1977's Martin is quite an interesting foray into horror cinema. From the director of Night of the Living Dead, it almost feels more like a drama if not for the ghastly acts of its titular character. Martin is a young man, under 20, moving from Indianapolis to Pittsburgh to work for his cousin and live in his house with his daughter.
On the train ride to the Pennsylvania city of three rivers, he decides to commit a murder for the purpose of drinking the blood of his victim. From his methodology, you can tell he's done this before. It's pretty ghastly. Shot well by Romero and long-time partner, cinematographer Michael Gornick, it's cringe-inducing and uncomfortable, but it seems like there's multiple reasons why. You just can't put your finger on what all of them are.
When Martin's elderly cousin brings him home, the first thing he says to him is "Nosferatu!!" before going on a spiel about how he's going to save his soul before destroying him. This is powerful stuff as his cousins description of the family history, and Martin's declaration that he's 84 years old create enough head-scratching to make you wonder if Martin (played wonderfully by first-time John Amplas) is more than just a serial killer with a really distinct M.O.
Martin's cousin says he's been told Martin's an imbecile, and tells him he's not to take any victims from the area. You watch Martin go about his horrible hobby, or a need to feed that gives him the shakes that he confides in a local shock radio host. His methodology and calmness during a crisis, show him as far from stupid. It isn't hard to tell that Martin will find victims in the local area, so quietly a clash is coming.
Now, this sounds like an off-beat horror film, but judging by Martin's movements, his flashbacks to a distant past that may or may not be real, and the fact that neither his dull gray/green eyes or lips ever come close to a smile, it is more an exploration of complete loneliness.
And it's not just Martin. Every other character in this dying town outside Pittsburgh is miserable. Unhappy in their relationships, desolate in their isolation, awkward in their exchanges with other people. The film is far beyond horror, even though Martin's actions are gruesomely violent; he's battling a complete loss of who he is, or may have ever been. It's shocking denouement will grab you as it not only seems to come from nowhere, but seems necessary.
Martin is the kind of movie one can watch with a group and spend hours discussing not only it's merits, but it's multiple degrees of subtext. It's not a fun horror film, nor a gorefest, but it is engrossing and comes highly recommended.
Apparently a black and white 3 hour long version that is preferred by Romero himself was unearthed not too long ago, and appears to have been at an auction house at one point. Where it went to from there, and what the current rights-holders are planning, if anything, is a mystery.
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