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Patrick Still Lives and the Italian sequel nobody asked for

Few stories capture the chaotic energy of late 1970s genre cinema quite like the tale of "Patrick Still Lives," the 1980 Italian follow-up to the Australian horror hit "Patrick." Shot in Rome without the knowledge or involvement of original director Richard Franklin, it stands as one of those forgotten sequels that nonetheless illustrates how international producers operated with virtually no regard for creative continuity. Australian audiences who first encountered the telekinetic Patrick Bateman on drive-in screens across Melbourne and Adelaide in the late seventies had no idea his story would be resurrected abroad in a film Franklin only learned about when prints began circulating.

The original "Patrick" emerged during a boom in local genre production that saw Australian filmmakers craft distinctive takes on American horror tropes. Franklin, working from a screenplay by Everett De Roche, delivered a tightly wound chiller set in a private psychiatric clinic that became a key entry in what cinephiles later labelled Ozploitation. When American International Pictures bought the US distribution, the stage was set for the very kind of sequel money-grab that became commonplace in Italy's genre factories, where success abroad meant only one thing to opportunistic producers.

The Australian original and its cult status

Released in 1978 and produced by Antony I. Ginnane through Australian Film Productions, "Patrick" starred Susan Penhaligon, Robert Helpmann, and Bruce Barry. The film centred on a comatose young man who uses his telekinetic abilities to manipulate those around him, particularly the nurses at the clinic where he lies motionless. Helpmann, the celebrated dancer-turned-actor, brought unsettling physicality to the role of the seemingly catatonic Patrick, his eyes snapping open at the most disturbing moments to deliver a menace that felt both theatrical and genuinely threatening. Penhaligon's Kathy Jacquard served as the audience surrogate, a pragmatic nurse who gradually uncovers the danger hidden in plain sight.

The film became a sleeper success in drive-in theatres across Victoria and found distribution through American International Pictures in the United States. Australian audiences embraced the uniquely local flavour of the production, from the suburban Adelaide setting to the familiar cadence of Australian voices and the dry humour threaded through the supporting cast. The classification board rated it suitable for mature audiences, and it played extensively in regional venues before becoming a VHS fixture in the early home video boom, frequently turning up on rental shelves in suburban Sydney video stores alongside imports from America and Europe.

Franklin himself moved on quickly. He had begun work on "Road Games" by the time the Italian sequel was being conceived, and his interests had shifted toward Hitchcockian suspense and bigger Hollywood opportunities. He had little reason to suspect that anyone in Rome was quietly preparing a follow-up to his modest Australian thriller, and no contractual clause had been negotiated to prevent the very situation that would unfold.

Italian producers and the sequel industrial complex

The early 1980s saw Italian genre producers running what amounted to a shadow industry, churning out sequels, spin-offs, and unofficial follow-ups to any property they could acquire the rights to. Crew members on these productions were known to pass the downtime between takes playing card games and wagering on outcomes, with European blackjack games being a popular diversion on certain sets. Producers bought the international rights to successful films cheaply, then commissioned new scripts, hired local crews, and shot sequels with no obligation to consult the original makers. The economics were brutally simple: even a mediocre cash-in could turn a profit if it could be sold on the name alone.

Producers who had made fortunes on giallo films and zombie pictures saw "Patrick" as a marketable brand. The rights situation in international territories was murky enough that a clever producer could acquire the Italian, German, or French distribution rights and use them as a basis for claiming sequel rights. The result was a film that carried the Patrick name but had nothing to do with the creators who built it. This was not an aberration, and it was standard practice, applied to everything from American slashers to Australian shockers.

For the Italian production team, Franklin's name held no weight. They had no interest in his vision, his cast, or the Australian sensibility that made the original distinctive. The sequel would be conceived, written, cast, and filmed entirely within the Italian system, with all the cultural assumptions that implied. Australian settings were approximated through Italian locations, and any sense of national identity was stripped away in favour of generic European horror atmospherics.

Shooting without the original director

Director Mario Landi was hired to helm "Patrick Still Lives," and the production began shooting at studios around Rome and on location in Italian countryside towns that doubled for Australian settings. Susan Penhaligon, the original film's leading lady, was flown in to reprise her role in name only, as her character arc bore no resemblance to what Franklin and De Roche had established. The Italian producers had paid Penhaligon a fee to appear and secured the minimum number of scenes necessary to advertise her presence on the poster, treating her as a brand asset rather than an actor with creative concerns.

Landi's vision leaned into the kind of gore and nudity that Italian horror audiences had come to expect. Where Franklin had crafted a measured, suggestive thriller that relied on psychological tension, the sequel went for explicit violence and eroticism, with much of the action taking place in a sleazy Italian brothel that had no equivalent in the original film. The Patrick character was now a force of supernatural retribution rather than a vulnerable young man trapped in his own body, his telekinesis deployed against a gallery of victims that felt closer to a carnival than a psychiatric clinic.

Franklin, by all accounts, learned about the production only after it had wrapped. He had no opportunity to offer notes, no script approval, and no oversight of any kind. When he eventually saw the finished film, he expressed displeasure at how far it strayed from the spirit of his work. Yet he had no legal recourse. The international rights had been cleanly transferred, and Italian courts offered little protection for an Australian director's creative vision over a property licensed abroad. Franklin would later speak publicly about the experience, treating it as a cautionary tale about the vulnerability of small productions in an unprotected global market.

Reception and a legacy of disappointment

The sequel received minimal theatrical release and found its audience primarily on European home video in the early 1980s. Australian fans who imported VHS tapes through specialty distributors were bewildered by the film's tone and content, finding little resemblance to the original that had terrified them on suburban drive-in screens. The Australian Classification Board eventually reviewed the tape and gave it a strict rating, limiting its availability in the local market and effectively shutting off the small audience of curious fans who might have sought it out.

Critics were largely dismissive. Italian horror magazines of the period treated it as a quick cash-in, and trade publications noted that the production had been completed in a matter of weeks. For all the speed, the film lacked the polish of better-funded Italian productions of the era, and even fans of transgressive genre cinema found little to latch onto. The film gathered dust on European shelves until a brief revival of interest in VHS oddities brought it to wider attention in the 1990s.

Over the decades, "Patrick Still Lives" became a curiosity piece, a film that existed primarily to remind industry watchers of how unprotected creative work could be in the international marketplace. Bootleg copies circulated among collectors, and the film acquired a small following of irony-loving viewers who appreciated its excess. For researchers of Ozploitation and international genre cinema, the sequel stands as evidence of how Australian properties were treated as raw material for overseas producers with no investment in the local industry, and as a milestone in the long history of directors losing control of their work.

Pattern How it manifested
Italian cash-in sequels Italian producers acquired international rights cheaply and produced sequels without consulting original creators
Disowned follow-ups Original directors publicly rejected sequel productions once they learned of them
Multi-territory rights exploitation Rights holders in different countries exploited legal loopholes to produce competing sequels
Cultural displacement Local settings and characters were transplanted to foreign locations with no regard for authenticity
Genre amplification Foreign sequels typically increased violence and sexuality to meet local audience expectations

Listener recommendations

For a deeper dive into forgotten genre cinema, listeners can explore the full archive at Badasses, Boobs and Body Counts, where hosts Mike and Iris dissect exactly these kinds of overlooked and under-discussed productions. New episodes drop regularly, and the back catalogue offers plenty of material for fans of exploitation, horror, and cult cinema.