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Guilty Pleasure Movies Blogathon

If I'm anything, it's a man with a number of guilty pleasures when it comes to my movie watching. Sure, I love most of the movies we collectively call great. I even revere a number of them. Many of the films I personally consider the best of all time give us some great insight into the society as it was when said film was released. Do the Right Thing, 12 Angry Men, M, and Boyz N the Hood come to mind. Others are just examples of epic story-telling that stand the test of time. I'm talking stuff like Once Upon a Time in America, Oldboy, Schindler's List, and  the first two parts of The Godfather. Some are not only great stories, but have also advanced filmmaking from a technical aspect. The cinematic landscape irrevocably changed after Citizen Kane, Star Wars, Jurassic Park, and The Matrix came out.

Screw all of them.

This is about the flicks I put on when I get a hankering to watch something outrageous. There may not be one socially redeeming quality about the movies I pick when I get in such a mood, but they're fun. They're usually bad, like beyond a shadow of a doubt bad, but I have a blast watching them. The binding thread between them is that they are really too loony for me to take even a little bit seriously. So yeah, some are violent to the point of being nihilistic, just for the sake of it. Gratuitous nudity is another common trait. In fact, most are exploitative in some form or another and they could all be called stupid.

What's your point?

These are MY guilty pleasures, not yours.

But...

before I go on, I must thank the ladies who gave me the impetus for this post. The wonderful Jenna and Allie from Flick Chicks invited us bloggers to write about our own guilty pleasure movies. Since there must be rules, here they are in the words of our two gracious hostesses:

1 - You can choose and discuss as many or as few movies as you like. We both did a Top 10, but you can just choose 1 movie if you like. Just tell us a bit about the movie and why you like it so much.

2 - Please create a new post for our Blogathon, rather than linking an old post you may have already done.

3 - Please include our Blogathon Banner anywhere in your post

4 - The deadline for entries is Sunday, 31st August, so there's plenty of time!

This ain't about rules.

Sorry, girls.

This is about my undying love for crap cinema. In other words, even though I've developed a pretty good blogging relationship with Jenna and Allie they may regret letting me play this particular game. For maximum effect I'm going with a list...

My 10 (but more like 25) Most Guiltiest Pleasures

# 10 

Rambo

(2008)

At roughly 117 years of age, Sylvester Stallone decided to dust off one of his most iconic characters by making this, the fourth installment in the First Blood franchise. That first flick, is one of the best films ever made about Vietnam Vets. The sequel, Rambo: First Blood Part II is an action flick that takes the wonderfully nuanced character of John Rambo and transforms him into a superhero. It's dumb, but still a good time. Rambo III was action packed and dumb, but not a good time. This one doesn't even pretend to be a good movie. It pretty much just tries to see how many casualties it can cram into a movie less than 90 minutes long (actually 92 according to its imdb page, but that's just a flat out lie). So yeah, take another look at that pic. That's basically the plot. By the way, this is by far the most "acceptable" movie we'll be discussing today (but we'll be seeing Stallone again). It only gets worse better from here.

True Story.

#9

Punisher: War Zone

(2008)

Marvel's wonderful anti-hero The Punisher has been brought to the big screen three times. General consensus is that the second version starring Thomas Jane is the best. That depends on how you define "best." Is that one the most accomplished and polished of the three movies? Yes, it is. Is it my favorite? No, it's not. And it's not even close. The version with Jane is basically a re-enactment of every Steven Segal movie ever made. That can be fun. I like some Segal flicks, but it didn't stand out one bit. The older version starred Dolph Lundgren. Yeah, it starred Dolph Lundgren. Meh. This last version, Punisher: War Zone, is just bonkers from start to finish. It's incoherent and damn bloody. Is it good in any reasonable sense of the word? Hell no!

#8

H.O.T.S.

(1979)

You've read the eloquent thoughts of my inner-sadist, now my inner-pig is requesting some air-time. He presents to you the wonderfully craptacular  H.O.T.S. If you're not familiar with this one, it's a 1979 sexploitation flick that I became familiar with as a very young teen in the early 80s. Set on a college campus, it deals with the weighty issue of gaining acceptance by ones peers. Honestly, the teen sex classic Revenge of the Nerds ripped off this movie for its premise. A group of girls not cool enough for the popular sorority start one of their own. Only instead of a giant school-wide battle of the bands, this one culminates in a strip football game between the two sororities.

#7

Death Race 2000

(1975)

Before Jason Statham remade it, there was this cult classic. It stars David Carradine and a pre-Rocky Sylvester Stallone. Given the details surrounding Carradine's actual death, his role here gains a whole new level of creepiness as he walks around in a leather suit, including a mask, a cape, and lots of zippers. Still, this is loads of fun. This one actually does try to make some social commentary, but whatever. Set in that most futuristic year of 2000, lol, we follow the world's best drivers on a cross country race. Finishing first is simply not enough for these guys. Drivers earn extra points for running down pedestrians. Each motorist also has a navigator of the opposite sex in the car. Since you can't drive all the way across this land in one day, there are plenty of breaks in the action for things such as fist fights between competitors, back-stabbing by politicians, and nude co-ed massages while the press interviews the participants. I'm in! (My full review here)

#6

Happy Birthday to Me

(1981)

How could this not be the most fun you've ever had? I mean, it's a slasher flick starring a girl from Little House on the Prairie, the most wholesome show ever made. On top of that, it is a totally insane watch. Some of the kill scenes have become iconic among those of us into such things. And those last fifteen minutes are a doozy. If you're at all into horror, you have to see this to understand what the fuss is about. Do it, now. Either before or after, read my review of it, too. 

#5

Dolemite Movies

(1970s)

Dolemite is his name. 

Rappin' and tappin' is his game. 

He was born in a barrel of butcher knives, 

been shot in the ass with two Colt .45s. 

He's been bit by a shark and shocked by an eel. 

He'll chew a railroad track and shit out steel. 

He swam the ocean and swallowed a whale. 

He handcuffed lightning and threw thunder's ass in jail...

Oh, sorry. I was gettin' my Dolemite on.

What does that mean?

Dolemite is a pimp that often talks in rhyme, is a master in martial arts, and trains all of his hoes to be likewise. What's not to love? If you need more convincing, I've reviewed two of them. Just so you know, I really could have chosen a number of Blaxploitation flicks for this spot. Just sayin'.

#4

Malibu High

(1979)

If you've never seen this one, you have never seen a crazy movie. The quick and dirty is that Kim is flunking out of high school and will do anything to get straight A's...and earn a little money in the process. This includes prostitution, drugs, murder, and the original theme song from "The Peoples' Court." You know, the usual. This is the one and only acting credit for star Jill Lansing and she made it damn memorable. It's a completely balls-to-the-wall performance in a movie fully deserving of one. If you don't want to see it yourself, you're in luck. In a rare move by me, I spoiled the entire movie with an in-depth and funny (I think) review. 

#3

Friday the 13th Movies

(1980-2009)

Roger Ebert coined a term I've used to describe tons of pictures, "Dead Teenager Movies," or "DTM" for short. No franchise has lived up to that billing more thoroughly than the Friday the 13th series. What can I say? I just love watching Jason stalk pot smokin', beer swillin', fornicatin' teenagers, even if he has to come back to life at the beginning of every movie just to do it. I've written about one installment or another several times, here. As an added bonus, the very first movie gave us one of cinema's all time great moms. Hear me out. I love my own mom. She's damn near perfect in my eyes. However, Mrs. Voorhees makes me question how much she really loves me. I mean, would she really go and kill and bunch of camp counselors had I died while in their care? I don't think so. That's weak, mom. Weak.

#2

Raw Force

(1982)

The fact that it has an alternate title as widely known as its real one is telling. That that title is Kung Fu Cannibals is just as telling. That poster for it says tons. It does indeed involve kung fu, and cannibals. Let's add in zombies and plenty of random nudity, as well. Still, none of this reveals just how special a place this has in my heart. To understand this is to journey down one of those strangely lit corridors of my childhood that, oddly enough, also houses my memories of Raiders of the Lost Ark. I don't have enough room to do it justice in this post, so click over to this one.

#1

Showgirls

(1995)

I absolutely love this movie for all the wrong reasons. A plot that totally rips off All About Eve then both subverts and perverts it? Check. A leading lady, the questionably talented but easy on the eyes Elizabeth Berkley, who couldn't even carry Bette Davis' g-string? Check. A leading lady who often goes without a g-string, or any other type of clothing for that matter? Check. A leading lady who flops around like a fish out of water while having sex in the water? Check. Some of the worse dialogue you've ever heard? Check. Some of the sleaziest scenes ever filmed? Check. Gina Gershon sneering her way through a mostly topless performance? Check. Hell, just about everyone ass-naked so much that the poster above was pretty much the only "safe" pic I could find? Check. Never being able to look at Saved by the Bell with any thoughts of innocence ever again? Double check.

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TNT Jackson

Directed by Cirio H. Santiago

1975. Rated R, 72 minutes.

Cast:

Jeannie Bell

Stan Shaw

Pat Anderson

Ken Metcalfe

Chiquito

Imelda Ilanan

Leo Martinez

TNT travels to the slums of Hong Kong to find out what happened to her brother. Just never you mind how she got that nickname because we’re never told. Anyhoo, this one’s just flat out Blaxploitation fun. It’s action-packed and, of course, that means “everybody was kung-fu fightin'. Those kicks were fast as lightnin'.” To ensure the latter they obviously sped up the frame rate for many of the fight scenes. One of those fight scenes features our heroine topless and includes one of the greatest film flubs ever. They were smart about one thing, most of this fight is filmed in the dark since her stunt person throughout the movie is obviously a man. Every now and again one of the baddies would turn the light on, she would jump from a corner kick somebody and turn it off again. The flub? She’s wearing a pair of skin tight brown panties as the fight starts. Towards the end of this they suddenly show her leaping off a piece of furniture in super slo-mo while giving her best battle-cry, only she’s now wearing ill-fitting and very frilly white underwear. Never fear, by the time she lands on the bad guy’s back she’s again in the form fitting brown panties. No, I'm not making this up. 

The acting isn't half-bad for the genre. Stan Shaw does particularly well as Charlie. This is during his slimmer yet more muscular days. He would eventually become much more known for playing the stuttering heavyweight champ in Eddie Murphy’s Harlem Nights. However, as good as he is, his wardrobe is even more impressive. Nearly every scene in which he appears raises the level of '70s pimpish-chic another notch. In the end, what elevates this to ridiculously enjoyable heights is how the bad guy gets killed. I won’t spoil it but I will say I laughed for a few hours. Yup, it's so bad it's awesome!

MY SCORE: -10/-10

The Human Tornado

Directed by Cliff Roquemore.

1976. Rated R, 85 minutes.

Cast:

Rudy Ray Moore

Lady Reed

Gloria Delaney

Herb Graham

J. B. Baron

Barbara Gerl

Ernie Hudson

Jimmy Lynch

Jack Kelly

Howard Jackson

Lord Java

Our favorite rhymin’, kung-fu fightin’ pimp is back in this sorta-sequel to Dolemite. By that I mean that even though our hero is the same and a few other characters return there really is no continuity between the two stories. This time around, Dolemite (Moore) is living the straight life. Kinda. He’s a successful comedian, Moore’s real life gig that started his movie career, with a big house on a hill in Alabama. However, aside from rocking the chuckle huts and donating money to help build a boys’ home, he tricks himself out to the local sheriff’s wife. Of course, this is unbeknownst to Sheriff Beatty (Baron). Lo and behold, during one of Dolemite’s sessions with the local first lady which just happens to occur while there’s a celebration going on at Dolemite’s house at the same time, the sheriff shows up with some deputies. All of them have their guns drawn. By the way, from the outside you can barely hear a peep out of these folks. No loud music, no fighting, nothing. So why did the cops show? It’s rather simple really. He doesn't want any black folks having a party in his town. I’m not joking. Anyhoo, imagine his surprise when he walks in on his old lady knowing Dolemite in the biblical sense.

Needless to say, Dolemite makes a daring butt-naked escape from certain death and decides to head back home to Los Angeles with a few of his guys that also got away. Yes, with their clothes on. By the way, this crew includes the man who would go on to a long acting career, most notably playing the only black Ghostbuster, Ernie Hudson. Since this is only his second big-screen role, I guess we owe Dolemite a bit of gratitude. Thank you, Dolemite.

                                                  

Welp, once back in LA, our hero gets another unpleasant surprise. His good friend Queen Bee (Reed) has had her nightclub forcibly shut down by local mobster Cavaletti (Graham) who also makes Queen and all her girls work at his own establishment. He ensures their cooperation by tying two of them up, throwing them in his basement and threatening to kill them. And you just know Sheriff Beatty makes his way to LA at some point. Somewhere in this mad mix is a rather hilarious theme song performed by Mr. Moore himself. Dolemite to the rescue ensues.

Since our hero hasn’t changed since the first movie, whatever he does only comes after some good hot lovin’. And whatever comes after lovin’ includes kung-fu fightin’. There’s also some shootin’ and yellin’ for good measure. New additions for our viewing pleasure include a sadistic witch who messes with the two kidnapped babes through some mild torture amounting to little more than bondage fetish scenes. Here, instead of some middle-aged dude dressed in leather dishing out the punishment it’s an unbelievably wrinkled old lady and some mafia dudes.

Fear not good citizens, there is even more wackiness. Let’s not forget that this is a sequel. By law, as established in Scream, it has to be bigger and badder than its predecessor. This means everything is amplified to nth degree, for better or worse. The best part is we know we’re in for it right from the start. Remember, that butt-naked escape I mentioned? It includes a jump off a balcony about halfway down a very steep hill. Pretty standard action stunt, right? Wrong. Before he even finishes rolling down the incline we get a freeze-frame as he exclaims in a voice-over (paraphrasing) “You MFers don’t think I really jumped. Watch this!” Yup, we get an instant replay. Still, far and away the best new development is in the kung-fu department.  During fights the footage is often sped up a ridiculous rate making all the combatants look like Keystone Kops. If this isn't downright hilarious your funny bone must be broke. This is even better, or worse, or worse-better, than Dolemite. Yes friends, The Human Tornado is so bad it’s awesome!

Dolemite

Directed by D’Urville Martin.

1975. Rated R, 90 minutes.

Cast:

Rudy Ray Moore

D’Urville Martin

Lady Reed

West Gale

Jerry Jones

Hy Pyke

Vainus Rackstraw

John Kerry

René Van Clief

Dolemite (Moore) is his name. Effin’ up MFers is his game. Just ask him. Actually, you don’t have to. He freely volunteers this and other pertinent information. If you grew up in a black neighborhood, chances are you've come across the character a number of times since he’s become a popular cult figure in the community. His later years were marked by guest appearances on TV shows such as "Martin" and in music videos by Snoop Dogg and others. Along with the rest of us, Moore even referred to himself as Dolemite. If all of this is news to you just know that the character is a kung-fu fightin’, loud-mouthed, super-lovin’ pimp/comedian who often speaks in rhymes. Imagine if Redd Foxx dressed more outlandishly than Superfly and did most of his act in couplets and there you have it. If that doesn't help then look up Dolemite on YouTube. Go ‘head. I’ll wait, you rat soup eatin’mutha-sucka! I’m paraphrasing him, by the way.

Our saga begins with our hero in jail on some trumped up drug charges. He’s two years into a twenty year bid. However, the warden and some higher ups have noticed that the drug problem in the ‘hood has actually gotten worse since Dolemite has been locked down. They do the only logical thing and release him with the agreement he’ll help them catch his nemesis and the suspected kingpin Willie Green (Martin).

If any of this sounds familiar it’s because a decade or so later this basic premise made Eddie Murphy a superstar with the release of 48 Hrs. Unlike that move, there’s nothing in Dolemite that’s remotely as sensible as, oh say, actually working with the police. Our hero is turned loose and works on his own, mostly. By mostly, I mean there is one FBI Agent who knows why our hero is on the streets. His identity is not known to Dolemite but it’s pretty obvious to us. He’s dressed far more conservatively than any other black person in the movie and always shows up at just the right moment. By work, I mean Dolemite gets busy with the ladies, fights off and/or kills the crooked cops that have been trying to put some bullets in him since two seconds after he walks out of prison, gets busy with some more ladies and reclaims his old nightclub from Willie Green, guerrilla pimp style.

Be honest. At this point you think you’re reading a negative review. Nothing could be farther from the truth. This is the type of delicious awfulness for which I mine the depths of the cinematic abyss. As proof, I offer the fact that I've returned to this movie a handful of times throughout my life. I had to. All the tenets of Blaxploitation are gloriously represented. Wild outfits in garish colors? Check. Pimpin’? Check. Badly choreographedkung-fu fightin’? Check. 70s slang? Check. Gratuitous nudity? Check. Awful acting? Check. Easily spotted stunt doubles? Double check. Visible boom mics? Oh lawdy, yes! Check that box three or four times. There is only one thing left to say. It’s so bad, it’s awesome!

Black Fist

Scream Blacula Scream

Directed by Bob Kelljan.

1973. Rated PG, 96 minutes.
Cast:
William Marshall
Pam Grier
Don Mitchell
Richard Lawson
Michael Conrad
Lynne Moody
Janee Michelle
Barbara Rhoades

Willis Daniels (Lawson) isn’t grieving even though his mother has just passed away and, for some reason, is still lying on the couch in a room full of people. He’s too busy whining that she didn’t name him as her successor to become the high priest of their little voodoo cult. There will be a vote to see who gets the post and all the members assure him they won’t be voting for him, they’ll be voting for Lisa. Lisa is played by………Pam Grier. I love Pam Grier. Willis storms out. Not done with the affair, though, he goes to visit an old man who himself was once ousted from the very same position in the same group to get some help plotting revenge. The old man gives Willis a pile of bones (complete with skull) and an instruction manual, tells him this will help him get revenge and warns him of the immense power he’s about to unleash. Undeterred, Willis uses the instructions to resurrect whoever this heap of bones used to be. Of course, we know from the title that it is none other than our favorite non-Anglo vampire: Prince Mamuwalde, AKA Blacula. Our boy comes back to (un)life and bites Willis which sends us into the opening credits. When they stop rolling, Willis is a vampire and his storyline is largely forgotten. Did I mention that Pam Grier is in this movie?

Honestly, it’s probably a good idea we move on from Willis. Blacula is a far more intriguing character. If you saw the first movie then you know that right at the end, he becomes a strangely sympathetic character. When he shows up on the screen this time around, that’s gone and we’re right back into the horror. Like most sequels, the body count is amped up a bit. The story also takes a little while longer to take shape. Blacula spends much time hanging around the cult after he learns that the beautiful Pam Grier, I mean Lisa, is naturally gifted when it comes to voodoo. In between conversations with her and her boyfriend Justin (Mitchell) who collects ancient African artifacts, Mamuwalde chows down on random cultists plus a couple muggers that can’t take a hint. Of course, with all the bodies piling up and then disappearing Justin gets suspicious and tries desperately to convince the cops that a vampire is responsible. Meanwhile, I get increasingly jealous of the two men who get to sit very near Pam Grier.

As a whole, the visuals haven’t aged well which detracts from the fright factor. Still, the makeup is a bit better than it was in the original and there are a few very effective scenes based on tone and tension. The dialogue ranges from pretty good in spots to terrible in others. Most of the acting is nothing to write home about, either. Yet in the title role William Marshall, a Shakespearian trained actor and you can tell it, rises above his cast mates and endows Mamuwalde with the dignity and formalism befitting a prince. And yes, leading lady Pam Grier is mesmerizing. Hmmm…if I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was creepier than the movie.

Through it all, we get a fun, occasionally campy horror flick that manages to turn the same trick as its predecessor by making us feel bad for the bad guy. We don’t develop the same level of empathy we did the first time around but we don’t loathe him and look at him like an unfeeling monster, either. It’s these touches that mark the franchise as better than expected. Neither title leads you to believe the films will be any good at all. While they aren’t great, they’re both enjoyable. And this one has Pam Grier.

Blacula

Directed by William Crain.

1972. Rated PG, 93 minutes.

Cast:

William Marshall

Vonetta McGee

Thalmus Rasulala

Denise Nicholas

Gordon Pinsent

Charles Macaulay

Emily Yancy

Lance Taylor Sr.

This particular chunk of 70s goodness actually starts in the 18th century. African Prince Mamuwalde (Marshall) and his lovely wife Luva (McGee) are in the land of Transylvania. Where else would a vampire flick start? They are visiting the castle of Count Dracula (Macaulay), duh. For some reason, the prince asks the Count to help put a stop to the slave trade. Wait…what does Dracula have to do with…never mind. Drac laughs him off and drops a few racial epithets on Mamuwalde and his lady. Understandably, the prince gets indignant and announces that he and his wife are leaving this instant. We cut away to the door 1) to see a bunch of Drac’s minions strolling into the room and 2) to give the Count a moment to put in his fangs. Long story short, Count Dracula and company overcome the prince and his wife. Luva gets killed, but death isn’t punishment enough for Mamuwalde. The Count bites him, re-names him Blacula and locks him in a coffin. Roll opening credits.

Fast forward to “the present” in 1972 Los Angeles. A couple guys swindle some dude out of Count Dracula’s ancient artifacts for a low low price. Too bad for them, there was no ebay back then. Even worse, Blacula’s coffin is included in their catch. By the way, if you think anyone in the movie ever calls him Blacula you’d be sadly mistaken. Anyhoo, these two fools pop open the coffin, wind up as vampires and let loose Mamuwalde on an unsuspecting public.

Shortly after breathing some 20th century smog for the first time, our new favorite vampire runs into Tina who happens to look exactly like his wife. How did you know she’s played by the same person? Of course, he just has to have her, but he tells her he can’t take her by force. While waiting on her to make a decision, he nibbles on the local population.

Surprisingly, but refreshingly, this movie dispenses with the idea of getting the ancient vampire used to his new surroundings and any forced comedy that might have come from that. He never even asks anyone the date or looks at a newspaper to figure it out like most other flicks would’ve. Come to think of it, no one ever bothers to ask this dude why he walks around wearing a cape. Then again, we are talking about the 70s. So it’s no surprise that one guy does ask if he can borrow it.

I’ve said too much. Just know that Blacula is a fun, campy ride that is far better than its title gives it any right to be. There are a few strong performances in the bunch, most notably from our main two adversaries: William Marshall as Blacula and Thalmus Rasulala as Dr. Gordon Thomas. These two along with Denise Nicholas as the doc’s wife balance out a bunch of flat ones. The dialogue is hammy but these three pull it off well. Admittedly, the vampire makeup ranges from “meh” to “Is that supposed to be a vampire or a zombie?” to “Where’s your makeup?” Even out of that mix, there is one genuine scare, for me at least. The crazed vampire woman running down a hallway in the morgue is a sight that can’t be unseen (pic above). I saw this movie several time, probably thirty years ago, if not more. That’s one of only two scenes I really remembered. The other is the unexpectedly touching conclusion. It all adds up to a surprisingly entertaining vampire flick. It’s far from a masterpiece, but it’s no blight on the genre either. Blacula sticks pretty close to traditional vampire lore and gives us a solid, if occasionally unintentionally humorous effort.

Mean Johnny Barrows

Directed by Fred Williamson.

1976. Rated R, 86 minutes.
Cast:
Fred Williamson
Roddy McDowall
Jenny Sherman
Stuart Whitman

Blaxploitation legend and former NFL player Fred “The Hammer” Williamson directs and stars in this entry into the genre. He plays Johnny Barrows, a Vietnam vet who gets a dishonorable discharge after striking an officer. The officer totally deserved it, by the way. After the discharge, he finds himself on the streets with no money, no place to go and his rep as a war-hero and former college football star preceding him. He’s being actively recruited by the local mobsters to do some dirty work for them but resists. The question becomes how long can he do so and what will push him over the edge.

As far as Blaxploitation goes, this one’s little tame because Johnny spends much of the movie looking for an honest job and then trying to keep it. While admirable and probably riveting drama if handled correctly, it’s pretty boring the way it’s done here. When it finally cranks up we get the tough-talkin’ and cheesy kung-fu fightin’ we’ve been waiting for but it takes a long time to get there and has been repetitive along the way. What’s also strange about this from a Blaxploitation standpoint is that Williamson is the only Black person in the cast. At least, he’s the only one with a speaking part. Anyway, it’s not one of the those movies from the genre that’s so unbelievably bad you love it (there’s lots of those) nor is it one of the genre’s better movies. It’s just kind of “meh.”

MY SCORE: 4/10

Black Sister's Revenge

Directed by Jamaa Fanaka.

1976. Rated R, 100 minutes.

Cast:

Jerri Hayes

Ernest Williams II

Charles D. Brooks III

Leopoldo Mandeville

Malik Carter

Eddie Allen

Following her mother’s death Emma Mae (Hayes) moves from Mississippi to Compton, CA to live with her aunt and her family. Her first day in town she tags along with her two female cousins and their boyfriends. Being just a naïve and ugly country girl, their words not mine, she’s having trouble meeting guys. Tired of the fifth wheel hanging around, he cousin’s beaus pawn her off on Jesse (Williams II), the local pill-popper who is constantly loaded up on “reds”. Well, like dumb ugly girls tend to do (again, their words), Emma Mae falls head over heels in love with him since he’s the first city-slicker to show her the least bit of attention. So smitten is she that when Jesse gets in a fist-fight with some cops she helps out by kicking away an officer’s gun as he draws. Of course, when Jesse flees the scene Emma Mae is right behind her man. By the way, all of this happens in about two days. Not that any of this makes a whole lot of sense but certainly nothing from this point forward mankes any whatsoever. By the way, director Jamaa Fanaka went on to direct the Penitentiary trilogy.

Blaxploitation flicks are known for being way over the top, are often (not always) poorly acted, funny both intentionally and unintentionally due to microscopic budgets and/or poor production values as well as the mere fact of seeing characters, fashions and hearing slang that’s so undeniably 1970s. For a great deal of them, these qualities give them a lovable silliness because no matter how simply constructed the plots may be or how outrageous the action, there is a rhyme and reason. Black Sister’s Revenge takes the overwhelming message of blaxploitation flicks and the civil rights movement that spawned them and completely misappropriates them. It renders itself a rambling mumbling fool too well exemplified by one of its own characters, Big Daddy (Carter). Both the movie and the character want to do the right thing but their understanding of what that is appears suspect. BSR is a mess and much less enjoyable than others of its ilk. We joke that these movies are about “stickin’ it to tha man” or “down with whitey” or another favorite piece of rhetoric, the vague “upliftment of the community”. However, these sayings give us something to hold on to. We know what all the nuttiness is about. Our black hero, or heroine, has been wronged by someone in the establishment and/or by a black dope dealer or pimp. Both forces work against the betterment of the black community and have to be dealt with. Sometime, it’s a dope dealer or pimp realizing the error of their ways. The dynamics of good and evil remain the same. This movie uses that simple and effective formula so inefficiently that it crafts a very misguided point. It’s the equivalent of a person badly scorching every pot in the house while attemption to hard boil an egg.

What on earth am I carrying on about? Mainly, my gripe is with how the movie deals with Jesse, the object of Emma Mae’s desire. He’s a junkie. He’s not a revolutionary who happens to do drugs. He is just a junkie whom everyone knows is nothing more. Yet and still, when he goes to jail Emma Mae is able to get all of Compton helping her to raise enough money to get him out. They carry on as if they’re trying to bail out Martin Luther King Jr. or some other great leader. All the while she’s spouting the same revolutionary rhetoric of other flicks. It feels like totally misplaced loyalty, like we should fall in line behind the “Free Jesse” movement merely because he’s black even though he’s not done a single thing worthy of our efforts.

When Jesse finally gets out, he’s aware of what’s been going on but he’s not changed at all. This is because he must stay this way for the real purpose of the film. Let’s just say its going for a “hell hath no fury like…” vibe. Even this feels anticlimactic because when Emma Mae finishes her big speech at the finale everyone else on the screen should’ve just turned and said “I told you so.” Why they all went through such trouble on his behalf is mind boggling. This includes an impromptu bank robbery, by the way. My thing is since they didn’t like him on the day he went to jail what changed? Many of the tenets of the genre are present and will cause some laughs. Unfortunately, the script and the acting is ridiculously bad in a painful way. Honestly, some of the supporting cast was okay. Even the guy who plays Jesse isn’t that bad. The problem is Hayes as Emma Mae dominates the movie and she is horrible. She gives us lots of cringe worthy line deliveries. Indeed, this was the debut for our star and she never appeared in anything else. Mr. Williams had a couple of credits before this but never showed up on screen again, either. Sadly, it doesn’t quite complete the trick. It never gets to so bad it’s awesome territory. It’s just bad.

Friday Foster

1975. Rated R, 90 minutes.
Cast: 
Pam Grier
Yaphet Kotto
Godfrey Cambridge
Thalmus Rasulala
Carl Weathers
Ted Lange
Eartha Kitt
Scatman Crothers
Jim Backus

Friday (Grier) is a photographer for “Glance” magazine who witnesses an assassination attempt on billionaire Ford Malotte (Cambridge). We don’t get the normal butt-kicking Pam Grier. Instead, we see her both in super-sleuth mode and using her considerable feminine wiles. Pause. Extended Pause. Catch my breath. Okay…I needed a moment. I mean we are talking about Pam Grier here. Anyhoo, most of the action is handled by the rest of the cast. That cast is dripping with 70s goodness. It includes Carl Weathers as the featured henchman and Ted Lange (Isaac from The Love Boat) as a jive-talking pimp trying to recruit Friday for his stable. There’s also Scatman Crothers as a high-profile reverend and Eartha Kitt hamming it up as a famous fashion designer. Even Jim Backus who played Thurston Howell III on Gilligan's Island shows up. Throw in a plot to kill “all the Black leaders” (whatever that means), some random nudity and a 12 year old kid who gets left home alone apparently for days on end and you get a dumb but fun blast from the past.

MY SCORE: 6/10

Abar: The First Black Superman

The Final Comedown

Directed by Oscar Williams.
1972. Rated R, 83 minutes.
Cast:
Billy Dee Williams
D'urville Martin
Celia Kaye
Maidie Norman

Black militant Johnny (Williams) is wounded during a shootout with the cops. His fellow soldiers, a Black Panther Party type group, drag him to a back alley and try to get him some medical attention. While waiting, and bleeding, he reminisces about some of the events in his life that led him to this point. Though it comes from the Blaxploitation era and some of the players in that era, this is far different most of what that genre produced. It does indeed have a "down with Whitey" thread running through it. However, most Blaxploitation flicks went at the idea in jest. They had lots of pimps, foxy mamas, jive talkin' and kung fu fightin'. Humor, both intentional and not was common. This is a different animal. It's a serious minded and unflinching movie trying to jolt it's viewers. For a 1972 audience, I imagine it could've been downright scary. Remember, movie goers of the time had just lived through the Civil Rights Movement. They could tell you where they were when JFK, MLK, Robert Kennedy and Malcolm X were assassinated. The possibility of America slipping into a race war wasn't all that far fetched. Knowing this, it succeeds at being a commentary, not only on race in America in the early 1970s but on inner-race relations amongst Blacks as well. A strong, angry turn by the normally suave Billy Dee Williams helps (though he still manages to have time for the ladies). It fails a little in the narrative department. It's unclear exactly what Johnny and his people are trying to accomplish, other than martyring themselves. It's lack of budget shows up in the action scenes. The results of gunshots are mostly laughable. They're also easy to forgive if you just chalk it up to it being made almost 40 years ago. However, less than 12 months after it's release the movie Dillinger, about the famous bank robber, came out. That movie had some amazing and brutal sequences that still look good today. Nonetheless, TFC is an intriguing watch that some viewers will embrace while others are repulsed.

MY SCORE: 7/10

The Black Godfather

The Black Six

Directed by Matt Cimber.
1974. Rated R, 94 minutes.
Cast:
Gene Washington
Mean Joe Greene
Mercury Morris
Carl Eller
Lem Barney
Willie Lanier
John Isenberger
Rosalind Miles
Marilyn McArthur
Lydia Dean
Robert Howard
Maury Wills

Six NFL stars…err…Vietnam vets venture into the small hometown of one of the crew whose brother has been murdered by a white motorcycle gang for dating the gang-leaders sister. Since the police can’t, or won’t get to the bottom of the matter, the six will.

Watching our heroes try to stick it to The Man is goofy fun in spurts. The first twenty minutes or so and the last twenty make up the bulk of the festivities. The middle of the film contains a few fun moments along the way but it drags, terribly. During this stretch, five of “the six” hardly speak as we focus on Bubba (Washington), the dead guy’s brother. He’s busy doing his own investigation and simultaneously trying to reconnect with his old life, namely ex-girlfriend Ceal.

When the rest of the crew is allowed to shine, things thankfully lighten up. Former Miami Dolphins star Mercury Mooris gives the best performance with a hilarious monologue early in the film. This should come as no shock to anyone already familiar with Morris. The rest of the guys are pretty bad and their lines are spread out thinly and evenly. Of course, the iconic Mean Joe Greene is among this group and doesn’t have much to say. This movie reaffirms the notion that his best performance was in a Coke commercial. In case you’re too young to know who the rest of the guys are, don’t you worry. The opening credits puts each guy’s name on screen while the camera is right in their mug and even tells us which team they play for. Nice.

In all, it’s a clunky, slow movie that starts off pretty good and ends pretty good. Everything in the middle just meanders along until we finally get to the finale. It holds some nostalgic value for people who were fans of the NFL in the 1970s but it’s not a movie that demands watching on any level.

The Black Gestapo

Directed by Lee Frost.
1975. Rated R, 88 minutes.
Cast:
Rod Perry
Charles P. Robinson
Phil Hoover
Angela Brent
Wes Bishop
Lee Frost
Donna Young
Uschi Digard

The Peoples’ Army is an all Black army in Watts, California trying to protect the community from the White gangsters who get a substantial cut of every dollar that moves within the city. It seems TPA is rather unsuccessful as the gangsters not only come and go as they please, they also do as they please to anyone, anywhere, anytime.

General Ahmed (Perry) is TPA’s leader. His girlfriend Marsha (Brent) is nearly raped by the bad guys. This prompts him to allow his second-in-command, Col. Kojah (Robinson) to head up a special security force with a few handpicked men. The colonel is sick of his boss’ reactionary and seemingly passive leadership and decides to be more productive.

What starts out as just another Blaxploitation flick where the endgame is simply “stickin’ it to The Man” throws us a curveball. We get a very nice twist that elevates it above most of its genre. While doing so, it still maintains much of the silliness the genre is known for: unintentional humor, cheesy 70s music and gratuitous female nudity. Speaking of females, they really get the short end of the stick, pardon the pun. The movie can certainly be construed as misogynistic. Another flaw is our hero. He seems too weak to even hold the position he does, let alone go all Schwarzenegger-in-Commando like the way he does.

To the good is the surprisingly sharp dialogue. There’s plenty of 70s lingo and some of it is indeed corny. Still, there are enough lines that actually qualify as good writing which places this a cut above its contemporaries. In all, it’s a very flawed movie. It’s flawed enough to be so bad, it’s awesome!

MY SCORE: -10/10