Patrick (Gianni Dei) is sent into a coma courtesy of some asshole hucking a bottle into his puss from a passing van, and finds himself a resident of his father’s remote, posh spa where he lays in a bed in a room bathed in Bava light; his eyes permanently open (and the soundtrack cranked to ‘Theremin Hootenanny Mix’ full fuckin’ blast).
Speaking of Patrick’s eyes; they seem to appear before some of those that stray past his room… and those floatin’ outre orbs contain nothing but malice… and perhaps just a dash of the hornies…
Before you can say; “Boy howdy, there sure are a lot of naked tiddies in this film”, we learn that Patrick can make people do his telepathic bidding, plus he can hike up a lady’s skirt with his vast mental abilities (which is perhaps the truest representation of what someone would do with mental powers that I’ve ever seen committed to film)…
How is all of this possible from one littering mishap? Fucked if I know, and fucked if this film does either… although those other three, slightly mouldering comatose folks he’s hooked up to may be givin’ his mojo the extra juice it needs to do the deed…
Anyway the guests of the spa (read: entitled rich asslips one and all) begin turning up super-duper fuckin’ dead which has to just do wonders for Pat’s Pop’s insurance deductibles.
Patrick Still Lives is like the Italian knock-off of Richard Franklin’s 1978 Ozploitation shocker Patrick (which too featured a comatose man committing murder via psychic powers), but yet it pretends it’s a sequel, at least it’s title does… my brain is starting to really hurt here cats n’ creeps…
That bit of nonsense aside, this picture is a huge chunk of exploitation-heavy fright flick gold! It’s jammed to the rafters with off-the-charts levels of nudity, some solid (and completely jaw-dropping ) gore sequences, a narrative that will have you scratching your head until the skin sloughs off, psychotronic visuals, and most importantly; it remains unreasonably completely trashy and tasteless at all times… truly my hat is off to you Mario Landi for being the type of director that just says “Fuck it… I’ll film this vaginal impalement in a tight close-up” before offering up a scene where a woman is telepathically fucked on a couch… I may have a tear in my eye as I believe I’ve reached sleaze cinema nirvana…
Honestly, I couldn’t ask for any more wonderment than what is bestowed upon us by the glory of the main event, but those magnificent bastards at Severin have chucked an extra or two on this Blu-ray release as well in the form of an interview with Dei, and the film’s trailer.
Patrick Still Lives is like the prime rib of batshit Italian cinema; sure every bite has a pube stuck to it, but it’s prime rib mother fucker!
