The Klansman (1974)

Hey kids, how about a nice hot-button topic for today's review?  Because there's nothing that befits a b-movie better than hot-button topics; producers need to poke at the beehive of popular opinion in order to insure notice of their little product and, heaven knows Mrs. Allison, we've had a lot of them do just that.

And no better (or hotter) a hot-button topic to poke than racism.

Ahhh, racism.  Where would we be without you?  If writers can't be bothered with a script, they always have you to fall back on for forward momentum, a reason for their characters to react to something (ANYthing) and for grudging popularity at the box office.

Grudging?  Oh yes, because it's not like you want to want to admit that you like seeing the fires of racial hatred stoked, fanned and a-blazin'; it's all done for the sake of dramatic thrust, so it's okay.  But still: it's racial hatred.

That was certainly the logic behind D.W. Griffith's own Birth Of A Nation, wherein the Klu Klux Klan were not only featured - they were the HEROES of the piece!  Played big in the South, lemme tell ya.  And latter-day films also benefited by centering on the segregation of, subjugation of and degradation of any race who was a different color than the Anglos who wrote, produced and directed such...works.

Please don't misunderstand: there are plenty of examples of film that speak eloquently of race relations and how we all must live together in a brotherhood of man.  We have classics such as The Defiant Ones, Lillies Of The Field. In The Heat Of The Night, Guess Who's Coming To Dinner?, For Love Of Ivy and To Sir With Love.  Uhh, just ignore the fact that they all star Sidney Poitier; that's just a coincidence.  Really.  Anyway, these are all rightly regarded as important films because of their message, their style and what they have to say. 

There are, however, other films; films that play the race card in order to get some good-old down-home racial exploitation off the screen and into y'all's neighborhood. 

One that immediately jumps to mind is Hurry Sundown, an Otto Preminger-directed film (presumably conceived of on down times from such films as Anatomy Of A Murder and Exodus), where race and color are treated in terms of "Uncle Tom's Cabin", albeit transplanted into the Southern United States of 1967.  Oh, it was a huge success and why not; it was exploitative, had a huge cast of recognizable faces (Michael Caine, Jane Fonda, George Kennedy, John Phillip Law, Burgess Meredith) and incited riots almost everywhere it played - at least it did in Louisiana.  For the purposes of this site, Hurry Sundown also contained some of the worst, most overblown, stereotypical acting ever in a filmed work that wasn't directed by D.W. Griffith.  It is, as I've said before, another review for another time.

Not that Hurry Sundown is the only example I have to cite.  There is also Mandingo, Drum, Farewell Uncle Tom and the ever-charming Africa Addio, which treats us to the ever-delightful prospect of tribal slaughtering, as filmed by Italian film-makers Gualtiero Jacopetti and Franco Prosperi.  Yay, race relations.

The subject for today, however, has all of those beat.  All of 'em.  In terms of tactlessness, stupidity, over-acting, over-reaching, and widening the gap between the races instead of bringing them together, this particular flick wins.  Hands down.  It even has a cast nearly as impressive as the one in Hurry Sundown, but do you want to know what seals the deal?  Its director.  This is a man who has directed some good films but, as John Frankenheimer has proven, that doesn't mean anything.

But first things first: we need a title before we go any further, don't we?  Okay: the title for our little sojourn into the understanding of different races and how all of us must get along is...The Klansman.

yyyyyyyyeah.

This is not going to be a peek under the collective hood of the KKK ad an unbiased understanding of the "hows" and "whys" of racism, however.  Are you kidding?  With a title like that?  Might as well do a documentary on the fight for the Amazon Rainforest  and call it Landfill! - same difference.  You do not name your film The Klansman then go for "fair and biased"; that just don't wash.  And neither does this.

ESPECIALLY in 1974.

Anyway, the plot: A small southern town in Wallace County (Where is that?  It's in the Deep South, don't worry) has just been rocked by a tragedy: young Nancy Poteet (Linda Evans) has been violently raped. The white town fathers immediately declare that the attacker had to be black, and place the blame on a young black man named Garth (O.J. Simpson). Sheriff Track Bascomb (Lee Marvin) already has his hands full trying to keep the peace in this small town but when Garth takes to the woods, the local Klansmen set up a lynching party to hunt him down and Bascomb must keep things from getting to a head. 

Soon, activist Loretta Sykes (Lola Falana) returns to her hometown - whatever the heck its name is - and tries to foster the rights of colored people.  You can imagine how well that goes. 

Meanwhile, Breck Stancill (Richard Burton) lives a simple life on his small farm where he lets some colored people live with him and believes in the "live-and-let-live" policy.  But many people in town, including the bigoted mayor Hardy Riddle (David Huddleston) and white trash redneck Butt Cutt Cates (Cameron Mitchell), refuse to live by that rule and soon everything comes to a head with guns, torches and racial slurs lighting up the screen in a finale that strikes - ironically enough - in the black of night.

It makes my head hurt that Richard Burton is in this movie.  He's not Southern (although he's supposed to be, within here), he doesn't successfully essay a Southern accent, wouldn't cut it as an expatriate and doesn't even play up the fact that he is, after all, The Prince Of Players.  This is the man who owned the legitimate theater stage in his day, plus was in such great films as Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf?, The Taming Of The Shrew and Equus.  However, he was also in films like Boom!, The Assassination of Trotsky and The Medusa Touch, as well as Exorcist II: The Heretic, which pretty much owns all the medals in the Bad Movie Decathlon, we all agree.

A movie about Southern Racial Tension does NOT befit Richard Burton - he simply walks through (or limps through , in this case) as if he can't be bothered.  And is that a hint of alcoholic haze I see in his eyes with each close-up?  Nah, certainly not....  Yet as a man driven to violence when his life and the life of those he loves is threatened, Burton is supposed to evoke John Wayne, and instead evokes Jim Beam. 

Look at one scene where sneering Cameron Mitchell picks a fight with our man, who proceeds to unleash his best kung-fu moves on ol' Butt Cutt Cates (what a name).  This forces Cameron to do Burton the honor of throwing himself away from his mighty fists and going hither and yon, into boxes, luggage, through windows, down to the sidewalk and other hard, unyielding objects.  Then he has the nerve to look surprised at the pugilistic prowess of the Mighty from Old Blighty.  It's entertaining, but not because of the fighting - because of the feinting.

Besides, when it comes to action films, we don't want Richard Burton - we want Lee Marvin.  Thank God he's here, too, if just for the sake of having an action film with Marvin's name in the credits.  The Dirty Dozen, The Professionals, Point Blank, The Killers and Emperor Of The North all benefited from his efforts.  But here?  As an over-worked sheriff overseeing the fiery powder keg hot bed mosh pit of emotions, prejudices and violence?  I'd swear that Marvin and Burton both hit the local bars pretty hard from the looks of things, but that's just an assumption.  An easily arrived-at assumption, you gotta give me that much.

One of their first scenes together has Burton asking Marvin if he'd like a drink, to which Marvin takes a bottle of whiskey and starts chugging from it.  Not that I didn't expect that, but while cameras were rolling?

You know, Lee, just because being drunk got you an Oscar for Cat Ballou doesn't mean it was the right acting choice for every single movie role since.

(ehh, who am I talking to; he's dead...)

As far as interacting between the two men goes, they kinda waver in place and kinda focus on each other and kinda speak words to each other.  It's negligible as to who turns in the better performance between the two of them, however - guess it passes back and forth as to who had the most coffee before cameras rolled.

I already mentioned Cameron Micthell being in this movie, and why not; here we have an actor who's been in just about every kind of movie imaginable, and probably drank as much as either Marvin or Burton combined.  He was in rom-coms (Gentlemen Prefer Blondes), musicals (Carousel) and horror (Nightmare In Wax).  But as your typical grade-A homogenized bigot from the deep deep deeeeep South, Mitchell makes with a credible Southern accent, glares with those eyes of his, does that sneer thing with his lips he made his signature move in 1979's Supersonic Man and spews racial hatred so believably that you'd have been surprised to hear his normal speaking voice has not a hint of Southern aggression in it.  Not surprising, though: Cameron Mitchell could do no wrong...though it looked like he did at least try to do wrong.  Many times.

OJ Simpson.  Accused of a crime.  This being 1974, we can just take this as being another brick in the Blaxploitation wall as OJ wears his cool bellbottom jeans, his cool denim cap, lugs a handgun into the woods and swears to get back at all these stupid white folk who are down on him.  Before the events of 1994, though, Orenthal had quite a prolific film career in movies such as The Towering Inferno, The Cassandra Crossing, Capricorn One, Firepower and The Naked Gun movies.  The Klansman was, in fact, his big screen debut as a major player.  And while he plays the angry black man effectively, it's unfortunate that no one watching it now can erase from 1994 on from their mind and see past the implications and what was to be.  Suffice it to say, his is the best performance here.

Poor Linda Evans is stuck with the thankless task of being the rape victim in question and, as a result, is pretty much played up for pity.  I'm sure ex-hubby John Derek would never have stood or this, but he wasn't directing this, either.  And Linda had quite a way to go before commanding the respect she had as Krystle Carrington on TV's "Dynasty".  No catfights in mudpits here, either.

The other main actress here, Lola Falana, portrays someone whose biggest asset is her hair.  Barely raising her voice, batting her big eyes and being a cute widdle wady in da Big Bad Souf, Lola look as as if she would much rather be back in Vegas belting out songs than in The Klansman bleating out lines.  Wow: from being the darling of Italian cinema, Broadway musicals, TV specials and The Liberation of L.B. Jones to this?  Seems as if Lola wanted Blaxploitation fame, Lola didn't get it.

I'm sorry; I've gone this far and not even mentioned our director by name - might as well implicate his guilt too.  Terence Young is his name and if it sounds familiar then congratulations; you've seen a lot of James Bond movies.This man could direct a good movie if he wanted to, but he also directed The Poppy Is Also A Flower, The Amorous Adventures of Moll Flanders, Bloodline and, yes, Inchon.  If you go your whole career directing great films like Thunderball, Wait Until Dark and The Valachi Papers (which is a good film, really) then turn around and direct choppy, unhoned junk like The Klansman, people are gonna talk.  Is it Young's fault that some people only know him for the bad he's done?  Well, it's not like he asked to do this.

Seems that Sam Fuller was set to direct this movie from his own script - and yes, that's the same Sam Fuller who gave the world The Naked Kiss, Pickup On South Street and Shock Corridor.  But then the studio got all involved and started chopping out scene after scene and Sam got all in a tizzy and stomped out.  So Young had to step in and direct.  That's the way it is in HollywoodLand.  And the script, co-authored by a still-credited Fuller and Bad Day At Black Rock scribe Millard Kaufman does its best with the William Bradford Huie novel.  But if your book's gonna get crosses burned on your lawn and rocks thrown through your window, what do you think's gonna happen to those who try and adapt your book?

So much overwrought melodrama...so many bulging eyes...so much racial tension for racial tension's sake...and not a bit of it reflects anything but screaming banner headlines of COLORED HATRED!  FIERY SOUTHERN BIGOTRY!  PEOPLE RUNNING WITH GUNS!  OJ SIMPSON ACCUSED OF A HORRIBLE RACE CRIME!  If you go into a movie expecting modulated storytelling, you're really missing the point.

The Klansman is not here to tell us a story - The Klansman is here to be a sensationalist screech of celluloid that all but shouts its intentions from scene one to scene last.  Even in the end, when everyone - including klansmen, Marvin, Burton and OJ - has a gun and begin shooting at each other, you're not watching the end of a movie: you're just watching another exploitation setpiece where a nihilistic ending is supposed to make a point about racial hatred.

To hell with that.  If The Klansman really believed half of what they were babbling on about, both director and writers could have found a better way to go about it, rather than killing off 85% of the cast in the last minutes of the film.  But alas, you can't give hints of Southern bigotry in the first frame and not end with loads of violence in the last frame.  It'd be like saying you're gonna light up the sky then setting off one sparkler.  If you promise it, you gotta follow through.

Follow through or not, this $5 million event picture was probably about as successful as many others of its ilk were.  In the Seventies, we had our choice of 'em and, whether or not they made their budget back wasn't the point - it was all about getting their message across.

Really, though, was The Klansman a movie we really cared whether or not its message came through?  We got it already - if you're black, don't live in the South.  If you're a sheriff, wear a flak jacket constantly.  If you're a man who lives on a hill with black people at least take some damn accent-hiding classes, for God's sake.

And the most important lesson of all: if you want to witness the toils and pains of racial hated in America...watch The Long Walk Home.  But if you watch The Klansman, don't blame me if all you get out of it is the desire to name your first-born child Butt Cutt.

Frankenstein Island (1981)

Now here's a cute little number I thought I'd never get my hands on, let alone get a chance to review. Why? Because this is one of those movies which many people have heard of but very few have had a chance to actually possess. Own. Clutch in their hot little hands.

In the annals of obscure films, this one not only takes the cake, but the icing, the nonpareils and the little powdered sugar doily design on top.

To be perfectly honest, I had no idea who in the world Jerry Warren was, let alone the legacy he left the world as a producer, writer and director of such films as Face of the Screaming Werewolf, Teenage Zombies and Creature of the Walking Dead, not to mention MST3K fave rave The Wild World of Batwoman. Looking him up, however, I was intrigued to learn that Jerry was a man who made a name for himself as a producer and director of some of the most incredibly inept films ever.

In concepts of proper blocking, dialogue, content, getting the most from his actors and creating a believable environment where the real and the fantastic hold sway, it is only a fitting description to say that Jerry Warren was ill-equipped. You only have to see one of his films to understand that.

So it was understandable to think, after directing ten films that would kindly be called failures, Warren underwent a filmic hiatus where he would never set foot behind a movie camera again for almost twenty years. Time spent plotting his resurgence on the film world, much like a huge lump of suet bobs to the top of a can of franks and beans after you open it, after all that time of the beans and franks weighing it down. That kind of thing.

And so it came to be in 1981 that Warren came back to what he no doubt loved doing and gave the world Frankenstein Island, not only keeping his running streak of quality alive but using it to create another episode in the Frankenstein film series.

However, in this series, whereas the other films before centered on the monster itself, THIS film centers on the actions of four very thick-headed men and the island they land on.

Things begin up in the air with hot air balloons and men talking in voice-over about how Doc (Robert Clarke) and his men (Robert Christopher, Tain Bodkin, Patrick O'Neil) were lost over the ocean during a bad windstorm during a balloon race or record-breaking event or something. They end up on an island with their dog Melvin (played by himself), and discover not only a race of polyester leopard print bikini-clad Amazons who look bred for light typing and filing, but also paunchy middle-aged-and-older zombies in black turtlenecks and sunglasses, a perpetually drunk and perpetually cackling old salt named Jocko (The Giant Spider Invasion's Steve Brodie), his bearded and be-afro'ed compatriot named Angus (whose greatest asset is that he isn't perpetually drunk and perpetually cackling), a lady of the manor (Katherine Victor - Batwoman herself!) named Sheila Von Frankenstein-Van Helsing...she doesn't like her married name but she does rock that white wig of hers, an imprisoned sailor named Clay Jansen (Supersonic Man's Cameron Mitchell) who appears drugged and/or drunk - and seeing that he's played by Cameron Mitchell that may not be a conscious acting choice but just a by-product of being Cameron Mitchell, a guy made up as the original Frankenstein monster just for verisimilitude and the late great Doctor Frankenstein's ghostly apparition as played by the late great John Carradine.

I'm not going to cut any corners or sugar-coat this: Frankenstein Island may be the worst movie in the history of mankind and celluloid that I've ever loved. Whole-heartedly. Passionately.

So many things happen that make no difference one way or another to this plot (from a screenplay by Warren himself, under the pseudonym Jaques Lecouter), it's like a compilation of images that have nothing to do with one another spliced together in one film. It's like Andy Warhol pointed a camera inside his head. It's like filming your TV as you randomly flip through channels. How else to explain a film that stitches together scenes with rubber skull masks on sticks, tarantulas crawling on rocks, a picture of planets in outer space with a pair of hands wriggling in front of them, a man's eye surrounded by superimposed flames, a pink metal box spinning on its corner, or someone lugging a giant Gatling gun (complete with a full chain of ammo and its tripod connected beneath it) across a room? I don't know if Jerry Warren ever suffered from Adult ADD, but it sure does look like his mind's eye did.

And not one bit of this dialogue makes any sense, in part or whole. There are lines here that not even Shane Black could have doctored into anything usable. You have a couple of scenes wherein a character will mention Kansas City or Chicago and their arm will be racked with pain. Why? Who knows? The group arrives on the island of the title in a nice size inflatable raft and, a few minutes after arriving, they talk seriously about finding materials to build a wood raft to escape the island on. Why? Who knows? Several scenes are devoted to balancing out the biorhythms of the 200 year-old spouse (George Mitchell) of Sheila F. Van H., by combining human blood transfusions with animal transfusions and explaining why that is a bad idea. Why? Who knows...besides the fact that it's a stupid idea in general.

You know what, though? It doesn't really matter. Because unlike other bad movies which possess most of the same qualities as this film, none of them come close to Frankenstein Island in terms of psychedelic badness, mind-bending inanity or stupid scenes so stupid that the word "stupid" doesn't do them justice.

Look at me; I'm practically writing a love letter to a movie where an Amazon island girl learns how to karate kick a guy in less than 10 seconds. Why shouldn't I be, though? It's not every day you see a movie that wears its badness on its sleeve like The Congressional Medal of Honor. And it's kind of endearing that Jerry Warren tried to make Frankenstein Island look like one of those high-end fright flicks of the Fifties that would seem at home on your friendly neighborhood drive-in screen, where jagged scene splices and "MISSING SCENE" cels would be a welcome touch.

And in the end, that's the thing about Frankenstein Island; this is a throwback to the kind of films Warren tried to make way back in his heyday. This one being in color, starring actors who most viewers may actually recognize and containing so many unnecessary spliced-in special effects that Don Dohler would have given his eye teeth for, it sure does look like a movie that is reaching so far over its head that it threatens to throw its own arms out of their sockets.

I love it, though; I really and truly do. Frankenstein Island seems to be making things up on the fly, not a one of the actors intending to be anything onscreen but a parody of whatever character they're trying to portray and the dialogue is only a practice in repeating inane plot points that should never have been brought up to begin with. I mean, why would you want to build a wood raft when you have a perfectly good un-deflated rubber raft? Why would an island make your arm hurt if you mention a major city if the movie isn't even going to give you a good reason why or even do anything with it at all? And what's with the zombies? And the Amazons? And why the hell did we need a Jocko, incidentally?

In fact, I know you're wondering if this even made back its budget. That's a good question: one of these days I'll have to track down one of the 12 theaters it played in back in 1981 and ask them.

Still, for all of it, this is one of the best bad movies ever made. Watching it is akin to reading a comic book where you're not sure if the story it tells is any good but it sure is a lot of fun to watch it unfold.

Make your plans now; find yourself a copy of Frankenstein Island right now and watch it. As soon as you can. I had to find mine online and buy it there, which should give you the idea that this is something that you will NOT readily find at Wally World down the street. You'll have to search long and hard for this one. But it's worth it. Really it is. Most diamonds in the rough usually are.

I raise my glass to you, Jerry Warren. In your life you may not have made the best movies ever, but you certainly did make the most fun ones to watch.

Or maybe you just had me at "Frankenstein".

B-Movies And Partisan Politics

I guess it never really hit me until I was staring at my blank computer screen what turned out to be tonight's topic:

You can't really believe in the magic and power of bad movies without being really really REALLY dedicated to your craft.

I mean, you really have to live and breathe these things. In the big scheme of things, movies are the only escape some of us have and when you watch them, they take you to a place that you could never reach on your own.

Not through Zen.

Not through feng shui.

Not through incense.

Not through Yanni music and lots of herbal tea.

So what is it, then? Why is it that we, the lovers of the collected works of Uwe Boll, find that we must immerse ourselves in the bad of the film world in order to find inner peace?

Because it's a belief, that's why.

We believe above all else that when we watch Hudson Hawk that we are wearing our hearts on our sleeves and declaring to the world that we renounce the works of Meryl Streep. Every time we stare longingly at the latest cover of Fangoria Magazine, we shout at the top of our lungs that we don't care WHAT's on Entertainment Weekly's "Top 10 Films In The Known Universe List". Whenever Plan 9 From Outer Space comes on TV, our world stops, we drop what we're doing and stare transfixed at the pie tins sailing across a slate gray tablecloth because that is our God.

You read this blog (apparently), so you know what my stand on bad movies are (or at least you better know). I would much rather watch one really bad movie than one that tries to enrich my life through human understanding and joining of the races in harmony. NOT when there's a copy of Orgy of the Dead just sitting on my shelf, begging my attention.

I don't think I'm being unreasonable when I say that being single-minded about what you like, movie-wise, is as much a choice of lifestyle as what you wear, who you're attracted to and who you vote for. This is about defining who you are and how you feel about yourself when you watch the movies that you watch; and who doesn't feel better about themselves after watching Godzilla Vs. The Smog Monster?

What I'm getting at is: when it comes to B-movies, dedication is the key here. Watching them isn't enough - paying attention to them is far more important. Cameron Mitchell's been showing us the way to better living for years. Have we paid attention, watchers of Oscar fodder? I think not.

There is a shelf full of movies by my desk that I not only enjoy, but watch and analyze constantly to the point where I think I should get some kind of government grant for what I'm writing about them here. I love movies, and the worse the better. And whether people admit to it or not, most of us secretly harbor a love of the B-movie in our hearts and souls. It's just something about overwrought acting and bad effects and miniature sets that brings out the best in humanity and makes us care more about what's on screen.

Does this make me some sort of militant, who would rather force the dreck of Hollywood, Bollywood, Nollywood and Lollywood on my fellow man than those prestigious indy films that tug at our heartstrings and win lotsa awards? If so, then call me TheGreatWhiteCheGuevara, because I guess I pretty much am.

I guess that's all I have to say. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to watch a little bit of Turkish Rambo before turning in.

Good night, and Dope out.

- TGWD

Slugs (1988)

It's time to visit our favorite exploitation maestro from Spain: your friend and mine, Mister (or Señor) John Piquer Simon, ladies and germs.

Regular readers will recall my love for all things JP Simon. After all, not only is he the man behind such latter-day classics as Pieces and "Mystery Science Theater 3000" standby Pod People but also created Supersonic Man, which just happens to be the best movie in the whole wide world, thank you very much. These movies may not be art and they won't win any major awards but, darn it, they sure have my stamp of approval.

So it should come as no surprise that JP's (if I may call him JP) landmark monster movie is just every bit as memorable and as effective as his previous successes.

After all, his films are even banned in Australia, so how bad could they be?

So: Slugs. I guess it makes sense that if Squirm can feature a slew of man-eating killer worms, then Slugs can feature as its prime killing machine a batch of the man-eating killer gastropod mollusks.

"But Dope, how can a slug kill you?"

Dear reader, if there is one thing that movies have taught me during my tenure as your humble reviewer, it is that in movies, anything is possible, even if it means subverting millions of years of natural biological development in invertebrates.

Normally, yes; at worst a slug can gross you out by being squishy and slimy but also be amusing as you poke at its extended eyes and watch them retract down into their body....

What? It's fun.

But these titled purveyors of slime can indeed kill you because they, kiddies, have nice sharp teeth. A whole bunch of these things get on you, or you stupidly slip and fall onto a pile of them and, brother...nom nom nom.

Oh, but this is not your run-of-the-mill "nature gone bad" film, because Slugs is based on a book. Yes; and not an e-book, either. This book, written by Shaun Hutson, details a virulent strain of slug being gestated in the sewers beneath a small town, and now they are rising to its surface...hungry for human flesh. No big stretch that it could conceivably become a horror movie that could stand up alongside Day of the Animals.

Not that this made Mr. Hutson any happier about JP's adaptation since, according to an interview:

Regarding Juan Piquer Simon's film adaptation of Slugs, Hutson bemusedly recalled that he had remarked that as long as he got paid and his original work wasn't altered, a filmmaker could "do what he liked"; he then wryly noted that "this Piquer bloke" came along "and proceeded to take me at my word".

That's just how Hollywood rolls, Shaun baby. Or, at least how Spanish Hollywood rolls.

But that's okay, because Hutson's story is punched-up by JP himself and co-writers José Antonio Escrivá and Ron Gantman. Staying true to the novel of course because this stuff, brothers and sisters, is gold.

Manna from Heaven.

Ambrosia from the gods.

Prime USDA choice cut cream of the crop Fruit of the Loom goodness.

The basic story itself is familiar territory to anyone who has seen Jaws or The Birds or The Swarm (The Swarm? How did that get in there...?): the small town of Merton has its share of problems and bureaucracy and such, but now there's a new problem: people are turning up dead in their homes, half-eaten.

Could it be rats? Very possibly.

Maybe wild dogs? Could indeed be, at that.

Toothy killer slugs? Someone get the net.

The latter choice indeed seems to be the best choice for city health inspector Mike Brady (Michael Garfield), who unfortunately gets no help from the police, city council members or Sam the Butcher. In fact, the only two people who are willing to even listen to him are Mike's wife Kim (Kim Terry) and local British-accented school biology teacher/slug expert John Foley (Santiago Álvarez).

...Hmm? Oh yeah; every movie like this has to have at least ONE scientist/specialist who has a foreign-sounding accent. All of them; The Swarm (again with The Swarm? Hmm...) had Michael Caine and his kinda-sorta British accent, Jaws had Richard Dreyfuss with a Brooklyn accent. Even 1978's The Bees had scientist John Carradine trotting out a dependable-as-always German accent. It's the law, don't blame me.

Okay, so very soon, lots of people in Merton - horny teenagers, crotchety elderly, hot shot yuppies - die in many gruesome flesh-eating ways. One poor lawyer guy even dies in a fancy-schmancy restaurant after having ingested a slug in his salad (long story). Oh yeah, it happened: little baby slugs eat him inside out and explode out of his eyeball, his face being eaten off all along the way. Yeah. Gross. Blame Basilio Cortijo, Emilio Ruiz del Río and their team of FX guys for some extremely enthusiastic gore and eaten-up people stuff. At least JP got some good work out of them.

Soon, Mike and his compatriots realize the only way to destroy these squiggly terrors is...no, not salt, but with electricity. Electricity and explosives. Blow 'em up real good. Yep. Because let's face it, this movie is set in America and, dammit, that's the American way.

Now so far in this review you may be thinking that I'm getting ready to slam Slugs. Hard. After all, I can only talk about the grisly effects, the warped plot and overall lack of common sense.

But hold on: this is JP Simon we're talking about. That alone gives this movie a 'Get Out Of Jail Free' card. The enthusiasm throughout Slugs is apparent, even if the acting isn't so much. Even through the ridiculous parts (which are many), everyone keeps their composure and sallies forth.

Music guy Tim Souster slaps in inappropriate music at times when they sound more befitting to a sitcom but, for Slugs, it works. Weird, but it works.

While there's no Cameron Mitchells here to chew scenery (like in Supersonic) it's all good, since actors are only perfunctory in Slugs; this is a movie about victims. Victims who are going to be eaten by slugs. Now this sounds kind of like waffling on my part, what with my diatribes on the Friday the 13th movies, but this is altogether different. This is a tone and level of acting that works and fits the material. The Fridays, done by Americans here in America, are just too darn flat and clinical. This is foreign - and the out-of-country sensibility helps it rise above its source and soar to heights of hysteria, creativity and bloodiness only dreamed of before.

So, you see?

JP directs it all in a sinisterly off-putting manner, as if it were originally a made-for-TV special then got released to theaters instead and so some "special added footage" was spliced in to give it that great "eeuccchh" factor. But you know what? JP Simon movies have that special charm that your run-of-the-mill SyFy Channel movie just cannot attain. The kind of feel that this is all-or-nothing. The more the merrier. JP and company spent good money to get guts and gore up on that screen - they're gonna follow through and make 'em stick up there! And unlike a monster movie where you feel their budget was blown to pay for Winona Ryder or Treat Williams in the cast, every penny spent on Slugs is right there on the screen. In short: you, the viewer, get your money's worth.

Slugs works and, for the willing, it's fun. For you who like horror movies such as The Thing and The Beyond and Dead Alive, this is a ride that will whip you around at top speed from beginning to end, first scene to last.

It worked for me, and being a fan of the man helps. If you appreciate JP Simon and have never heard of Slugs before now, say hello to your new favorite movie.

So dive in. Take the challenge. Say yes to Slugs.

And don't forget the salt.

Supersonic Man (1979)

John Piquer Simon is a director's name that may not roll off the ol' cerebral cortex as easy as, say, Steven Spielberg, Alfred Hitchcock or Stanley Kubrick. He does, however, have the good fortune of having directed some movies that are as memorable, if not more so, as the above-mentioned directors' product.

For J.P. (if I may) has directed four main movies that the well-educated amongst us are not only familiar with but love and cherish deeply.

One of them, Pieces (1983), plays the old "mad killer with a chainsaw on the loose at an exclusive college" routine; while another, Slugs (1988) gives us a killer animal story in which the title creatures get their turn at decimating most of a town full of idiots; and a third one, Pod People (1983), retells E.T: The Extraterrestrial as a horror movie with two furry E.T.s and a rockin' teenage band and a lot of dead bodies - somehow, I don't think Spielberg would have approved.

Which brings me to the fourth most famous film that J.P. Simon has ever made - Supersonic Man.

And if that title sounds more than a little familiar, it's only because I've mentioned it hundreds of times on wish-lists and vid postings, marveling that something so ungainly and so apparent in its intentions was actually made and marketed and played in theaters. My only regret is that I never saw this in a theater myself. THAT would have been truly super...

And yes, I said that on purpose, since this is yet another foreign cash-in on a genre fave - in this case, Superman: The Movie. And J.P. Simon is a past master at ripoffs (just look up at the third paragraph for a quick reminder).

The plot is simplicity itself: a spaceship high above Earth deposits our superhero on Terra Firma to foil the machinations of the evil Dr. Gulik, who has kidnapped an eminent scientist who possesses the abilities and formulas to help him rule the world. This, of course, would cause a chain reaction throughout the universe that would affect Supe's race as well. And so Supersonic (as even his alien supervisor calls him in the beginning) is given a normal human form to walk amongst the humans until danger arises and he speaks into his Casio watch his triggering phrase:

"May The Great Force of the Galaxies Be With Me!"

So great; not only are we covering Superman but Star Wars as well. That J.P.: he knows how to multi-task.

But it also helps that as a villain, J.P. was able to snag the likes of Cameron Mitchell. Yes, THAT Cameron Mitchell; the man who was a semi-respected actor for awhile, and had a slew of big movies under his belt (Death of a Salesman, How to Marry A Millionaire, Carousel) when he fell on hard times and had to take roles like that of the scenery-chewing, Shakespeare-quoting, "vini-vidi-vici"ing Doctor Gulik. Hair coiffed in a tight afro, dressed in a green and black uniform complete with riding breeches and black boots and smoking a long stream of Tiparillos, Cameron gave it all he had and made an appropriate villain; his face comfortably contorted in a perpetual sneer, every line delivered with venom and his eyes glaring with contempt, his was the best performance in Supersonic Man - but even then, that's like saying he won a 100 yard dash against a Adirondack chair.

The sad thing is no one else in this thing registers as a character - not even the LEAD character, fer cryin' out loud!! How sad is that? This is the same problem Michael Keaton had against Jack Nicholson in another superhero movie you may have heard of, and ten years early, to boot!

But back to the story: so far, this sounds like a movie that might work, right? All the elements are there, it seems - but remember, this is a movie that was directed by the man whose largest exposure to the general public was when Pod People was featured on "Mystery Science Theater 3000" (Episode #303, Invention Exchanges: Three-Handed Guitar Riff; Public Domain Karaoke. Nyah.) and anyone who is familiar with J.P. knows that he cannot, will not and must not leave well enough alone.

Also in the mix of this story are a dim-witted drunk who staggers around with his little pet basset hound and a bunch of inept henchmen of Gulik who cannot seem to garner enough brain cells together to form a cohesive thought.

It's like if Superman: The Movie were cast so that every other character was Otis.

Of course, when Supersonic is not flying through the air (and by flying I mean standing on a solid-colored blue or black sound stage with his arms over his head while the camera is tilted sideways and "whooosh" sounds are played) in bright glittery red and blue spandex tights and cowl and fulla muscles (as Aussie group Men At Work would say), he is a plain, mustachioed Earthling private eye named Paul.

...and yes, it seems kind of odd that after seemingly a day or so on Earth he went undercover as someone who already has a job and car and such. But hey, what did you expect - sense?

Paul keeps an eye on Professor Morgan's daughter Patricia, who is out to find her father's captors and save him herself. She's feisty, but not quite the equal of Margot Kidder. And she's just a second-string player in a movie that makes her something to protect or rescue.

The special effects are at least equal to Pod People but not quite as effective as in Pieces (blessing in disguise, that). Plastic model kit spaceships, plywood steam rollers, robots built out of a filing cabinet, visible strings on helicopters and superheroes and other things that are supposed to be in the air. It's comforting, somehow, in this era's level of technology (or even the level that was attainable in 1979) to see something so primitive as to be considered "cute" and "retroactive" as the effects herein. Which it naturally is.

Really. It's a compliment! Why are you looking at me like that?

I guess in the end Supersonic Man is a spoof of superhero movies, which would explain the bad comedy scenes and the overt scenery-chewing by Mitchell, not to mention the level of effects throughout. So, why no love from the rest of the world?

They don't understand you, Supersonic Man. And neither do they you, J.P. Simon. They don't understand the undercurrents of irony, the level of work it takes to come off as good-naturedly self-deprecating while looking a tad like crap. Just a tad. You're fun, you're entertaining and you are more than what you seem.

If this movie were a woman, I'd vote it to be Miss America.

No wonder I love this movie. It is everything a good movie should be: entertaining, never boring, fun to watch with friends or by yourself and worth the effort it takes in watching it when compared to the dividends it returns in entertainment value.

And to all of you reading this review, I don't care what it takes, who you have to bribe, how you get it or where you do it - you MUST watch Supersonic Man at least once. Maybe twice, just to pick up on all the tiny details. You will not be disappointed. And hey, if you read this blog at all, then you must be on the same wavelength as I as far as movies go - so it's already a safe bet that you'll love it. Guaranteed.

Just don't go into Supersonic Man expecting Superman.

Or even Aquaman.

The Essentials: TGWD-Style!

Hey, kids:

On one of my favorite websites, badmovies.org, there was a thread in their forums asking you to name your "essential" bad movies - that is, bad films that you feel are absolutely important for every person who wants to get started in the world of "b-movies". Must-sees, as it were.

I think it's important for everyone to broaden their horizons, experience new sensations and view things they never have before. So for that small percentage of you viewers of this blog who have not yet dipped into the pool of "b", allow me to bring you gently into the shallow end, and start you out with 10 important bad movies that every beginner should watch, own, possess, experience, what-have-you.

These are in no particular order, so you can watch them in any order and they will still benefit your mind, soul and well-being equally. Here we go:

1. They Saved Hitler's Brain (1966) - Every collection should have a good old "what if?" speculative exploitation film. In this one (as if you didn't know) Nazi scientists in post WWII South America have kept alive the head of...oh, take a wild guess. This is, in fact, an older film with framing material filmed before and after to make it a flashback-type story of "what almost happened". There is ineptness of story, of acting, of special effects and especially of overall tact in this film, so it makes a good starting point for any serious "b" watcher.

2. The Choirboys (1977) - A bad adaptation of a good book makes for interesting viewing, if not necessarily better than reading the source material, at least good referencing. Joseph Wambaugh wrote interesting books in his career, "The Choirboys" being one of them, but this movie, directed by none other than Robert (The Dirty Dozen, Emperor of the North) Aldrich, and starring a veritable who's who of mid-'70s 'average guy' actors, it also had the standing record for rampant racism, misogyny, misplaced violence, death and nihilism. Oh, and it's a comedy.

3. War of the Gargantuas (1966) - Monster movies are a welcome addition, even when they're 3rd generation stories with dubbed dialogue and has-been Americans headlining them. Russ Tamblyn is an American scientist in Japan who, with his team of doctors, tracks down two gigantic, mossy monsters who threaten to destroy Tokyo and all the surrounding property. It's basically guys in rubber monster costumes stomping around miniature sets while other actors look off-camera in terror. It IS a lot of fun to watch, and entertaining in a Saturday Afternoon TV Classic kind of way. And you'll find yourself researching all you can find about Kipp Hamilton afterward, too. Go ahead, in fact; then find this movie.

4. Dracula 3000 (2004) - They say nowadays they just don't make the same caliber of bad film they used to. What it takes, it seems, is to add a space theme to a tried-and-true formula. In this case, a Dracula movie. And with actors the likes of Casper Van Dien, Coolio, Tiny Lister, Udo Kier and Erika Eleniak, the cheese is through the roof and makes the viewing of all the familiar terror movie conceits far more entertaining (in an extremely bad sort of way). And as far as the first view of this movie's Dracula character goes...well, just wait until the ending for the movie to "redeem" itself.

5. Invasion U.S.A. (1985) - Over-the-top violent action, all-American bravado, venomously evil Russian bad guys and Chuck Norris - it MUST be the '80s! This is one of those films that leaves the viewer slack-jawed, disoriented and amazed at just how manipulative an art form movies can be. That you know Chuck Norris is going to come out in the end with a mountain of dead bad guys at his feet isn't news; but the implausibility of his heroic actions, his ability to materialize out of nowhere, the arsenal of endless weapons he has at hand and Chuck's ability to do things that would make Superman shake his head and say, "No way!" - now THAT is news. No wonder his cult spreads far and wide...Invasion U.S.A. most certainly had to have helped.

6. Starcrash (1979) - Foreign adaptations of familiar American movies are a must-have. Turkey is a good source (as I have mentioned here more than once...) and so is Italy, on the basis of Starcrash, their entry in the late-'70s Star Wars sweepstakes. And directed as it is by Lugio Cozzi, you will witness multi-colored stars, many scantily-clad women, Joe Spinnell at his most over-acting-est, the worst stop-motion effects ever committed to a large-scale spectacle and David Hasselhoff (pre-"Baywatch" and even pre-"Knight Rider" for that matter). And Caroline Munro. Mmmm...Caroline Munro.

7. Plan 9 From Outer Space (1959) - It is a general rule for every bad movie watcher that they have at least one Edward D. Wood movie in their collection (I have two. Nyah.), and Plan 9 is his most famous, rightly so. The poorest special effects, the chintziest sets, the clunkiest dialogue, the bad movie trifecta of Tor Johnson/Bela Lugosi/Vampira and one of the absolute worst scientific explanations of alien technology ever committed to film. Their stupid minds! Stupid! Stupid!

8. Inchon! (1982) - Now talk about a holy grail; this is a film not only funded by Moonies and so over-budgeted and clandestinely paid-for that it could never make back its (undisclosed) budget. After all, it was able to get none other than Sir Laurence Olivier to play General Douglas MacArthur - not that it helped the film as a whole any, but still: Laurence Olivier! Large-scale action abounds, as does Ben Gazzara, Jacqueline Bisset, Richard Roundtree, David Janssen and The Little Angels (Reverend Sun Myung Moon's troupe of child singers), all sharing the screen and the blame, along with scenes of unbelievable war film cliches that you never knew you remembered but are reintroduced to time and again herein. Yes, I've seen it and plan to see it again very soon. Just look for it; you'll find it if you look hard enough. I did.

9. Rat Pfink A Boo Boo (1966) - Bad ripoffs of television fads sometimes make for entertaining "b" flicks. Even if they are as bad as your average Ray Dennis Steckler movie. You know; the guy who made The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies, only here, Ray made a film to cash in on the "Batman" craze with music, fight scenes kind of like if Jackie Chan was a narcoleptic and a great scene with none other than Kogar the Swinging Ape. This is definitely a necessity. Even when director Steckler has been quoted as saying about Rat Pfink "To this day, I don't know why I did it", you know you're witnessing greatness. FIGHT CRIME!

10. Supersonic Man (1979) - Speaking of foreign ripoffs of popular American films, Superman: The Movie made a lot of foreign superheroes spring up after the fact, including Italy's own Supersonic Man (named Kronos in the original Italian-language version), who saves the world from the evil scheming of Doctor Gulik (none other than bad film standby Cameron Mitchell - Google his name; it's a stunning list of achievements). Most people, once having seen this film, will remember most vividly the plywood steamroller and the stereotypical Italian bad guys as Gulik's henchmen, including more sight gags and pratfalls than any typical Superman entry (well, maybe not as many as Superman III) and even a comic relief drunk for good measure. It's bad, but in a good way - heck, it was directed by Juan Piquer Simon, the same man who did Pod People, for crying out loud! What did you expect???

There's quite an eclectic selection for you to go and seek out yourself. And that's not all, I also have:

THE RUNNERS-UP:

11. The Star Wars Holiday Special (1978)
12. At Long Last Love (1975)
13. Skidoo (1968)
14. Dunyayi Kurtaran Adam (The Man Who Saves The World, Turkish Star Wars) (1982)
15. Santa and the Ice Cream Bunny (1972)
16. Pinocchio In Outer Space (1965)
17. Jekyll & Hyde...Together Again (1982)
18. Legend of the Lone Ranger (1981)
19. Nukie (1987)
20. The Message (Mohammad: Messenger of God) (1978)

Go look up those titles and see what is so essential about them. You'll be glad you did!

And now you know; and knowing is half the battle!

Dope out.

-TGWD

Yeah, I Got Some Movies....

Many people who know me personally are aware of one thing about me if nothing more: when it comes to movies, I am a collector.

Let me explain: I love movies and watch them as often as I can (work, family and personal responsibilities allowing) and my great joy is to read or hear about a movie on a website, much like the ones listed on the side, over there, and then go out of my way to secure a copy of said film and watch it at my leisure.

As I mentioned earlier, however, there is very little leisure time in my life right now (not complaining, just saying) and so I have quite a few movies that have not yet been given my strict, undivided attention, and even more that I am still looking for.

So there you have it. A collector.

And as I notice while looking at the voluminous rows of tapes, DVDs and such at my disposal, I realize that I haven't really been giving you guys the reviews that I could, either. So how about this: for my post today, I'll give you a big messy handful of short reviews of what I have seen in my collection that first comes to mind. Okay?

Well, okay or not, here we go.

FRANKENSTEIN ISLAND












A few posts back, I mentioned wanting to get this and, if you backtrack a bit you'll see I have it now. And have seen it, also. My opine? It is every bit as bad as people say it is and then some. John Carradine as a superimposed ghostly head, Cameron Mitchell playing it drunk as an imprisoned sailor and a cast rounded out by no one you're really ever heard of (unless maybe you've seen Jerry Warren's Wild Wild World of Batwoman (I have. ;D ) It's clunky but, God love it, it is endearingly watchable like listening to your beloved Grandpa trying to tell a spooky story only he's forgotten most of it and thrown in bits and pieces of war stories, sexy girls in bikinis and other odd business that just tapers off into nothing. You'd probably want to watch it once; I've seen it six times so far and intend to do so more often. Bless you, Jerry Warren.

SKIDOO











This is a legendarily bad movie made by the legendarily great Otto Preminger. A drug comedy released in 1968 that would have been funnier in...say...1966, and had negligible laughs from beginning to end. Sure, you may be saying, but there were a lot of bad drug comedies in the '60s, what makes Skidoo so unusual that you have to own it, Dope? Well, just the fact that THIS particular drug comedy starred none other than Jackie Gleason, Carol Channing, Mickey Rooney, Cesar Romero, Frankie Avalon, Groucho Marx and a cavalcade of stars that simply boggles the mind. SEE FOR YOURSELF HERE. Anyway, this turns out to be not so much of a comedic experience for the viewer nowadays, or even a social commentary for that matter, as much as it is one of those filmic time capsules of another era, and not a good one, either. Not even a funny one, for that matter - the jokes fall flat, the actors seem embarrassed, Groucho seems too old and tired to do anything funny, even the hallucination scenes don't have the laughs that they should. Hell, Carol Channing does a striptease for Frankie Avalon. I sure wasn't laughing. But that doesn't mean I haven't watched it repeatedly. It certainly is a spectacle at least, and how many other movies sing their end credits?

STARCRASH











A bad Star Wars ripoff by any means, but still a whole lot of fun. Caroline Munro wearing various skimpy suits and traveling through the multi-colored stars of the galaxy with Marjoe Gortner, David Hasselhoff (yes, THAT David Hasselhoff), Christopher Plummer (!!), space cavemen, bad special effects and some of the absolute worst stop-motion puppetry you will ever see. OH! And Joe Spinell as the cape-wearing, hair-teased, toothy, cackling bad guy Count Zarth Arn (kinda like Darth Vader with a few missing letters, see?). If for no other reason you must see this movie just to see Spinell strut around, growl out his lines, wave that cape around with more flourish than Liberace in his prime and stare wide-eyed at everything. Sure, Darth Vader was really evil, but he never had as much fun with his cape as Zarth Arn does here. And remember, this was all done in Italy, so you can see first-hand how talent, creativity and originality DO NOT travel well overseas. But you'll be laughing all the while; I guarantee it.

RIKI-OH: THE STORY OF RIKI










This is an experience unto itself: like the Super Bowl or Communion on Christmas morning or the cry of a newborn baby - only without any boring stuff! Riki-Oh is based on a super-violent Japanese comic (Manga? Anime? Whatever...) dealing with a man with superpowers who is imprisoned and beats up/kills/disembowels/crushes the evil prisoners/drug dealers/superhuman beasts in the prison at which he is incarcerated. Not a spray of blood, body organ, punch, kick, feint or explosive death is missed and it is most certainly intent on giving you, the viewer, your money's worth. If you're well-aware that this is all movie magic, no actual blood was spilt and these guys all probably had a good laugh over the day's filming at the commissary over a nice ham on rye, then not only will you be able to take this but it will probably be your favorite movie of all time. It certainly is in my top five!

Wow. There you go: four new reviews in one post. I didn't think I could do it.

Huh.

Well, I've got more movies to watch/catalog/collect. What do you think I do; write about movies all day?

Dope out.

-TGWD

I Got Some Early Christmas Presents!!

Yes indeedily-do, I done did. :D

Okay, no more goofiness. I shall now continue.

The last few weeks, things have really been turning around for me and the family in general. Work is going well - nothing but compliments from my boss and co-workers (always nice). I'm in the middle of rehearsals for a local production of a stage adaptation of Stephen King's "Misery" (I play the James Caan part, for those who saw the movie), so that's sweet plus infinity. My wife got a part-time job and is looking for further employment after the holidays, so more money is trickling in little by little. And the best part of all is -

(drum roll)

Through some judicious trades and gifting, I got some very verrrrry nice DVDs!

Let's take a peek, shall we?

STARCRASH (aka: FEMALE SPACE INVADERS) - I mentioned this one a few posts back; a Star Wars ripoff from Italy that is as goofy and stiltedly bad as anything you're liable to see. And the special effects - hoo man, you have to see 'em to believe 'em.

See?



SUPERSONIC MAN - Yes! Hong Kong Cavalier got me the English language version of this absolute treasure (I already had the Spanish language version). And this is one that didn't disappoint...not by a long shot. Cameron Mitchell as a maniacal bad guy? Stereotyped buffoons as henchmen? A boxy robot from a cartoon show as a diabolical weapon of destruction? an aloof nobody as the hero? Thorough ripoffs of the Superman legacy left and right? All here, baby.

And I know I've shown this before but please, bear with me: I'm giddy.



PIECES - From the same director and a lot of the bit players from the movie just above this sentence. A lot of blood, guts, stupidity and a small part for Paul Smith, the guy who played Bluto in the movie Popeye and Beast Rabban in David Lynch's Dune. Oh, an done of the absolute best last scenes ever made. What is it? Rent it and see, bubba.



KING OF KONG ISLAND - And yes, it involves apes. It's also the messiest (as in "involves blood"), stupidest and most lazy movie I've seen in awhile. I'm glad it's mine.

For a rundown and other information (since I can't seem to find any flippin' videos online of this), click here, won't you? Thank you.

And a few better known discs in the fray as well (Mission: Impossible, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Clue: The Movie), but yes, I got me some more movies!!

The best part of all of this? It ain't even Christmas yet!! The worst part? Now I need more shelf space for all my DVDs. :(

Ah well. Into every life, baby, the rain must fall.

Dope out.

-TGWD

The Dope's Top 10 Wanna-Sees!

Anyone who knows me (even in passing) knows that I have a lot of movies. I mean A LOT. I have shelf after shelf of DVDs and VHSes, in fact. And many of them are those rarities, those gems, diamonds in the rough that only a selected few have ever seen, heard of or even remember.

True enough to say that it takes a special kind of movie lover who will give a smile, slow nod and deep sigh of fond remembrance when you mention titles to them the likes of War Of The Gargantuas, The Astro-Zombies, Nail Gun Massacre, For Your Height Only, Holocaust 2000 and/or Rock 'N' Roll Nightmare. And yes, I own all of those.

But as hard as it is to believe, there are still a few movies that I have yet to see and a desire to own, just for that fond desire of clutching it close to my chest and sighing deep as I whisper, "You're MINE...all MINE...." But suffice it to say, they are not all titles that can be had at your local Blockbuster's monthly DVD sale.

If they were, do you think I'd waste my time talking about them here? Come on, I have my standards...and I'll live up to them someday. ;D

Anyway, for those of you who care to venture into my deep, dark heart and see what wriggling terrors lie within, behold the Dope's top 10 Must Haves - the 10 movies I want!

(EDITOR'S NOTE: ANY TITLES/DESCRIPTIONS THAT LOOK LIKE THIS DENOTE THAT I HAVE FINALLY GOT MY COPY OF THIS THROUGH TRADES/PURCHASES/DILIGENCE. THANKS TO ANY OF YOU WHO HELPED IN THAT AREA! NOW ON WITH THE LIST....)

10. Heartbeeps (1981, D.: Allan Arkush)

Notable as one of the few major movies that starred Andy Kaufman, it's notable of little else, save for the fact that it also features Bernadette Peters and the voices of comedian Jack Carter and Christopher Guest as robots. See, it's the future and Andy and Bernadette are robots...with feelings. They're also unrecognizable under tons of makeup and, in spite of the fact that their intentions were honorable in making this flick, it's supposed to be stupid, boring, syrupy, ridiculous and incomprehensible, all at the same time.

Who WOULDN'T want it?






9. JAWS 3/JAWS 3-D (1983, D.: Joe Alves)

This, I think, is the movie that started the whole JAWS backlash. For starters, it doesn't even take place in Amity Beach, Roy Scheider isn't in the cast (ditto Richard Dreyfuss, who almost certainly couldn't have been busy at the time), Steven Spielberg had nothing to do with it, the producers originally intended for this entry to be a COMEDY(!!), the shark look fake for the most part, the stars (Lou Gossett Jr., Dennis Quaid, Bess Armstrong, Lea Thompson, Simon MacCorkindale) seem to be playing it up as campy as possible, (especially Lou Gossett) and (this is the clincher) it was all originally released in 3-D! One of these days, I swear to have both the 2-D and 3-D versions of this beauty! Someday....





8. Kiss Daddy Goodbye (1981, D.: Patrick Regan)

Way back when, as I watched "Elvira's Movie Macabre" one dark night, she did a number on this movie, which seemed to be tailor-made for her show. The film-making was sub-par, the actors were even lousier, I don't think the director could set up a shot to save his life, the only two stars in this one were Fabian (yes, the singer) and Marilyn Burns (the heroine from the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre), and as I recall, not one scary thing happened in this whole "scary" movie. Films about kids with ESP who resurrect their murdered father to kill off the members of an outlaw biker gang should have at least some scary moments. Not here. Nope. But it was funny, so hence its inclusion.




7. Dracula Vs. Frankenstein (1971, D.: Al Adamson)

Al Adamson was a schlock movie maker par excelence, one who made such Z-grade junk as Satan's Sadists, Five Bloody Graves and Blazing Stewardesses. His horror movies were loaded with weird dialogue, even-weirder scenes, at least one drug sequence per film and usually featured his woman at the time, Regina Carroll. This film, which was to be the last one for legendary horror movie icons J. Carrol Naish and Lon Chaney Jr., unfortunately also starred Zandor Vorkoff as Dracula. And NEVER has there been a worse Dracula on film (yes, worse than Frank Langella). The stupidity starts at the first frame and ends with the last - EVERYONE must own this one.





6. Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (1978, D.: Michael Schultz)

Okay, first of all, what was Michael Schultz, director of Car Wash and Scavenger Hunt doing directing a movie based on Beatles songs but not featuring John, Paul, George or Ringo in the cast? Instead, this all-narrated musical (yes, you heard me) stars Peter Frampton and The Bee-Gees as the titular band, with an all-star cast (headed by George Burns) backing them up - or more appropriately, pushing them forward to take the brunt of criticism. In spite of the able efforts of Aerosmith, Steve Martin and Alice Cooper, this one stunk - badly. But at least it wasn't as bad as Xanadu.






5. Starcrash (1979, D.: Luigi Cozzi)

A Star Wars ripoff, yes, but a badly-dubbed, horridly-modeled, dully-acted, tad-too-shiny Star Wars ripoff. From Italy, of all places. International star Caroline Munro is Stella Star, a female Han Solo type, who toddles through space with ever-grinning Marjoe Gortner and a bounty hunter robot (voiced by Hamilton Camp). Together they try to overthrow evil Count Zarth Arn (Joe Spinell) and bring a kidnapped prince (David Hasselhoff!) back to his father The Emperor Of Space (Christopher Plummer). It's all as crazy as it sounds, complete with multi-colored stars, really bad stop-motion animation and more explosions than you can count. And who designs a hand-shaped spaceship? Really.





4. Body Melt (1993, D.: Philip Brophy)

If you're familiar with Peter (Lord of the Rings) Jackson's early efforts (Bad Taste, Dead Alive, Meet The Feebles), then you'd understand better where this Australian film is coming from. Not only does it deal with several people dying because of the mutating effects of a designer "health drug" the local doctor gives them, it also contains some of the freakiest, most messed-up special effects you've ever seen in your life. I've only seen clips of this beauty...BUT I WANT MORE!!!








3. Billy The Kid Versus Dracula (1966, D.: William Beaudine)

I already own the second of this series (Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Daughter) which is also directed by old "One-Shot" Beaudine and bad enough in its own right. But I've yet to see the haunting majesty of this western horror opus, which is supposedly even worse. Hey, it even stars John Carradine; that alone makes it worth owning!








2. Beware! The Blob (1972, D.: Larry Hagman)

The film that J.R. shot! Yes, that's how this one was advertised and, as far as novelty goes, that's all this sequel to the 1958 classic had going for it. Okay, that and the fact that it also starred Dick Van Patten, Cindy Williams, Godfrey Cambridge, Bud Cort, Burgess Meredith, Hagman (in a bit part as a bum), the kid who played Charlie X in that one classic episode of "Star Trek" and Gerritt Graham in an ape suit, not to mention several other actors who were relatively well-known in the '70s. They're all basically blob-chow, anyway. It's not good but at least it knows it and plays it up for all it's worth.





And now, the one I must have beyond the shadow of a doubt....

1. Frankenstein Island (1981, D.: Jerry Warren)

This is it, the absolute most amazing, dunderheaded, stupid film ever made - and that's the good points!

Forget for a minute it was directed by the man who gave the world Teenage Zombies and The Wild Wild World of Batwoman; forget the fact that its big-name stars consist solely of John Carradine (him again!) and the even-schlockier Cameron Mitchell; forget that the special effects were ancient even for 1981; forget that there are a mountain of inconsistencies and bit actors who could only have been hired for an endeavor as bad as this one and never again; forget the fact that it begins with a hot air balloon scene (usually an indicator of a bad film, sez Roger Ebert) and has indecipherable printing/captioning over it, rendering the whole scene asinine; forget all that - any Frankenstein movie made even as recent as 1981 whose headlining monster looks like THIS:



...is just asking for it. The boot, that is. Which is seemingly what it got. Heck, I even remember seeing this one featured on Siskel & Ebert's "Sneak Previews" back in the day as the "Dog Of The Week" for that particular week's show!

Therefore, I want it. Want want WANT it, I tell you!

And so there you have it; my must-haves. SO, if anyone out there wants to be my best friend for life, get me one of these movies. If you want to be my best friend for the next 20 lifetimes, get me ALL of them. :D

Dope out.

-TGWD

Excited About An Incoming Video....

(WARNING - this posting contains previously posted videos. But I don't care. So there. Nyah.)

I'm pretty jazzed; in just a little while from now, I'm going to be getting a gift from a good friend of mine: he goes by the name of Hong Kong Cavalier and has his own website and blog (the links are on the right, there...) - and he's helping me get a hold of a video I've been wanting to get a hold of for quite a long time (at least ever since reading about it HERE). And that video is....

SUPERSONIC MAN (1979)

Featuring Cameron Mitchell and no one else you've heard of (unless you're familiar with Juan Piquer Simon films), this is one of the corniest, most dopey superhero "epics" ever committed to film - and certainly one of the most entertaining looking, from all available evidence. The Cavalier's getting everything together as we speak before sending it out to me; sure, it's been on its way since December, but it's gonna be worth the wait, that much I know.

(giddy-giddy-giddy-giddy-giddy)

'Why?', you ask? Just look at the evidence....

Here is the transformation of nominal hero Paul (Michael Coby)...



The kidnapping of a scientist by bad guy Mitchell via a robot - and WHAT a robot it is...



And one of the action scenes where a lady is saved by the hero by his lifting a...well...what IS that thing??



Now, is it any wonder to you why I'm so ready to get a hold of this flick? Don't worry out there, though; I'll let you all know just as soon as I get the video!

Dope out.

-TGWD

It's A Bird, It's A Plane, It's Super(sonic) Man!

I know; I'm later than usual but I had to share this.

You remember Superman: The Movie (1978) and my preference to Chris Reeve as opposed to ol' what's-is-name, whoever's playing him now. Okay; anyway, didja know that other countries like to rip off OUR film hits?

Sound like I changed gears mid-sentence? I didn't really, because that leads me right into Supersonic Man, which is itself a dead-on ripoff of the '78 Supes and takes every minute of film to convince us it is indeed a ripoff of the highest order. Hey, in spite of it being in Italian (the UNdubbed version, anyway), the people having different names and a mostly Italiano cast (save for maybe Cameron Mitchell, who's starred in just about anything), they're the same.

With one big diff - Superman: The Movie was good.

Now, to get you acquainted with your new favorite movie (if you like crap, that is, like I do), here's a link to a detailed review of the flick from fellow bad movie endurer Ken Begg at his site Jabootu.com

And as if that weren't enough (and holy cow, it shoulda been), here is a small clip from the film. Now, if this doesn't solidify it in your mind as the ripoff to end all ripoffs, you probably need to watch it a few more times.



Now, say it with me: Viva Italiana!

Dope out.

-TGWD