I have sort of a love-hate relationship with horror movies. Truth be told, I love them mostly in theory, when I don't have to endure the scary stuff or the gory stuff or the haunting stuff that keeps me up nights afterward. But as a fan of zombie films, and Italian horror in particular, I really kind of embrace all of that stuff, be it in Dario Argento's creepy thrillers or Lucio Fulci's gross-out odysseys. But there is one film in particular that no matter how intrigued I am about its contents, no matter how much I'm interested in catching up with the rest of the horror-loving community, that I simply cannot, and will not watch: Cannibal Holocaust.
I've only seen one Ruggero Deodato film, House on the Edge of the Park, and despite the fact that its director was in attendance at the screening I attended, I was not particularly entertained. It crossed the line between provocation and exploitation, and aside from the lithe presence of softcore star Annie Belle, it was a generally crass and misogynist chronicle of two guys holding a group of socialites hostage. But I'd sworn off Cannibal Holocaust long before I saw House on the Edge of the Park, because, quite frankly, I actually saw some of it, albeit in still-photograph form, and it messed me the hell up.