TheSmutPeddler

The only copy of "Arabella" available on the international market seems to be a shoddy Region 2 Pan-And-Scan version of a reportedly inferior print. Probably the print I saw on TV when I was a kid and became enchanted with the truly wacky film, gorgeous Virna Lisi, the fantastic costumes, wigs, jewelry, and the continental settings circa 1928. Above all, I loved Ennio Morricone's score for this film, from kooky to romantic and everything in-between. The melodic "flapper" theme that seems to surround Arabella and her schemes has haunted me for over 40 years, and when watching it recently (thanks to our frenemies in Russia having posted a copy of the shoddy DVD release), I found myself wanting to DEMAND this film be restored and released to blu-ray in its correct aspect ratio. So here I am putting in my two cents. Media Gods, MAKE IT HAPPEN! For Ennio's sake, if for no other reason. I should also note that while a ton of Morricone's music has been released digitally, the score for Arabella never even saw vinyl back in the day; that too must be released!

Without a doubt, this bizarre Christian fantasy (there's redundancy for you!) has one good thing going for it and, no, it isn't the lofty roster of Hollywood stars (a similar cast signed up for "Tentacles," which was just as mind-numbing a film). Nope, not even John Huston or Shelley Winters doing her Crazy Mama routine can top the one honest, undeniable strength of "The Visitor": Franco Micalizzi's "Stridulum" (Visitor) theme. It is dynamite! Fortunately, the entire "Stridulum" OST was released for listening pleasure on YouTube in 2020. The film is dull in an almost sadistic sort of way (remember "Tentacles"?).

A must-see from 1979. Gillis and Haven give excellent acting performances, with Gillis making the most of his role as a dead, lowlife burglar named Simon, finding himself in an afterlife of endless sexual pleasures (the food's good, too). Simon's first sexual encounter with Shiva (Haven, relishing her sinister role), is an object lesson in How To Properly Treat A Woman Sexually (likely educational for a great many loutish and ignorant, under-educated, male members of the audience). It's not long before Simon becomes exhausted from all the sex, bored by his surroundings, and this is where Gillis' acting excels. Gillis with the daisy. Gillis with the Oreos. Gillis trying to escape the orgy. Some may call the film "cheap" because of Simon's minimalist afterlife. I disagree. Every scene shot on this set is beautifully lit and lensed and the minimalism fits the character since Simon is an unimaginative man, only focused on food and sex (as he admits to Shiva). Simon's afterlife is an appropriately empty one. "For The Love Of Pleasure" takes the "Twilight Zone" story to its ultimate, hardcore destiny (merely alluded to on TV). As pointed out elsewhere, it was shot on 35mm film, so see it. Beware censored prints that are missing the scene with Lysa Thatcher as a virgin Gillis is compelled to deflower.

This has always been a favorite episode of mine since robots shouldn't fall in love, and of course the Robinson Robot B-9 isn't just any robot, so he does. The evil female robot uses all sorts of underhanded manipulations to get what she wants out of B-9 and, like any dumb sap who's infatuated, the love-struck robot carries out all her commands. He knows she's bad, but he can't help but get sucked into her diabolical plans. We don't have "vamps" the way they used to in showbiz, the concept is blatantly sexist and unflattering to women. Sure, we have evil chicks in TV shows nowadays, but some of the sexist stuff that goes on in this episode is seriously dated and fun to watch -- it wouldn't fly today. Letters would be pouring in from womens' groups complaining about the tone. Ah well, at least we can enjoy watching henpecked B-9 travel down a path many men have found themselves on when dealing with unscrupulous and self-serving females. I can agree with another contributor that this is episode is not serious stuff at all, but disagree that it's not "good" -- it is a laugh riot and lots of campy fun (most episodes where the robot gets to expand his role usually are). Yes, that's Lyle Waggoner from "The Carol Burnett Show" as one of the silver skinned aliens. The contributor also misinforms by saying The Robinsons fall in love with the evil female robot; this is not the case at all; Robot B-9 keeps his shameless lady-love a secret from his space family and only sneaks off to visit her on the down-low. It's a classic scenario that could have come out of a film noir, with the "bad girl" ultimately ruining the family man who is haplessly in love with her.

I give this one a 10 and dub it a diamond in the rough, worthy of rediscovery by today's gay cynics. After this one gets going it pays off with unintentional laughs again and again. The acting is stilted, to be sure! The plot is preposterous, and Angela Lansbury's performance will have you in stitches (too good to be true - isn't it true she has the mouth of a truck driver in real life?). The cherry on the sundae is queer-in-real-life Raymond Burr's character's immense, almost obsessive love for his dead male friend (WINK WINK) as well as his idiotically masochistic obsession with Justice (oh, Ye Gods!). His Karl Rove-like calculated and infallible retaliation against Lansbury for her arch treachery wears the crown of high camp. It all seems perhaps more fresh than it ever could have before due to the current climate in US politics (with Machiavellian maniacs like Rove guiding the destiny of a country onto the rocks for purely spiteful and self-serving reasons). Fire up a BIG batch of popcorn, mix up a gallon of Mai-tais, and have over all the snippiest gay men you know for cocktails and 78 minutes of PURE TRASH you can sink your claws into. I kid you not. When you least expect it, this movie pays off out of left field again and again. You'll be sitting there asking yourself, "what were they on when they made this thing?" It's kinda like an episode of Perry Mason, except I never sensed that Perry would have reacted so self-destructively over losing a case (not that Perry ever would lose a case!). Okay, enough said. You know the drill. Track it down on eBay or at your local video store if they can find one (mine had a copy and I rented it on a whim, based on the title. By the way, if the title alone doesn't get your girlfriends to show up to see what all the fuss is about they're sorry sports, indeed).

Suggested co-features include...Fritz Lang's film noir masterpiece, SCARLET STREET (1945) in which bad girl Joan Bennett takes soft-hearted chump Edward G. Robinson on the ride of his life...The saucy pulp fiction, CRIME OF PASSION (1957) in which desperate housewife Barbara Stanwyck inexplicably casts aside a torrid love affair with hard-as-a-rock Sterling Hayden for a cheap fling with Raymond Burr (yeah, can you believe it???)...or John Waters' FEMALE TROUBLE (1974) which always pairs well with any other girl-gone-bad film.

"The Bees" is a LOT of fun (but you have to be willing to go along for the ride and NOT take it seriously at all). Kind of a cross between a TV sitcom (like "Three's Company") and Irwin Allen's (also laughable) "The Swarm", remember: it's all just goofy FUN.

John Saxon (the hardest working B (or bee) Movie Actor of the 70s), dishy Angel Tompkins, and John Carradine (looking quite frail as Tompkins uncle "Ziggy" with an utterly fraudulent German accent) form a team of bee experts whose research and chutzpah come to the rescue when huge swarms of killer bees make their way to the United States (via corporate greed), wreaking (laughable) havoc. Humor abounds (both intentional and, more significantly, unintentional). The results are cornball, played to the campy hilt by all involved.

The bee attacks are particularly amusing, underscored by goofy soundtrack music that goes disco at times when the bees get their close-ups. How can anyone not enjoy seeing the Rose Parade in Pasadena upset by an attack of the buzzing fiends? Face it, you WILL be rooting for the bees in this film, cheering them on as they go after the actors.

SPOILER ALERT (AS IF with a movie like THIS!)...That the solution for the bee problem involves using pheromone sprays to confuse the male drone bees, tricking them into mating with each other (essentially turning the bees GAY!), and thereby somehow rendering them sterile (huh???) kicks this one out of the field. But it doesn't stop there...Saxon and Tompkins actually communicate with the bees and reach the United Nations to warn, "You have to listen! You have to listen to what the bees have to say!"

"The Bees" must bee seen to bee beelieeved!

Sure, the bee effects are hokey, but what would anyone honestly expect from a film like this? CGI??? This was 1978!

Worthy of rediscovery, "The Bees" is just good, old, grade-Z, 70s bad-movie fun. Great to heckle (a la MST3K) with a swarm of your best friends. (Liquor (or your vice of choice) is highly recommended. Perhaps toast each bee attack with "the bees knees" (a simple combination of gin plus honey, shaken with ice, strained, and served straight-up) a popular Prohibition-era drink from The Savoy Cocktail Book.)

Screen "The Bees" with any of your favorite bee-themed, B-Movies. Suggestions include: "Invasion of the Bee Girls" with honeys Victoria Vetri and Anitra Ford; Bruce Geller's Emmy- winning "The Savage Bees" TV Movie; "The Killer Bees" starring Kate Jackson and Gloria Swanson (a must-see, if you can find it); or the hypnotic episode titled "Zzzzz" from "The Outer Limits" (original series, of course).

Or -- and this one you should already have thought of yourself -- precede "The Bees" with Hitchcock's "The Birds" and rely on guests' libidos to take the prurient overtones to the next level...(anyone for royal jelly and prophylactics?)

Have a real stinger of an evening!

While the movie publicity foregrounds Boris Karloff as the "sell" for this picture, it's actually Charles Laughton's vehicle more than Boris's (Boris is relegated to a supporting role as a wily henchman ready to slit throats for his master who is imprisoned by Laughton's diabolical Sire de Maletroit). But there's plenty to chew on even for Boris purists, as he has some choice moments here and there and eventually saves the day (oops! should I not have told you?). The film is full of splendid atmosphere, but may seem like fluff to contemporary audiences who can't fathom the "issue" importance of pretty Sally Forest being married off to a rogue against her wishes (you see, in those days people were wed for life). And still, the film is really about mood over material and -- in my humble opinion -- it succeeds beautifully as a lesser-known thriller of court intrigue and swashbuckling derring-do. Laughton is superlative as a sleazy nobleman whose personal hatred of his imprisoned brother drives him to make every attempt to dash the happiness of the niece in his charge. Supporting players are fine also, with the always lurid Michael Pate on hand as well as William Cottrell as Laugton's sadistic servants. Nothing supernatural here, necessarily, as one might hope from a movie combining the talents of Laughton and Karloff, but the Robert Louis Stevenson based-story doesn't disappoint from a romantic or melodramatic standpoint. Even Richard Stapley's somewhat fey hero (who doesn't seem remotely like the rogue Laughton believes him to be) can't sink this one. Whoever said it was dull obviously doesn't have much to work with in terms of an imagination. Pop some popcorn, curl up on the sofa late at night, and enjoy this period-piece. How often do we get to see Laughton cackling away in a dungeon (where he goes "to relax" as he puts it)...or Karloff as the hero...?

Welcome to Remake Hell (and you thought that was just happening today!).

Face it, Remake Hell is eternal. It's been going on for decades and hasn't just been happening in the past 10 or so years. This time in 1982's FAKE-OUT, director Matt Cimber reshoots (almost scene for scene) his own prior fiasco from 1975, LADY COCOA (see http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0073259 for details about this turgid 1975 mess). This time, Pia Zadora takes on the lead role (originally portrayed by Miss Lola Falana in LADY COCOA), and the results are NO noticeably better. Both films suck, and FAKE-OUT's addition of more noteworthy supporting stars (like Telly Savalas and Desi Arnaz, Jr.) doesn't help matters any. It wasn't a bad plot to begin with, but Cimber doesn't elevate the story or improve the writing since his 1975 outing with the same material. It's a wonder he hasn't remade this film four or five MORE times over with other Vegas headliners like Taylor Dayne or Mariah Carey!

That said, this is still great fun for Zadora fans (or hecklers). But if you've seen LADY COCOA you may become easily bored by the grade-Z script, cut-rate production values (the Riviera casino looks pretty shoddy, actually), and the predictability of it all.

There is one apparently notorious (and charming) shower scene early on in the film where we learn that Pia's acting skills have a definite ceiling. As she's made to cooperate sexually with some fellow inmates, she turns on this blank stare that we all know (and love) from moments such as these in THE LONELY LADY. It's like a trademark for Pia. Kinda like that strange, Kabuki stare that Faye Dunaway would occasionally give off after a tirade in MOMMIE DEAREST. Strange stuff, but compelling for its utter badness.

I have to say I was really disappointed in this Matt Cimber extravaganza. It started out OK but as soon as I figured out this was a remake of an earlier, abysmal project, I found myself checking my watch to see how much longer it would run. That was at about the 15 minute mark.

Pia's opening "number" (the only one in the flick) over which the titles are displayed is pretty fun stuff -- in a thoroughly cheezy way, of course. Freeze-frame moments of Pia shaking her booty, complete with added optical effects are perfect. Too bad FAKE-OUT didn't contain more of these types of scenes.

No doubt many followers of the Superman franchise have already been brainwashed into believing this movie is "great stuff" -- the same crowd who perhaps even still think Spielberg's crappy remake of WAR OF THE WORLDS was hot stuff -- the types who routinely subscribe to Hollywood hype (filtered through the tabloids and online sites like Rotten Tomatoes, et. al.). Sure, the special effects sequences are well executed -- but, nowadays, shouldn't they be flawless anyway? After all, we go into a film like this *knowing* that the latest developments in SFX are going to be on display, so let's set all that window-dressing aside. The FX deserve praise, so let's just say that the they were adequate. Thinking people, on the other hand, know (instinctively) that it is the execution of the story that matters much more than FX achievements, and this is where SUPERMAN RETURNS becomes miserable. There is a desperate attempt to create some sort of imaginary legitimacy for this film by reusing numerous sounds, music, and visuals from the first two movies from the SUPERMAN installments starring Christopher Reeve. It feels desperate from the get-go. Kudos to the filmmakers for recognizing they had good stuff to work with and to capitalize on that would be artistically worthwhile, but what it really comes off as is, "like this movie because we're trying to tie it in with the old ones you used to love" not as any honest kind of sequel to what already occurred in the first two Reeve outings. Then we get to the actors... Brandon Routh is a cute puppy, but the most acting he does is a sort of bad imitation of Christopher Reeve's Clark Kent shtick. Beyond that, his performance is a painful black hole -- the more established performers in the crew (Eva Marie Saint, Frank Langella, et. al.) run circles around him. But this is just a comic-book adaptation and all Brandon Routh really has to do in this movie is look handsome for most of the time; the "introspective" moments Superman periodically has take the form of stupendous flying sequences. But these feel like he's repeating himself when the second or third "soaring" comes around. Kate Bosworth's rendering of Lois Lane is at first bewildering and unsettling, and then it just becomes unpleasant and irritating. It's astonishing that the Lane we previously knew as Margot Kidder (ebullient, entertaining, quirky, strong, and independent) would turn coat on Superman in such a REMARKABLY SHORT period of time. Bosworth comes off like a spoiled little bitch, a bratty child who has outbursts the moment her mommy has left her alone in a grocery store wagon for a moment to grab something out of reach. Lane's (eventually revealed) pregnancy-abandonment issues didn't at all garner any sympathy from me: unplanned pregnancies in the USA are a bigger problem than they are a tragedy: even young people today (teenagers) KNOW what they need to do to avoid unwanted pregnancy: use a frickin' rubber! It's Lois Lane's OWN fault that she got herself knocked up by an alien being! I guess if you don't believe in abortion you make the best of a bad situation and pretend it's someone else's kid (instead of fessing up to the truth) and get him to take the rap for the pregnancy, eh? Man, this Lois Lane is one sorry excuse for a heroine. Margot Kidder's Lois Lane probably played poker with the guys (can you even imagine Bosworth's Lane doing that? Heck, she "lost it" when she dropped her purse! What a CHILD!!!). It's utterly laughable that THIS Lois Lane could win a Pulitzer Prize for even a laundry list. When Lois, her annoying husband, and their sickly child were about to sink into the ocean forever I actually PRAYED that Superman would NOT save them so the movie could take a turn into a more interesting (and entertaining direction). I wanted these annoying Earthlanders to pay the price for Yuppie Smugness. Never before have I been so sorry to see people saved (except at the end of the film when Superman came back to life -- how much better it would have been to kill him off and start the franchise anew in a couple years with SUPERBOY, the coughing, spluttering wimp who can fly...sorta...well, only when he gets really mad). I dunno...this movie was a mess. Kevin Spacey sleepwalked through the Luthor role. Parker Posey should have been playing Lois Lane, not some throw-away gangster's moll with nothing much to do... Even the script felt like a rehash: Luthor's plans for world domination are all but lifted from the first film. In this one he plans to sink the US into the ocean while he "cultures" new land. In the first Reeve outing with SUPERMAN, Luthor much more insidiously blows up the San Andreas fault to sink the west coast of the US and drive up the value of desert lands he's already purchased. Doesn't seem like the writers could think up anything too original or interesting, eh? (snore...). With any luck, and after the dust settles and folks begin thinking for themselves again, somewhere down the line this film will fall into its natural place of distinction. Right up there with SUPERMAN III.

I attended the school(s) at which this movie was made. THE POM POM GIRLS was filmed at the two (junior and senior high school) campuses of Chaminade College Preparatory (in Chatsworth and West Hills (née Canoga Park), California). At the time of filming the production went by a far less sensational title (PALISADES HIGH, I believe), and the administrators of the fund-grubbing Catholic school were excited to have a movie lensed on their properties. Interiors and exteriors were shot at both campuses, and I attended classes in the rooms shown in the movie. Believe me, it's weird and wonderful (and a bit sad) to look back in time, watching this movie and reminding myself of what it was like to grow up during the 1970s and go to (this particular) school. THE POM POM GIRLS is certainly not a great movie by any stretch of the imagination, and it outraged the school PTA when it was released as a tits&ass, soft-core, teensploitation flick (the school was under the impression it was going to be a lot cleaner and more meaningful...HA!). But I have a strange fondness for this movie, as difficult as it can be to sit through for its sheer inanity. The film does succeed on one level, however. Every decade has its share of "teen" oriented movies showing kids misbehaving, falling in love, getting into trouble, etc. These films manage to depict popular culture of the time perhaps better than any other genre film. THE POM POM GIRLS captures that slice-of-life of the 1970s as well as any other film from that era I know of. And at the same time idealize it to mythic proportions. I can honestly say I didn't have nearly as good a time in high school as the characters do in this film -- I only wish I had! -- but I did observe other kids leading this sort of lifestyle -- skipping class and driving to Malibu or wherever...getting high in the backs of vans...and being promiscuous. If I had it all to do over again...(sigh). Incidentally, the mud-pit scene in the movie was a ritual which took place annually at the Chaminade high school campus as part of a week long initiation (seniors versus sophomores). By the time I became a sophomore (a year after this film was made), the mud pit had been done away with -- rumor has it someone put broken glass in the pit and injuries occurred. As the saying goes, it's all fun and games until someone gets a fork in the eye... And that's what THE POM POM GIRLS feels like: all the fun and games that happened *right before* someone got that fork in the eye. THE POM POM GIRLS is not a good movie, but it's an entertaining "drive-in" flick -- excellent to "make out" to. As a genre film it appears loosely based on the Juvenile Delinquent films of the 50s and 60s but it lacks The Message (moral) that pervades most of those films. Look at HOT RODS TO HELL (1967), for example, which was a morality play about youngsters living hard and fast ("for kicks, man!") and learning -- by the end of the film -- that smart-ass antics can result in tragedy. THE POM POM GIRLS, on the other hand, goes so far as to include a "Chicken Suicide Race" at the climax (lifted right out of REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE), but even that's just a red-herring for another of Johnnie's pranks. Just when it looks like the film might have a message (and some real meaning) the rug is pulled out from under you. This results in a film that ultimately feels empty-headed, hedonistic, and shallow. "Carpe Diem" and all that. Consequently, a certain sweet sadness hangs over this movie -- you know that, sooner or later, Johnnie and his band of friends are going to face things like the draft, unwanted pregnancy, STDs, Real Life (including the unemployment line), etc. I still chuckle to myself about this film because it may lack significance to many, many people...except, perhaps, to all the teachers, parents, and Marianist priests and brothers of Chaminade Prep whom it scandalized (hee hee hee!).

WHY IS THIS NOT ON DVD??? With all the hit-and-miss comedies that go into mass distribution every year you would think that someone with a brain that works in the UA distribution division would roll up his or her shirtsleeves and dig out this diamond-in-the-rough, polish it up, and give it much deserved first-class treatment on DVD with much ballyhoo. It's due to be rediscovered and appreciated by a whole new generation. The timing is spot-on, even if the dubbing is merely adequate for the conceit (remember this is 1940!) -- but the conceit works. Kudos to obscure lead man John Hubbard who minces around flamboyantly as the wife, and points also to Carole Landis for her interpretation of the husband (imagine backslapping Mary Astor!). A terrific cast works with extremely fun material and has a ball -- and you can tell. There's never a dull moment, and the jokes are consistently funny from beginning to end. The statue in the bedroom is a tad creepy (being an actor painted bronze) -- imagine that thing staring at you every night when you go to bed! Really, Seek This One Out and enjoy it if you can find it anywhere. Shame on UA for not already getting this one out on DVD (or at least a good quality commercial VHS), but the damage can be repaired easily by making this one available in 2006. So, UA...HOW ABOUT IT???!!!

Having been a fan of the delightfully decadent Martine Beswicke (née Beswick) for many years (ever since I first caught her in "Dr. Jekyll & Sister Hyde*), I've always wanted to see "Devil Dog" -- and it's odd that I would have missed it when it was first aired, because I would have been a hardcore TV-movie junkie at that young age. but miss it I did (must've been out trick- or-treating that night). I'm glad I waited-out the DVD (great print!) and finally got to see this TV-movie in pristine glory.

Other Martine fans out there (you know who you are) will delight in the opening seven minutes or so. First, La Beswicke (in a spectacular set of high-heeled, ankle-strapped, f*ck-me pumps) along with a couple of her diabolical disciples stroll through a dog breeder's complex shopping for the right "Rosemary" to give birth to Satan's canine offspring. They're all dressed in black suits and drive a sinister, black station wagon (how cool is THAT!?!). There's a brief, but droll exchange with the breeder who wonders aloud what these big-ticket, officious types want with "Lady", a highly prized German Shepard puppy-machine he's used to pop out blue-ribbon winning litters in the past (only the best for the Prince of Darkness, you know...). Martine sets him straight in her characteristically exotic line delivery, "we're NOT adopting a CHILD, you know!..." Could this be a public service announcement for a PETA ad campaign? But I digress...

Cut to a close up of what has to be one of the neatest Satanic portraits I've ever seen. The horned Master is rendered in shades of pea-soup green with a snake coiled around him. Could this be an episode of "Night Gallery"???

Pull back to find the enormous painting (which I wish I HAD!) hanging above an altar in a barn where Ms. Beswicke, in red robes, is conducting a black mass. Pull back further to reveal a pentagram in a circle drawn in the ground, where "Lady" the pooch is leashed to a stake. Martine makes some invocations and tosses some "thing" into the space between her and the dog which explodes on contact with the ground (ooh! ahh! Special Effects!). The sparkler spooks the dog, naturally, and all you can feel is compassion for the canine (oh, poor doggy!). We get some great close-ups of Martine, who looks fabulous, btw, and deserves much credit for managing to recite all the dialog with a straight face. Nobody quite does "evil" like Ms. Beswicke; she really gets into the part and seems to relish it (atta girl!).

Mention must be made of Martine's purple-clad coven, who manage to recite back all the mumbo-jumbo she's been saying (which indeed must have taken some bit of rehearsal). A windstorm begins, heralding the appearance of The Black Prince (or his dog, anyhow). We get another giggle-inducing moment when the camera cuts to one of Martine's minions who has chosen to attend the function in his sunglasses. The tension mounts.

As credits announce the production, Martine swoops down from her altar and escorts her denizens outside the barn, leaving "Lady" tied to a stake in the middle of the pentagram (presumably to await impregnation). Soon a huge shadow of a dog passes over them all, and into the barn. Martine shuts the doors and throws a captivating smile (as her credit appears). What goes on inside is merely hinted at, but WE KNOW, don't we...!?!?!?!

Later we learn it is the big, black station wagon that kills the Barry family dog which means they'll be in the market for a replacement (hasn't anyone heard of having more than one dog at a time? Oh well...).

A terrific actor (Victor Jory?) portrays the devil-worshiper/grocer-on-wheels who just "happens" to show up outside the door of the Barry family and bestow on them the prize puppy of "Lady"s litter. He leers malevolently at Kim Richards and Ike Eisenmann (the Barry family children) like a gleeful child molester turned loose in an orphanage, offering them first ripe, red apples (shades of Snow White!) and then a puppy from the litter of a rather worn-out looking "Lady" which he just happens to be carting around in the back of his awning-draped caravan.

There are so many "warning" messages in this film! Don't sell dogs to satanists! Don't let your children near leering mobile grocers! Don't adopt puppies from leering mobile grocers who may be satanists!, etc. But it's the innocent, gullible Carter-era of the 1970s and none of these folks have a clue about what's going to happen to them...

Other reviewers have focused on what comes next, so I'll spare you my interpretation, except to point out that the wallpaper in the Barry household (look at the dining room and the kitchen, for example) is far scarier than anything that "Lucky" the adopted spawn of Satan can conjure up.

Rent (or purchase) at once for a night of fun with friends. Pair this up with Susan Lucci's dreadful demonic health-spa film, "Invitation To Hell" or possibly another canine car-wreck like "Won Ton Ton: The Dog That Saved Hollywood" (if you can even find a copy!). Keep the popcorn flowing!

Tracking down a copy of SYLVIA was kind of like the Maharis character's attempt to unearth facts about the main character. I finally found a copy and watched it tonight and was mildly impressed overall, very impressed with parts of the film, and unimpressed with other parts. It's an episodic sort of movie, as Maharis's detective goes from Pennsylvania to Mexico to New York to Los Angeles to piece together the background of Carroll Baker's "Sylvia". The supporting cast is terrific, as has been noted by other IMDb contributors. Then there are the flashbacks themselves which are less satisfying. I don't think this is Carroll Baker's fault at all, really. Maybe I am prejudiced since I adore Ms. Baker even when her acting isn't "spot on." Where I think the film flounders is in the way it doesn't avail itself of the kind of subjectivity that a film like CITIZEN KANE investigated. Each of the people Maharis interviews tells a part of Sylvia's life from his/her own perspective. Unfortunately the direction is fairly straight- forward, uninteresting, and doesn't adequately reflect each storyteller's own agenda or personal perspective. That would have made the flashback sequences much more interesting and provocative, and given Baker a bit more "meat" to her role as the enigmatic Sylvia since we would be seeing her -- literally -- through the eyes of the person recounting her life at that point in the film. The flashbacks in SYLVIA are simply that: flashbacks, and nothing more. Because the film is so simplistic, we automatically trust what each character is telling us about Sylvia and the flashbacks themselves are gospel truths. After a while the formula of Maharis meeting a new person from Sylvia's life and the flashback convention starts to get a bit tedious. On the other hand, as the film advances we get some great character performances from Ann Sothern, Viveca Lidfors, and Nancy Kovack (among others). Paul Gilbert as Lola Diamond is a hoot, and Lloyd Bochner and Aldo Ray are sinister adversaries as the men who rape Sylvia. The film feels like it wants to be LAURA but never quite achieves the same spellbinding quality, perhaps because there's no murder mystery which would have given the audience a nice bit of suspense to cope with (just the threat of scandal, which was admittedly more damaging a liability in the 60s than it is today; heck, today an author might thrive on scandal if it sold more copies of her book!). I felt a big "so what" about the unsurprisingly scandalous past of Sylvia. We already know that Sylvia made good on her own, and doesn't really "need" the financial assistance of the Peter Lawford character. There is very little to get worked up about, except perhaps what handsome Mack may do with all his sordid information. And, naturally, it's inevitable he should meet and fall in love with Sylvia. That would seem to me to be a good potential departure point for something exciting, and certainly more interesting than what happens next. What the film doesn't explore very well is how much Sylvia seems to need approval, and how empty she is emotionally (evidently using her reading as a form of escape from reality). As much as Baker tries to fill in the blanks in the script for us with a sympathetic performance, we don't really ever get a deep enough look beneath the surface of Sylvia, or get into her head. All the evidence is hearsay, circumstantial, and very little comes from Sylvia herself. Mack even stops Sylvia from pouring her soul out to him, which is unfortunate because it would have given Baker an incredible monologue to chew on as she dragged up every dark aspect of her past and corroborated what we had seen (would have been a nice recap, as well). I wanted to really like this movie more, even as camp, but found myself only mildly entertained. I think the ending is a real let down. It would have helped if there had been more to the conflict than just the exposure of scandal. The happy ending felt tacked-on and rushed, especially. All this is not to say that I think SYLIVA a bad film or Baker not good in it. Quite the contrary. I think the film has some precious moments indeed, but that as a good vehicle for Baker it is somewhat of a missed opportunity.

In this audacious Italian sex-comedy three chauvinistic hunks get their comeuppance by the same woman (someone they used to taunt in school for being ugly, but who grew out of her bad looks into a stunning beauty). THREE FOR ONE (perhaps unintentionally) reworks plot elements from THE GIRL MOST LIKELY TO... a TV movie from the early 1970s which starred Stockard Channing as an ugly, tormented girl who (due to a car crash) undergoes plastic surgery and becomes gorgeous, only to use her newfound beauty to take revenge on the cruel people that used to humiliate and abuse her.

Luckily I taped THREE FOR ONE off the Joe Bob Brigg's cable show. I've enjoyed it whenever I've needed a dose of mind-numbingly stupid eye-candy. It's right up there with FOREVER EMMANUELLE (aka LAURE) for brainless entertainment of a thoroughly prurient nature.

This one has it all: "bad" acting; an outrageously implausible plot; "who wrote that?!?" one- liners; and three hunky studs who bare (nearly) all during the course of the film. I still wonder whether any or all of these guys ever appeared in PLAYGIRL magazine; there's a "familiar" quality about each of them (particulary when they take their clothes OFF). If anyone knows, drop me a line!

Martina Castel is the star of this vehicle. Her acting goes from deer-caught-in-the-headlights to tragically earnest. According to IMDb this is Ms. Castel's only feature. Makes me wonder where she came from and where she went after this (the stage? retirement? a bordello?). She is reminiscent of porn actress Desiree Lane (looks-wise and acting-wise). Her various "disguises" are sometimes laughable (that black wig!); blame the low budget. In all fairness, Ms. Castel does possess a blank, porcelain-doll quality that might make it possible for her to masquerade effectively as three different women (with proper make-up, hair, and costumes). Of course, her acting ability is another matter... No Oscars here...but maybe a Razzy!

THREE FOR ONE stumbles and bumbles along as Ms. Castel's character weaves her web of intrigue, like a spider drawing three hapless flies into a trap. She passes herself off as three different women to the trio of lusty horn-dogs, each in search of his "ideal woman", and preys on each man's individual tastes. For the greasy Guido she's a raven- haired sexpot. For the brawny athlete and aspiring actor (who moonlights as a stripper!), she takes on the guise of an athletic free-spirit. For the suave, conservative, cultured blond guy she comes off as bookish, dresses in tweeds, and feigns modesty -- at first...then she smolders in the boudoir. She "works" these guys over and over, appearing to just one man at a time (in the respective disguise), while juggling -- and romancing -- all three.

It's exhausting!

The guys can't help themselves, of course, and repeatedly bed down with their "ideal woman". Naturally, each guy guards his respective girl, keeping her under wraps (in more ways than one) from the other two scalawags -- these guys are friends, but they don't trust each other at all! And it's not long before each guy is talking about marriage.

At the film's climax (ha!) the men find out they've been duped by the same vindictive woman who was once an ugly girl they collectively abused and humiliated back in grade school. The tables have turned, and it looks like the three guys hopes and dreams are shattered...

Vengeance is sweet for Ms. Castel. Of course, it doesn't end there...

In the final scene, the three dawgs are at their local watering-hole, licking their sore paws and feeling forlorn over what has transpired. Suddenly in breezes a lovely lass in a skin-tight pair of jeans and bolero hat. Could it be...HER? The men are compelled to follow, hypnotized, it seems! Why, sure enough it IS the venerable Ms. Castel again -- only this time she's just being herself (no wigs or make-up). A few strides ahead of the trio, she turns and throws the camera a wink (as if to suggest she's going to get all three guys into bed at the same time -- atta girl!!!).

Roll Credits.

All the actors speak English, but there are moments when one of Ms. Castel's characters' names seems to change from "Bunny" to "Funny" (which is pretty funny!). That alone seems to suggest the filmmakers were in a rush (or possibly confused by language). There is suggestion in the credits that a version in Italian exists somewhere.

When shown on cable, this feature felt very choppy, particularly during the sex scenes, which makes me wonder if there's a more "complete" (raunchy, or hard-core) "continental" version of THREE FOR ONE out there on video, possibly available in Europe. (If so, I WANNA SEE IT!!!)

There's plenty of soft-core action to hold your interest, even if it is choppy and leaves more to your imagination than it pays off. The soundtrack is laughably heavy- handed -- at turns alternately glamorous, silly, or thumping High-Energy pop. There's a great recurring theme that contains a rap riff that seems inspired by the song "Double Dutch Bus" (instrumentals particularly). Your ears will bleed with enjoyment! I only wish I had that music on CD!!!

For the connoisseur of Bad Cinema, there's much to be appreciated in THREE FOR ONE. Ms. Castel delivers for the fans of T&A, and I give the movie three big, juicy stars out of ten -- one for each of the obscure but hunky performers who bared-nearly-all for this torrid romp.

I would give "Get Christie Love!" a higher score if the Brentwood DVD transfer had sound that I could actually HEAR. I turned my volume up all the way and still couldn't hear half of what was going on. This is a major disappointment since I remember seeing and enjoying "Get Christie Love!" when it was first broadcast (I was about eleven years old at the time). Teresa Graves made a likable femme fatale and her groovy outfits and funky talk were a welcome addition to prime time TV. "Julia" always bored me, but "Christie Love" was a hoot. Sad that Ms. Graves got bitter and religious and finally burned to death, but that's just another example of what Hollywood success (or the lack thereof) can do to people ill-equipped to handle the bumpy ride. Bottom line: this was a very good TV-movie production and it has been rendered almost unwatchable by a lousy video transfer. Buyers (and renters) beware!

This film, while utter trash from beginning to end, has tremendous camp value along the lines of "The Lonely Lady" and "Showgirls". For one thing, fans of the TV show "Dynasty" are REQUIRED to rent and watch this soft-core porn fiasco to see their beloved Alexis Carrington Colby Dexter (etc.), Joan Collins, boffing in the buff as rich-bitch disco maven, Fontaine Khaled (Fontaine is a forerunner of Alexis if ever there was one!). You could even say Fontaine is a sort of "Alexis Uncensored" -- Fontaine has all the glamorous window dressing of Alexis while tossing-off vulgar quips like, "Doesn't that give you a hard-on?" (Yes, you WILL howl when you hear the lines coming out of La Collins' mouth!). Wealthy wives who are bored silly, Fontaine and her corrupt girlfriend Vanessa spend their leisure time plotting trysts and comparing notes on sex while getting massages and applying make-up. It's all too, too FABULOUS! The so-called "plot" (thanks to Joan Collins' sister Jackie's bestselling novel) is thin stuff at best, almost arbitrarily following the whims and fancies of the rich-and-famous as they use and abuse one Tony Blake, a relatively attractive and ambitious young man who has foolishly resorted to hustling to pay the bills (played by Oliver Tobias, who would also run around naked in another tawdry production, "The Wicked Lady", co-starring Faye Dunaway, some five years later). It's the old "hooker with a heart of gold" story all over again; Tony becomes introspective over the course of the film and starts questioning his lifestyle. Without giving anything else away, your jaw will absolutely drop by the time the orgy scene rolls around. ASIDE: this is almost certainly the inspiration for 1980's "American Gigolo" starring Richard Gere as a hustler whose devil-may-care lifestyle finally catches up with him. Huge points are awarded to composer Biddu for the score to "The Stud". Some well-known songs punctuate the disco soundtrack which is unparalleled and truly captures the shallow, glittery period. I only wish it were available on CD (though the credits state an album was available on the RONCO label...). Good News: both THE STUD and THE BITCH have, as of February 2006, finally been released to Region 1 DVD in a boxed set! I've yet to watch either film, but have them on order, and will edit my comments accordingly sometime in March to say how the release turned out. Bad news: Thorn EMI's rather ancient VHS release (if that's all you can get your hands on, or if that's the level of technology you're currently stuck with) suffers from very bad sound. Dialog drops out from time to time, making nuances of the story irritatingly difficult to follow -- you have to keep adjusting the volume on your TV upward to hear what's being said, then down again so you don't get blasted to death by scenes in the disco. I've checked several commercially released copies of "The Stud" on VHS and they all suffered from the same sound problems, so it's Thorn EMI's fault. Which is too bad. "The Stud" is an example of bad film-making at its most obnoxious and should be witnessed by everyone who is either a fan of "bad cinema" or merely familiar with the work of Joan Collins.

Just rented and watched HI, MOM! and am blown away by parts of it which are so ahead of its time as to seem contemporary, given today's post-MTV-era approach to film-making.

I would say 80% of this film is utterly brilliant and 20% is merely so-so; scenes with extended dialog sometimes have you checking your watch since the characters may seem to drone on about this-or-that, but there are enough funny moments in these sorts of scenes to keep your attention. And, believe me, you want to stay tuned for the "Be Black, Baby" portion of the film which is nothing short of side-splitting.

The way the film is made, with its occasional fast-paced editing, sped-up footage, and other visual tricks (so dePalma) will appeal greatly to the short-attention-spans of today and seem to anticipate the way films will be made by mainstream producers and directors who cut their teeth creating music videos for MTV. I'm not saying this film feels like a music video, but it uses various visual devices which would become standard fare in music videos and part of today's cinematic vocabulary. Again, I can't reinforce how ahead of its time this film is, apparently foreshadowing things like "reality TV" in the "Be Black, Baby" guerrilla theatre piece.

It's astounding and frightening to see how far we possibly HAVEN'T come past these notions of entertainment, or how they've become scarily mainstreamed by Hollywood.

DeNiro gives a terrific performance and it's a real treat to see him doing something like this at a young age. Kudos to DePalma for this film, also -- it's a filmmaker's dream with all the film-within-film devices and you can see he's working out his fascination with optical and split-screen-type manipulations in a very youthful, bravura sort of way. I would say this is DePalma at his most innovative, aside from his shamefully underrated film SISTERS...before he became bloated and weighed down by the mainstream Hollywood ethic. That's not to say DRESSED TO KILL or CARRIE are bad pictures or bad reflections on DePalma, but they don't reflect the liberated genius that is clearly evident in HI, MOM! or SISTERS.

HI, MOM! is an absolute MUST-SEE for any DePalma fan, general cineaste, film student, or comedy devotee. There are still lessons to be learned from watching this film, even today when it seems all the tricks DePalma used have been exploited ad infinitum. HI, MOM! manages to feel fresh in an era when -- by rights -- it really ought to feel stale.

It's also a tremendously valuable look at pop culture from 1970 and contains some great moments in an adult movie theater. My favorite line occurs there, when a porno producer is counseling DeNiro (a would-be amateur porno producer himself, using his Super 8 mm camera). The two men sit in the back row, discussing the film they're watching and how it's made (and, for the uninitiated, this is typically where men-who-seek-the-company-of-other-men will congregate). Suddenly we have a rapid cut which shows another theater patron has sat himself next to the men, and the patron puts his hand on the leg of one of the men (DeNiro, I think, who brushes it off with some shock and embarrassment). The porno producer (mentor) says very sympathetically, regarding the gesture of the patron, "...he means well." Boy, ain't that the truth! Meanwhile, in the background, another patron is being thrown out of the men's room (presumably for having made a pass at someone homophobic).

Another scene involves a pharmacist opening a condom package and demonstrating its strength and elasticity. Hilarious.

These are issues you would likely never see addressed today in a mainstream Hollywood film because of America's prudishness, or they would be handled in a way that was purely condescending. Instead, DePalma takes you *into* the circumstances, humanizes them, and permits them to be funny on their own merit (he doesn't clobber you over the head with bad, smarmy, self-conscious jokes the way today's writers would).

What is disappointing about this film is that it shows how DePalma's work ultimately suffered as he became a victim of the Hollywood machine -- the studios and execs who no doubt had a hand in reigning in his talent and vision, styling it for a perceived audience.

Again, I can't recommend this film enough -- please rent it and see it and revel in its good-naturedness, it's incredibly edgy foreshadowing of things-to-come, and it's hilariously genuine humor.

I would call this film a *wretched* mess, rather than a beautiful one. There is no "there" there in I HEART HUCKABEES, and the relentless, cloying cuteness with which everyone tosses-off philosophical blather is, at best, annoying. There's a tragic sense the lavish cast feels it is participating in a project of monumental importance, but the performances -- which range wildly from energetic to phoned-in -- are utterly wasted on the material which can only be described as an exercise in intellectual masturbation. The highly praised visual touches are totally arbitrary and inconsequential, and much of the action and motivation is absurd. But of course it's supposed to be, and therefore I'm supposed to go along with it...right? Wrong. I couldn't stand trying to fathom the psychic vacuum of I HEART HUCKABEES, nor motivate myself to care about anything I saw. I only wish I could get back the time and money I spent on this hollow, pretentious tripe.

Get a group together to witness POINT OF TERROR which, as others will have noted, is not a horror movie (but *is* pretty horrible!). The film is, rather, a sexploitation melodrama about a ruthless, ladder-climbing lounge singer, Tony Trelos (Peter Carpenter) who gets involved both intimately and professionally with Andrea (Dyanne Thorne), the sex-starved, alcoholic wife of a wheelchair-bound music industry mogul. Everything about this film is a howler: script, acting, production values (tin-foil sets), and the music...the music...oh, those songs! On top of everything else we have a protagonist who likes to "drop trou" and show off his humpy bod (and there ain't nuthin' wrong with that!). Peter Carpenter must have an ego the size of Mount Rushmore to flash us a lingering butt-shot when he emerges from a shower as well as a fully nude side-angle shot where his leg just barely hides the family jewels from view. WOOF!!! Did he ever do a Playgirl spread? It certainly would have been up his alley... Tempestuous blonde bombshell co-star Dyanne Thorne is a force to be reckoned with (and how!) with a rack that won't quit, and her buoyant topless scene in a swimming pool is one of the film's highlights (along with her many excursions into overacting). Watch for scenes with Joel Marston as the wheelchair-bound husband who can't seem to sit still (although he's supposed to be utterly incapacitated from the waist down), and in one poolside scene catches himself just before crossing his legs! Leslie Simms in a supporting role as one of Andrea's lush friends is a scene stealer, while Paula Mitchell as Sally turns in a tragically robotic performance. It just keeps getting better and better...! The film's cinematography is often laughably blurry when "focusing" on Carpenter during his lounge act at The Lobster House (yes, The Lobster House, I kid you not), or else it's bizarrely "creative" (as happens during a moonlit, beach-side sex scene involving select points of view shown in split-screen). Oh, and the wardrobe...and hair!!! Look, if you're not a fan of "bad cinema", don't bother with this title since you won't even be able to appreciate the astonishing epic quality of this carefully crafted bomb. But if you're like me, and get sick chuckles out of films that tried really hard but totally missed the mark, then rent this one immediately or buy it (Rhino DVD released POINT OF TERROR as part of a multi-film set titled HORRIBLE HORRORS in October of 2004). This one gets a whopping 8 out of 10 just because its so terribly awful that it's engagingly entertaining in repeat viewings (and how cool is that!?!) -- how often does a "bad" film come along that still yields new stuff to ridicule on repeat viewings? POINT OF TERROR is a winner! And speaking of winners, what EVER happened to a talent like Peter Carpenter??? Enquiring Minds Want To Know!!!

This not very entertaining BOMB turns up occasionally on cable channel B-Mania. I caught it today and forced myself to watch it, just to see "Tippi" Hedren and Troy Donahue, both of whom must wish this project had never gotten off the shelf. Everything about it is comically dreadful: script, acting, production values. Truly, it plays like a bad porno movie—without the sex. And that makes it all the more intolerably unwatchable. Tons of footage appear to be lifted from armed forces stock footage, and matches poorly with the lamentable melodrama featuring a pudgy, bottle-blond "hero" played by director/actor/auteur Jack M. Sell. A film-within-film device takes up lots of time, is pointless and tedious, and is clearly little more than padding: footage taken from some already-and-poorly-made Christmas-themed slasher film (no doubt a previous Jack M. Sell production). It has nothing to do with espionage, so it feels utterly unrelated, and when we get past all that junk the primary storyline simply stops. Roll credits. Ugh!!! Winking one-liners and slo-mo action scenes would be marginally laughable if it all weren't so poorly done by rank amateurs. Seeing "Tippi" Hedren and Troy Donahue, even if their performances were embarrassing (which they were), warrants a generous score of 1 star--everything else about this wretched mess deserves a nothing more than Zero stars.

It's amazing how adult, pragmatic, and "grown up" attitudes towards sexuality are in this 1971 feature-particularly compared to prevailing middle-class attitudes today which seem to be slipping dangerously toward a "right wing" (so-called) morality that seeks to negate rather than celebrate loving unions regardless of sexual orientation or gender. This progressive attitude in "Sunday, Bloody Sunday" is clearly the stamp of a brilliant director dealing with highly talented actors and a literate, poignant script.

To say, as one reviewer has, that it's a shame to see a great actor like Finch reduced to playing a "fairy" presupposes there's something wrong with either being homosexual or portraying one-and there's absolutely nothing wrong with either. Finch turns in one of the most tempered and honest portrayals of a gay (or bisexual) man I've ever seen.

Kudos to Murray Head, as well, as the hip youth playing both ends (or sexes) against the middle: the prize, it would seem, is his narcissistic, yet brilliantly talented artistic self-though he is never unlikeable and appears to have genuine feelings for both the people he's bedding down with.

Glenda Jackson is typically magnificent.

No, this is not slick, breakneck-paced, "Dynasty"- or "Melrose Place"-styled garbage that folks today have come to rely on as "entertainment". "Sunday, Bloody Sunday" is a deliberately (and necessarily) long, in-depth character study in trio. And while none of it is neatly resolved at the end, you can see glimmers of hope (or inevitability, or perhaps merely growth-you decide) for the main characters.

This is not a film for every film-goer-it's for folks with brains and patience, and a willingness to observe and study that which, on the surface, might seem mundane. It deserves high praises for what it achieves, not the ignorant, homophobic rantings of some ineptly smug, self-satisfied know-it-all who probably can't sit still for ten minutes at a stretch.

Indeed, some of us are a bit more informed, worldly, tolerant, and introspective-some of us can sit in a chair and stare out into space and contemplate our lives from time to time and we don't need to have MTV blaring in the background, or be constantly multi-tasking...and to those of us who can appreciate this sensitive work, "Sunday, Bloody Sunday" is a very fine film.

In the mid 70s my folks and I happened on this Spanish language variety show by accident and caught Iris in one of her showy production numbers. Well, we couldn't believe our eyes. I tuned in frequently to see "El Show de Iris Chacon" and found it to be deliriously campy fun. It didn't help me to learn any Spanish, and because I am not familiar with the Spanish language the show remained somewhat of an enigma to me. But that sort of made it all the more fun, too -- looking in on another culture in awe, being able to get some of the jokes, not understanding others, but always appreciating the great production numbers featuring Iris in some outrageous outfit, backed up by scantily clad male dancers, doing her thing, as it were. Here's a show that's ripe for release on DVD or at least which ought to be aired again on a cable channel devoted to classic Spanish language TV productions (the way TVLand re-runs classic American comedy TV) -- if only there was one...

I wanted to like this film a lot; it came highly recommend from a

fellow cineaste whose opinion I (still believe I can) admire.

However, it was clear to me after just a few minutes watching this

film that it would be severely hampered by John Malkovich's

one-dimensional performance as Murnau. Hammering his lines

out in a monotonous, wooden manner, Malk gave us no insight

into the person Murnau was (or should have been, since this film

is not a true story; its substance is tripe). Malk (who IS a great

actor) turns in a performance so uncharacteristically devoid of

feeling or purpose that it's almost as though he reviles this film

and the people making it. The conceit of the film, that the actor

portraying a vampire really is one is thankfully revealed partway

through the production (I sure was hoping they weren't going to

hold that one out until the end since it was so obvious!). I suppose

the suspense is then supposed to come from our anticipating the

death of the vampire (?), but I frankly found little reason to care,

and therefore found little sympathy for the character of Max Shreck

(though I wanted to find some...somewhere)... I wanted to know

much more about Max Shreck than was revealed, and less about

this (utterly fabricated and fictitious, "supposed") Murnau and his

utterly dispensible crew (I will say, definitively, "No. The writer is

NOT necessary")... Dafoe is undeniably delicious as the vampire

portraying actor, and there is some relishable comedic exchanges

between Malk and Dafoe while they are haggling. Technically this

film is terrific -- I can't fault it one bit for creating a rich tapestry of

images, interweaving the film within the film into the film itself, and

so on. Nice, creative use of the medium to satisfy all of us who

enjoy movies which deal with the film-within-film concept. But as

with any number of films which purport to do this, "Shadow" falls

short in other ways, like with Malk's inexplicably phoned-in

performance (and what was with his "accent" anyway? He can't

fake a German accent well enough???)...Or, maybe this film is

supposed to be an arch sort of joke on the audience? I really

would like to like this film, but I just can't sit through another hour

and a half (which felt like three) of Malk's cardboard cutout all over

again. Sorry, folks; I went to film school and learned to love all

those quirky films that put style over substance (and I have my

favorites), but in later years have come to appreciate that films, as

they grow more technically sophisticated, have to work harder to

entertain. And this one just didn't. At least not me, anyhow.

My friends and I were surprisingly impressed by this spirited,

kooky flick when it turned up, inexplicably, at our local bar's "Movie

Night" recently. The bartender asked whether we should take a

chance on "Fag Hag" and showed off the video packaging.

Noticing immediately that it was distributed by Troma, I got the

jitters and became extremely skeptical that it could be ANY good,

but (thankfully) distribution appears to be the only tie this

production has to Troma. "Fag Hag" is blessedly unlike standard

Troma "cannibal zombie bimbo" fare -- in fact, it turned out to be

remarkably funny.

[Admittedly, not too long ago, Troma distributed a restored version

of the cult classic "Horror Hotel" (1961), so with "Fag Hag", I doff

my hat to Troma two times for having smarts. I won't talk bad about

Troma anymore, promise...! <WINK>]

The title "Fag Hag" was as a warning sign of sorts, also. With a

title like this, I expected the film would be miserably UNfunny, an

attempt to make the conceited "gay world" all warm and fuzzy

(attempted, unsuccessfully, by the cloying film "Broadway

Damage" (1997), featuring a "luvable" fag hag (Mara Hobel, of

"Mommie Dearest" fame).

Instead, "Fag Hag" was delightfully demented, unpretentious, and

cynical.. It was so much fun that my buddies and I were in stitches

time and again. I kept asking myself, "how did I miss this??!!! Why

didn't I see this (1997 release) sooner???!!!"

High praise for writer/director/producer/actor/wunderkind Damion

Dietz who, having his hand in all levels of production, has put a lot

of talent and imagination into this little flick (as well as his rather

tasty looking, scantily clad bod). There's a LOT to make fun of in

"gay culture" (which all too often takes itself far too seriously) and

Dietz pulls no punches lampooning the "gay life" while he gleefully

tosses daggers at American pop culture and traditional values.

Kudos to all involved, particularly Stephanie Orff (as Destiny Rutt)

who pulls out all the stops. Another actress (not named here in

IMDBs lamentably spare details for "Fag Hag") who plays

Destiny's main opponent in the beauty pageant also makes a

memorable splash. Then there's the party host who is utterly

obsessed with Madonna, the "gay basher" who shows his true

colors, and on and on runs the list of wacky characters. Dietz uses

them all to winkingly point out the flaws our society (including gay

society) ought to recognize but usually won't cop to. Applause!!!

Dietz also knows how to make the most out of very little.

Rock-bottom production values add the right kind of tinsel-and-papier-mache "glamour" to all aspects, particularly the

climactic beauty pageant, which is an all out riot containing a

memorable song.

Put your "gay pride" in your hip pocket, take a chance, and rent this

insane bit of burlesque -- gather a group of friends together to

enjoy it to the full (and keep the alcohol flowing). Further

suggestion: Pair "Fag Hag" up with a 1985 documentary about the

Alternative Miss World beauty pageant, titled "I Want To Be A

Beauty Queen" (starring Divine and Little Nell) -- IF you can even

find it on video anymore. If that's not available, you can always trot

out John Waters' "Desperate Living" to keep the cynical, trashy

mood running high.

I didn't know it until I looked up Dietz's filmography, but he's

responsible for 2003's "Neverland" -- a film I sadly missed in

cinematic distribution. You can bet, after seeing "Fag Hag" and

what Dietz is capable of, I will rent "Neverland" ASAP. I hope we

can continue to see great things from Damion Dietz in the future,

and that he gets the recognition he deserves.

Nineteen year old Sam Bottoms is made to wander miserably

through the desert without food, water, shoes, or clothes (save a

pair of shorts). He's been forced to surrender his belongings to a

sadistic, rifle-wielding adversary -- Andy Griffith (yes, ANDY

GRIFFITH -- no kidding!!!). Griffith gets sick kicks from hunting

people instead of "conventional" prey, and will track Bottoms down

for the big kill unless the youngster can outwit him...

Folks familiar with the fine 1930s suspense film "The Most

Dangerous Game" will see distinct plot parallels. "The Most

Dangerous Game" possesses one of the most regurgitated plot

devices in Hollywood history: that of the demented hunter with a

penchant for tracking down human prey. It's turned up on "Fantasy

Island" as well as "Gilligan's Island" and for all we know may one

day make up the plot of a reality-based TV show (God forbid!).

However, for any familiarity the material may present, "Savages"

gets high marks for offering a fresh retelling of this fable. Full of

urgency, this is highly charged, suspenseful, top flight

entertainment turned out by a solid, committed cast.

Rugged locales and spare production values enhance what is a

lurid melodrama full of tension between the principal actors. There

are even a couple genuine scares that may make you jump out of

your seat!

Andy Griffith is truly arch in his role as villain, brilliantly cast against

type. He seems to relish this opportunity to stretch every moment

he's on screen (and who can blame him after so many years

playing the Good Guy in dreary, old Mayberry?!?).

Likable young pup Sam Bottoms appears sincerely vulnerable and

sympathetic, trudging barefoot through rugged desert terrain and

tumbling down treacherous ravines. He turns in an earnest and

athletic performance and for all he goes through, and with the help

of some excellent make-up effects, it's difficult not to imagine

some of his wounds being legit!

It winds up being tough to decide who is more fun to watch:

Griffith, grinning lasciviously from ear to ear as he harasses and

torments his young prey...the sadistic overtones of his character

barely restrained... ...or golden-boy hottie Bottoms, the bewildered but stalwart hero,

first degraded at gunpoint to strip for the camera, then forced to

subject his lithe, attractive body to any number of physical

humiliations brought about by the punishing landscape... ...in all, it's a pretty tasty couple hours of entertainment!

"Savages" should inform film enthusiasts and TV-viewers of the

21st century (particularly those born in the 70s, 80s, and 90s) that

some excellent productions were crafted for television way back in

the 1970s. The Movie Of The Week format often proved itself: fresh,

young talent was given a place to shine, and veteran performers

received some choice opportunities to expand their repertoire.