Hollywood 90028 (Fantasia 2024) (Review)

Whereas many will undoubtedly be raving about the wonderful selection of new premieres at the 2024 edition of Fantasia Fest for weeks to come – and for good reason, as its lineup is tremendous – I’d certainly advise genre film fanatics to not ignore the restored and resurrected titles on offer as part of the festival’s ‘Fantasia Retro’ strand. It often feels like film festivals which celebrate genre – and especially horror – filmmaking bring a little slice of Halloween to whatever part of the year they take place in, and in tune with that season where the veil between worlds is at its thinnest, those thought dead and gone are given new life and walk amongst us at Fantasia.

Thanks to the wonderful folks at Grindhouse Releasing, one of these titles which is back from the grave and ready to party is Christina Hornisher’s Hollywood 90028 (1973), unearthed and remastered in 4K to celebrate the launch of author Heidi Honeycutt’s new book I Spit on Your Celluloid: The History of Women Directing Horror Movies, soon to be released by legendary cult publishers Headpress. Also released under such salacious monikers as Twisted Throats and The Hollywood Hillside Strangler, Hollywood 90028 would be Hornisher’s (who sadly passed away in 2003) first – and only – feature directorial outing. Women in the world of exploitation filmmaking have rarely, if ever, got the recognition they deserve, with even genre greats like Doris Wishman and Roberta Findlay only recently being widely recognised for the legends they are. If you’ve never heard the name Christina Hornisher before, you’re not alone, and considering she was credited here under the male pseudonym “Craig Hansen”, there’s a high chance that fans of the film back on the ‘70s drive-in circuit wouldn’t have heard her name either. Previously only viewable via a less-than-ideal VHS transfer, it’s wonderful (and, given that the negatives were missing for so many years, borderline miraculous) that Grindhouse have been able to restore Hornisher’s film to its former, albeit still grimy, glory, and get it in front of a cinema audience once more.

Hollywood 90028 follows Mark (Christopher Augustine), a lonesome, troubled cameraman-for-hire living in sleazy ‘70s L.A. who spends his days yearning for a new career as a well-paid, prestige cinematographer on big studio projects, or at least something better than shooting blue movies in a crumbling, overheated studio for low-rent adult entertainment producer Jobal (played by the appropriately, and awesomely, named Dick Glass). The Hollywood that Mark calls home is far from glitzy and glamorous, an empty yet somehow suffocating wasteland of empty buildings and fellow drifters looking for a chance to escape from their collective nightmare. Mark’s day-to-day existence is monotonous and deeply, deeply dull – he drives, he develops pictures, and sometimes, if he’s lucky, he’ll go on a date. Mark has also killed a woman with his bare hands in an act of sudden, impulsive violence – and if he’s still alive in Hollywood tomorrow, he’ll do it again.

Hornisher’s portrait of a serial killer has favourably been compared to the likes of Maniac (1981), The Driller Killer (1979), and even Taxi Driver (1974), by those few who have had the chance to see it already, yet an even closer cinematic relative is Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom (1960), this tale of detachment-via-voyeurism shares more than just a lead named “Mark” with that controversial British classic. In spite of this, Hollywood 90028 is by no means a proto-slasher, nor is it necessarily a full-blooded exploitation film, and though its opening sequence suggests an air of post-Manson Hollywood hippy-sploitation, Hornisher’s film is largely a restless, rambling drama – one which intentionally refuses to provide any sense of satisfaction or closure. The vast majority of Hollywood 90028 is spent following Mark as he wanders through the streets of L.A., occasionally conversing with some other person in a nigh-incomprehensible, borderline alien fashion. It is a slow, empty, lonely film, one which seeks to demonstrate that Hollywood is neither a dream, nor a nightmare, but rather a glue trap where people become stuck and slowly starve to death.

As a document of the grimy underside of ‘70s L.A., it’s invaluable and occasionally fascinating. As an intentionally frustrating slog, it excels – yet, for all its intent, Hollywood 90028 frustrates nonetheless. Mark’s life is repetitive, every conversation is cyclical and aimless… it’s all part of the point of the film, and that point is frequently to leave the viewer distant, alienated and bored. Whereas I can’t exactly fault Hornisher’s film for this, I can say that its effect is variable – it’s an experiment, to say the least, and its success is very subjective. At times, I wondered if the film was boring me because of the specific mood of stagnation it was developing, or if it was testing my patience simply because it wasn’t very well-paced as a narrative feature – there’s very little way of telling. For the most part, once the final act begins and editor Leon Ortiz-Gil gets a little more avant-garde with his presentation, I got the suspicion that a couple of Hollywood 90028’s sequences dragged on in their cold, empty presentation a little too long for their own good.

Then, all of a sudden, the ending happened, and I was completely thrown for a loop.

Though I’m covering Fantasia remotely from the UK, I can’t begin to imagine how a crowd might react to the audacious, shocking, and deeply impressive final shot that Hollywood 90028 finishes on. No spoilers, because the film’s ending is best experienced blind – but I’m amazed that Hornisher managed to pull off a gut-puncher of an ending that is as bleak and risky as it is. It is the kind of cinematic image that will haunt you – and regardless of my overall thoughts on the film, I can’t help but applaud it.

Christina Hornisher’s Hollywood 90028 is a grim, glacially-paced grindhouse experience, and to its credit, that’s exactly what it was meant to be. It is a film which will leave you feeling lonely, lost, and trapped. Words will lose their meaning. Speech will become mere noise. I’m not sure I even ‘like’ Hollywood 90028, and yet I can’t stop thinking about it. It begs to be seen, hurts to watch, and refuses to be forgotten. Even as a piece of ‘lost media’, it refused to die. I am absolutely amazed and delighted that Grindhouse, Honeycutt, and Fantasia have teamed together to show this to a room full of people, so they can endure (and perhaps enjoy) its simulated suffering too.

Robyn’s Archive – Hollywood 90028 (1973)