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A 1993 horror anthology produced for the Showtime cable network, Body Bags is a hell of a lot of fun.
Hosted by a creepy coroner (played by director John Carpenter), Body Bags features three tales of the macabre. First up is “The Gas Station”, in which college student Anne (Alex Datcher) spends her first overnight shift as a gas station attendant worrying about a serial killer on the loose.
The second segment, titled “Hair”, centers on Richard Coberts (Stacy Keach), a middle-aged man who is losing his hair. Fearing this will affect his relationship with girlfriend Megan (Sheena Easton), Richard tries everything to keep from going bald, finally deciding to put his trust in Dr. Lock (David Warner), who has developed a revolutionary new procedure that is guaranteed to grow hair.
Closing out the trilogy of tales is “Eye”, the only of the three not directed by Carpenter (Tobe Hooper took the reins for this one). Minor league baseball player Brent Matthews (Mark Hamill) is on a hitting streak, and is sure to get called up to the big leagues. Unfortunately, a car accident costs him his right eye, bringing his career to an abrupt end. But all is not lost; Dr. Lang (John Agar), a surgeon, tells Brent about a potential medical breakthrough, a procedure in which Brent will receive an eye transplant. The operation proves a success, but when Brent starts experiencing grisly visions, he can’t help but wonder whose eye he received.
One of the most entertaining aspects of Body Bags is its cast. “The Gas Station” co-stars Robert Carradine as Anne’s co-worker; David Naughton as a customer who drives off without his credit card; and filmmakers Sam Raimi and Wes Craven, who turn up in cameos. Along with Keach, Easton and Warner, “Hair” also stars Debbie harry as Dr. Lock’s flirtatious nurse, with brief appearances by model Kim Alexis and make-up effects artist extraordinaire Greg Nicotero. In “Eye”, Hamill and Agar are joined by Twiggy (as Brent’s wife) and Roger Corman (as Brent’s first doctor). Even Carpenter’s wraparound segments feature a couple of fun cameos when co—director Hooper and Tom Arnold turn up at the end as a pair of Morgue workers.
Still, there’s more to Body Bags than its star-studded cast. The segments themselves run the gambit, giving us thrills and suspense (whenever a new customer turns up in “The Gas Station”, we, like Anne, wonder if it might be the serial killer); comedy (there are some funny scenes, and a couple of laugh-out-loud moments in “Hair”); and psychological horror (Hamill does a fine job in “Eye” as the baseball player tormented by violent visions he cannot explain, and which may be transforming him into a killer).
Tying them all together is John Carpenter, clearly having a blast (under some fairly grotesque make-up) as the wise-cracking morgue attendant who enjoys spending time among the dead, especially those corpses that met a violent end.
Body Bags was initially designed to be a half-hour television series, to rival HBO’s hugely popular Tales from the Crypt. Showtime, however, nixed the idea, so what would have been the first three episodes of a new show instead became this anthology film.
And as entertaining as Body Bags is, I can’t help but wonder what might have been had the series been green-lighted. Rating: 8.5 out of 10
“World War IV lasted five days. Politicians had finally solved the problem of urban blight”.
It is 2024 A.D., several years after nuclear war has transformed the world into a desert wasteland. Eighteen-year-old Vic (Don Johnson) has managed to survive thanks to his dog, Blood, who, voiced by Tim McIntire, advises him every step of the way.
Vic is the only one who can communicate with Blood, and the two have a tempestuous relationship. Blood relies on Vic to find the food, and Vic expects Blood to repay him by helping him get laid, tracking down eligible females in what seems to be a mostly-male society.
Vic steals some food from a band of traveling brigands, at which point Blood points him in the direction of Quilla June Holmes (Susanne Barton). But before Vic can force himself on her at gunpoint, they are surrounded by several dozen travelers, a nasty bunch that Blood assumes is also interested in the pretty Quilla June.
To Vic’s surprise, his intended conquest helps him fend off the invaders, and before long – and against the advice of Blood – Vic falls in love with Quilla June, who suggests that Vic follow her to the “Down Under”, where they can live happily ever after.
Though reluctant at first, Vic says goodbye to Blood and follows Quilla June into what proves to be an underground society of several thousand people, who have fashioned their world to resemble early 20th century Topeka, Kansas!
Co-written and directed by L.Q. Jones, A Boy and His Dog is a wild, sexy, funny look at nuclear devastation, and the special relationship that exists between its two main characters. Vic is the brawn, brave and not afraid to fight. Blood, who communicates via telepathy, is the brains of the duo, and does what he can to keep Vic out of trouble. Blood often insults Vic, who isn’t very bright, and Vic is resentful of the shoddy treatment. Their exchanges are, at times, hilarious (during an argument, Blood calls Vic a putz. “A putz?”, Vic shoots back, “What’s a putz? It’s somethin’ bad, isn’t it? You better take it back or I’m gonna kick your fuzzy butt!”).
Johnson is solid as the hot-headed Vic, and McIntire brings a real humanity to Blood. Watching them rely on one another time and again, always a bit annoyed that they must do so yet absolutely trusting each other, keeps the laughs coming. Also good in support are Benton as the pretty but conniving Quilla June and Jason Robards as one of the leaders of the underground society, who, along with the others on the “council”, have built a utopia that demands total subservience. Questioning the council’s authority, or even having a “bad attitude”, usually results in a sentence of death.
Director Jones and his team create two convincing worlds in A Boy and His Dog: the barren desert up above (which reminded me a little of George Miller’s The Road Warrior), and the farming community down below (think The Music Man without the tunes). But it’s Vic and Blood you will remember. They can have you howling with laughter one minute and in tears the next. Rating: 9 out of 10
Set during the Jacobite rising of 1745, Delbert Mann’s Kidnapped is a grand adventure, based on not one but two novels by Robert Louis Stevenson (1886’s Kidnapped and part of its sequel, 1893’s Catriona).
Rallying around Bonnie Prince Charlie, who landed in Scotland to restore his father, James Stuart, to the English throne, the Scottish clans of the Highlands have just been handed a crushing defeat by the British army and Scot Loyalists at the Battle of Culloden.
At the same time, young David Balfour (Lawrence Douglas) arrives in Edinburgh and pays a visit to his uncle Ebeneezer (Donald Pleasance). Ebenezer has been holding the family estate, the House of the Shaws, until David came of age. Now that he has, the house and all the surrounding land is to be transferred to David.
But Uncle Ebenezer has other plans. After failing to kill David himself, he makes a deal with Ship’s Captain Hoseason (Jack Hawkins), who kidnaps David, brings him aboard his ship, and sets sail for the Carolina’s, where the young man will be sold into indentured servitude.
During the voyage, the ship collides with a smaller boat, and its lone passenger, Alan Breck (Michael Caine), is brought aboard. Breck, a rebel Highlander and a member of the Stewart clan, befriends David, who overhears that the ship’s crew intends to kill Breck for his money. Teaming up, David and Breck manage to fight off the attack, and with little of its crew left, the ship crashes into a rock formation and sinks.
Washed ashore in Scotland but in the territory of the Campbell’s, a clan that remained loyal to Britain’s current monarch, Breck and David make their way to the home of Breck’s cousin, James Stewart (Jack Watson). Their hope is that James can provide them with money for their journey to Edinburgh, where Breck will board a boat for France and David will settle matters with his treacherous uncle. James is only too happy to assist, and David develops a crush on their host’s pretty daughter Catriona (Vivien Heilbron). But an encounter the next morning with the Campbells, during which the clan’s head, Mungo Campbell (Terry Richards) is gunned down, leads to a skirmish. James Stewart is injured and other members of his family killed, causing Breck, David, and Catriona to flee.
Along the way, the three discover that James survived the gunfight, but is being held by the British for the murder of Mungo Campbell. David, who was standing next to James at the time, knows it was not he who killed Campbell, and plans to visit the British Lord Advocate (Trevor Howard) to plea for James’ release.
But these are treacherous times, and by coming forward to testify against the Crown, David may be putting his own life on the line.
The opening scene, where we see the bloody aftermath of the Battle of Culloden, had me thinking at first that Kidnapped was going to be, at least in part, a film about the Jacobite uprising. It is a large, sprawling sequence, with hundreds of dead bodies littering the ground, and loved ones mourning the loss of their young men as Loyalists take prisoners and execute a few survivors. It’s a scene that would have been at home in any epic war film.
From there, however, Kidnapped narrows its focus, following instead David Balfour and his adventures, as well as his ever-changing opinions of new friend Alan Breck, the Scottish Highlands, and the current state of law and order in Scotland.
To the film’s credit, it does not totally praise or condemn (at least not for its entire runtime) lead character Alan Breck, the Scot Rebels, the Loyalists, or the Government officials who are holding James Stewart, and who intend to continue with his execution even after learning of his innocence. As played by Caine, Alan Breck is a brave fighter who stays loyal to the cause of putting James Stuart back on the English throne, even when his fellow rebels, including cousin James, say the fight has been lost. Breck, who is clearly a skilled warrior, is also prone to act foolish, and in the end refuses to help save James from the Gallows, for what he sees as the “greater good” of Scotland.
On the other side of the struggle, the Lord Advocate, ready to move forward with what is a clear miscarriage of justice, sympathizes with James Stewart’s predicament, and comes to admire David, who, though putting his own life in jeopardy, has every intention of doing the right thing. Even David’s uncle Ebenezer, a clear-cut villain at the outset, becomes a bit more sympathetic when we learn why he acted as he did.
Having never read either novel, I can only assume these dualities were present in Stevenson’s work, and I applaud screenwriter Jack Putnam and director Delbert Mann for keeping them intact.
Kidnapped is, without a doubt, a fun adventure movie, but its characters are far from one-dimensional, and that always makes for a more rewarding experience. Rating: 8.5 out of 10
Director Blake Edwards’ Revenge of the Pink Panther was the last of the series produced during star Peter Sellers’ lifetime (1982’s Trail of the Pink Panther features Sellers in excised clips from earlier films), and while it is probably my least favorite of the franchise to this point, there are plenty of laughs crammed into its 98 minutes.
To prove to the New York mob that he still has clout, Parisian millionaire Phillipe Douvier (Robert Webber, not even attempting a French accent), who is also head of the drug cartel known as the “French Connection”, decides to assassinate the city’s most decorated law enforcement official: Chief Inspector Jacques Clouseau (Sellers). Of course, as we’ve seen time and again, killing someone as imbecilic as Clouseau is no easy task. But Douvier’s henchmen manage to pull it off, shooting Clouseau dead in his car, which then slams into a tree and explodes on impact.
All of France mourns the loss of a true hero, but what nobody realizes is that Douvier’s assassins killed the wrong person! Just before the shooting, Clouseau was held up at gunpoint by cross-dressing criminal Claude Russo (Sue Lloyd), who forced the inspector to swap clothes with him, then drove off in his car. With Russo dead but the world thinking it was him, Clouseau goes undercover and, with the help of his trusty manservant Cato (Burt Kwouk) and Douvier’s jilted mistress Simone (Dyan Cannon), flies to Hong Kong to stop a major drug deal and arrest Douvier.
Anyone familiar with the Pink Panther series will know what to expect from Revenge of the Pink Panther. Early in the movie, Clouseau visits the shop of his disguise maker, Professor Auguste Balls (Graham Stark), and you can just imagine the double-entendres that pop up every time this character’s name is mentioned! There is also yet another hilarious showdown between Clouseau and Cato, who is under strict orders to attack his boss every time he comes home (what the two don’t know is that one of Douvier’s hired killers, a Kung Fu expert played by Ed Parker, is also in the apartment). And while I think the previous entry in the series, The Pink Panther Strikes Again, had more laughs, I give Revenge of the Pink Panther credit for having a somewhat cohesive story, which was lacking in its predecessor.
Also back is Herbert Lom as former Chief Inspector Dreyfus, once again confined to an insane asylum. Despite transforming into an evil genius in The Pink Panther Strikes Again and attempting to destroy the world, Dreyfus is not only given a full release from the asylum but also restored to his previous rank of Chief Inspector!
Only in a Pink Panther movie.
Once back on the force, Dreyfus’s first assignment is to track down Clouseau’s killers. While he may secretly rejoice over the death of his nemesis, he does take the job seriously, even if it’s hard for him to hold back his elation. In what is my favorite scene of the movie, Dreyfus is ordered to deliver Clouseau’s eulogy (which was written by the Commissioner’s wife), with the mourners mistaking his stifled laughter each time he praises Clouseau for tears.
I’m not a fan of the grand finale of Revenge of the Pink Panther, a slapstick-riddled chase through the streets of Hong Kong, and the continuous racial slurs directed at Cato, not to mention the fact that Sellers (and other Caucasians) occasionally appear in Asian make-up, don’t play as well today as they might have in 1978. That said, I did laugh, and often, over the course of the movie. As a Pink Panther film, this was a decent swan song for Sellers. Rating: 7 out of 10
To say that Miss Meadows (Katie Holmes) has a cheery outlook on life would be an understatement. She dresses like it’s the 1950s, and has taps on her shoes, dancing her way down the sidewalk each and every day.
Like a character straight out of a classic Disney movie, she even talks to bluebirds (no, they don’t talk back). She may live in a bad part of town, but that will never keep Miss Meadows from letting the world know she is, at all times, a very happy young woman, and that she is never afraid.
Why is Miss Meadows not afraid? Because, as we see in the film’s pre-title sequence, she also carries a gun in her tiny purse, and does not hesitate to use it when trouble arises.
Miss Meadows is a naive but happy-go-lucky first-grade substitute teacher. Miss Meadows is also a vigilante, taking down any and all lowlifes that get in her way. Written and directed by Karen Leigh Hopkins, 2014’s Miss Meadows is a comedy / drama that plays like a cross between Mary Poppins and Ms. 45.
Holmes delivers a strong, occasionally heartbreaking performance as a woman who loves life, loves her job (she develops a strong rapport with the kids in her class, especially Heather, played by Ava Kolker), and talks with her mother (Jean Smart) almost every night on the phone. She’s even found love for the first time after being swept off her feet by the town’s sheriff (James Badge Dale). In one of the film’s sweeter scenes, Miss Meadows and the Sheriff go on a date, picnicking in the park and dancing to imaginary accordion music (the Sheriff confesses that, were he not in law enforcement, he would have wanted to be a professional accordion player).
Next-door neighbor Mrs. Davenport (Mary Kay Place) says that the neighborhood has gotten brighter ever since Miss Meadows moved in, but also warns that the young woman should be careful on her walks. It seems that, due to overcrowding, some 2,000 inmates from the local prison were given early parole, many of whom are now residing in that very neighborhood. But Mrs. davenport doesn’t know what we know: Miss Meadows is more than capable of defending herself and dishing out her own brand of justice, which she does on several occasions.
She even confronts Skyler (Callan Mulvey), who lives a few doors down from her, when she discovers he had served time for child abuse. In a poignant scene, Miss Meadows sets up a ‘Welcome to the Neighborhood’ tea party in Skyler’s front room, pouring him a cup while warning him that, should he harm another child, she will shoot him dead.
It’s no big secret that a trauma from her past is what drives Miss Meadows to take the law into her own hands, and it is revealed to us, piece by piece, throughout the film via flashbacks (with Anna Moravcik playing Miss Meadows as a child).
It is but one of several surprises that Miss Meadows has in store for viewers. Some of those surprises are quite dark, and it’s amazing how well the film balances its brighter aspects with the darkness surrounding its title character.
With an outstanding performance by Katie Holmes at its center, Miss Meadows proved a pleasant surprise, and is a movie I would not hesitate to recommend. Rating: 8 out of 10
Elizabeth Taylor rose through the ranks, from a well-respected child actor in the 1940s to one of the cinema’s biggest stars in the ‘50s to mid-‘60s.
For a performer of her magnitude, Taylor made some daring choices from the latter part of the 1960s onward, including a bickering, less-than glamorous housewife in Mike Nichols’ Who’s Afraid of Virigina Woolf (starring alongside her equally famous husband, Richard Burton) to eyebrow-raising performances in a couple of Joseph Losey movies (Boom, Secret Ceremony).
Many of Taylor-s die-hard fans were less than enthusiastic about much of her later work, films they that considered beneath her talents. Even sleazy.
Identikit, a 1974 Italian film directed by Giuseppe Petroni Griffi, may, on the surface, seem like one of these “sleazy” entries in Taylor’s filmography. And it is an odd movie, to be sure. But it is also fascinating as hell.
Lise (Taylor) is slowly unraveling. A middle-aged American living in Copenhagen, she boards a plane bound for Rome, for what she tells friends will be a much-needed holiday. She arrives in the city during a tumultuous time; radicals are chased through the airport and there’s even a terrorist bombing.
On top of that, local detectives and Interpol agents are circulating pictures of Lise, asking questions of anyone and everyone who came into contact with her recently. Through it all, the emotionally unstable Lise continues to meet people, including Bill (Ian Bannen), an oversexed Brit who swears that the macrobiotic diet has changed his life; a member of the English aristocracy (played by none other than Andy Warhol); and Helen Fiedke (Mona Washbourne), a kindly elderly woman with whom Lise goes shopping one afternoon.
But Lise is looking for more than a good deal at the mall. She wants to form a connection with the “right person”, someone she hopes will be willing to help her carry out a very specific task.
Taylor holds nothing back in her performance, taking Lise from excessively arrogant one moment (she is condescending to sales clerks and maids) to confused and out-of-touch the next (while shopping with Mrs. Liedke, the two head into the bathroom. When Mrs. Liedke goes into a stall and does not respond to Lise, Lise walks out, saying nothing to the bathroom attendant except that the woman in the stall might need help).
When it comes to men, Lise seems equally bewildered. She does not like Bill, yet meets with him on two separate occasions; and once even finds herself alone with seemingly Good Samaritan Carlo (Guido Mannari), who offers her a lift, then drives her to a secluded spot and attempts to rape her. Taylor handles the characters odd mannerisms perfectly, and while we do not always like her, we are captivated by Lise, and on the edge of our seats as her story unfolds.
Director Petroni Griffi expertly builds the mystery surrounding Lise, intercutting flashbacks, flash-forwards, and even a few shocking moments (like a rebel tossing a grenade at a moving vehicle).
Throughout the film, the police interview those who have had run-ins with Lise, some of whom are questioned more intensely than others. Carlo is subjected to a particularly grueling interrogation, a flash-forward that occurs before we the audience even see what transpired between he and Lise.
All the while, we’re wondering what it is that the authorities are after? Did Lise commit a crime? Did she fly to Rome to hide out? Or is it something else?
All questions are answered in the film’s final 10 minutes, and I admit I was surprised by a lot of what transpired towards the end.
Based on the Muriel Spark novel “The Drivers Seat” (which was the film’s title in North America), Identikit is, along with its more bizarre elements, a beautifully shot motion picture. Cinematographer Vittorio Storaro occasionally interjects moments of natural beauty, which momentarily break the story’s tension. This plus the soft piano score by Franco Mannino make Identikit a movie of contradictions, where art occasionally eclipses the chaos.
Thanks to Liz Taylor, and an intriguing storyline that seems fractured at first only to be expertly assembled over time, Identikit is incredibly engaging. Rating: 9 out of 10
Girl Happy has the formula for an Elvis Presley film down pat: pretty girls, a tropical setting, and lots of songs for Elvis to sing. This 1965 movie is especially jam packed with tunes; there are six musical numbers before it hits the half hour mark!
Rusty Wells (Presley) and his band (Gary Crosby, Joby Baker and Jimmy Hawkins) are a smash-hit at the Chicago night club owned by Big Frank (Harold J. Stone). Not wanting to lose his best act, Big Frank refuses to let Rusty and the others leave for Spring Break in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.
Big Frank has a change of heart, however, when he learns that his beloved daughter Valerie (Shelley Fabares) is herself heading to Fort Lauderdale with some of her college friends. Issuing orders for Rusty and his buddies to keep an eye on Valerie, Big Frank sends them to Florida, all expenses paid.
But what the guys hope will be a relaxing time in the sun, surrounded by pretty college girls, quickly turns into a 24-hour job when Valerie is romanced by Italian playboy Romano (Fabrizio Mioni). Fearing what Big Frank might do to them if he finds out, Rusty and the others do whatever it takes to keep Valerie and Romano apart, even if it means getting her to fall in love with Rusty himself!
As with many of Elvis’s films, there isn’t a whole lot of story in Girl Happy. But it has its charms. Chief among them is the music, which, though it doesn’t feature any of Presley’s better-known hits, boasts energy to spare. Especially catchy are "Spring Fever" (sung by Presley and Fabares), "Wolf Call" (a duet of sorts where Presley is joined by co-star Mary Ann Mobley, who plays his early love interest Deena), and "The Meanest Girl in Town" (where, to keep her away from Romano, Rusty convinces Valerie to join them on-stage when this song is performed).
While the music is absolutely the selling point of Girl Happy, it does offer up a few entertaining non-musical moments as well, including a very memorable scene in a jail house that features both Jackie Coogan (Uncle Fester in the ‘60s TV sitcom The Addams Family) as an overzealous cop and Elvis himself… in drag!
Like Blue Hawaii, Girl Happy takes advantage of its tropical setting, and features more than its share of bikini-clad beauties. But make no mistake: it’s Elvis’s golden voice that will keep you watching until the end. Rating: 7.5 out of 10
I never read the Stephen King short story that inspired 1995’s The Mangler, but if it’s anywhere near as silly as this Tobe Hooper-directed movie, I won’t be checking it out any time soon. The Mangler is a mess.
There’s been a tragedy at the Blue Ribbon Laundry factory, a business owned by eccentric millionaire William Gartley (Robert Englund). Soon after Gartley’s adopted daughter Sherry (Vanessa Pike) injured her hand on the folding machine (a large, imposing piece of machinery nicknamed “The Mangler”), her elderly co-worker Mrs. Frawley (Vera Blacker) was pulled into the folder and killed.
Detective John Hunton (Ted Levine) is sent in to investigate, and over the course of a few days - and a few conversations with his late wife’s brother, Mark (Daniel Matmor) - Hunton comes to believe the Mangler has been possessed by an evil spirit. But the closer Hunton comes to discovering the truth, the more pushback he gets from the town’s leaders, who seem to be conspiring to keep what’s happening at the Blue Ribbon Laundry a secret.
Ted Levine is manic as the oft-angry cop with a chip on his shoulder (his wife’s death in a car accident a few years earlier is the catalyst for his aggressive behavior), and while I wouldn’t call it his best performance (it’s no Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs), he at least is interesting enough to keep us watching and rooting for him. Sporting leg braces and plenty of make-up, Robert Englund is also kind of fascinating as the villainous Gartley.
Where The Mangler falls apart is not in its ridiculous story of a possessed machine, but the manner in which it is told. This movie is all over the place. Characters jump to conclusions with very little evidence (Hunton and Mark are planning an exorcism of the machine well before we the audience are convinced they’re right) and others seem to change personalities for no clear reason (Lin Sue, played by Lisa Morris, has a run-in with the Mangler and, before you know it, has transformed from a sympathetic character exploited by Hunton into his cold-blooded accomplice). At times The Mangler is so ridiculous that I couldn’t help but feel Hooper and company missed the boat; this should have been a comedy instead of a straight-up horror movie.
It’s hard to believe the man responsible for The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, Eaten Alive, Salem’s Lot and Poltergeist also turned out The Mangler. They should have run the script through that folder on the first day of shooting. A little mangling might have helped it make more sense. Rating: 3.5 out of 10
“Since World War II, the Philippines was home to one of the world’s most prolific film industries, producing up to 350 titles a year.
Not one of these films received a theatrical release overseas.
In the late 1960s, this all changed.
Maverick American producers – wanting to create cheap and edgy genre fare outside of the United States – unleashed a tidal wave of productions from the Philippines into drive-in theaters the world over”.
And with the above text scroll, writer / director Mark Hartley, who previously tackled Ozploitation (Not Quite Hollywood) and would eventually set his sights on the craziness that was Cannon Films (Electric Boogaloo), kicks off 2010’s Machete Maidens Unleashed, his venture into low-budget filmmaking in the Philippines, an era that stretched from the late 1960s to the mid-80s.
Featuring archival footage, plenty of interviews, and stories so batshit they will make your head spin, Machete Maidens Unleashed takes us back to the beginning, when American producers tapped Filipino filmmakers Gerardo de Leon and Eddie Romero to turn out a number of low-budget horror movies. The resulting films, known as the Blood Island movies (Brides of Blood, Mad Doctor of Blood Island and Beast of Blood), were financed and released in the U.S. by Hemisphere Pictures. The main star of these movies was American John Ashley, who accepted the roles as a way of getting over his recent divorce. Ashley fell in love with the Philippines, and would remain there for years.
It was Ashley who tipped off his old pal Roger Corman, who was so intrigued by the stories of cheap local labor that he sent director Jack Hill and a film crew over, resulting in the women-in-prison movie The Big Doll House. It was a huge smash, and led to a string of other exploitation films that featured all the blood and nudity that kept drive-in patrons of the day happy.
Corman would eventually hire local Filipino directors to helm these movies, chief among them Cirio Santiago (Fly Me, TNT Jackson). The benefits of making movies with government assistance (martial law was declared by dictator Ferdinand Marcos in 1972, and he was only too happy to assist his American friends by lending out military troops and equipment for their movies) would even Francis Ford Coppola to fly to the Philippines, where, after years of turmoil and hardship, he would turn out one of the greatest movies ever made: Apocalypse Now.
Many of those interviewed for Machete Maidens Unleashed, including directors Eddie Romero, Jack Hill and Brian Trenchard-Smith as well as actors Sid Haig, Pam Grier, Gloria Hendry and Margaret Markov, had first-hand experience of the insanity that was shooting a movie in the Philippine jungles. In the early days, many of the locals carried guns (Jack Hill claims that he and several of his crew saw a man shot to death in a hotel lobby), and relied on local “talent” for everything, even pyrotechnics! From the excessive heat to the large bugs and rodents (Sid Haig claims he watched a rat carry off a kitten), not to mention a lack of any sort of safety protocol (several local stuntmen were killed over the years), it was, as Trenchard-Smith called it, the “Wild East” of low-budget filmmaking.
Many actresses, hoping it would lead to better parts in the future, stripped to their birthday suits and allowed themselves to be put into some dangerous situations. One was tied down naked and, with only a sheet of glass to protect her, found herself face-to-face with a venomous cobra!
Yet, thanks to the low costs associated with these productions, the movies continued to make money. According to Roger Corman, who admitted he “Did not care” for The Big Doll House, it cost $100k to make that picture and it took in over $4 million!
As with Not Quite Hollywood and Electric Boogaloo, Hartley brings an incredible energy to Machete Maidens Unleashed, cutting back-and-forth from interviews to film clips at a pace that makes the documentary, at times, feel like an action film. This, plus additional commentary by the likes of John Landis, Danny Peary, and the duo of Joe Dante and Allan Arkush, who in the ‘70s were tasked by Roger Corman’s New World Pictures to cut trailers for these Filipino movies (Corman admits at one point that the trailers were often better than the movies themselves), Machete Maidens Unleashed is a fascinating glimpse into, as the movie’s subtitle states, The Wild, Untold Story of the Filipino exploitation explosion.
If you’re like me, the minute Machete Maidens Unleashed is over, you’ll be seeking out many of the titles mentioned, if for no other reason than to see if the movies themselves are as crazy as what went on behind the scenes. Of the ones I’ve watched already, I can tell you: they absolutely are! Rating: 9 out of 10
Tokyo at night. An intertitle informs us it is Day three of the Lunar Cycle. A well-dressed man in a white suit runs through the streets, shouting that “she” is after him.
Reporter Akiru Inugami (Sonny Chiba), whose nickname is “Wolf”, leaps from his car and approaches the near-crazed guy. Still in a panic, the man, a criminal named Hanamura (Rikiya Yasuoka), tells Inugami that he is running from a Tiger, and that the “Curse of Miki” is coming for him.
Inugami follows him into an alley, where Hanamura is torn to shreds before his eyes. There is no tiger that we can see; he was seemingly slaughtered by an invisible force.
Thus begins director Kazuhiko Yamaguchi’s Wolf Guy. Based on a 1970 manga, Wolf Guy is jam-packed with action, mystery, and even horror. Sonny Chiba alone usually guarantees a fun film, and for my money this is one of his most entertaining.
With the help of his partner Arai (Harumi Sone), Inugami discovers that Miki is, in fact, signer Miki Ogata (Etsuko Nami), who was once engaged to the son of a powerful politician. None too happy with the match, this politician, with a little help, had Miki kidnapped and gang-raped by a band of Yakuzas, an encounter that infected her with uncurable syphilis. Her engagement off and her spirit broken, Miki now makes a living belting out tunes at a strip club, and begging for money to support her drug habit.
Inugami takes a special interest in Miki, whose hatred and anger is unleashed in the form of an invisible tiger, one that exacts revenge on those who ruined her life.
Inugami wants to help Miki in her quest for justice, but as we learn over time, he does so for his own reasons.
The first half of Wolf Guy is shrouded in mystery. Immediately after the strange and very violent pre-title sequence (blood flows from Hanamura’s deep gashes), the opening credits play over a flashback, in which an entire village is gunned down, leaving no survivors save a very young boy. This and many of the film’s other questions will eventually be answered, with each new revelation (including a cool one at the halfway point about Inugami’s heritage) more jaw-dropping than the last.
Along with the mystery, the movie boasts plenty of action, with Sonny Chiba kicking ass time and again as he takes on the gang that has basically enslaved Miki. Much like Chiba’s The Street Fighter and The Bodyguard, he puts a hurting on his opponents.
Which brings me to another facet of Wolf Guy: its blood and gore. The attacks by Miki’s “tiger” are violent as hell, as are Chiba’s fight scenes. That said, the movie also features what might be the single most disturbing torture sequence I ever sat through, a moment so graphic and shocking that, to decrease its impact, the filmmakers tinted it with psychedelic colors.
The film’s full title is Wolf Guy: Enraged Lycanthrope, and while it does occasionally delve into Werewolf territory, fans of that particular subgenre will likely be disappointed (it becomes more of a plot point in the final act, yet is never explored as much as I would have liked). Still, with action aplenty, a jazzy score, some stylish camerawork (chase scenes are shot hand-held), and a final showdown that you won’t soon forget, Wolf Guy is as exciting, intriguing, and amazing as they come. Rating: 9.5 out of 10
When his film Trash Humpers premiered at the 2009 Toronto International Film Festival, director Harmony Korine warned the audience that its title should be taken literally (“I named it Trash Humpers because I didn’t want to fool anyone”, he later said in an interview).
Sure enough, the opening images are of the three main characters: Buddy (Brian Kotzur), Momma (Rachel Korine), and Travis (Travis Nicholson), all wearing masks that make them appear elderly, grinding into trash cans and humping fences. One even fellates a tree branch!
But they’re just getting warmed up.
From there, we follow the characters as they destroy televisions and boom boxes, vandalize public property, and mock a child as he plays basketball. They take in two men (Kevin Guthrie and Charles Ezell) wearing what appear to be hospital gowns. The group forces the two to cook pancakes, then makes them eat the pancakes after dousing them with dish soap. The trio also meets a crossdressing singer (Chris Gantry) who performs for them. Before long, the singer is lying dead on their kitchen floor, the back of his head smashed in with a hammer.
Baby dolls appear throughout, and are also destroyed with hammers, closed up in plastic bags, and tied up with rope before being dragged from the back of their bicycles.
Trash Humpers is chaos to the hundredth power.
Korine shot the entirety of Trash Humpers on low-quality VHS, then edited the film on two VCRs, giving it a documentary / found footage vibe (Korine himself plays the fourth member of the group, Herve, who is the one supposedly working the camera. He is seldom seen, often making his presence known by way of grunts and shrill laughter). Because of this, the images are often grainy and hard to see, and the editing far from smooth (by design, I’m sure). The audio also suffers from time to time, tinny at its best and, at its worst, indecipherable.
Still, like Gummo before it, Korine’s Trash Humpers offers a fascinating glimpse of the urban landscape (the film was shot in the seedier neighborhoods of Nashville, Tennessee), and how a group of depraved individuals fend off boredom by unleashing anarchy. Whether it be humping a trash can at night under a streetlight or defecating in front of someone’s garage door, there seems to be no line these derelicts won’t cross. Yet there is a sense of freedom about it all, both the freedom to do as they please and the freedom of not giving a damn what anyone else thinks about it.
As with Gummo, Trash Humpers falls somewhere between art and, well… trash! And it’s the combination of the two that kept me watching. Rating: 7 out of 10
Don’t Deliver Us From Evil doesn’t waste any time, introducing us to the twisted thinking of lead character Anne (Jeanne Goupil) immediately after the opening credits.
It’s nighttime at a Catholic boarding school. A nun makes her way past the sleeping girls. Anne, however, is not actually asleep.
The nun walks behind a drawn curtain and undresses as Anne, now turned onto her side, watches. The curious young girl then hides under her covers and grabs her journal, where she makes the following entry:
“Friday, 29th June… a good day. Celine Crespin got the blame for me fooling around in class. She’ll be kept in on Sunday. I confessed two sins of impurity that I hadn’t committed. That really gave me a thrill. Lore and me get such pleasure when we do something wrong. To sin has become our chief aim. Let the other idiots live their lives doing good. We shall dedicate our lives to Satan, our lord and master.”
And with that, this 1971 French film by first-time writer / director Joel Seria is off and running.
Anne and her best friend Lore (Catherine Wagener) get into all sorts of mischief, which they manage to hide from their teachers as well as their parents. Doing everything from collecting eucharist hosts and stealing a chalice from the sacristy (both of which they intend to use in an upcoming Satanic ritual) to antagonizing the farmer’s son Emile (Gerard Darrieu), the girls delight in the chaos they create.
It isn’t long, however, before their friendship leads them to bigger crimes, including arson and even torture.
For Anne and Lore, flirting with older men and spying on their teachers is nothing more than good fun. Until the night they take things a bit too far, an incident that could bring their entire world crashing down around them.
Based in part on the Parker – Hulme murder case in 1950’s New Zealand (the very same killing that inspired Peter Jackson’s excellent 1994 film Heavenly Creatures), Don’t Deliver Us From Evil is, at times, a shocking movie, both in the sexually explicit behavior of its two leads (though they portray teen girls, both actresses were nearly 20 when the movie was made) and the lengths (and depths) they go to in proving themselves worthy of a life dedicated to Satan. Perhaps the movie’s most chilling scene comes when Anne and Lore sneak into the room of Leon (Michel Robin), a caretaker at Anne’s estate, and poison his pet canary (the camera lingers on the poor creature as it convulses and then dies).
Not even the near-miss of Lore being raped by Emile (after playfully showing off her body to him) is enough to slow them down. To get back at Emile, they visit his family’s farm one night and set fire to the haystacks in the field as well as all the hay in the barn.
There are moments scattered throughout Don’t Deliver Us From Evil in which director Seria takes aim at what he sees as the rigid morality of the Catholic faith, and the effect it can have on stirring up rebellion; at one point Anne and Lore, who have snuck into the convent, hide from two nuns running down the hall, giggling. The two sisters eventually make their way to a secluded room, where Anne and Lore, peering through the keyhole, see them kissing one another. This comes just after a scene in which the priest, during mass, delivers a stern sermon on lust, and how it is the most deadly of the seven sins (in a humorous scene, Anne has a fantasy of the priest delivering his homily naked, and being laughed at by the parishioners).
Don’t Deliver Us From Evil is not an easy movie to sit through. It was banned in its native France and given an “X” rating in Britain (it also never played theatrically in the United States). But if you can look past some of its more troubling aspects (the on-screen death of an animal is never pleasant), it is a well-made, well-acted film, relating a story of friendship that crosses into obsession, and of two girls who have discovered a unique and horrific way to stave off the boredom of their restrictive lives. Rating: 9 out of 10
Prior to today, I had seen three of director Serguio Martino’s Giallos: The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh from 1971; Your Vice is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key from 1972; and 1973’s Torso. All rank among my favorites of this particular subgenre, weaving intriguing storylines into a narrative style that is as sexy as it is visually engaging.
Now, I can add The Case of The Scorpion’s Tail, also released in 1971, to this amazing list of movies.
When her wealthy husband dies in a mysterious airline explosion, London resident Lisa Baumer (Ida Galli) learns she was the sole beneficiary of his life insurance policy, worth one million dollars.
Soon after flying to Athens to collect the money (which she took entirely in cash), Ms. Baumer is brutally murdered in her hotel room, and the chief suspect in her slaying is insurance investigator Peter Lynch (George Hilton), who was tasked with looking into possible irregularities in her case.
As more people associated with the Baumers turn up dead, both police inspector Stavros (Luigi Pistilli) and John Stanley of Interpol (Alberto De Mendoza) become convinced that Lynch is, indeed, behind this sudden rash of murders. To prove his innocence, Lynch teams up with (and romances) French reporter Clea Dupont (Anita Strindberg), in the hopes she’ll uncover a clue that will clear him once and for all.
One cannot discuss Sergio Martino’s output in the subgenre without also mentioning Ernesto Gastaldi, who wrote (or co-wrote) all of the director’s Giallos. The story of The Case of the Scorpion’s Tail, which twists and turns in a number of directions, throwing one potential suspect after another our way, is a definite strength, and keeps us guessing the whole way through.
That said, it’s the visual style Martino brings to the table that pushes it over the top.
In what is, for me, the strongest sequence in The Case of the Scorpion’s Tail, the killer stalks Lara (Janine Raynaud), a pretty redhead who, earlier in the movie, tried to blackmail Lisa Baumer for the insurance money. Lara, it seems, was the late Mr. Baumer’s mistress, and claims he intended to divorce Lisa and marry her. Lara said she was in possession of a letter that would prove Lisa Baumer wished her husband dead (Lisa herself had a lover, played by Tomas Pico). Naturally, when Lisa then turns up dead, Lara and her accomplice Sharif (Luis Barboo) are considered prime suspects.
That all ends when Lara herself becomes the killer’s next target, a scene that utilizes POV, a clever use of slow motion, and a fair amount of blood. When Sharif barges in before the killer can flee the scene, it leads to a tense rooftop chase that also ends in bloodshed.
Shot on-location in London and Greece, The Case of the Scorpion’s Tail is, along with its other attributes, a gorgeous motion picture, and proof positive that Martino is every bit the master of the Giallo as fellow countryman Dario Argento (Bird With the Crystal Plumage, Deep Red). I still have a few of Martino’s Giallos to check out, and now I chomping at the bit to dive into them! Rating: 9.5 out of 10
Times Square has an energy to it that is all-consuming.
A lot of said energy can be attributed to the music. This 1980 movie was produced by Robert Stigwood, the man behind Saturday Night Fever and Grease, two films with soundtrack LPs that sold millions. Featuring songs by The Ramones, Lou Reed, Patti Smith, Talking Heads, and a slew of others (including a couple of original tunes written for the movie and performed by its young stars), Times Square is packed with tons of great music.
But the music is far from the film’s only charm. The two leads, a pair of teenage girls played to perfection by literal newcomers, are the glue that holds the whole thing together. We like them the moment we meet them, and like them more and more with each passing scene.
Pamela (Trini Alvarado), a shy, awkward 13-year-old, is the daughter of New York commissioner David Pearl (Peter Coffield), who has made it his mission to clean up Times Square by driving away the smut peddlers and closing the XXX theaters. Clueless as to why Pamela is so troubled, her father sends her to a Neurological hospital, where they will run tests to determine whether or not there is something wrong with her mind.
Pamela’s roommate at the facility is Nicky Marotta (Robin Johnson), a punk-rock street urchin with a criminal record, who is set to undergo the very same tests. A free spirit, Nicky has no intention of sticking around, and talks Pamela into running away with her. Thus begins an amazing adventure, with Nicky and Pamela doing whatever it takes to survive on the streets and, along the way, becoming the best of friends.
When radio DJ Johnny LaGuardia (Tim Curry) catches wind of their story, he single-handedly transforms Nicky and Pamela into local celebrities by reporting on their exploits. But with Pamela’s dad and the cops searching frantically for them, it’s anyone’s guess how long this taste of freedom the two are enjoying will last.
Trini Alvarado is wonderful as the introverted Pamela, whose transformation from a lonely, troubled girl into an assertive, outgoing young woman is the heart of this movie. With Nicky’s help, Pamela even lands a job as a waitress at a seedy nightclub, somehow convincing the owner that she’s 18 years old.
Yet the true marvel that is Times Square is the performance of Robin Johnson as Nicky (unlike Alvarado, who had a handful of credits to her name prior to this film, Johnson was making her screen debut). The moment she struts on-screen during the opening credits, walking the streets of New York with her boombox, Johnson’s Nicky oozes confidence. She is angry, and often lashes out at authority. Naturally, this gets her into plenty of trouble, and what makes Times Square such an endearing movie is that, as much as Nicky helps Pamela come out of her shell, Pamela also has a positive effect on Nicky, convincing her to finally pursue her dream of becoming a punk rock star. Watching these two interact throughout the film was magic, and I did not want their story to end.
The relationship between Nicky and Pamela is front and center throughout Times Square, but the supporting characters aren’t left out to dry. Tim Curry is smooth and slightly enigmatic as the DJ who dedicates airtime to the exploits of Nicky and Pamela, going so far as to broadcast, on live radio, a song performed by the two (a hard-hitting number titled “Your Daughter is One”). As played by Curry, we’re never quite sure about Johnny. Is he a renegade inspired by the two girls, or an opportunist using them to make a name for himself? Even Pamela’s father isn’t a one-note character; though ignorant and career-oriented in the early scenes, he becomes truly concerned for his daughter’s safety, and goes so far as to promise to resign if she would just come home.
Times Square is not a perfect film. It’s occasionally choppy, and the flow is a little disjointed (Allan Moyle said that some key scenes, including hints of a lesbian relationship between the two leads, were cut by Stigwood, who, according to the director, seemed more interested in overloading the film’s music soundtrack than in making a cohesive movie). There are also twists and turns in the story that are unrealistic, from Pamela working at a topless night club (she herself refused to take her clothes off, winning the respect of the club’s manager) to the girls performing a song on live radio (“Your Daughter is One” is loaded with profanity as well as ethnic and homophobic slurs. Johnny would have been fired by his station manager on the spot for letting it go out).
To be honest, though, its lack of realism didn’t bother me at all. The story of Nicky and Pamela is the stuff of legend, the kind of tale told over and over, for generations, until the line between fact and fiction is blurred or even erased. DJ Johnny LaGuardia turned the girls into New York folk heroes. It’s no wonder the movie itself sought to do the same. Rating: 9 out of 10
Roger Corman directed a number of Edgar Allan Poe adaptations in the 1960s, bringing a gothic sensibility to such films as The House of Usher, The Pit and The Pendulum, and The Masque of the Red Death. For 1970’s The Dunwich Horror, which was adapted from a 1928 short story by H.P. Lovecraft, Corman served as Executive Producer, turning the directorial reins over to his longtime art director, Daniel Haller.
Miskatonic University in Arkham, Massachusetts is home to an incredibly rare book: the Necronomicon, also known as the Book of the Dead. Anxious to get a look at it, Wilbur Whateley (Dean Stockwell), a visitor from the town of Dunwich, convinces Nancy Wagner (Sandra Dee), a student at Miskatonic and a library volunteer, to let him read the Necronomicon for a few minutes. His time is cut short, however, by Dr. Henry Armitage (Ed Begley), who insists the book be returned to its display case.
Familiar with the history of the Whateley family, including the public execution of Wilbur’s great grandfather by the townsfolk of Dunwich, Dr. Armitage invites Wilbur to join him, Nancy, and Elizabeth Hamilton (Donna Baccala), also a student and Nancy’s best friend, for dinner.
Nancy quickly develops a crush on Wilbur, and agrees to drive him home when he misses the last bus to Dunwich. As thanks for her generosity, Wilbur invites Nancy into the house for some tea. But Wilbur has his reasons for wanting to keep Nancy around, and despite the protests of his grandfather (Sam Jaffe), Wilbur hopes to perform a ritual that no Whateley has successfully completed, a ceremony that will unleash an ancient evil capable of destroying not only Dunwich, but the entire world.
Stockwell delivers a mannered performance as the enigmatic Wilbur Whateley, a guy who, from the get-go, is clearly up to something. Early on, we have no idea what that “something” is, though it’s obvious Nancy is a key component of his plans (he sabotages her car to ensure it won’t start, and plies her time and again with tea that has been drugged). Sandra Dee is also quite good as the pretty student who falls under Wilbur’s spell, while Begley, Jaffe, Baccala, Lloyd Bochner (as Dr. Cory, Dunwich’s resident physician who teams up with Armitage to save Nancy), and a young Talia Shire (as Dr. Cory’s nurse) are solid in support.
Yet it’s the style that director Daniel Haller brings to the film that really blew me away, from the early close-ups of Wilbur (of his eyes, or of him twisting a ring on one of his fingers) to the strangely erotic imagery of Nancy’s dream sequences, which grow increasingly more bizarre as the film progresses. Haller, who handled the art direction for a handful of Corman’s Poe films (including The Pit and the Pendulum and The Raven), proves throughout The Dunwich Horror that he has a keen eye for visuals, bringing an impressive panache to Lovecraft’s tale of an ancient evil unleashed.
In unison with its strong cast and solid direction, The Dunwich Horror benefits from the “Corman Touch”. It is ever present and unmistakable, ensuring that this cinematic take on H.P. Lovecraft’s classic story would be just as much fun as his Poe films. Stylish and mysterious, The Dunwich Horror is a very entertaining motion picture. Rating: 9 out of 10
Born Rudolfo Guzman Huerto, the famous luchador known to his fans as El Santo (“The Saint”), was more than a superstar in the sport of wrestling. In his native Mexico, he was a cultural icon. Featured as the hero in a number of comic books, Santo’s fame spread far beyond the wrestling ring, and even today, almost 40 years after his death, he remains as well-known as ever.
Starting in 1952 and lasting all the way into the later ‘70s, Santo appeared in 54 films, always sporting the silver mask that was his trademark. Before today, I had never seen a single one of these movies. I was familiar with the Santo series, but never caught up with it, and was anxious to finally check it out. And the film I chose as my initiation into this most unusual of subgenres was 1970’s Santo vs. The Riders of Terror.
Set in the old west, Santo vs. The Riders of Terror opens with a group of lepers escaping from a remote hospital. Making their way to a small town, they take the locals by surprise, and send a few of them running and screaming from their homes.
The next morning, the angry townsfolk gather and demand that the Sheriff (Armando Silvestre) round up the lepers and drag them back to the hospital. Things go from bad to worse when, later that night, the Sheriff’s fiancé, Carmen (Mary Montiel), is surprised in her house by a supposed leper, who then proceeds to shoot Carmen’s dad in the back!
What nobody knows is that this murder was carried out not by the lepers, but by the thief Camerino (Julio Almada), who wants to scare the townsfolk while, at the same time, striking a deal with the lepers, promising them food and a cut of the profits if they help he and his men rob a few unsuspecting businesses.
Not to worry, though, because the sheriff has convinced the famous luchador Santo (playing himself) to ride into town and save the day. Can Santo and the sheriff track down the lepers and return them safely to the hospital, or will the enraged locals end up taking matters into their own hands?
Though more a western than a horror film, Santo vs. The Riders of Terror does have a few tense moments, and the make-up for the lepers is appropriately gross (in one scene, a leper puts a stolen ring on his finger, and watching him try to get it over his decaying skin had me cringing). It didn’t matter, though, because it is a good western! I was into the story and anxious to see how it played out, even before Santo shows up (surprisingly, he isn’t even mentioned until the 20-minute mark in what is a 77-minute film).
In Santo’s first appearance in the film, he’s climbing into an outdoor wrestling ring to fight a local champ for money (all to raise cash for a trio of nuns, who devote their life to helping the poor). It seemed a little kooky to me to have a wrestling match in the middle of a western film, but then this is no ordinary western, and for fans of the legendary luchador, not having one probably would have been unthinkable!
From there out, Santo is front and center, devising plans to catch both the lepers and the criminals. At one point he even gets into a fight with Camerino, and as it is with most wrestling matches, the bad guy gets the upper hand once or twice before Santo rises to the occasion and flattens him.
I loved the style of this film, from the obviously-fake-yet-still-effective set pieces to the quick, brightly-colored swipes that the filmmakers used to transition from one scene to the next. I even had a blast with the often-terrible dialogue. Early on, when the townsfolk are clamoring that something needs to be done, one of them suggests they apprehend the lepers themselves, and asks a guy next to him if he’s ready to join the fight. “Sure”, the man replies, “I was born in a minute. I’ll die in less” (umm… I think I know what he’s trying to say, but… huh?!?). Now, to be fair, I couldn’t tell if this and other laughable lines were the fault of the writers (the script was co-written by Jesus Mercielago Velazquez and the movie’s director, Rene Cardona) or those who dubbed the movie into English, but if I’m guessing, I’d say it’s a little of both.
Never mind, though, because it didn’t detract from the fun I had watching Santo vs. The Riders of Terror. I feel as if a whole new world has opened up for me, and I can’t wait to explore it further! Discoveries like Santo vs. The Riders of Terror are what make being a cinephile so rewarding. Rating: 8.5 out of 10
As with Vincent Price’s character in The Witchfinder General, Christopher Lee portrays an historical figure in Jess Franco’s 1970 film The Bloody Judge. Judge George Jeffreys, who was fiercely loyal to James II, was named Lord Chancellor of England in 1685, and used his power against the king’s enemies. He became known as “The Hanging Judge”, and his punishments were harsh.
During the Monmouth Rebellion, when William of Orange attempted to seize control of the English throne, it is rumored that Jeffreys put several hundred men on trial, all of whom were eventually executed. When James II fled the country in 1688, paving the way for the reign of William III, Jeffreys remained behind and was captured. He died of kidney failure while a prisoner in the Tower of London.
Though not quite the movie that The Witchfinder General is, The Bloody Judge nonetheless does a good job bringing this story to the screen, with Christopher Lee delivering a deliciously sinister performance as the judge whose loyalties often interfere with his dispensing of justice.
As the movie opens, troops loyal to Judge Jeffries (not sure why the filmmakers changed the spelling of his name) have arrested Alicia Gray (Margaret Lee) and charged her with witchcraft. Her sister Mary (Maria Rohm), who caught the eye of Judge Jeffries during the trial, pleads for Alicia’s life. When she refuses to sleep with Jeffries in return for Alicia’s freedom, Alicia is executed.
With William of Orange threatening to invade England, Judge Jeffries steps up his efforts to root out the rebels. He meets with Lord Wessex (Leo Genn), who he suspects of conspiring with the rebels, and warns Wessex to keep an eye on his son Henry (Hans Haas Jr.), who has taken Mary Gray, the sister of a convicted witch, as his lover.
Henry is, indeed, sympathetic to the rebel cause, and intends to make Mary his wife then flee England that very night.
To keep young Henry in line, Judge Jeffries, with the help of Wessex’s traitorous servant Satchel (Milo Quesada), takes Mary into custody, all as news arrives that William of Orange’s troops are about to land on English soil.
With the tide of public opinion turning against King James, Jeffries knows he has to step up his efforts, and begins arresting everyone even remotely connected to the rebellion. But how long can the man known as the Bloody Judge hold back an uprising that is growing stronger with each passing day?
Aside from the opening scene with Alicia Gray, The Bloody Judge deals more with history than it does witchcraft. Lee bellows and huffs his way through the courtroom scenes, his anger and insults showing, quite clearly, he is anything but an impartial judge. During Alicia’s trial, Jeffries chastises the prosecutor for not “properly examining” the body of the accused. He calls a recess, at which point Alicia is tied to a rack and tortured.
Jess Franco, whose gargantuan body of work contains more misfires than it does triumphs, does a fine job recreating the time period throughout The Bloody Judge. As with most of the director’s output in the ‘70s and ‘80s, the film has its share of exploitative moments; in the uncut version, there’s lots of nudity, and a bizarre scene in which Mary Gray “cleans” the naked body of a fellow prisoner by licking the blood off of her. But along with the sleaze, we’re also treated to some well-staged battle scenes between the rebels and the King’s troops, and the story of Henry’s and Mary’s attempts to avoid capture has its moments as well.
Franco, who this same year released Count Dracula, which he claimed was the most accurate version of Bram Stoker’s novel ever committed to film (it was for a while, then drifted off the rails towards the end), continued his push for authenticity with The Bloody Judge, which is as much a history of a moment in time as it is a horror movie. And it works on both counts. Franco himself remembered The Bloody Judge fondly, saying in a 2003 interview that it is a movie he “still enjoys”. It’s easy to see why. Rating: 8 out of 10
The debate rages on as to whether or not Die Hard is a Christmas movie. The detractors contend it is an action film that just happened to be set during the holiday. I can see that argument (and to be fair, Die Hardwas released to theaters in the summer of 1988), but I watch it every December all the same.
That said, I don’t think there’s much doubt about 1997’s Turbulence being a Christmas movie. Featuring a wild cross-country flight and the chaos that arises due to some very extreme circumstances, the “Christmas Stamp” is all over this film. From the opening scene (set in a small, snowy town that could have been lifted from a Hallmark movie) to the plane itself, which has Christmas lights draped throughout the cabin, the holiday remains prevalent throughout. Hell, the in-flight movie is It’s a Wonderful Life!
But like Die Hard, it isn’t tidings of comfort and joy that you’ll remember when Turbulence is over. For better or for worse (and there are aspects of both), it’s the insanity of it all that you won’t soon forget.
Convicted serial killer Ryan Weaver (Ray Liotta), who escaped from San Quentin two years earlier, is recaptured in New York by L.A. detective Aldo Hines (Hector Elizondo). It was Hines who initially arrested Weaver, and has made it his life’s mission to ensure the fugitive is transported back to California and returned to death row.
Weaver, who insists that Hines planted evidence to frame him, is placed in the custody of U.S. Marshals, and, along with fellow prisoner, bank robber Stubbs (Brendan Gleeson), boards a 747 on Christmas eve for the long flight west.
Once on-board, Weaver takes a special interest in flight attendant Teri Halloran (Lauren Holly), who is still reeling from a failed romance. With a handful of other passengers along for the ride, the plane takes off, just after both the pilot (J. Kenneth Campbell) and his co-pilot (James MacDonald) are informed they may have to alter their course mid-flight, to avoid a heavy storm that is ravaging the Midwest.
During a trip to the restroom, Stubbs gets the upper hand on one of the Marshals. A gunfight ensues, and when the smoke clears, all of the Marshals are dead.
They won’t be the last to die on this Christmas Eve, and the odds of the plane making it safely to California grow longer by the second.
Ray Liotta was always a good villain, and his Ryan Weaver is no exception. Likable at first (we even wonder if his accusations against Hines are valid), he begins to show his character’s creepier side the moment he sets eyes on Teri Halloran. Once the story gets rolling, Liotta is off the chain, going over-the-top more than once, but always in an entertaining way.
For her turn as the plucky flight attendant Teri, Lauren Holly was nominated for both a Golden Raspberry Award and a Stinkers Bad Movie Award for Worst Actress. And I call bullshit! Sure, Holly is no Pam Grier (Coffy, Jackie Brown), Sigourney Weaver (Alien, Aliens), or Linda Hamilton (The Terminator, Terminator 2: Judgment Day), but she’s far from terrible as the flight attendant dealing with a potential killer and a plane that could break apart once it enters the eye of a storm. Leave Ms. Holly alone, she did a fine job!
Like many action films (especially in the ‘90s), Turbulence gets more outlandish with each passing scene. There are moments that may even have you laughing out loud (one involving a truck on the roof of a parking garage made me chuckle, yet not as much as how the filmmakers “fixed” that particular… situation). But the term “stupid fun” seems to have been coined for movies like Turbulence, and aiming at that admittedly very low target, it comes damn close to the bullseye. Rating: 7 out of 10
On her way to New York to visit relatives for Christmas, San Francisco socialite Nicki Collins (Deanna Durbin) peers out the window of her train car and witnesses a murder.
Sounds like the perfect set-up for a film noir, doesn’t it? Only 1945’s Lady on a Train, directed by Charles David, is, first and foremost, a comedy.
And it’s a damn good one!
As soon as Nicki arrives at Grand Central Station, she dodges Mr. Haskell (Edward Everett Horton), the courier sent by her father to meet her, and rushes to the nearest police station to report the murder. But the police don’t believe her story, so she turns to her favorite mystery writer, Wayne Morgan (David Bruce), in the hopes he will be willing to help solve this case.
Morgan, unfortunately, is even less interested that the police, but when Nicki follows Morgan and his fiancé to the movie theater, she catches a newsreel announcing the “accidental death” of wealthy shipping magnate Josiah Waring (Thurston Hall).
Recognizing him as the man she saw killed, Nicki sets off to look for clues at Waring’s vast estate. Only she arrives just as his will is being read, and is mistaken for Margo Martin, a night club dancer and the deceased Mr. Waring’s young fiancé!
Thus begins a series of misadventures that will see Nicki being romanced by both Jonathan (Ralph Bellamy) and Arnold (Dan Duryea), two of the late Waring’s disinherited nephews; and on the run from Mr. Saunders (George Coulouris), the night club manager who is desperate to retrieve a pair of bloody slippers that Nicki uncovered at the estate.
With a story that would be right at home in a crime / thriller, Lady on a Train, with its sharp dialogue and funny situations, is instead a comedy with a decidedly screwball flare. The opening scene on the train, where Nicki is talking in circles, trying to find out from the conductor the name of the town that the train just passed, is hilarious, as are Nicki’s first interaction with Horton’s Mr. Haskell and her attempt to report the murder to a cop manning the front desk (played by I Love Lucy’s William Frawley). These scenes get Lady on a Train off to a very strong start, and the movie loses very little of its steam from there on out (it’s only during a trio of musical numbers that things slow down a little).
Though not as well-known today, there was a time in the late 1930s and early ‘40s when Deanna Durbin was box-office gold. Signed as a teenager by Universal, Durbin headlined a number of musicals, all of which turned a profit. She has even been credited her with saving the studio from bankruptcy!
But Durbin was anxious to explore more challenging parts, and, after a brief suspension by Universal for refusing a role, she was permitted her choice of director and project. Lady on a Train was one of the first two she selected, and though it was not a success financially, the movie proved, without a doubt, that Deanna Durbin was more than a pretty face with a golden voice.
Durbin has moments in this film where her comedic timing matches that of Katherine Hepburn in Bringing Up Baby (especially in her scenes with Edward Everett Horton and David Bruce), and it’s a shame she didn’t make more movies like Lady on a Train.
With the studio and her fan base demanding she return to her musical roots, a frustrated Durbin appeared in only a handful of films between 1946 and 1948 before announcing her retirement in 1949. And to see her in Lady on a Train is to realize what might have been were she allowed a bit more freedom.
Rating: 9 out of 10
