Dell slaves over a hot Blu-ray player for the good of mankind.
Showing posts with label Exploitation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Exploitation. Show all posts
Thursday, February 7, 2019
Saturday, November 25, 2017
Thursday, April 7, 2016
Thursday, September 3, 2015
Sunday, October 26, 2014
Argento's Dracula
Directed by Dario Argento.
2012. Not Rated, 110 minutes.
Cast:
Thomas Kretschmann
Miriam Giovanelli
Rutger Hauer
Asia Argento
Marta Gastini
Unax Ugalde
Giovanni Franzoni
Even when you think you know what you're getting yourself into, it still might be hard to believe when you're actually there. Argento's Dracula is one such place. I mean, the cover of the DVD drips with ooey-gooey cheese. It's animated and shows a guy I presume to be the titular Dracula in the upper left hand corner. Next to him is a larger picture of a female vampire with a lower-than-low cut top. The words beneath her are from some critic proclaiming this to be a throwback to the vampire flicks made by Hammer Films, complete with "heaving bosoms." I paraphrased most of it, but put quotation marks around the phrase "heaving bosoms" because I definitely remember seeing "heaving bosoms." Perhaps it's sad that I couldn't directly quote all of it, but clearly remember "heaving bosoms." In fact, I'm pretty certain I can remember every bosom I've ever seen heave. By this point, I'm just appeasing my own juvenile sense of humor by harping on this. Can you blame me? How often does a guy reviewing allegedly legitimate movies get to talk about heaving bosoms? Too often, apparently, so I'll stop.
And I should. Because the fact of the matter is...sigh. Let's stop for a moment. Occasionally, I have to chastise myself. I started a sentence with 'and,' then followed that by starting the next one with 'because.' Every professor who had a hand in getting me through to an English degree is collectively groaning as you read this. Or, not. They probably have no knowledge of this blog, let alone pay attention to it. Whatever. You're here about a movie, right?
To pick up where I left off, there was something else on the cover letting me know I was in for a cheesetastic experience. In fact, this was the thing that really inspired me to check out Argento's Dracula. This thing is actually a man. He's not just any man, but one who has come to symbolize B-movie madness. Of course, I'm talking about the one and only hobo with a shotgun, Rutger Hauer. Perfect. Play.
The movie is a loose adaptation of Bram Stoker's classic tale. By loose, I mean very loose. It uses the same main characters, presumaby, the same time period, and the same basic idea. Jonathan Harker (Ugalde) is hired by the mysterious Count Dracula (Kretschmann) and travels to stay at the Count's castle. What exactly he's hired for is never made clear, unless I just missed it. That's entirely possible since I was distracted by the rather early appearance of a heaving bosom. To be honest, this bosom doesn't actually heave. It's completely free of any of the constraints that might make heaving possible. Sorry. It's to the point where I can't help myself. Shortly, Tania (Giovanelli), owner of said bosom, is taking the walk of shame through the woods after a tryst with a dude in a barn when a gigantic owl swoops down on her and reveals itself to be Dracula. Yup, an owl. Chomp, chomp, suck, suck, lady vampire. Her job for the rest of the movie is to try to seduce Harker every time she sees him only to be thwarted by the Count himself who has other plans for the dude he hired for reasons undisclosed. Other folks run around trying to figure out what to do about the Count and after about an hour, Rutger Hauer shows up as Van Helsing and takes matters into his own hands.
Most of what's going on here can't possibly pass for good film making. However, the only part of this that's problematic is the clunky pacing, particularly during the first half of the movie. There are a few stretches where you might find yourself bored. Everything else that's happening is terrible on a hilarious level. This even includes the one "good" thing going for it, aside from heaving bosoms, that is. I'm talking about the acting. These performers are all in, going for broke. Most of them are over the top in a manner reminiscent of classically trained Shakespearean thespians doing MacBeth in the park like their next meal depends on it. This gives the whole production a little extra pop, adds to the zaniness of it all. And yeah, dammit - did that again, Rutger Hauer goes Rutger Hauer and Dracula has all the classic vampire strengths and weaknesses plus a few more. Owl and stuff. By stuff, I mean giant praying mantis. Boys and girls, we're dealing with a movie so bad it's bosom heavingly awesome.
MY SCORE: -10/10
More horror that's so bad it's awesome...
Monday, August 18, 2014
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!
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.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Raw Force
AKA Kung Fu Cannibals
Directed by Edward D. Murphy
1982. Rated R, 86 minutes.
Cast:
Cameron Mitchell
John Locke
Geoffrey Binney
Hope Holiday
Jillian Kesner
John Dresden
Carla Reynolds
Chanda Romero
Revisiting this flick for the first time in many years, I'm reminded that the 80s really were a different time. Before the VCR (and Betamax, to a lesser extent) revolutionized the movie watching world, films stayed in first-run theaters for months. It was not uncommon for the better movies to still pack houses over a year after their release date. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no - Raw Force, released in the summer of 1982, is most definitely not one of those. The movie that brought about the tangent I opened on is none other than the Spielberg classic Raiders of the Lost Ark. Now, you're probably scratching your head and saying "what the hell does one of the all-time great adventure movies have to do with something known in some circles as Kung Fu Cannibals?" Honestly though, I'm not sure why you don't understand where I'm going with this. In my mind, I cannot think of either one of these movies without immediately thinking of the other. It's not that way for you? You don't understand why it's that way for me?
Sigh. Okay, I'll explain.
Back when both of these movies came out, it was still fairly common for theaters to actually run double features. If you were not born before these movies came out, you may not comprehend what I just said. If this is you, don't drop your tablet or smartphone when you read the next sentence. A double feature meant the theater was showing two movies back-to-back, and only charging you for one ticket. So no, Tarantino and Rodriguez did not invent the idea. Sorry to burst the bubble of any QT devotees.
By now, you've guessed what I've been rambling about but let me set the scene. Where I lived in Queens, my best friend's grandfather ran the Block Association. Every summer he would organize trips for local kids to amusement parks, Yankees and Mets games, and the occasional museum. He also set up the block party and ran a youth softball league. Once, only once that I can remember, he rounded us up with as many parents as could go and took us to a movie. He took us to see Raiders of the Lost Ark. This was in the summer of '82. It actually came out the year before and was already a huge hit. It was a known quantity even to people like us who hadn't actually seen it yet. The only theater anywhere near us still showing it had it as part of a double feature with a new movie. Yes, the new movie was Raw Force. My buddies granddad didn't know anything about this other movie. In truth, none of us did. We had seen the commercial on TV and it appeared to be a harmless kung fu flick with both Asians and white guys. It couldn't be but so bad. After all, it was being paired with the family friendly Raiders. Right?
Wrong.
Really wrong.
Really really wrong.
I'm not sure who at the theater decided these two movies made a good pair, but I have to believe heavy narcotics were involved in the process. I might be willing to say that I'm blowing things out of proportion, but not when I remember beyond a shadow of a doubt that Raw Force played first.
So here we are, thirty or so kids ranging in age, and I'm guessing here, from about 8 to 14, and a handful of adults arriving for the double feature because you had to get there early to take advantage of the price. No showing up for just the second picture. Not even a full minute after the opening credits things get very uncomfortable. An Asian guy with a Hitler 'stache in a white suit and a white guy dressed like a reject from The Warriors lead a bunch of women off of a boat onto the coast of an island where they are greeted by some rather creepy looking, sweaty and cackling monks. After the guy in the suit and the head monk exchange a word or two, he tells the white dude to strip 'em. Of course, this means the white guy literally starts tearing the clothes off of the women. After they're all naked, or darn close, the women are herded into a cage and left with the monks.
WTF?
I can just imagine my friend's poor granddad wondering what the hell he had just gotten into. Unfortunately for him, this was only the beginning of one of the most bizarre cinematic rides of all time. It got progressively worse from this point forward. Much worse. Or better, depending on your point of view.
There is some sort of plot cobbled together. The two guys who dropped off all the chicks for the monks do this sort of thing on a regular and get paid a handsome fee. They are also part of some big jade smuggling operation that they hope will make them filthy rich. Meanwhile, a cruise ship that so happens to be stocked with various martial arts instructors, including a Bruce Lee wannabe, and students along with the usual gaggle of drunks looking to get laid is carrying said jade. One of the main attractions on this cruise is visiting that island where the monks are. This whole jade thing causes lots of kung fu fightin'. When I say fightin', I mean of the poorly choreographed and executed sort where we get the usual punch/kick sound effects even though often we can clearly see either the punch or kick miss by several inches. Between the fights is lots and lots of female nudity. And I'm talking full frontal (and rear) buck nekkidness. Outrageous things conspire to bring the two together on a regular basis. Of course, there's the obligatory strip joint brawl during which the strippers pay almost no attention to what's going on. There is also the scene where a woman gets down to her birthday suit while informing her about to be one night stand that she's on the run for murdering her husband. At this point, one of the jade thieve's henchmen comes bursting into the room. Even though he looks to be of Pacific Island or Hispanic descent, he inexplicably has a swastika on his helmet (and is wearing a Superman T-shirt), which comes off during his beating down of the poor dude who was only there to get some easy nookie. During this, the woman, still naked, grabs a gas can (?) and starts hitting the bad guy over the head with it. I'm not making this up. As time passes, the plot just gets stranger and stranger as we go.
How could it get any stranger than what I've already told you? Let's think about that alternate title again, Kung Fu Cannibals. Now let's talk about those monks. Eventually we find out that they aren't getting the girls to make sexy time. In the words of the Asian guy with the white suit "They get them for food." Eventually, we even see them preparing one unlucky lady to be roasted over an open fire. Oddly, she's not nude. However, they don't fight. So that title is a bit misleading. But they do indeed have someone to fight for them. They have a cemetery full of martial artists whom they raise from the dead to do their bidding. Yes! We have now added zombies to all the insanity! And I haven't even mentioned how piranhas figure into all this!
It's getting tough to contain myself. I get giddy just thinking about this movie. To reign myself in just a bit, I'll spend a moment on normal movie stuff like the acting, dialogue, directing, special fx, etc. It all sucks. Okay, that's enough of that. You know what, that's enough period. Let me wrap this up so I can go watch it again.
Oh, what about my best friend's grandfather? Whether or not he actually wanted to see a movie like this, I have no idea. I do know it's not something he wanted us to see. To his credit, or discredit, take your pick, he let us stay and we got through what must have been a terribly difficult hour and a half for him. Honestly, I'm not sure that rounding us up and leaving was ever an option. The thing is, he was a man who legitimately tried to keep whatever promises he made to us kids. In this case he promised he was taking us to see Raiders of the Lost Ark. That's what he did. It was great. A true classic. Still, it has nothing on Raw Force which is so bad it's awesome!
MY SCORE: -10/10
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Fist of the Vampire
Directed by Len Kabasinski.
2007, Not Rated, 96 minutes.
Cast:
Brian Heffron
Darian Caine
Brian Anthony
Cheyenne King
Len Kabasinski
Deanna Visalle
Victor Kuehn
James C. Nickels
Dave Campbell
Melissa Scott
It is finally Halloween. It’s also the bittersweet end to 31
consecutive days spent in horror flick captivity. To commemorate the occasion,
I figured I’d go out with something totally nutty. Since I have plenty of odd
cinematic excursions in my own collection I started by searching there.
Searching.
Searching.
Keep searching.
Voila!
Fist of the Vampire.
Okay…before I get into this, let me get my mind right.
Deep breath in…big exhale. Again. Okay, now I’m good.
Let’s start with our hero, Lee (Anthony). He’s a detective
whose request for transfer has just come through. When he get to his new duty
station he is promptly assigned an undercover gig to infiltrate an underground
fight club. In addition to people beating the crap out of each other there is
suspected to be, of course, lots of gambling, illicit drugs and possibly some
prostitution. Instead of posing as a prospective gambler as suggested by his
boss, our knight in shining armor decides to go in as a potential fighter.
Okay, fine. Do things your way, Mr. Hero. Anyhoo, he finds out what we already
know: Brad Pitt and Edward Norton are really…oh, wait. Wrong movie. What Lee
really discovers is that this particular fight club is ran by a trio of
vampires who, in addition to being crooks, occasionally dine on the talent. Bad.
Movie. Heaven.
Everything about this movie is horrendous, amazing, or both
at the same time. The fight scenes epitomize this. Whenever one starts up,
which is quite often, some heart pounding music kicks in. Good stuff. Our
combatants are full of vigor. Good stuff. The fight choreography is nothing
special, but passable. Good stuff considering I didn’t expect Sammo Hung
quality. Unfortunately, the execution of that choreography is hilariously bad.
I mean, you see the same moves you’ve seen in hundreds of other movies, but
with pauses between them. Often, instead of a punch being blocked as it is
being thrown, a fighter throw the punch then leave his/her arm extended for a
second or so until their opponent reaches up to block the punch. I really can’t
tell you how much laughter this gave me.
Visual effects are another example of how good and terrible
this movie is. The movie opens in 1977, by the way, before transitioning to “present
day.” During these opening scenes, the filmmakers made a concerted effort to
make it look like a 70s flick. The color is a little more washed out and they
superimposed some grain onto the screen to make it look like old school film
stock. I was genuinely impressed. Vampire related gore is also a plus. Throats
are ripped open pretty good. Granted, it looks as if they got everything they
needed for these scenes from the Halloween section at Party City, but they did
a pretty solid job with it. Then there are gun related effects. Oh man, is this
bad. Superimposing grain for the 1977 scenes works. Doing the same with cartoon
splatters and flashes of light does not. It doesn't help that the actors often
poke out their guns in an exaggerated manner as they shoot. No one in real life
who has any experience with firearms does this. Yes, this incites more
laughter.
I could go on listing things that sorta work until they fail
in spectacularly funny fashion, but I think I’ve said enough. Well, I will
mention one more thing. I have to mention the acting. I guess you can call it
that. It’s never actually good. Instead it ranges from sounding as if the lines
are being read for the first time to sounding the way someone would say them if
they were talking in their sleep. Anticipating how much more unnaturally the
next line will be delivered just adds to the fun. And I haven’t even mentioned
that our hero gets woken up by a phone call from his boss every single morning
and we’re shown this with the shot framed the exact same way every stinking
time. Mix in a barely coherent script, gratuitous nudity, and the oddity of
gangsta vampires and you've got yourself a flick that’s so bad it’s awesome!
Monday, October 21, 2013
Bachelor Party in the Bungalow of the Damned
Directed by Brian Thomson.
2008. Not Rated, 77 minutes.
Cast:
Gregg Aaron Greenberg
Joseph Riker
Zoe Hunter
Trina Analee
Monique Dupree
Kaitlyn Gutkes
Joe Testa
Sean Parker
Lloyd Kaufman
Chuck (Riker) is about to get married to Michelle (Analee),
his high school sweetheart. Fittingly, his bestest buddy Sammy (Greenberg)
decides to throw him a weekend long bachelor party. With the help of their
creepy friend Gordon (Testa), they have the use of a house in The Hamptons for
all the debauchery they can handle. When the strippers/hookers show up, all
hell breaks loose. I mean that quite literally because it turns out these are
ladies of the evening in more ways than one. Yup, they’re vampires.
Low budget gore fests can be fun. This one, not so much. Too
many things are botched that money doesn't account for. Mainly, I’m referring
to the horrible writing on display. This might seem a strange complaint from
someone willingly sitting through what I've already called a low budget gore
fest, but hear me out. Forgiving the clichéd plot, the movie fails to give us
either a likable protagonist or a detestable antagonist. The one guy we might
sort of like, Chuck, is such a wuss we want to smack him and tell him to grow a
pair. The person we’re set up to root for, Sammy, is a jerk. I guess he’s
supposed to be cool because he’s an arrogant jock type, but it isn't working.
The whole crew, four guys in all, seems to be angling for Hangover
vibe, but falls woefully short. Instead, they feel like aggressively homophobic
frat boys spouting off a never ending string of bad jokes. I won’t go into who
their adversary is even though it will be obvious within seconds of that person’s
first appearance. This person isn't exactly instilling fear in those watching.
This is made even worse by all the ridiculously bad acting on display. Strike
that. It is far worse than that. To call it so is offensive to ridiculously bad
actors. The result of neither the good guys nor the bad guys being the least
bit compelling is an apathetic viewer.
_007.jpg)
I know what you’re thinking. No one goes into a movie called
Bachelor Party in the Bungalow of the Damned looking for
an eloquently written script and Oscar worthy performances. What about the
girls and the gore? Fair enough. Now, I am of the mindset that there is
something beautiful about most women. Such is the case, here. However, I will
say these aren't the type of ladies most horn dogs who would pop such a movie into
their DVD player will be looking for. That’s aside from the fact there isn't
really any stripping going on. Nudity? Yes. Stripping? No. That said, kudos
goes to Zoe Hunter who plays the redheaded vampire. Regardless of whether or
not you think she’s being exploited, she gives the movie’s best performance by
just going for broke. As for the gore, there really isn't that much of it and
what’s there is a mixed bag, at best. It’s largely shots of the aftermath of
whatever has just happened. If you've seen a few horror movies, this isn't
likely to rate very high with you.
The movie obviously wants to be so bad it’s awesome, but its
elements of terribleness don’t come together in a manner allowing it to cross
that threshold. It’s most unforgivable sin is that it’s far too boring,
especially early, for a movie with such a promising title. It never engages us
so we’re not likely to remember any of these people ten minutes after it is
over. The whole thing feels slapped together without any sort of imagination. Scratch
that. There is one bit of imagination: the unexplained ability of the black
vampire’s (Dupree) impressively sized and possibly surgically enhanced boobs.
Well, it is sort of explained if you check the credits. Her character is listed
as “Emerald – the demon boobie vampire.” At least there’s that. Sigh.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Black Mama, White Mama
Directed by Eddie Romero.
1973. Rated R, 87 minutes.
Cast:
Margaret Markov
Sid Haig
Lynn Borden
Zaldy Zshornack
Laurie Burton
Eddie Garcia
Alona Alegre
Dindo Fernando
Vic Diaz
Wendy Green
Lotis Key
Alfonso Carvajal
Black Mama, not actually called this in the movie, is played
by the incomparable Pam Grier. That’s really all you need to know. Okay, maybe
that’s all I need to know. After all, she’s Pam Grier. Any further description
is unnecessary. For me. Since you’re not me, and probably not Pam Grier, I’ll
indulge you with some of the particulars of this cinematic experience.
We meet Black Mama, and White Mama, on the bus on their way
to an all-female prison camp where the two will be inmates. Black Mama is
serving time on a possession charge. White Mama, not actually called this and
played by a not so bad herself, Margaret Markov, is something of a political
prisoner. We’re told she’s a revolutionary. Exactly what kind of revolutionary
and what she’s fighting for, I’m not sure. Just suffice it to say it’s the
1970s and revolution is in the air.
The first third of the movie is pure testosterone driven
Women-in-Prison fantasy. Mass shower scene? Check. Horseplay between the ladies
during said shower scene? Check. All female and horny lesbian prison guards?
Check. Horny lesbian guards getting rough with anyone that steps out of line?
Check. All of these checks lead to our heroines being locked in “The Oven,” a
form of (not exactly) solitary confinement. It’s basically a box barely big
enough for the two ladies to stand inside back-to-back. There’s not even enough
room for them to wear tops! Why no, nothing so far at all qualifies as
gratuitous nudity. I mean, it’s all germane to the plot. Okay, I’m lying.
Don’t judge me.
Right after getting out of “The Oven,” the ladies are
informed they’re being taken elsewhere because some higher ups want to ask both
of them some questions. This means another bus ride, only now, the two are
shackled together. White Mama’s revolutionary buddies attack the bus and engage
the cops in a shootout, during which the Mamas escape into the woods. From
here, we get a rehash of The Defiant Ones, only with more
guns, Sid Haig and random boobies all over the place. This. Is. Heaven.
Wait..what? Did I say that out loud? I’ll admit I can
occasionally get in a really shallow mood and this movie perfectly fits those
times. Then again, I’m not sure if my love for it speaks to my shallowness or
my depth. What I mean is Pam Grier touches me in a deep…too much? Sorry. Give
me a moment. I’m putting my ‘objective reviewer’ cap back on and adjusting it
so that it fits…just…so. There.
Horrible, cringe-inducing dialogue? Check. Both intentional
AND unintentional humor? Check. Wooden acting? Check. Excessive cheese, sleaze,
and shameless exploitation? Check. Check. Double check.
And it stars Pam Grier. Drool. To hell with that objective
nonsense. All of this movie’s sins are hereby forgiven. Henceforth,
Black Mama, White Mama shall forever be described by the
best, greatest, loveliest, most wonderful, terrific, terrible, worst, most
horrible, crappiest, yet still endearing term in the history of moviedom: so
bad it’s awesome!
Sunday, May 5, 2013
The Human Tornado
Directed by Cliff Roquemore.
1976. Rated R, 85 minutes.
Cast:
Gloria Delaney
Herb Graham
J. B. Baron
Barbara Gerl
Ernie Hudson
Jimmy Lynch
Jack Kelly
Howard Jackson
Lord Java
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!
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Dolemite
Directed by D’Urville Martin.
1975. Rated R, 90 minutes.
Cast:
Rudy Ray Moore
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!
Sunday, January 27, 2013
House on Bare Mountain
Directed by Lee Frost.
1962. Not Rated, 62 minutes.
Cast:
Bob Cresse
Laine Carlin
Leticia Cooper
Laura Eden
Ann Perry
Connie Hudson
Dan Hyland
John Nada
Since the beginning of cinematic time there has always been crap. True, also, is there are varying degrees of crapiness. There is that painful crap that soils the screen with the difficult to excrete, hardened mass of its existence. Then, there is that joyous, smooth sliding crap. The turd itself, so happy to be crappy, revels in its own crappiness. It’s shape, size and smell are all sources of great pride in the crapper. House on Bare Mountain is just such crap. By the way, you only get one guess at where I was when I dreamed up this paragraph. Too much? Let’s move on.
Alledgedly, there is a plot. I’ll sketch it out as briefly as I can. Granny Good, of course played by a man in a dress (Cresse), runs a boarding school for girls. By the way, he’s definitely channeling Jonathan Winters for his performance. Granny is also a moonshiner. She doesn’t actually make it herself, though. She keeps a werewolf in the basemant who spends almost all of his time concocting the stuff. Yes, you read that correctly. Every now and again he sneaks out to bay at the moon. The cops send in Sally (Perry) to work undercover, presumably to bust the old lady.
As simple as it sounds, executing the story in a coherent manner proved too great a task for the masterminds behind this one. There is plenty of humor, both intentional and not. Dialogue ranges from dumb to slightly less dumb. The acting is pretty bad across the board with one exception. Cress is actually enjoyable as Granny Good. The of the cast obviously weren’t chosen for their skills as thespians. How do I know how the “actors” were chosen? The title offers a hint, but the (lack of) work by the wardrobe department is a dead giveaway. The young nubiles at “Granny Good’s School for Good Girls” rarely wear any clothing. This is quite literally a tits-n-ass movie. Since it is a flick from the 1960s, another part of the female anatomy remains off-camera. Nontheless, there is so much flesh on display the word “exploitation” doesn’t even begin to describe Bare Mountain.
Given what I’ve just told you, you may be incredulous as to what I’m going to say next. Truth is, there is an innocent vibe to the whole thing. It’s far different than boobie movies that would come out even less than a decade later. There is no sex or violence. One would be hard-pressed to find a trace of mean spiritedness. It’s just a bit over an hour of women walking around and doing other random things like shower (lots of showers, by the way), jump rope, read, and go up and down stairs in various stages of undress. I suppose you could argue the constant ogling of women is, in itself, mean. I won’t even try to dissuade you from your point. Certainly, I won’t try to say Bare Mountain has any artistic merit whatsoever. Still, it’s goofy fun for guys who feel like wasting sixty minutes, or so. It’s so bad, it’s awesome!
MY SCORE: -10/10
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Mudhoney
Directed by Russ Meyer.
1962. Not Rated, 92 minutes.
Cast:
Hal Hopper
Antoinette Cristiani
John Furlong
Frank Bolger
Lorna Maitland
Rena Horten
Princess Livingston
Sam Hanna
Stuart Lancaster
Nick Wolcuff
Lee BallardSince Sidney is no help with the upkeep, Hannah and her dad hire Calif (Furlong) as a live-in farmhand. Lute doesn’t want to hire him, mostly because of possible friction with Sidney. However, he likes Calif even though he’s picked up on the fact that the young man is fresh out of prison. It also becomes clear pretty quickly that Calif and Hannah have the hots for one another. They both respect her vows, but Sidney senses their obvious attraction. He takes every opportunity to antagonize Calif and remind him that Hanna is his woman.
Knowing this is a Russ Meyer film, I was ill-prepared for what I saw. I thought I was going to see a campy exploitation flick with outlandish scenes played for laughs and filled with large-breasted women badly reading sexually suggestive dialogue. That’s the director’s M.O. as I’ve encountered it. Instead, I saw a thoughtful, solidly directed morality tale that may have been ahead of its time. In other words, this is a genuinely intriguing movie.
I have to be completely honest, though. Mudhoney does have plenty of the elements I expected to get. Almost all of them involve the whorehouse, run by Maggie Marie (Livingston). Her only two workers are her daughters Clara Belle (Maitland), who talks a lot and Eula (Horten), who is ridiculously gorgeous but literally can’t talk at all. They don’t really add anything to the story. Their main function is to kick Sidney out when he gets too rowdy, provide us with a physical embodiment of his evil side and give us gratuitous nudity. Princess Livingston’s performance as Maggie Marie is akin to chalk screeching across a blackboard. Youngsters, if you’ve never experienced this youtube it, or something, with the sound up. It’s something that can’t (yet) be replicated on a dry-erase or smartboard. Aside from her, the acting as a whole leaves something to be desired. The dialogue is hammy at times, always lacking subtlety.
Flaws aside, perhaps even because of them, Meyer has crafted an entertaining, slyly poignant film. I’m certainly not suggesting this is among the era’s great movies. However, I will say it’s a step above the B-movie madness much of his canon gives us. He establishes characters we can root for and against. While each is merely a type and not a fully realized being there is some depth to our main players, some gravity to their situations. Whether by accident of him being prolific or somehow on purpose, Meyer has crafted a pretty solid flick.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Don't Answer the Phone
Directed by Robert Hammer.
1980. Rated R, 85 minutes.
Cast:
Cast:
Nicholas Worth
Flo Lawrence
James Westmoreland
Ben Frank
A photographer (Worth) with some serious issues goes around raping and strangling women. In his spare time, he calls up psychiatrist Dr. Lindsay Gale (Lawrence) on her radio show. Worth gives a surprisingly good performance as our killer. However, he wasn't given much to work with in this no-budget thriller. Its effective in showing the villain unravel and become more frantic and even desperate as the film goes on. The rest of the script is so lame, and at times so stupid, you can't take any of it as seriously as its obviously meant to be. This just means there is a solid amount of unintentional humor. Sadly, the DVD version I got a hold of contains what appears to be a highly and oddly edited version. Some curse words are obviously cut from the audio while others aren't. Each kill scene abruptly ends just as the killer starts to rip the victim's clothes off yet during a couple scenes in an adult bookstore you can plainly see pictures of naked women plastered on all the walls. There's also the setup of a love scene from which we skip to the aftermath when the couple is lying in bed. Though its dimly lit you can still pretty clearly see her breasts. It's a bizarre viewing experience but in a frustrating, confusing manner moreso than the fun romps of 'so bad they're awesome' movies. Granted, I'll probably have to see the unedited version to really do a proper review. As it is, what I saw was painful.
MY SCORE: 2/10
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)