Keep My Grave Open (1976; S.F. Brownrigg)

Of all the genre filmmakers in the "regional" circuit, few had a body of work as distinctive as that of S.F. Brownrigg. The Texan's quartet of horror-exploitation films, made in the 1970s, is remarkable for the “you are there” atmosphere, unusual camerawork and melodramatic acting, in addition to the helpings of gore and violence to sell tickets. Although these pictures had different screenwriters, similar themes of madness, dysfunctional famiiles and sexual tension play into all of these scenarios, best described as macabre mélanges of Tennessee Williams and Erskine Caldwell. 

Brownrigg’s films also employed a regular stock company of actors and technicians. (And in true guerrilla filmmaking fashion, sometimes the cast would work behind the camera in various production roles.) The cinematography of Robert Alcott, which is by turns claustrophobic and dreamlike, and the haunting music by Robert Farrar (whose unusual instrumentations of flutes and harpsichords add a strange texture) contribute to the mise en scene of Brownrigg’s worlds. These cinematic landscapes are populated with his recurrent stars such as the pock-marked, burly and intense Gene Ross, the bird-like and weirdly alluring Camilla Carr, the country girl next door Ann Stafford, and the raven-eyed Annabelle Weenick.

Of these four films (including Don't Look in the Basement, Don't Open the Door, and Scum of the Earth), Brownrigg considered Keep My Grave Open to be his personal favourite. I share this opinion, perhaps because this was the first film of his I had seen (and therefore the film where his style was first impressed on me), but it is also his most satisfying.

The opening sequence is representative of what I love about Brownrigg’s films. For all of the onscreen savagery, there is also a leisurely, poetic side to his work. The narratives take their time to unfold, as the emphasis is more on atmosphere and quirky characters. These pictures move as slowly as life traditionally does in their remote rural settings.

In the mesmerizing opening of this film, we see a hobo on the back of a flatbed truck, as seen through the rear window of the cab. It is a shot that is so simple yet so layered. And like most compositions in this film, the sequence plays longer than one expects. For a film full of murders and madness, it is strangely serene.  The hobo (played by Larry Buchanan regular Bill Thurman) gets off the truck and wanders onto the Fontaine estate, which boasts the sign: “Keep out- not responsible for any accidents.” The tramp gets into the house, raids the refrigerator, swaps his rotgut for the good wine, and then heads back outside for a cookout. And then, he is hacked to death beside his campfire. This is nine minutes of a movie that is barely eighty minutes long!

Ultimately, this movie is a haunted love story, with most of its running time spent in the mind of Lesley Fontaine (Camilla Carr, in her most substantial role). Her obsessive, unnatural love for "Kevin" troubles her doctor (Gene Ross), suggests that she needs go back to the hospital for her mental wellbeing. “This bond between you and Kevin… is unhealthy,” he warns. The doctor even offers to speak to Kevin about her condition, and she refuses.

The viewer has already seen more of this strange relationship than her physician. “Kevin” is never seen on camera. Lesley is always yelling offscreen, at him, usually about her unrequited love. One scene, which plays for a few minutes in a single shot, features Lesley in bed being seduced by Kevin, shot from his POV. The viewer is put into an awkward position of vicariously making love to Camilla Carr, but this sequence is far more creepy than sensual. As quickly as the camera assumes the missionary position, it moves away from Lesley, unfulfilling her desires (or her fantasies?).

There is a younger couple in the story whose similarly unfulfilled desires parallel those between Lesley and Kevin, albeit not to such a demented degree. Fontaine’s stablehand Robert (Stephen Tobolowsky, in his first film) has a blossoming relationship with young Suzie (Ann Stafford). Tellingly, she is killed just prior to a sexual rendezvous. Later in the film, in the next scene after the point-of-view shot, Lesley attempts to seduce Robert out of her frustration with Kevin. This play is also a piece of sexual blackmail, so Robert will be allowed to enter a horse in a championship.  But before the act is committed, Robert becomes the next murder victim.

Lesley then brings home a prostitute in another effort to please Kevin, and in an elaborately shot sequence, the woman is pursued around the estate by her killer, and attempts to hide in a car, only to find that all of the previous victims have been left there.

Horror fans would would likely be guessing the surprise revelation. But this narrative is not as easily deciphered as one thinks. When the few principal characters begin to diminish, we expect things to wrap up a certain way, and yet the narrative gets cloudier. Our  assumptions about the Lesley-Kevin relationship are subverted.

Brownrigg cleverly uses the camera to represent this offscreen “Kevin” figure, and make the film a visceral experience. We vicariously live within the damaged mind of Lesley Fontaine.

As always, Brownrigg’s film is a feast of inventive visual ideas to compliment this mood. There are oblique angles even in such mundane scenes as making coffee, or creative ideas like shooting from inside a cupboard. All of these touches serve to make the familiar seem otherworldly and mysterious. fitting for a narrative that constantly makes us question what we’re seeing.

Keep My Grave Open has scenes with shocking bursts of violence, but one more remembers the quiet touches, like the pastoral opening, and dissolves within the same shot showing progressions of time, adding to the dreamlike feel of this narrative. Brownrigg’s films remain special for their visual ideas, unusual atmosphere and strong mood. The stories forgo a tidy three-act convention; narratives are as hazy as the disoriented minds of their protagonists- appropriately so.

After this, Brownrigg left the movies for a more economically stable occupation. His departure from cinema coincides with the time in which most regional cinema was coming to a close. The drive-ins that specialized in such independent fare were closing for more profitable real estate. By and large the movie industry was changing from interesting niche markets into products for mass consumption by the greatest majority. S.F. Brownrigg made one return to cinema, with the teen comedy, Thinkin’ Big (1986), before his untimely death in 1996 at the age of 58.

Keep My Grave Open is arguably Brownrigg's finest picture, and one of the best examples of the "regional horror" era. If ever a film needed a restoration and re-appraisal by a boutique company like Vinegar Syndrome or AGFA, this would be it. All current DVD and streaming releases appear to be sourced from an old VHS release. (As of this writing, the film is available to view on Tubi with the alternate title, The House Where Hell Froze Over. Check out how bad the title card insert is on this version.) David Szulkin (author of Wes Craven's Last House on the Left: The Making of a Cult Classic) had announced years earlier that he was preparing a book on S.F. Brownrigg, but little more has been said about it. In a perfect world, this book and a hopeful restoration of Keep My Grave Open would be instrumental in upholding his legacy. It is time to discover S.F. Brownrigg once more.