In Hong Kong cinema, the “Category III” label is the rough equivalent of an “X” rating in the United States – no one under 18 admitted. More than identifying extreme content, however, the classification denotes a certain sensibility in HK cinema since the late 1980s – an impulse to not only repulse but also to do so in the most confounding, counter-logical manner possible (usually in quivering acres of latex and gallons of profuse goop). While Category III classics like RIKI-OH and THREE… EXTREMES are better known to American audiences, Spectacle is proud to plumb the depths of dubious morals and devil feti to present a selection of lesser-known features from the genre.

DEVIL FETUS 2
dir. Tom Lau Moon-Tong, 1984.
101 mins. Hong Kong.
In Cantonese with English subtitles.

FRIDAY, MAY 6 – MIDNIGHT
SATURDAY, MAY 14 – MIDNIGHT
FRIDAY, MAY 27 – MIDNIGHT

Content Warning: sexual assault, abortion

The sequel to the legendary DEVIL FETUS finally delivers on the fetus its predecessor failed to deliver, retaining at the same time the wildly elliptical plot that begins with a horny, malevolent piece of thrift-store art and ends with our protagonists in various states of wet delamination. A sleazy photographer contends with the fallout of a drunken liaison between one of his models and an animate statue of a demon in his art collection. Birthed upon an autopsy table, the titular fetus proceeds to make things generally miserable for our protagonist, unleashing vomiting monks, kitchen accidents and other unsavory terrors from the Category III wheelhouse. As perverse and unpredictable as DEVIL FETUS with a few surprisingly eerie and artful set-pieces that elevate the proceedings above a straightforward repetition.

BLOOD RITUAL
dir. Yuen Ching Lee, 1989
92 mins. Hong Kong.
In Cantonese and Mandarin with English subtitles.

SATURDAY, MAY 7 – MIDNIGHT
FRIDAY, MAY 20 – MIDNIGHT
SATURDAY, MAY 28 – MIDNIGHT

A hyper-violent cult thriller soldered to a light-hearted romantic comedy, BLOOD RITUAL is notable for the jarring ease with which it switches between these registers – deftly choreographed fight scenes rife with dismemberings inexplicably transition to screwball bits about failed driving tests and…severed fingers. The queasier bizarro version of Miami Vice, in which a pervasive mood of cultic paranoia is punctuated by instances of perplexing humor and synth-ballad breaks.