The less you know upfront about PURGATORY ROAD, the better. I knew absolutely nothing about it and it hit me like a ton of bricks. A psycho-thriller/road movie/religious allegory/character study and more, this is a disturbing slice of here-and-now Americana in which serial killers are only part of the story. 
Father Vincent (Gary Cairns) travels through the contemporary Deep South in his deadly consecrated-by-Jesus RV, a spacious white van which comes equipped with space for living, praying, loving, hearing confessions, killing, dying and body storage. He's an Everyman type you might pass by in the street, give a friendly nod out of respect for his clerical garb, and move on. No problem. And he's doing God's work. Isn't he? Well, there is a problem, a long-standing one which comes to the surface now and then. Especially when Father Vincent hears confessions. You see, the good Father absolves the sinner's guilt with an ingenious Full Service solution, forgiving their sins, then slaying the sinners in Full Metal Lucio Fulci style, and disposing of the evidence. They have been confessed, forgiven, relieved of life in this Vale of Woe. And the world doesn't have to worry. At least that's the way the bloody Father sees it. Enabled by his milder mannered brother (Luke Albright), he finally meets his match in an equally deranged female, Mary Frances (Trista Robinson), whose looks and mannerisms encourage one to take her lightly. Bad move. We learn that there's a reason for the madness of these lost souls, but there's little hope for them. They were damaged souls early on and see justification in doing away with sinners who evoke the crimes of those who hurt them, and anyone else in their way. They don't expect salvation and gotta do what they gotta do, kill.
Father Vincent and co. kill and kill again, in the manner of a Southern Gothic Spaghetti Western, while that spattering, splattering Fulci gore paints the walls, ceilings, floors, a bright crimson. The roads, backwaters, homes and darkened churches of America are a dangerous place, Always have been. And to mention maestro Lucio Fulci again, three times is the charm, there is still more horror in the nothingness beyond The Beyond. This film also has a strong, necessary dose of Flannery O'Connor (cf WISE BLOOD) circulating through its system. At times it plays like a very low key dark comedy.
Independent filmmaker Mark Savage (STRESSED TO KILL) knows the territory and knows his characters, as does his flawless cast. They not only fit in, they own the scenery. I was immediately convinced that the director knew what he doing from the very first images of a child wandering through a darkened house illuminated by a not-so-comforting pool of light streaming in through a window. Atmospherically shot in rural Mississippi (big cities seem to be as far away as Heaven) one gets the sense that time has stopped here and the damned characters are playing out predestined roles cast by the invisible demons which probably ruled their childhoods. But there's no mercy shown or given, and the film admirably maintains that harrowing tone for its runtime. There's no waste motion here and the camera is always in the right place, even in very effective, and startling, overhead shots which remind us that someone up there is watching these heinous events and maybe not caring to get involved. Featuring a memorable soundscape to go along with its purgatory-on-earth imagery, this micro-budgeted crime-horror journey lingers in the mind long after our scripture and verse painted RV drives away one last time toward a place which maybe just around the corner from where you live, or not of this Earth
(C) Robert Monell, 2018
Father Vincent (Gary Cairns) travels through the contemporary Deep South in his deadly consecrated-by-Jesus RV, a spacious white van which comes equipped with space for living, praying, loving, hearing confessions, killing, dying and body storage. He's an Everyman type you might pass by in the street, give a friendly nod out of respect for his clerical garb, and move on. No problem. And he's doing God's work. Isn't he? Well, there is a problem, a long-standing one which comes to the surface now and then. Especially when Father Vincent hears confessions. You see, the good Father absolves the sinner's guilt with an ingenious Full Service solution, forgiving their sins, then slaying the sinners in Full Metal Lucio Fulci style, and disposing of the evidence. They have been confessed, forgiven, relieved of life in this Vale of Woe. And the world doesn't have to worry. At least that's the way the bloody Father sees it. Enabled by his milder mannered brother (Luke Albright), he finally meets his match in an equally deranged female, Mary Frances (Trista Robinson), whose looks and mannerisms encourage one to take her lightly. Bad move. We learn that there's a reason for the madness of these lost souls, but there's little hope for them. They were damaged souls early on and see justification in doing away with sinners who evoke the crimes of those who hurt them, and anyone else in their way. They don't expect salvation and gotta do what they gotta do, kill.
Father Vincent and co. kill and kill again, in the manner of a Southern Gothic Spaghetti Western, while that spattering, splattering Fulci gore paints the walls, ceilings, floors, a bright crimson. The roads, backwaters, homes and darkened churches of America are a dangerous place, Always have been. And to mention maestro Lucio Fulci again, three times is the charm, there is still more horror in the nothingness beyond The Beyond. This film also has a strong, necessary dose of Flannery O'Connor (cf WISE BLOOD) circulating through its system. At times it plays like a very low key dark comedy.
Independent filmmaker Mark Savage (STRESSED TO KILL) knows the territory and knows his characters, as does his flawless cast. They not only fit in, they own the scenery. I was immediately convinced that the director knew what he doing from the very first images of a child wandering through a darkened house illuminated by a not-so-comforting pool of light streaming in through a window. Atmospherically shot in rural Mississippi (big cities seem to be as far away as Heaven) one gets the sense that time has stopped here and the damned characters are playing out predestined roles cast by the invisible demons which probably ruled their childhoods. But there's no mercy shown or given, and the film admirably maintains that harrowing tone for its runtime. There's no waste motion here and the camera is always in the right place, even in very effective, and startling, overhead shots which remind us that someone up there is watching these heinous events and maybe not caring to get involved. Featuring a memorable soundscape to go along with its purgatory-on-earth imagery, this micro-budgeted crime-horror journey lingers in the mind long after our scripture and verse painted RV drives away one last time toward a place which maybe just around the corner from where you live, or not of this Earth
(C) Robert Monell, 2018
