The flickering static clears, revealing not the sun-dappled promise of summer fun, but the deep, primal shadows of the woods. There's a particular kind of dread that hangs heavy in the air of 1980s campsite slashers, a feeling potent enough that even the slightly worn tracking lines on a well-loved VHS tape couldn't diminish it. And when the director behind the lens is none other than Ruggero Deodato, the notorious architect of Cannibal Holocaust (1980), you brace yourself. Yet, 1986's Body Count (or Camping del Terrore, a title perhaps more evocative of its Italian roots) offers a different, though still unsettling, flavor of fear.
Under the Shadow of the Shaman
Forget Jason Voorhees or Michael Myers for a moment. Body Count throws us into the scenic Italian wilderness – specifically the rugged, beautiful Abruzzo region, standing in for remote American woods – where a group of oblivious teenagers sets up camp on supposedly cursed ground. The legend whispers of an ancient Shaman, protective of the land, whose vengeful spirit lingers. It’s a setup ripe for slaughter, and Deodato, alongside writers Alessandro Capone, Luca D'Alisera, and the prolific genre scribe Dardano Sacchetti (The Beyond, Demons), leans into the familiar tropes: the isolated setting, the horny teens, the escalating body count. But there's an undercurrent here, a touch of folk horror woven into the standard stalk-and-slash fabric, that gives it a slightly different texture than its purely American cousins.
The presence of David Hess looms large. Seeing the man who brought such chilling intensity to The Last House on the Left (1972) appear as the grizzled, vaguely menacing caretaker instantly sets alarm bells ringing. It’s inspired casting, leveraging his established screen persona to crank up the unease before the first drop of blood is even spilled. Hess knew exactly the kind of unsettling energy needed, and he delivers it with a quiet menace that feels far more threatening than any overt posturing. Reportedly, Hess enjoyed the role, finding a grim satisfaction in playing characters who lived on the frayed edges of sanity.
Deodato Dialed Down?
Coming from the man who pushed exploitation cinema to its absolute limits just six years prior, Body Count feels… restrained. Perhaps ‘conventional’ is the better word. While Deodato himself later expressed dissatisfaction with the film, suggesting studio interference nudged it towards a more generic American slasher feel, his directorial eye is still evident. There are moments where the camera lingers, building tension through suggestion rather than outright shock. The wilderness feels genuinely vast and isolating, the crumbling structures hinting at a dark history.
However, don't expect the harrowing realism of Cannibal Holocaust. The kills, while featuring some decent practical gore effects typical of the era (remember how tangible those squibs and latex wounds felt on grainy tape?), often stick to the slasher playbook. They deliver the requisite shocks, but perhaps lack the visceral, unforgettable punch of Deodato’s earlier, more infamous work. Was this a conscious decision to reach a wider audience, or simply the reality of working within the established slasher formula for hire? It’s a fascinating question for fans of the director’s varied filmography.
Soundtracking the Slaughter
One element that absolutely elevates Body Count is the score by the legendary Claudio Simonetti. Yes, that Claudio Simonetti, keyboard maestro of Goblin, whose pulsating synth soundscapes defined so many classic Italian horror films like Suspiria (1977) and Dawn of the Dead (1978). His work here is fantastic – atmospheric, dread-inducing, and instantly recognizable. The electronic throbs and eerie melodies perfectly complement the deep woods setting and the rising panic. Hearing that score kick in as darkness falls over the campsite… it’s pure 80s horror bliss, the kind of sound that filled living rooms late at night, amplified by the hum of the VCR.
An Uneven Campfire Tale
Alongside the imposing Hess, we have former CHiPs star and motocross champion Bruce Penhall as the lead. He’s certainly athletic – reportedly performing some of his own stunts, including dirt bike sequences – and provides a capable enough hero figure, though perhaps lacking the screen charisma to truly anchor the film. Mimsy Farmer, a veteran of Italian genre cinema with roles in Gialli like Four Flies on Grey Velvet (1971), lends a touch of class and experience as the concerned psychologist trying to unravel the mystery. The rest of the young cast fulfills their slasher archetypes adequately, destined primarily to scream, run, and meet grisly ends.
The plot itself holds few genuine surprises, especially for seasoned slasher viewers. The "cursed ground" trope feels familiar, and the eventual reveal of the killer might not land with the shocking impact it perhaps intended. Doesn't that predictability almost become part of the comfort food aspect of these 80s slashers, though? You knew the beats, but you watched anyway, waiting for that kill scene, or that jump scare.
Final Tally
Body Count isn't a lost masterpiece, nor is it the unhinged shocker some might expect from Deodato. It's a solid, atmospheric, and sometimes effectively nasty slice of mid-80s Italian slasher cinema, elevated significantly by David Hess's menacing presence and Claudio Simonetti's killer score. It suffers from some pacing issues and adherence to formula, preventing it from reaching the top tier of the genre. However, the Italian production flavour, the creepy location, and those key contributions make it more memorable than many of its American counterparts from the same period. Renting this back in the day, perhaps drawn by Deodato's name or Hess's face on the cover, likely delivered exactly the kind of woodsy terror you were looking for after dark.
Rating: 6/10
Justification: The score bumps it up a point – Simonetti's contribution is genuinely excellent. Hess adds another point for pure genre casting genius and unsettling performance. The effective atmosphere and competent, if unoriginal, slasher execution provide the base score. It loses points for predictability, some uneven performances beyond the headliners, and not quite living up to the potential suggested by its director's pedigree.
VHS Heaven Verdict: A worthwhile deep cut for 80s slasher completists and Deodato/Simonetti fans. It might not be groundbreaking, but Body Count delivers enough atmosphere, memorable moments, and that distinct Italian horror flavour to earn its place on the dusty shelf of fondly remembered (or perhaps newly discovered) campsite nightmares. Fire up the VCR... if you dare camp out with this one.