Island of Death is one of those films with both content and characters so despicable and repugnant, we cannot help but assume its creator is anything but the same. In this case, that’s writer/director Nico Mastorakis (The Zero Boys), and here is why …
Christopher (Bob Belling, Cujo) and Celia (Jane Ryall, Land of the Minotaur) sure make a cute couple, don’t they? Vacationing on a gorgeous Greek isle in the pre-Airbnb days, the young Brits just duck into a shop to inquire about places to stay for a night or two, maybe more — hell, they’ve got time to kill!
After witnessing the two wining, dining and, um, other activities utilizing the “-ing” suffix, we wonder when the awful, terrible things will start happening to these tourists. (If you don’t want to know, skip to the next paragraph.) And therein we find the film’s first surprise: Mastorakis subverts the audience’s expectations by having our protagonists actually be the antagonists; in an about-face of the travel-horrors formula, Bob and Celia are the ones who will rape, murder and otherwise terrorize their way through the countryside.
The remainder of its unexpected twists, I’ll leave undisturbed; after all, Mastorakis disturbs plenty. Of all the movies that landed on the UK’s notorious “video nasties” list, this one would be merited if censorship were acceptable. (It is not.) Whereas many pics earned the dreaded label by uncomfortable-sounding title alone — e.g. Axe, Dead & Buried, Visiting Hours — yet in reality are rather tame, Island of Death positively reeks of sickness. In other words, Mastorakis did his job well and, it should be noted, not without some artful touches.
To see this one is to allow it to burrow under your skin and stay put for days. “Entertaining” is an adjective in no danger of being slapped upon the movie; however, I’m glad I watched it … and am certain I never need to again. As Christopher proves early on, it’s sure to get your goat. —Rod Lott