Ligne coupée

Not very good, but somewhat watchable. Someone is killing young women in a small town; we don't see the killings or bodies until the killer is identified. Meanwhile, an odd but polite young man tries to date Alicia, a young woman who is working at a video store. She has a slutty identical twin sister. Alicia is getting strange phone calls: nobody there, or horrible sounds, or overhearing other people's phone calls. The calls may or may not be related to the killer.

The movie gets a little odd after the killer is dealt with by the police. A restless night Alicia has is depicted through a series of black & white photographs. An old man in a black hat and black coat who was seen at the beginning of the movie shows up again at the end. I'm not sure if he is significant or not.

As in Gorman Bechard's other movies, Carmine Capobianco talks to the camera. Here, he's a cop talking to someone, a journalist? Oddly, he's shot against a white wall, and wears the same shirt in scenes supposed to be taking place on different days.

Lots of pop/rock songs on the soundtrack. Sometimes scenes play without dialogue or environmental sound, serving as little more than music video montage scenes. There's some good music by XTC and Hunters & Gatherers.

If this was Bechard's first film as a director, as it seems to be, it's not bad considering that.

Greetings And Salutations, and welcome to my review of Disconnected; here's the breakdown of my ratings:

Story: 1.50 Direction: 1.50 Pace: 1.25 Acting: 1.25 Enjoyment: 1.50

TOTAL: 7.00 out of 10.00

This little-known picture came as a pleasant, if slightly disturbing, surprise. It possesses some intriguing concepts and is one of the better modern telephone horror films.

The screenplay, written by Director Gorman Bechard and Virginia Gilroy - based on her short story - tells the tale of Alicia and Franklin's doomed romance and throws in a generous spattering of mystery, mayhem, and murder. One day when Alicia leaves for work at the video store, she spots an elderly gentleman who appears distressed. Being a kindly person, she offers him a cup of tea. However, no sooner has the tea been brewed and she's walked back into the room does Alicia find him gone. Quickly she moves to her front door and looks out but can't see the gent anywhere. He was slow-moving and unsteady; there was no way he could have walked out, descended her stairs, and ambled down the street before Alicia scouted the neighbourhood for him. The incident troubles her, but she soon forgets him when the phone calls start coming. Franklin is a cinephile. One day he pops into Alicia's store and shyly asks her out. She happily accepts his advances as she's unsure of Mark, her ex, and her twin sister Barbara. Her sister has issues, and one's to seduce her sister's men. Alicia believes Mark has already fallen under her temptations. And this theory is borne out when she receives a call from Barbara. However, it appears to be a crossed line as Bab's not conversing with her but with Mark, and she's saying that her sis is clueless about them. But this isn't the only curious call she's received, and it won't be the last. Because, now, when the phone rings and she picks up, an undulating shriek screech from the earpiece before the strange and obscure chatter starts. Is she suffering a mental breakdown? Are these aural delusions? While out in the streets of her town, a stalker is killing and mutilating women. The police are having little luck in apprehending the slasher. Will they find him out in time, or will Alicia and Bab's end up on the wrong end of his blade? A lot is going on in Disconnected, but it never feels overly stuffed or heavy. Bechard and Gilroy magnificently weave together all the strands into one strong rope of a tale. They keep the narrative flowing smoothly and fill it with appealing and credible characters. I particularly like the two detectives; they have a je ne sais quoi about them.

Another positive is Bechard's direction. This guy attempts to make every scene interesting at every opportunity. He uses light and shade, varying camera angles, different styles of panning, quick cuts, and composition to entertain the audience. I especially liked the phone call segment when Alicia rings Franklin to accept his dinner offer. We see her in the video store dialling his number. We then have a semi-close-up of Franklin appearing to wake up in his bed and answer the phone. After they hang up, we stay in Franklin's bedroom, but this time we're standing looking down at the foot of the bed. We slowly pan up the bed to reveal the bloody chaos. It's a simple shot, but it works well. There's also a superb rolling pan in the nightclub to witness the patrons sitting at the bar. It doesn't bring anything to the story, just interest in a filler scene, but it's good.

As for the performances, these are all above par. However, I would've liked more tension and darkness from Mark Walker (Franklin), especially in the murder scenes. He's a tad soft for my liking. But apart from that, everyone does well and are on an even keel.

I would gladly recommend this macabre piece of cinematography to every Horror and Dark Thriller fan. It's original and mysteriously entertaining, and a wonderful way to spend a dark autumnal night. But beware, I have found this story has a way of crawling into your cerebrum and nestling there.

Don't listen to the voices on the phone. Focus on my voice; now, please read over my IMDb lists - Absolute Horror and Killer Thriller Chillers, to see where I ranked Disconnected before I have my fun with you.

Take Care & Stay Well.

Disconnected is the perfect word to describe the style of this very bizarre '80s obscurity, which is executed in such an off-kilter manner, with disparate scenes edited together in a seemingly random manner, that it actually proves quite mesmerising.

Frances Raines stars as pretty video store clerk Alicia, who begins dating a guy called Franklin (Mark Walker) unaware that he is the serial killer who has been butchering local women. Meanwhile, the poor girl is also having to contend with a series of bizarre, unsettling phone calls that are pushing her to the brink of insanity. While this sounds pretty straightforward, writer/producer/director/editor/tea-boy Gorman Bechard's unique creative approach makes for an unusual viewing experience to say the least.

From the get go, this is one weird movie, the first ten minutes or so making very little sense: Alicia helps an old man to her apartment, where he uses her phone and promptly disappears; Alicia and her friends dance to a really bad band; a man entertains a woman at a bar by doing the same magic trick twice; Alicia accuses her boyfriend of sleeping with her twin sister; Franklin visits the video shop despite not owning a player; a cop talks directly to camera about the murders: all of this is edited together in such a strange fashion that it beggars belief (throughout the film, Bechard chucks in random shots of everyday objects for good measure).

The film then trundles along in a relatively logical manner until midway, when Franklin is shot dead by the police, after which Alicia's scary phone calls become more and more frequent. No explanation is ever given for these occurrences, the film ending with Alicia smashing her phone (after the earpiece bleeds!?!), and with the reappearance of the old man from the beginning, whose relevance is also a complete mystery.

Go into this one expecting to not understand what is happening, and you might just find yourself entertained by its sheer craziness; if not, then there's always the lovely Miss Raines to hold your attention, the actress spending much of the film wandering around in her underwear and taking off her top to provide the obligatory nudity (she also plays Alicia's twin sister Barbara Ann, giving us twice the opportunity to appreciate her charms).

4.5 out of 10, rounded up to 5 for IMDb.

Both the (extremely) low budget production values and the bad acting helped to create a film that was reminiscent of giallo, which brought a sense of nostalgia to the table for me- however, Disconnected has characters that are the 'every day' american type, and this, alongside the graininess of the cheap film stock, makes the film seem much more like a 70's film than an 80's one. The more real violence contributes to the 70s feel- other than the acting, there is no cheese to be found here. The first 3/4 of this film were absolutely fantastic. A real sense of tension and a blend of realistic, sleazy subplot alongside a more surreal main plot made Disconnected an absolutely unique and interesting piece. After the subplot culminates however, the film falls off, and begins to wear out its welcome. Overall this film is actually really cool as long as you can stand the super low budget feel.

My review was written in January 1986 after watching the movie on Active video cassette.

"Disconnected" is a low-budget horror film made by locals in Waterbury, Connecticut, which tries to surmount the cliches of the genre, but emerges as a routine picture. One-man filmmaker Gorman Bechard shows some style, especially in flashy insert shots, but needs to come up with more original material.

Frances Raines toplines as Alicia Michaels, a young woman who works as a sales clerk at Valley Video, a home video store. She's had a fight with her deejay boyfriend Mike (Carl Koch), accusing him of having slept with her twin sister Barbara Ann (also played by Raines), and now a young guy Franklin (Mark Walker) keeps hanging around Valley Video trying to get a date with Alicia.

Meanwhile, the cops are investigating a series of slasher murders, with evidence (shown to the viewer but not known to the cops) implicating Franklin. Alicia is plagued by annoying phone calls that feature harsh noises. She also becomes involved romantically with Franklin.

Although Bechard plants some interesting clues in the opening reel, plotline goes haywire when Franklin is seduced by twin Barbara Ann, murders her and then, in a poorly designed scene (it's largely omitted, referred to verbally later) is killed by the cops. The killings continue after Franklin's death with an open-ended finale ponting at the real killer.

Bechard's exposition scenes, particularly with the lackadaisical cops, continually mock the rigid format of slasher films, but ultimately his picture lapses into these cliches, such as the overuse of he phone call gimmick. Leading lady Raines, who has been featured in many B-films of late, is impressive in her dual role, combining vulnerability with the ambiguity of possible madness necessary in a "Repulsion"-type heroine.