children of the popcorn, do not think that Alan Rowe Kelly earns the honor of being a Cult Filmmaker You Should Know merely through his association with myself or the illustrious Peaches Christ. Far be it, Alan earns this distinction because he is truly an auteur of the audacious. His films are staggeringly well done and brilliantly realized. No, Peaches and I give him our mutual love because he is, in fact, just that damned good.
As I mentioned earlier, Alan’s first movie, I’ll Bury You Tomorrow, is highly atmospheric. However, this descriptor alone hardly does the film justice. Melding that dark creep that seemed so present in the Hammer films of yesteryear with a modern sense of sexual depravity, I’ll Bury You Tomorrow has the feeling of being uniquely classic and wholly original at the very same time. Set in a small town funeral parlor run rampant with necrophilia, organ harvesting, and prayer, Kelly forces us to recognize that our local mortuary is likely anything but quaint.
Of course, railing against all things “quaint” seems to be Kelly’s modus operandi, as a good number of his works rail take umbrage with the cruelty that often exists under a suburban veneer. The Blood Shed focuses on a clan of (potentially inbred) hillbillies turned cannibals who are ostracized by the surrounding community. Naturally, as often happens when you pick on cannibals, things go horribly awry for the people of the town who seek to make fun of the simple family. Strongly directed and with a stark visual sense, The Blood Shed also features Kelly in a starring role as Beefteena, the family’s 12 year-old daughter, who is seemingly a pituitary case.
If you think this notion is a little absurd, that’s okay, it’s supposed to be. Another brilliant element of Kelly’s work is an always present wry sense of humor, which he exerts in various ways. Whether it be through gender-bending characters or over-the-top situations (The Blood Shed contains a scene where a character does a photo shoot that must be seen to be believed), Kelly is more than happy to insert a heaping helping of dark humor. Perhaps what makes Kelly’s films so effective is that he has created a brilliant divide within them: The funny parts are always funny, but when it comes to the terror, he wants you to understand that it is scary. It’s a delicate balance, and one that Kelly’s films can handle on a hairpin turn. The audience can be giggling gleefully one moment, and then horribly mortified in fear the next. Unlike many filmmakers who desire to make the violence and scares part of the “camp”, Kelly wants you to understand that the reason this genre is called “horror” is because the things that happen to these characters are truly horrible. It is this sense of stark darkness and fear that gives even the humorous moments of his films, with subsequent viewings, a far more malevolent tone. Kelly can wiggle into your brain, and before you realize it, he’s made you scared of the funny parts too. How is that not genius?
Kelly’s ability to create an atmosphere of terror and desolation has never been more prevalent than in his film, A Far Cry From Home, which was made as his entry into the horror anthology, Gallery of Fear. The film concerns a troubled gay couple and their trip to the country, which goes horribly wrong when they run afoul of some religious psychopaths. Of all Kelly’s films, this one is the most unrelenting.
Most likely to appeal to fans of torture horror, I must confess that this movie left me squirming a time or two during my initial viewing. However, it is a testament to the already mentioned theme of horror being truly horrifying that is present in all of Kelly’s works. This film is a cold reminder that sometimes something as true-life as gay bashing can be far more unsettling than any movie monster. It is not always an easy film to watch, but it is a triumph, nonetheless.
For those who like to keep their scares a little more “movie house” and a little less real life, you may rejoice, because Kelly’s upcoming feature is a return to the grindhouse. At the time of this writing, Kelly is hard at work on reimagining the 1970s midnight movie Don’t Look in the Basement with his own unique brand of terror. While the film is certainly familiar to many, don’t assume that it will be just a rote rehash of the original. Considering what we know of Kelly and the work that has come before, fans can expect something startling and new from this master of twisted and uncompromising fear. So, once you discover his back-catalog, the knowledge of Don’t Look in the Basement’s pending arrival will give you a reason to get your geeky horror anticipation up and running.
Of course, I’d be amiss in discussing Alan Rowe Kelly if I didn’t mention that in addition to being a fantastic filmmaker, he’s also an accomplished actor. Appearing in a slew of independent horror projects, it would take a completely separate article to discuss the merits of his vast and varied performances. However, whether he is playing an eerie fortune teller, as in Bart Mastronardi’s Vindication, or a doctor, as in Joe Davison’s Experiment 7, Kelly is always captivating and a treat to the audience. His aforementioned willingness to gender-bend for the roles he chooses, playing both men and women, should gain him instant cult status alone. That this willingness is backed up by some serious acting chops just makes it all the better.
Whether as a filmmaker or as an actor, Alan Rowe Kelly is truly a sensational force in the world of cult filmmaking and a great asset to the horror community. His sense of dark comedy and stark terror have created within his films something truly unique and memorable, often offering the viewer an experience they would never get at the local multiplex. Beneath it all, it is hugely apparent that Alan Rowe Kelly truly and deeply loves his craft and loves horror. It is because of his passion that is so prevalent in his work that Peaches and I fell in love with this wonderful filmmaker.
Take our advice, check out Alan Rowe Kelly’s work, and I guarantee you’ll love him too.
Remember, if you’re in New York City at the end of July to come out and see Peaches, Alan, and I at the screening of All About Evil. Until that time, keep watching movies, my dear children of the popcorn.
…and remember: Keep discovering.
