Whip Me, Beat Me! Satan, You're Such A Naughty Boy!

The one of the best things in the world about crap movies is the anticipation that the title alone can create. Who doesn't get a thrill from titles like "Blood Shack," "Invasion of the Blood Farmers," "The Killing Of Satan," and "Chain Gang Women"? You get all of these wonderful mental images of weirdness and violence and the chance of nudity. (Let's be honest here. Guys are the primary audience for this nonsense. Women usually have better sense.) The reality of the movie most often does NOT live up the promise of the title. Is that really the filmmaker's fault? Usually not. They either give you a fairly juicy-sounding but accurate title, or they give you some title that could mean anything. What you make of it is up to you.

Given a title like Satan's Slave, you have a number of images that can crowd into your brain. Degrading behavior, kinky violence and Ol' Nick popping in for a bit of slap-n-tickle maybe? After seeing the stunning Candace Glendenning, you can't wait for the naughtiness to begin. And you know from the opening sequence that her amorous cousin has a passion for rough sex. Don't forget the burning deaths of her parents and her menacing uncle played by Michael Gough. Oh yes, this is gonna be tasty.


Break out the unsalted crackers and the warm milk. Oh, sure, there are a few kicks and thrills, but really, you want a visual and visceral experience. Go watch Jerry Springer.

The set up: Out of the blue, Candace's mum and dad hear from dad's long-lost brother who invites them to spend the weekend. Wouldn't you know it, but just as they roll into the drive, Dad has a seizure, smacks into a tree at around 5 miles an hour which gravely injures Mum and as the daughter runs to the house for help, the car explodes into flames and -- POOF! -- instant orphan. Uncle just happens to be a doctor, and his prescription has nothing to do with calling the cops. He orders the poor girl heavily medicated, for her own good of course. What happens after that is a series of weird visions, kissing cousins and the feeling that the poor girl's good health isn't the order of the day.


I have to give this film credit for being wonderfully shot and the wardrobe master found some incredible outfits for Ms. Glendenning. It had all the qualities of a good Gothic tale, but it somehow went wrong. Not sure when or where. And the ending...well, you should have counted on it from the opening bit of exposition. Even though nothing of great importance happens in the film, it still moves at a rather decent pace and even when it slows down, you can still look at the heroine of the film. She looks like a variation on Catherine Zeta-Jones...um, Douglas.

What does seem unfortunate about this particular version, released through BCI's Exploitation Cinema series, is that it appears that quite a bit of the gore has been trimmed. In a rather film of this nature, snipping even a few seconds of anything can lead to a loss. When you see something happen and the film seems to jump to an after-the-fact bit of blood, you start wondering what the hell you missed. The storyline, such as it is, doesn't seem to suffer, but I rather enjoy seeing all the icky bits.


So, bottom line, buying this film on the double feature with director Norman Warren's later feature, "Terror", is questionable. It can be had for ten bucks and you get some cool trailers mixed in if you watch the thing as a grindhouse double feature, but considering BCI (which is being resructured and may make the next comment moot) tends to re-release their features in 8- and 20-film sets for $10 to $20, you may consider holding out to get more bang for your buck. Personally, I wish I had bought "Chinese Hercules". Oh well.

This Was Never In The History Books

When I was growing up, my dad pretty much was in charge of what we watched on television. After all, he did bring home the paycheck. He did pay for the TV. It was his house. So, for many, many years, we were treated to whatever Western happened to be on. We sat through John Wayne, James Arness, Chuck Conners, Henry Fonda, Kirk Douglas and pretty much anyone else who slapped on a cowboy hat and pulled a gun, whether it was a TV series or a movie.

I hated Westerns. Everything was dusty. Everyone looked sweaty. Someone was always gunning down the poor, simple folks. I was a poor, simple folk, and I didn't like to be sweaty, and I didn't like dusty hot climates. Plus, it seemed like there was ALWAYS a Western on. We only had three channels, for the love of God! How in hell could there be that many Westerns?!?! Of course, it didn't help that one local channel seemed to show The War Wagon every other week, and Dad just HAD to watch it.

Dad passed away a number of years ago. I still didn't like Westerns, but the fact he seemed to love those damned things stuck with me all of these years. About ten years ago, I made up my mind to sit down and watch The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. This one movie was THE movie my dad raved about. Every time they showed it on TV, it took nearly four hours. Why in hell would I want to watch cowboys for four hours when I could be reading my monster magazines? Anyway, I sat down to watch this thing, fully expecting to give up less than halfway through. I loved every minute of it. It was dark, full of seedy characters and sudden violence, and not one glimpse of a moral compass to be found. I fell in love with the "Spaghetti Western".

Of course, you CAN find the Clint Eastwood Italian Westerns at reasonable prices. Heck, go to your local Wal-Mart and you can score the "Man With No Name" trilogy at five bucks per movie. But this is the Bargain Basement, and we want volume at low overhead. Once again, Mill Creek Entertainment comes to the rescue. Well, rescue may not be the best word. They deliver the goods. As I'm always quick to point out, it isn't Mill Creek's fault that a lot of the movies they can afford to put on these compilations are, well, iffy; they are just out to give you lots of movies for a minimal price. And deliver, they do, with the 20-movie pack Spaghetti Westerns. No Clint, sorry. But you do get Lee Van Cleef in few from his "I'm waiting around to play a ninja with one of the Van Patten kids" era.

On the downside, you get the reason we are gathered here today: Apache Blood. Now, there are those who would tell you that this is THE worst Western ever made. These misguided folks have apparently never seen HAWMPS!, which is probably best for everyone involved. Apache Blood is, at best, a good-intentioned attempt at a stream-lined tribute to the Italian ideal of the Western. At worst, it is poster child for retroactive film abortions.
The storyline, such as it is, has Yellow Shirt (played by Ray Danton, the only star in the film), apparently an Apache warrior, hell-bent on wiping out the white folks for having slaughtered the village he was a part of. Okay, mainly soldiers, but I don't think he'd pass up a group of tourists. As soon as the cast is made aware of his presence in their area, you know that you are looking at a cast of victims. This could have gone the route of the slasher flick, and that actually would have been an interesting premise. Nope. The soldiers are dusted off within the first 20 minutes or so. We end up with a mountain man who had helped the soldiers but was left for dead after the single most guffaw-laced bear attack on film being chased across the countryside by Yellow Shirt and his buddies. No, it isn't as exciting as it sounds. Ants trying to get a leaf into their nest is more action-packed. Dead ants under that leaf are more exciting.

What is it exactly that makes this film so...um, well...uh...lame? It is an action film at its heart. What action there is, it just sort lays there. You should be wondering how the mountain man is gonna get out of the next mess, but you find yourself thinking about the leftover meatloaf in the fridge. You should be hoping the poor Native American rights the wrongs heaped on his people, but you start thinking you might need to mow the yard one more time before autumn hits. You just want someone to die so you can move on to something better, like Spice World or, for the love of God, Can't Stop The Music.
Apache Blood attempts to redeem itself in two ways. The first is the feeling of trying to say something about race relations and personal motivations and how we all are basically the same on the inside and that what makes one person a savage makes another person a righter of wrongs and...what the hell am I getting at? That pretty much sums up the intellectual underpinnings of this film. The other way they try to win you over is through blood. Notice I say that they try. I'm sure there exists a pristine copy of this film somewhere that has ample blood to even out the utter waste of time the rest of this film happens to be, but the version we are offered here seems to be heavily edited. When they recap the highlights of the film at the end (I recommend jumping ahead to this and bypassing the rest of this shit storm), you get to see more blood than you saw in the entire running time.
Is it worth your time? Really, would I waste this much time stomping it under my feet if it had any qualities that would make it worthwhile? Yeah, I would. Watch it at least once, but just beware of what you are walking into. It is one of those landmark pieces of crap that make you say, "If I see anything worse than this, I'm not going to finish it. I swear." But your loved ones will have already vacated the area, and will have removed you from their wills.

Fenomenal Is Fundamental!!

Ah, the simple pleasures of the superhero genre. Good guys, bad guys, ass-whuppings, cool trinkets, incredible costumes, mysterious women. All these things make superheroes and their kin interesting.

Someone should tell Phenomenal about all of that stuff, and then he'd be cool, too.

I grew up with superheroes. Batman and Spiderman were always my favorites because they seemed more human. One well-placed bullet, and they would be dead. Yet they escaped death on a regular basis and proceeded to save the day. It was always black and white when I was a kid, and these costumed heroes always knew what side to be on.

In Europe, they had grown bored with standard tales of good versus evil. What if the heroes weren't so sure what was right? What if we stopped rooting for the heroes and started rooting for the villains? These were questions too complex for a kid who could barely figure out how his favorite horror magazines made it to his local drugstore so he could buy them every month. Tales of these movies crossed my path, but how could you make a movie about a bad guy and make him the hero, I wondered.

Well, if you happen upon Danger: Diabolik, you can see that rooting for the bad guy can be fun. Master criminal showing up the people who think they are so moral and upstanding. Pure entertainment. Excitement, action, cool costumes, groovy chase scenes and alluring women. Yup, all the things the superheroes promised with the added thrill of being naughty. The stuff teen-aged boys dream of.

I'm not here to do a breakdown of all of the European anti-heroes who donned capes or costumes. I'll leave that to the folks who want to read far more into their movies than I do. I will go on record as saying Phenomenal and the Treasure of Tutankamen does to the European comic book anti-hero, or the fumetti genre, what Adam Sandler does to comedy. What would that be? you ask. Ruin it.


If you scan for other reviews of this film, you will find most of them like the first few minutes of the film. Phenomenal kicks the snot out of a boatload of guys while his turtleneck is pulled over his face. He laughs like a loony after every seaman falls. Hokey but fun. It turns out the boat was involved in a drug smuggling setup. Hooray, Phenomenal can kick ass AND he's a good guy.

Now you can forget about Phenomenal. You won't see him for at least 20 minutes or more, and then it is only for a second or two while he watches a bad guy steal something from a museum. But don't be alarmed. You'll be treated to inane dialogue that is poorly dubbed. You'll meet a bewildering array of characters. You'll watch as Paris grinds to a halt the second a bike-load of baguettes falls to the sidewalk, and a cop directing the insane traffic leaves his post to check on the condition of the bread. To hell with safety, there's baked goods on the ground! You'll watch crosses and double-crosses and triple-crosses until you don't give a flying fart because you just want to see Phenomenal kicking some more ass.

As Westley said in The Princess Bride, "Get used to disappointment." Oh, sure, the guy in the dopey all-black costume shows up, only to have people throw themselves at his fists until they get tired then they just fall down. And that cool laugh...eh, you hear it once, maybe twice. No cool trinkets. The women are okay. The whole thing is kind of like filming Superman with Woody Allen in the costume.

As for the secret identity of Phenomenal, forget it. If you can't pick out the guy who dons the black duds the second he hits the screen, you really should just stop the movie and go play with some Tinker Toys or something. Just don't get any splinters because you'll most likely let it abscess, and you'll die of blood poisoning.

I'll admit that I'm being a bit hard on this film. There is one delight within the whipped confection of pointlessness, and that is the music. Don't just trust me on this. Go to Moviegrooves.com and hear for yourself. In fact, I'd recommend buying the soundtrack and bypass the movie completely. Unless you just really have to watch the hero get outted by customs at the end of the film, as if we didn't already know who he was.

It would seem that Video Asia's Grindhouse Experience really did scrape the bottom of that Dumpster behind your local choke-n-puke joint to find these films. Better luck next time, we hope.

Death-Dealing Dumbass

A friend of mine, many years ago, said, "Every red-blooded American boy wants to grow up to be James Bond." At the time, I shrugged, thought about how I always wanted to be Lancelot Link, tried really hard to bridge the intercontinental weirdness his comment made in my head (like saying every liberal prays for the death penalty) and turned back to watching the Oklahoma sun bake the ground outside. Every time I see a James Bond film, I think of that comment. I've always had my doubts.

Until now.

It would seem that every young boy, including African-American boys, wants to be James Bond. The adventure. The foreign locales. The sexy women. All of those pretty, deadly gadgets. And guns, lots and lots of guns. Apparently David Broadnax wanted to be James Bond so bad that he created a movie in which he could play a very similar character. There are adventures. And foreign locales. And sexy women. And guns and gadgets. It would seem Broadnax had everything to make his James Bond fantasy come true. He forgot something.

It has to be interesting.

Enter Mister Deathman. I'm not opposed to vanity pieces when it comes to films. In the right hands, they can be entertaining as well as revealing. Charlie Chaplin comes to mind. But Mr. Broadnax just wanted to be the biggest, baddest dude to stride across a film set. And, well, he just didn't have it in him.

You have Broadnax as Graves, a top something-or-other who can outrun, outfox, outshoot, outsmart -- blah blah blah -- everyone. He's recruited to recover a scientist who may be delivering up important scientific secrets to the mysterious Mister Zee. After many threats to his life, he uncovers a conspiracy of global proportions. Can he overcome the odds and save the world? Feh. Can he keep me from drinking myself into a stupor? That's a more pertinent question.

As much as I love craptastic films, I find myself groaning at this stuff more and more as I get older. Prime examples of scenes to make you want to throw your pizza at the screen: They attempt to capture Graves by slipping him a bottle of drugged whiskey. But the seal has obviously been broken. This organization has wracked up millions and millions of dollars to finance their global domination, so you'd think they could find a way to tamper with a guy's booze without being so stupid about it. And then there is the scene in which Graves picks a lock with a long needle held between his teeth while he's being swamped by the incoming tide. I can't even bring myself to think about that scene. Or how about when he sprays down two armed thugs with a fire extinguisher. Okay, paper beats rock, rock beats scissors and a gun beats a damn fire extinguisher any day.

I've actually read commentaries in which people compare this cinematic abortion to Guy From Harlem. At least Harlem had the discreet charm of showing people throwing themselves at the main charcter's fists. Deathman has people quake in fear just because the "hero" swaggers into camera range. They must have, because all the bad guys in this movie have guns, and half the time Graves doesn't. Why didn't someone just freakin' shoot the guy?!?!?!

Other oddities to take note of in this film: Why does the guy who hires Graves have all his dialogue poorly dubbed when Graves sports a voice more girly than Cyndi Lauper? Why do the bad guys send a muscle man after Graves, but they let him tell Graves what is about to happen instead of just freakin' killing him? Why do they chain Graves to rocks to die instead of just freakin' killing him? Why does everyone pronounce NASA as if it is an Italian word for "nose"? And, for the love of God, why do they show you the end of the movie AT THE BEGINNING?!?!?!!!!

I conked out during this little gem around the fifth or sixth time Graves "lets" himself get captured. He seems to be better at doing that than dealing death. Sadly, the pizza delivery person woke me up and I had no good excuse for falling asleep again. Damn you, Pizza Hut!

Actually, you could do worse. You could watch a Bill Rebane movie. I notice VideoAsia didn't add any of his trash to their Grindhouse Experience collections.

Grindhouse? More like Craphaus!

For those of you who shy away from the low-end of the cinematic gene pool, let me offer up a suggestion for getting your feet wet. JUMP IN! Yeah, that's right. Jump in, right over your head. You'll panic. You'll freak for a few moments. But when your head breaks the surface, you'll then realize you just dove into a swimming pool full of sewer water. Trust me, once you get used to the smell, you'll find yourself being amazed at the variety of turds you can find in that over-sized punch bowl.

A prime way to dive in is with VideoAsia's Grindhouse Experience. There are two volumes of this series out. Both have 20 movies that you probably never heard of and, well, to be honest, you couldn't really care less if you ever did, unless you are used to swimming in the sewer water of cinema, and then these fecal chunks have a touch more character. So, with this installment, which is already mired in bad taste due to so many scatological asides, let's focus on the first volume and pick a nasty bit of bowel displacement called Demon Witch Child.

Now, as you know from my last posting about Devil Times Five, I'm not a fan of children as a rule. So you can imagine a movie in which a child is possessed would fall low on my "I loved it!" meter. Ah, but you would be wrong. Allow me to explain.

This film, a Spanish production from the mid-Seventies, sought to capitalize on the whole Exorcist routine that was popular at the time. Everyone and their dog was pumping out bile-spraying, anti-Catholic profanity-spewing movies to cash in on the popularity of the film version of Mr. Blatty's novel. Italy was the primary source for a lot of this nonsense, and while the country IS Catholic for the most part, there was this whole undertone of thumbing a collective nose at the primary religion.

Now Spain, they seemed to be a bit more inclined to view any breach of the religious norm as a deviance in Life itself. In this film, the possession comes about at the hand of a band of Gypsies. They get such a bad rap in this movie that you can begin to understand why they claim to be persecuted along the lines of the Jews. In fact, if you watched this movie, you'd begin to think Gypsies are the spawn of Satan Himself. They seem to exist only to subvert the holy mission of The Church. Maybe they are, but when I was raised by a band of them, they were nothing but kind to me. Okay, so I wasn't raised by Gypsies. Still, they are treated like scum in this movie. So what if they kidnap a baby for a blood sacrifice to Satan? At least the kid is earning his keep.

How in Hell does any of this relate to kids, you may be asking. When the old Gypsy ringleader of the coven nosedives out the window, her spirit is sent to inhabit the body of the police commissioner's young daughter. The sweet, wholesome child seems to be perfectly okay with taking the ugliest trinket from a weird Gypsy woman, so she basically had this coming. As little Miss My-Poo-Doesn't-Stink, I didn't like her. Once she cuddles up with the Devil's toy, she cops an attitude as big as the outdoors. Then she becomes interesting.

Yes, I understand, she offers up the standard possession antics. She just looks so cute calling the self-important priest a faggot. And when she castrates her governess's boyfriend, she shows that even young teen girls have Girl Power. The only low point comes when she unleashes a plushie attack on one of the many servants in the household. What the Hell is so diabolical about being pelted with stuffed animals? Some people actually find it sexually stimulating. I guess even wicked Gypsies can have a bad day. In the end, the kid, with her eyes practically on opposite sides of her head, still makes you think that Nabokov had something going when he wrote Lolita. Except she didn't spew anti-Christian obscenities. Or show her panties to the camera while crawling upside-down on the outside of the house she lives in.

Is the movie any good? It has cheap thrills. It moves at a good pace. It doesn't leave any bad after-taste, unless you are a hardcore Catholic. It does sport a weird sub-plot about the uptight priest that leaves you wondering if you should root for him or wondering if he really is a mincing homosexual as the little demon witch child suggests. Plus, you get to see a baby sacrificed. When was the last time you saw that, huh?

Worth checking out if you've bought the Grindhouse Experience set on its own merit or because you just had to have a bad VHS reproduction copy of The Children. Everyone else, out of the sewer water pool and hit the showers.

This stinker has also been released on video as The Possessed. The cover has been added for those of you who think this blog is written in a vacuum. We can Google, too.

The Devil Does Math!

I don't like kids. Sue me. Okay, they have their uses, like shielding yourself from a sniper's bullets or tossing to rabid pitbulls to save yourself. And don't use that argument of "You used to be a kid once" with me. Yeah, I was, and I still didn't like other kids and wasn't too crazy about myself.

How to defend my argument? Okay, how's this? Your local Wal-Mart at 11:30 a.m. on any given Saturday and especially around Christmas. Top that. You can't. Screaming, shoving, rudeness, food dribbled down the front of clothes and that faint smell of rot. Okay, that describes the parents as well in Wal-Mart, but the third time within ten minutes one of those little poop factories lets loose with a shriek that could shatter glass as well as your last taboo against infanticide, you'll be looking for a Louisville Slugger bat with the intent of using the little wankers as human T-ball stands.

Further proof? Okay. Sit down. Let me pop in this DVD. Now watch and learn. Yeah, it's a horror movie. No, sit the hell down and watch. I know this is boring, but trust me, something is about to happen. Okay, there. What do you mean you don't understand? The kid has a pitchfork. That little bitty girl has a hammer. Ah, yes, now you understand. Five kids beating an adult to death, slowly. What? Yes, that seemed like a very long beating death because it runs damn near five minutes. And that is just the first person to die at their hands. Yes, you can go scrub with hot water, but you can't get the stench of evil children out of your skin.

What am I talking about? My ultimate proof of the ultimate evil of children. Devil Times Five is one of those little films that, when you hear the premise, you laugh it off. Then you watch it. Bad mistake if you want to walk through life with your head in the clouds about those little moppets. You'll feel a chill when you look up to see a child giving you one of those utterly blank stares. You won't want to be in a room alone with more than one of them. Peace of mind is gone, my friend. Innocence has been lost.

A group of dopey adults who probably don't deserve to live beyond the film's 90-minute running time isolate themselves in a mansion miles from civilization and surrounded by miles of very, very deep snow. What they don't know is that a van full of deeply disturbed children has just ran off the road. (More evidence of their evil: they survive the van rolling down a hill with all of the doors wide open, and not a one of them happened to be wearing harnesses that would make the safety restraints in NASCAR look flimsy. Only pure evil could have survived.) So everyone starts converging on the snow-locked mansion. One throwaway adult character knows how evil children are, and he tries to stop the little bastards, but he gets beaten to death...for a very long time. Long enough that you start to feel awkward and a bit uncomfortable. This guy knew they were evil, and look what happened to him. What do you think is going to happen to the unsuspecting adults?

Okay, you're thinking that since this has a young Leif Garrett who dons dresses and lipstick to a stunning and creepy effect, it has to be great Mystery Science Theater 3000 material in the making. It has a catfight between two lovely women in scanty clothing, so it ought to be fun and sexy. It has a lovable mentally challenged man who talks to his pet rabbits, and that means wholesome entertainment. Go back to your episodes of Davy and Goliath. You aren't ready for this.

Lots of murders by utterly detached children. Brutal and sick murders, like the simple-minded handyman getting strung up by very thin wire pulled tight by a generator or the lady burned to death while trying to profess a desire to love and care for one of the children. It is the kind thing that leaves you slack-jawed and more than a bit uncomfortable in your own skin.

And then the little hellions dance and play and frolic as if there isn't a bloodied body mere feet away. You almost can join in with their seemingly innocent games until reality creeps back in and you remember the piranha in the bathtub scene or the throat slashing bit. Yup, you should disassociate yourself from these creatures, unless you feel like burning the neighbor's house or torturing an animal. You don't feel like doing things like that, do you? However, if you should feel the urge to bitch-slap any child that comes within your reach after watching this film, then, please, enjoy the minor thrill of victory, until they gang up on you and tear you literally to pieces.

Don't say you weren't warned.

This movie can be found in a few places. Check out Code Red for a very nice version with commentary and extras. If you are cheap, then check out Mill Creek Entertainment's collection Demons & Devils. You can also find it on some public domain bit-torrent sites, but you are on your own with that kind of thing.

Psychotic Cycle Sluts Sell Silliness

Did you ever see something for sale that made you think, "I want half of that, but I don't know as though I want the other half."? I do that with marshmallow-coated popcorn. I want the packets of marshmallow yumminess, but I don't really care for the popcorn.



Much like that dilemma, a number of years back, I found a Goodtimes VHS that had Alice, Sweet Alice on it. I had wanted to see that film for years as it was supposed to be a classic slasher flick (and it is better than classic, so go buy the DVD--NOW!!). But, on the same tape was what looked like a biker film called Psychomania. I like weird stuff as much as the rest, but I have never had a soft spot for biker films. I've watched a fair share of them, and some I even enjoyed more than the Doritos I ate while watching, but they leave me cold for the most part. So I debated buying this double-feature tape. But images of Paula Sheppard kept dancing through my head (go find Liquid Sky to understand my mania), so I bought the thing.


The first copy proved to be too weird even for my tastes, though I wish I still had it. There was an alternate audio track that played alongside the regular track and the distorted second track made the tape sound like it was possessed. Once swapped, everything worked fine.



I saw leather-clad Brits on Triumph motorbikes raising hell. I saw seances and frogs. I saw contracts with The Devil. I saw a guy from Doctor Who. The whole thing left me thinking, "Alice? Alice who?"




A delight in utter insanity from the opening shots of motorbikes weaving through a Stonehenge type locale. The basic story? A rough cycle gang called The Living Dead learn that they can kill themselves and return from the dead, just so they can be delinquents who can't die. The baffled police, who can't find their lily-white English arses, attempt to put an end of all the tomfoolery.



The tone is over the top, and if you take any of it serious for a second, go watch your Grey's Anatomy box set and leave the crap films to the real fans. My personal point of interest, other than the gleeful weirdness, is (you can see what's coming) the main female love interest in the film. I admit to an almost fetish-like interest in British women. It isn't the accent so much as how they can be quite plain looking yet come off as utterly sexy. So I carried away from this film, on my first viewing, the image of Mary Larkin, the poor girl known as Abby in this film. Almost looking like a boy, but still being attractive to the point of distracting me from the film's finer lunacies. As you can see from the included photos, she has aged into a very handsome woman.



Drooling aside, let's get down to business on the bargain end of this little number. A few years ago, there was, as part of the Euro-Shock Collection, a release of this film. I'm sure it was a very nice release, but I couldn't tell you because the thing sells for 50 bucks. Oh yeah, it has gone out of print and the greedy folks are out to milk that for all it is worth. But, my cheap friends, this is hope. Geneon, an offshoot of Pioneer, has been releasing some seriously weird films in bargain editions the last few years, and they have Psychomania in their catalog. The print is very clear. The sound is decent. But if you saw this through the Goodtimes edition, you will be thinking you are missing something, and you would be right. The Geneon edition is missing a seance sequence near the beginning that sets the tone for the supernatural storyline that follows. Frankly, I thought the scene slowed the film down when I originally saw the movie. Still, I would have liked to have bought a complete version, but it in no way takes anything away from this $6 little gem. Go forth and buy it.





And hands off Mary Larkin, mates, she's mine. Just don't tell me girlfriend.

Back From The Dead

Damn, it's been along time. Amazing how time zips along. But, enough of my feeble excuses.

No film reviews this time around. Just an announcement that the blog is NOT dead. Films have been stockpiled. Information sniffed out. And money spent. God knows how much money has been spent!

Okay, recent titles salvaged from the bargain bins:

Psychomania -- A strange British film with motorcycles, black magic and undead bikers. In other words, a must watch.

Mansion Of The Doomed -- A sickie with some big names. Well, big names if you are at least 35 years old or are a diehard fan of films made before Quentin Tarentino. A doctor, eye surgeries and people in cages!

House Of Seven Corpses -- Nathaniel Hawthrone is spinning in his grave over this title. Another horror film from the 70s with fading film stars playing fading film stars making a horror film. Kinda like standing between two mirrors and watching your reflection repeat itself into infinity, which is how long this film seems to last. But you get a cat ripped in half, so it gets a thumbs up from the folks at PETA.

Okay, that's enough. We'll cover these and others in more depth. Plus, check out the good folks over at Badmovies.org. Yeah, yeah, I'm promoting a crap film site on my crap film site. The gent who runs this site has done wonders with it. You'll spend hours just reading the forum postings. Which is more time than you'll spend here. Just go. Like your insecure girlfriend, I'll still be here, if you decide to come back.

Oh, Bloody Hell!!

Today's bit of cinematic wonder is a classic. Well, it is one of those that scarred the memory of this adult child. Back when I was a wee lad, they used to run ads for movies on your local radio stations. Why? Because they were honest-to-god local stations, not corporate dumping grounds. Anyway, someone came up with the great idea of using the promo line of "Just repeat to yourself: It's only a movie. It's only a movie...." And this would repeat and fade out to reverb echoes. For a kid who spent three hours locked in the family bathroom because I was sure a monster was outside the door, this was Trauma City.

Honestly, I can't remember if that ad campaign was used with this movie, but it could have been. I remember seeing the ads for it in the paper alongside Three On A Meathook and Last House On A Dead End Street and similar gross out films from the time. So it has that stigma attached to it.

Yes, sleaze horror fans, we are talking about Scream Bloody Murder, made in 1971 and released around 1973. Do not confuse it with the beefcake/cheesecake slasher clone that came out a few years ago. This is the stuff that really matters to a true crap film fan. Like wine, crap films must age before they have any real flavor.

We start, rather abruptly, with a boy watching his father on a bulldozer. When the father goes to adjust something on the engine, the boy hops on, throws the thing in gear and flattens dear dad in a second. When his mom sees what he had done, he ends up coming off the bulldozer and his arm is crushed. Years later, sonny boy, with his new hook arm, is released (or escapes, which would have more fun) from the nut house after finding out his mother is getting married. See, sonny boy kinda has this warped love-thing going with Mom. And he isn't about to let anyone take Mom away from him.

Lots of people die, including a poor dog who just happened to be in the wrong house at the wrong time. The blood (there's lots of it) looks like they used red poster paint for the effect. It gives an already warped little film an extra touch of unreality.

Don't look for name stars. Don't look for Oscar-caliber acting. But do enjoy the icky weirdness that is shoveled about with gusto. But is it as unnerving as the old ads that I associate with this film? Nah. I generally rack up a few good laughs. Well, worth the the time. You can find it on two different releases from Mill Creek. The first is a 50 movie set called Chilling Classics (a great deal for 20 bucks), and the other is Mental Maniacs, which is released under Pendulum Pictures and the film is under the video release title of Matthew.

Defining The Crap Film Experience By Example

Everyone has seen bad movies. Admittedly, one's definition of what is "bad" can vary widely. I've actually heard people try to defend Xanadu, and if you haven't seen that movie to understand why they would defend it, let me offer this bit of advice: Some things are best left undisturbed. But then a lot of people thought Jurassic Park was great, and I personally thought it was the lowest point in the career of everyone involved, and, yes, I have seen Goldblum in Vibes.

We aren't here to discuss who is right about this film or that film. Our topic is "crap" films. What is a "crap" film, you might ask? What makes it different from a bad movie? Well, there are a lot of factors to consider here. Yes, they are all mostly subjective, but when I finish with you, I think you'll be able to scan your video rental shelves and be able to find a fine piece of "crap" to piss away your evening. And be aware that "crap" is not the same as shit. The film version of The Da Vinci Code is shit, but it will never be crap.

We shall use one of my all-time favorite "crap" films to make our point in this discussion. The film is Blood Mania, a twisted flick from the early 70's with Pete Carpenter leading us along as he does most of the work behind and in front of the camera.

Titles -- Okay, when I told you the name of the film we would be using as an example, you probably cringed or flinched or groaned. That is the first way to pick out a "crap" film. Titles can be very useful in figuring out what you are about to get yourself into. Now, a title like The Discreet Charm Of The Bourgeoisie really tells you little more than you are most likely not going to be watching car chases or large amounts of bloodletting. A title like Snake Eater pretty much tells you that your girlfriend/wife/gay lover will most likely refuse to sit in the same room with you as it plays across the screen. Blood Mania, Blood Freak, This Is Not A Test, Fury Of The Wolfman, They Saved Hitler's Brain, and Twisted Brain all pretty much set the tone for you before you even watch the first scene. So if the title has its own Cheese Factor built in, you may well have a "crap" film on your hands.

Budget -- This varies from film to film. Expect to see things happen in out-of-the-way places or deeply confined inside of a house. You won't see a car chase through the National Mall and you won't be seeing a gun fight take place on a busy sidewalk on Wall Street. You won't find yourself wondering where they spent the film's budget, but you might be wondering, "Couldn't they afford to crop out that damned boom mike?" No, they couldn't. Really. In Blood Mania, watch for the claustrophobic nature of the shots. You really don't see the actors doing a lot of exterior shots. And the few that were done look very, very crappy.

Stars -- Don't look for them. Oh, if you go back a few years, you'll find a handful of people who might be currently famous, but if they are in a crap film, you can bet they were young enough to jump at anything that offered two bucks an hours. And if you see a "star" from a few years ago (*cough*William Katt*cough*) in a crap film, you can bet their career has come full circle and they'll jump at anything that will keep them from Dumpster diving for dinner. Blood Mania sports the then-lovely Maria De Aragon. Wait, you claim you've never heard of her? But she went on to play Greedo in Star Wars IV: A New Hope. Yeah, I thought you'd remember.

Story/Plot -- You really are asking for a lot, aren't you? Oh, pray for something that actually makes sense. Legacy Of Satan had a great idea -- a woman targeted by a demonic cult as the perfect bride for its leader. Lots of potential. Just try to keep up with the randomness of the events in that film, and forget the ending. But they started with a great idea, which is usually the case with a lot of these films. Either that or they have a great image in their heads and decide to build a story around that one image. With Blood Mania, that one image seems to be in the scene in which Ms. De Aragon shakes her two major assets for the camera. Wait, that was one of my favorite images. Maybe it was the painting revealed in the climax. That image certainly sticks in your head. It has been stuck in my head since 1978 when I originally saw the film. Even now, after multiple viewings, that one image sticks and the rest fades

Coolness/Cult Factor -- You remember the kids in your high school who always seemed to be sitting alone at lunch and acted happy as clams to do so? That will be you when you start watching crap movies. You'll find no one will value your opinion on anything, except, maybe, junk food. Even fans of horror films tend to ignore these things as being beneath them. Even if they have no idea who Andy Milligan is, they will curl their collective nose up at the thought of watching one of his films. You are on your own and all alone. Do yourself a favor: Stop showering -- you can save money, and there will be no one to complain.

By now you should have a vague handle on what a crap film is. Just keep in mind that once you start down this path, you often become lost. You'll know you have joined the rest of us when you find yourself discussing the merits of anything made by Roberta Findley. You don't know who she is? Heh Heh Heh. Step this way, and I'll show you.

(Look for information on any of these actors and/or films at the wonderful Internet Movie Database http://www.imdb.com. It is the best friend of us crap movie fans because it never questions our film choices, and it never, ever asks for our Doritos.)

Lies!! All Lies!!!!!!!!!!!

Where does one start with something like this? There's no easy way to break it to you. I just want you to know that I sympathize with your pain and disappointment. Well, let me get this over with.

The Revenge Of Doctor X is NOT what the credits claim it to be. There, I've said it. Of course, if you are a diehard fan of crap cinema or if you have Mill Creek Entertainment's Chilling Classics then you already know this to be true. This warning is for those who don't know. And what I am about to tell you isn't news to those of you who research your films, but I'm sure there are those who have no clue about the awful truth behind The Revenge Of Doctor X.

Your opening credits say that it is an Eddie Romero film. It says you'll see John Ashley. That can mean only one thing to those of us who have sampled some of Eddie Romero's Philippine-based horror -- blood and insanity in copious amounts. So the film starts. It's a couple of older gents, one of whom is throwing the biggest snit-fit about storms throwing off a rocket launch. Oooookay...doesn't seem like Eddie Romero's style, but I'm game. Twenty minutes later, after the main older guy has spiked a dozen times on the overacting scale, you start to realize that John Ashley ain't gonna be showing up. No pretty Angelique Pettyjohn flitting about so alluringly in tacky late 60's clothes.

Oh, wait, what's this? A Japanese lady who speaks English like she's chewing an entire package of Big League Shredded Bubble Gum? Hmmm, still not Eddie Romero material. At this point, you realize you've been had, and you consider shutting the damn thing off. But then you see the poorly blue-screened volcanic eruption coming from a perfectly normal mountain (where I come from, it just looked like a really big hill), and the main characters react as if they had seen a squirrel eating acorns in the park. So you give it a while longer. More extreme bipolar action from our lovely doctor, and the little Japanese assistant lady puts up with this. You are hoping she'll slit his throat, for her sake and for yours. But, no, the doctor has it in his noggin to create a super Venus flytrap creature. And let's not forget the surprise bare breasts of the pearl divers.

You've been lied to. The film is nothing like what was promised by the credits. Even the video boxes for the VHS release set up promises that the film can't keep. But you should have known, considering the credits were the crappy video generated type from the early 80's. What you have seen is a diseased nightmare of gut-churning bad acting added to a script that seems dated from the 50's and devoid of logic. Where the hell have we seen the likes of this before?

Ed Wood, Jr. Blame him for this nearly 90 minute waste of time that could have been spent downloading illegal music files or beating the neighbor. A stealth attack of crap. Ed Wood, Jr. wrote the script. He didn't direct it. Kenneth G. Crane is to blame for not attempting to raise the script's low bar. He didn't wallow in the crappiness of the script like Ed Wood tended to do as a director. But he never tempted to wrangle the lead actor to modulate his performance. That is sin enough to condemn him.

Mill Creek is blameless for this mess. They were just doing what they do, which is give you good variety at a dandy price. No, the blame falls on the late Ed Wood, Jr. This was meant to be called Venus Flytrap, which is rather unimaginative but fitting. Then the title of The Devil Garden is attached to it. Again, that would work, and would have actually fooled enough people into seeing it. Somewhere along the line, that morphed into The Double Garden, which just smacks of either a bad translation or someone just wasn't listening (maybe they were still stunned by the film). How the hell anyone came up with The Revenge Of Doctor X is beyond me? Under any name, it reeks of Woods and his overly theatrical sense of style.

Just a tip. If you want to attempt to kill someone on the sly, have them watch this film. They just might slip into a coma from which they may never awaken.

Cathy's Curse (or "If this is what having a period is like, I'm glad I'm a guy!")

It can be so easy to get suckered into watching a movie. Me, I love to see things that promise low-grade thrills. In volume. So, over 15 years back, I rented a tape (that's VHS, folks -- retro technology these days) called Terror On Tape. I believe it came from the fine folks at Continental Video, known for their oversized tape boxes which were graced with the most incredible cover art. (As an aside, I recommend snagging any of these that you can find as I'm sure they will be collector's items, even if the tapes are shot to hell. Where else can you find a Boris Vallejo painting for Mistress Of The Apes?)

Anyway, while watching Terror On Tape, they showed a couple of clips from a film called Cathy's Curse. Vaguely creepy little girl wagging an even creepier doll around. People falling to their death. Rotting fruit. Sounds effects done on an old synthesizer. I had a new goal in life. I had to get me a dose of Cathy's Curse. A year or two later and I find it in a grocery store video rental section. Oh, I was in heaven. I was hyper, I was elated, I thought I'd wet my pants.

Then I watched the movie.

Canadians can make some awful, awful films. Cathy's Curse is almost reason enough to overthrow their government. Okay, it isn't that bad. Actually, my girlfriend and I laughed our asses off through most of this crapfest. But I was disappointed. Not because I thought I was going to see something along the lines of the original Omen. It was just that Terror On Tape had prepared me for a scene of gratuitous blood-spurting when the housekeeper throws herself out of a second-story window (which would only be fatal in extreme circumstances, like landing on your head, impaling yourself or being forced to do so by the most butt-ugly doll on the planet). THE BLOOD WAS NOT THERE!! The whole experience was tainted. Never mind the wet-tissue performances or the fact the little girl's hair never looked as though it was washed or the randomness of the scenes. I wanted my spurting blood.

Denied my cheap thrill, I hoped to find a complete copy out there in the world. First, my girlfriend and I bought the tape off eBay, hoping for a different copy that what we had rented. It was, but it too was missing the spurting blood. Now, thanks to Mill Creek Entertainment and BCI, I have two more copies of the film. Alas, no spurting blood in either one.

Short breakdown on the story for those who have stuck it out this long: Decades ago, a family had troubles, so the father decides to run off with the young daughter. Due to the child's liberal tree-hugging nature, they swerve to avoid splatting a bunny, and they both burn to death. Jump to sometime in the late 70's, and the dead girl's brother, who was taken away by the bitch of a mother (Hey, that's what the father called his wife before he burned!), moves into the family home. His daughter, with a face that appears to be paralyzed for the most part, finds her aunt's hideous doll in the attic, and before you can say "Brown recluse spider", we are off to possession city.

To be honest, I think the filmmakers were trying to equate the whole possession theme with the fact the girl was of the age to begin her period. Usually a possessed person, in the movies that is, become more and more evil. This little fluff bunny has mood-swings and seems to be vaguely sexually aware at the most improper moments. And they call it Cathy's Curse. If she scarfed down chocolate and complained of sore breasts, we would have had serious confirmation. But to think the filmmakers had any deep thoughts concerning this film is giving more credit that anyone involved with this film deserves. So never mind.

As I said, this film is released by both Mill Creek and BCI. I watched both. They seem to be the same print for the most part. The same line runs through both prints in the same location for the same length of time (most of the beginning, but it isn't troublesome). The big tip-off was the letters in the bottom right corner of the screen. I couldn't read them, though they appeared to be "SC". I have no idea what company those marks belong to. Possibly Canadian? Oddly, the BCI print seems to be a touch darker, but that could have more to do with the transfer process than anything else, but I openly admit I have no clue. You can find the movie on Mill Creek's Chilling Classics 50 movie megapack and on BCI's Nightmares From The Crypt 20 movie set.

Worth watching for grins and giggles. Don't expect logic. Don't look for anything to be emotionally involving. But I doubt you'll be able to refrain from repeating "She's seen me! Kill her!" for weeks after seeing this film. That scene, though missing the spurting blood, is worth the price of suffering through this film.

Naked Massacre/Born For Hell

Round two for Mill Creek Entertainment's "Chilling Classics" megapack. This installment's title is the fun family-minded film Naked Massacre, also known under the title Born For Hell.

It seems I read a short review of this film many years ago, and it called it a rather nasty film. I filed this comment away in my mind (knocking loose memories of my siblings' birthdays in the process). Figured I'd never see this thing. Then came this DVD set, and the title kept nagging at me. So I watched it.

Ever seen Last House On The Left? Liked that? Wished you could see something similar? Welcome home. Oh, I'm not saying that it has the same raw power that Last House has. But it is like its pale cousin. Oh, yeah, definitely from the same internal place full of rage.

We are in Belfast. The IRA and British troops are turning the streets into slaughterhouses. Just like the Americans are doing in Vietnam. Not my opinion. This film won't let you forget its historical setting, bombarding you (poor choice of words there, sorry) with images from the television. Into this violent nightmare comes our main character, a vet who wants to go home to America but has decided to spend some time in Belfast. It wouldn't have been tops on my list of vacation spots back in the early 70s. Our focal point character becomes fixated on a group of young beautiful nurses all living together. He acts stranger and stranger. Then he finds himself sneaking into the place where the nurses live. Knives get involved. Lives are ruined. Lesbian love is mocked. Yes, truly, bad things happen.

Not a happy movie. You have the filmmaker's attempt to dazzle you with a stab at "Art". You know, the whole bit with "All the violence in the world, with all these global atrocities, how can we, in good conscience, mourn a smaller display of violence?" Or maybe they were asking which bit of violence is more despicable? Hell, maybe they were just padding the running time. And then you have the pointless violence on the screen, simple wanton violence thrown about with a pace that will give you time to consider the fact these women are just tools for the killer.

But is it worth watching? Eeh. As long as you don't mind showering with a wire scrub brush when it's over, go for it. DO NOT expect a girlfriend to sit with you while you watch this. If she does and she LIKES this film, be very afraid of her.

Seriously, it is well made. The performances range from iffy to unnerving. The violence is off-putting, but then, it should be, right? Torturing innocent women should turn you off. And sitting through 90 minutes of this stuff to get to an end that practically slaps you across the face for even watching, well, you knew what you were getting into the minute the main character makes an old hooker dance at knife point. If you stay beyond that scene, you give up your right to complain.

The copy on the set is complete as far as I can tell. It looks pretty good for a film that has probably been rotting on a shelf. Not a horror film, in spite of its inclusion in this set. Just an exercise in violence filmed in drab color and light.

Alpha Incident

Our first trip into Mill Creek Entertainment's "Chilling Classics" Megapack is the classic The Alpha Incident, directed by Bill Rebane.

I admit, until this weekend, I had never seen this film. Heard of it, yes, but never watched it. It must have escaped the clutches of Channel 2 in Tulsa, Oklahoma, when I was addicted to their assault on my young senses known as "Night Owl Theatre". Okay, not an original name, but when you are swilling down liters of Mountain Dew and bags of Doritios, all you care about is entertainment. How they could have missed this film is beyond me as it fit perfectly into their concept of showing films that generally promised more than they delivered.

Let's pretend you've never heard of this movie. Here's the story: Craft returns from outer space (I think Mars is mentioned) and it brings some nasty substance that could be deadly. The bulk of this stuff is shipped across country by train, on which some drunk lunkhead (played by George "Buck" Flower) exposes himself to the substance. At the next stop, he and four others are quarantined until the effects of the substance can be determined. Well, it's terminal, and if you fall asleep, your brains will swell and pop your skull like a zit. So now it's a race to find the cure before these poor folks go to sleep and wake up dead.

If you're in the least interested in watching this film, avoid the Internet Movie Database as almost everyone gives away the ending. I mean, you'll see it coming before it happens, but it's the journey that counts, right? Please, God, tell me I'm right. Otherwise, I wasted my time watching this movie.

Entertaining stuff, but make sure you know you aren't watching an exercise in action and haute tension. It can be slow going. Have distractions. Soda, chips, marching bands. Okay, it isn't that bad. I just squeak by on five hours of sleep a day. Die Hard can put me to sleep on any given day.

Mill Creek's version is as good as any version you're likely to find. Well, maybe Bill Rebane has the original master copy and that might be sharper. Otherwise, learn to live with old broadcast television quality. I personally think it enhanced the experience.

Things to look for: Ralph Meeker. This was one of the last films he did. He acts heavily medicated. Don't know if that is just good acting or if he was medicated. He gets credit in this review for being the biggest name star in the film AND he gets the best exit from the film. You might want to hit the rewind button and review that scene just for cheap thrills.

Weird facts: George "Buck" Flowers (the lunkhead train employee Hank) and co-star John F. Goff (mucho macho guy Jack Tiller) wrote a fine piece of drive-in trash called, of all things, Drive-In Massacre. Oddly enough, this film also appears on the "Chilling Classics" Megapack as well as Bill Rebane's Demons Of Ludlow and The Cold. If you read the descriptions for the films, you see that his Capture Of Bigfoot is supposed to be in this set under the name Legend Of Bigfoot, but instead you get the real Legend Of Bigfoot, a reasonably entertaining documentary from the 70's.

(As always, thanks to the people at Mill Creek Entertaiment for permission to use graphics from their site.)

Opening the Door

Hello. This is just an introduction to what we are doing here. Sort of a handshake before the serious business begins. I just want you to know what you are letting yourself in for. It is only fair, you know. You never hand a loaded gun to someone with the safety off.

You see, we here at Bargain Basement Thrills love movies. No, no, nothing with Julia Roberts or Brad Pitt. If you are hoping for something of that nature, then you have wandered too far from the "New Release" section of your favorite video store. Here, we lean more towards the lesser films. Oh, hell, we LOVE crap! Why be coy about it? Snooze-inducing, boom mike displaying, actors as bad as your brain-damaged cousin, pointless storyline crap. The stuff your mother would slap you for watching.

We have low standards. What was that? Why, yes, we do have standards. Okay, we have basically one. The stuff has to be cheap. By that, we don't really mean cheaply made, though that does tend to be the case most of the time. No, we are looking for the stuff where you can score a DVD for less than the cost of a double cheeseburger at most fast food places. Face it, times are getting rough, and entertainment CAN be had as cheaply as pouring a bucket of water on the sidewalk outside the front door of a nursing home in the dead of winter. (We don't condone that behavior, and use that example for humor purposes only. Anyone sick enough to actually do that deserves to have their own hip shattered.) So, basically, our flicks have to be as inexpensive as possible.

We will begin our examination of the world of cheap thrills with the Chilling Classics 50 Movie Megapack from Mill Creek Entertainment (www.millcreekent.com). They were kind enough to grant us permission to use the image from their products. Great people. Dirt-cheap DVDs. The 50 pack you see above can be had as cheap as $19.99 from Best Buy. We don't do math here, but that works out to around 40 cents per movie. Go buy this thing.

Now, we agree the price is great. But are we here to tell you about prices? Not really. We intend to watch the movies on this set and give you the run down on these flicks. Sure, some of them are golden oldies that you've seen enough to make you scream, but there are some great weird little gems hiding on this (and other multi-disc collections). We'll cover them all. Some will get a quick mention. Others, we will do some digging. We may even redirect your attention to our sister site (thedogpilemagazine.blogspot.com) if we can track down a director or actor from one of these films and do a short interview.

Prepare yourself. The door is open. The scent of cheesy films floats on the breeze. Is that a freak with a severed head? Yes. Yes, it is. Thank goodness for simple pleasures, eh?