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I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE
The most notorious rape-revenge movie of the seventies, if not of all time, I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE is probably destined to be better known for the controversy it inspired than the quality of the film. How is it? Not nearly as terrible as many reviewers make it out to be, but then I’m not entirely sure it’s an exploitation masterpiece, either.
The Package
I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE is probably the best-known rape-themed exploitation
movie ever, despite the fact that better ones were made before (THE LAST HOUSE ON
THE LEFT, THRILLER: A CRUEL PICTURE) and after (MS. 45,
IRREVERSIBLE). Its
immortality was assured by Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert, who passionately
crusaded against the film on their SNEAK PREVIEWS TV show. They succeeded in
getting it yanked from several theaters, thus largely obliterating its 1980
theatrical release, but it was an enormous seller on home video--mainly due to
the publicity unwittingly generated by Siskel and Ebert (I know that’s why I
was initially drawn to it)! Further notoriety came from the MPAA, who sued the
filmmakers because on the home video version they restored cuts made to obtain
an R rating. And I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE made headlines yet again when it made the
number one slot on the UK’s “Video Nasties” list of films deemed too violent
and/or sexual for public consumption. It was also censored in Germany, New
Zealand and Australia, where it remains banned to this day.
I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE was initially released in 1978, under the title DAY OF
THE WOMAN, by the film’s writer-director Meir Zarchi. The 1980 re-release was
shepherded by sleazemeister Jerry Gross, who exploitively retitled it and
commissioned a misleading one-sheet promising five men would be killed (when
only four actually die onscreen), and that one would be burned (which never
occurs).
Zarchi cast 28-year-old Camille Keaton in the lead role
of a woman brutally raped four times in a single day who then methodically kills
her attackers. The grand niece of Buster Keaton, Camille had previously starred
in several Italian exploitation movies, including the popular WHAT HAVE THEY
DONE TO SOLANGE? She and Zarchi married shortly after completing production on
the present film...and then divorced a few years later.
The Story
Jennifer is an attractive feminist writer staying in an isolated lake
house. She’s appraised at a nearby gas station by three redneck attendants and
their retarded buddy. They take to harassing her and the following day waylay
her on the lake by her house, where she happens to be boating.
In a misguided attempt at getting the retarded guy
laid, the scumbags haul Jennifer back to shore, where one of them has his way
with her. After this they let her go, but she doesn’t get far before another of
the group sodomizes her in a forest clearing. Stark naked, Jennifer stumbles
through miles of swampland back to her house, where her attackers are waiting.
This time she’s raped by the retarded guy, who whines that he can’t come (waaaah!),
and then she’s violated yet again, this time by a wine bottle. At this point
the scumbags leave for good but send the retard back to finish her off; he can’t
bring himself to go through with the deed, but tells his friends he did.
Jennifer, permanently scarred by her experience,
becomes determined to get revenge. After entering a church and asking God for
forgiveness for what she’s about to do(!), she lures the retarded guy into the
woods. There she seduces and hangs him--and this time he at least manages to
come. Next Jennifer tracks down the ringleader of the rapists and castrates him
in her bathtub. The last two rapists she dispatches on the lake, goring one
with an axe and disemboweling the other with a motorboat propeller. The end.
The Direction
Contrary to what many critics have claimed about I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE,
there is a fair amount of craftsmanship in the early scenes, which have a spare,
poetic élan in their depiction of the heroine’s quiet lakeside retreat. There’s
even an interesting stretch during the agonizing 25-minute rape sequence in
which one of the rapists nonchalantly plays a harmonica while his fellow
attackers slowly converge on the heroine. These scenes, and the entire movie,
are enhanced by the fact that there’s no music track, which lends a certain
tension to even the most mundane sequences.
I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE isn’t at all like the seventies-sploiters
it’s often lumped in with, and not just because Meir Zarchi doesn’t feel the
need to goose up the action with a fight or explosion every few minutes. The
pacing is often intolerably slow, with endless scenes of people walking lengthy
distances. It often feels like a European art movie but for the cheap
photography and bad acting.
Correction: the acting is mostly bad--but not by
the film’s star Camille Keaton. Quite simply, her work is among the ballsiest
female performances in film history. Not only does she get raped repeatedly
(simulated of course), but she’s also brutally manhandled in every conceivable
manner, and forced to stumble stark naked through what seems like miles of
forest and swampland, all without benefit of a stunt double. (Jodie Foster won
an Oscar for doing far less in THE ACCUSED, a much tamer rape-revenge saga.) I
don’t believe this makes I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE a masterpiece, but it is quite an
eye-opener.
Vital Statistics
I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE (a.k.a.
DAY OF THE WOMAN)
Cinemagic Pictures
Director/Screenplay/Editing:
Meir Zarchi
Producers: Joseph Zbeda, Meir Zarchi
Cinematography: Yuri Haviv
Cast: Camille Keaton, Eron Tabor, Richard Pace, Anthony Nichols, Gunter Kleemann,
Traci Ferrante, Alexis Magnotti