Madman (1981)

Madman was conceived in the wake of and indeed in awe of Friday the 13th, a film whose storming success had given Indie films a new lease of life and some much-needed street cred. Friday the 13th had been picked up and distributed by big Hollywood studio Paramount, and as a result, it became every indie filmmakers dream to be courted by the big wigs.

Madman, had it been made today, would have gone straight to video at best – yet in the early ’80s, with video still beginning to mushroom, every shoestring budgeted horror flick managed to secure a worldwide theatrical release. Alas, the trend is well and truly over, and now 90% of horror finds itself straight to video.

A bunch of typical summer camp instructors and students are winding up a session by retelling some tales of legendary horror by the fireside. A creep calling himself TP entertains the campers with a lilting medieval song about the horrors of the jungle. Then the elderly camp supervisor whispers a story about the legend of the Madman Marz who roamed the area having butchered his family with an Axe for no apparent reason. Now, the Madman rests, but if you utter his name too loudly, he will be disturbed and come out to find you and kill you. Naturally, one of the idiots at the fireside shouts the name out loud, and one senses that Madman Marz won’t be too thrilled at having his name called out with such irreverence.

Slowly but surely, a shadowy axe-wielding shape resembling a dishevelled old blimp in severe need of a manicure starts stalking the unwary campers as they go about their business of taking aimless strolls in the forest. The Madman also tends to make scary guttural groaning sounds suggesting a severe lack of communication skills. Yet, he scales trees like Tarzan and is a mighty specimen with the strength of at least ten men. The horrors start to mount when we are subjected to the movie’s second song (of four). If the medieval ditty by the fireside was puke inducing, this maudlin, schmaltzy turd of a song is by far the most frightening aspect of the movie, especially as it has been sung by someone whose vocal skill could be better employed as an instrument of torture. Gary Sales, the film’s co-producer, is responsible for the lamentable, torturous songs and will have a lot of explaining to do when he meets his maker!

The film is essentially a succession of (dull) sequences where characters are being stalked as they go walkabout in the forest accompanied by a music score that sounds like it was composed and played on one of those Casiotone battery-operated keyboard thingies. The attempts at suspense are so contrived they end up as unintended self-parody. The shocks are shocking only in how predictable and orchestrated they are. There is nothing about Madman that is novel in any way. It does, however, provide some giggles at the atrociously mounted gore effects as well as the fabulously amateurish acting. The closest this film gets to absolute horror is the four terrifying songs composed and performed by the film’s producer, far more horrifying than the comical decapitations and mutilations that otherwise grace the movie.

Seriously tacky, made for the drive-in, but it has its dedicated posse of die-hard fans, which is testament to the films “cult” value.