The Roomies

What would happen if you edited scenes from Tommy Wiseau's stunningly inept film THE ROOM to fit the opening titles and theme song of the 1960s sitcom THE MONKEES?

Sometimes Diamonds Are Not A Girl's Best Friend

WHITE FIRE is a Turkish production that hooked me right from its in media res opening and a fire stunt that rivals FRAMED’s train collision and half of Grant Page’s repertoire in its brazen disregard for personal safety. Director Jean-Marie Pallardy, whose cinematic triumphs include softcore numbers like EROTIC DIARY OF A LUMBERJACK and EMMANUELLE 3, keeps the action coming in steady and sometimes bloody doses in this crazily plotted number he also wrote and produced.

Siblings Bo (Robert Ginty, who returned to America to star in the HAWAIIAN HEAT TV series the year this was released) and Ingrid (Belinda Mayne) plan to steal the legendary White Fire, a radioactive 2000-carat diamond found buried beneath the super-duper high-tech diamond mining facility where Ingrid works. After Ingrid is killed, Bo convinces a blonde named Olga (Diana Goodman) to have plastic surgery to look like his sister, so she can take Ingrid’s place at the mine and help pull off the White Fire heist.

Not only is the surgery crucial to the plan, it also allows Bo to have sex with his sister, a desire hinted at in WHITE FIRE’s weirdest scene (which is saying a lot), where Bo playfully yanks a towel off a nude Ingrid and leers at her.

Adding to the oddness is second-billed Fred Williamson, who had just been in WARRIORS OF THE LOST WORLD with Ginty. The Hammer finally shows up an hour into the picture as Noah, an enforcer looking for his boss’ missing call girl, Olga. That great face Gordon Mitchell (FURY OF ACHILLES) plays Ingrid’s corrupt boss, and the beautiful Mirella Banti (TENEBRE) is an astonishing sight as Sophia, an Italian villain who teams up with Mitchell to swipe the White Fire ahead of Bo.

There are also a lot of mustaches, gore, some natty Fred Fu, the fetching Miss Mayne frequently unclothed, a weird makeout scene during which Ginty flashes back to his childhood, oily men wrestling, more reckless fire gags, a goofy ‘80s power ballad theme, and a Bondian climax with guys in brightly colored jumpsuits getting blown up. WHITE FIRE has its dead spots, but is packed with enough WTF moments to make it a must-see.

One Kiss Never Hurt Anyone

A neat Jerry Goldsmith score, anchored by a jaunty whistling theme, anchors 1968's BANDOLERO!, a lively 20th Century Fox western featuring a terrific cast. Director Andrew V. McLaglen probably made as many theatrical and television westerns as almost any filmmaker who ever lived, so it’s not surprising that he landed such a great array of familiar character actors who fit their parts like a cowboy’s rear to a battered old saddle.

Bank robber Dee Bishop (Dean Martin) and his gang are sentenced to hang after being captured in Valverde, Texas by straight-shooting sheriff July Johnson (George Kennedy) and his deputy Roscoe Bookbinder (Andrew Prine). Dee’s brother Mace (James Stewart), posing as the hangman, springs the Bishop gang, and the whole lot of ‘em head to Mexico with beautiful Maria Stoner (Raquel Welch) along as a hostage. Johnson has more than one reason to pursue the Bishops besides justice. He has also been nursing an unrequited crush on Maria, who is fond of the mild-mannered lawman, but is far out of his league.

Stewart and Martin are not very believable as brothers, but they do have a warm rapport, and both are adept at performing the script’s action, dramatic, and humorous sequences. McLaglan, with Goldsmith’s help, pulls off several terrific scenes, most of them involving the wry Stewart. One is a friendly conversation between Mace and Bishop’s executioner, the friendly Ossie Grimes (Guy Raymond), in which Mace elicits useful information about the man’s job that pays off in the escape. Another happens just after the break, and amusingly juxtaposes Johnson and his posse’s frantic pursuit of the gang against Mace’s ambling holdup of the bank in an empty town.

Westerns had, of course, matured by 1968 with the release of Sergio Leone’s dustbusters with Clint Eastwood (THE WILD BUNCH came a year later), but McLaglan, who worked a lot with John Wayne (and, perhaps ironically, even more with Eastwood on RAWHIDE), was strictly meat-and-potatoes. Majestic Utah vistas lack the otherworldliness of Spain, where most Italian westerns were made, but are crisply photographed by old-timer William Clothier (THE ALAMO), who hardly ever shot anything but westerns.

One must admire the steady stream of craggy faces that wander past Clothier’s camera, faces that leave no mistake you’re watching a western: Will Geer, Dub Taylor, Perry Lopez, John Mitchum, Donald “Red” Barry, Roy Barcroft, Pat Cranshaw, Denver Pyle, Sean McClory, Harry Carey Jr. Hal Needham’s stunt team handles the rigorous falls from horses, cliffs, and roofs. IN THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT’s James Lee Barrett’s straightforward plot is punctuated with intriguing dialogue, although the screenplay also hammers home the point that Johnson’s obsession with capturing the Bishops hinges more on Maria than the bad guys. Kennedy’s fine performance makes his emotions clear without so many words being needed. He’s the standout here, a year after his Oscar-winning role in COOL HAND LUKE, and belies his hulking physicality with his touching father-and-son relationship with his young deputy.

BANDOLERO! is not an important western nor the best any of its participants made, but it’s an exciting one with good pacing and performances and plenty of rousing action.

Blackout

From the director of DEATH WISH V, 1996's MIDNIGHT HEAT is something of a change of pace for ex-footballer Brian Bosworth (STONE COLE), as it’s played more for mystery and mood than for action.

The Boz is a buttoned-down banker named John Gray, who loses his memory after a hit-and-run accident. His beautiful and affluent wife Sharon (Marta DuBois) brings him home and patiently tries to reassimilate him, but he becomes haunted by weird dreams and flashes that hint at a previous life he has suppressed—one that may involve prison and a talent for hand-to-hand combat.

Composer Terry Plumeri is really into it, laying down an old-fashioned score that helps director Allan A. Goldstein establish the mood. For the director’s part, some of Bosworth’s nightmares are shown as black-and-white flashbacks in a style that’s actually integral to the storyline. I like the way the story slowly peels apart like an onion, doling out just enough information to keep the audience guessing, but rarely any more than Bosworth has.

Bosworth’s performance isn’t bad at all, playing both the button-down and the badass equally well. Brad Dourif (CHILD'S PLAY) as the straw-hatted heavy has some terrific moments, and I was really charmed by Claire Yarlett (THE COLBYS) as the cute Jenny, who befriends the confused Bosworth and helps him uncover his true identity. She and the star bounce off each other well too. The only false note in MIDNIGHT HEAT’s casting is the sexy DuBois (TALES OF THE GOLD MONKEY) as Bosworth’s wife. Her acting is fine (and she looks great in lingerie), but she’s clearly much older than Bosworth, and their pairing seems off.

Action scenes are adequate, and the story contains welcome humor (after getting roughed up, Bosworth says he feels like “Bo Jackson just ran him over”). Considering its direct-to-video origins as a Brian Bosworth vehicle, MIDNIGHT HEAT (its alternate title of BLACKOUT is more apt) is a real sleeper worth a watch.

A Space Adventure For All Time

STARCRASH is a very difficult film to criticize. Not because it doesn’t have more than its fair share of faults, strictly speaking, but because it’s so lighthearted and spirited and bright and fun, you’d have to be a real crab to toss brickbats at it. It has swashbuckling robots, exploding spaceships, monstrous golems, Marjoe Gortner’s towering perm, the great Christopher Plummer (THE SOUND OF MUSIC) as the “Emperor of the Universe,” and, last but certainly not least, the fetching Caroline Munro in all her pulchritudinous splendor. I daresay that, warts and all, STARCRASH is as close to perfect science fiction entertainment as you can find.

The barely comprehensible storyline begins with space smuggler Stella Star (Munro) and her superpowered sidekick Akton (Gortner) fleeing through “hyperspace” (really cheap, animated squiggly lines) from lawmen Thor (a bald, blue-faced Robert Tessier) and Galactic Police Robot Elle (played by Judd Hamilton, Munro’s real-life husband), who speaks with a Texan (!) accent, courtesy of voice actor Hamilton Camp.

Although Stella and Akton are hailed as worthy adversaries, they’re startlingly easy to capture, and are sentenced by a silly-looking stop-motion-animated head (based on INVADERS FROM MARS) to long prison terms. Stella is forced into hard labor “feeding radium to the furnace,” which is actually dropping beach balls from a medical stretcher into a large hole in the ground.

Easily escaping and destroying the facility, Stella dashes through a grassy field, and is again captured by Thor and Elle. This time, though, it’s OK, since Thor and Elle have engineered her escape (although they couldn’t have judging from what we saw) on behalf of the Emperor of the Universe (a what-is-he-doing-here Plummer, who worked a day and a half at $10,000 per day).

Reunited with Akton, Stella is assigned by the Emperor to rescue his son Simon (David Hasselhoff—no kidding—who was on THE YOUNG AND THE RESTLESS at the time), whose ship crashlanded on one of three planets. To extend the running time to feature length, the search party doesn’t find him until they reach the third planet, which also is the home of the diabolical Count Zarth Arn (MANIAC’s Joe Spinell), whose dialogue sounds like Stan Lee’s Dr. Doom and wardrobe suspiciously resembles Darth Vader’s.

Cozzi (ALIEN CONTAMINATION) and co-screenwriter Nat Wachsberger (also the film’s producer) write themselves out of corners by giving the characters previously unmentioned superpowers and into others through an alarming lack of logic, characterization, and elementary school-level science. See Stella survive a night on the surface of a planet with a temperature of “thousands of degrees” below zero! See the Emperor’s warriors invade the Count’s spaceship (which is shaped like a giant hand, complete with flexing fingers!) by firing themselves inside torpedoes (!) through glass windows (!) onto the bridge! See Marjoe battle animated creatures using a lightsaber (!) that the Count’s crack security staff conveniently neglected to confiscate! Best of all, watch in amazement as the Emperor rescues our heroes with the ultimate deus ex machina, a green ray that “halts the flow of time!”

The visual effects are technically pretty lousy all around, although there are lots of them—chintzy plastic spaceship models (complete with hanging wires), cheap animation, blurry rear-screen projection, jiggery stop-motion. The outer space backgrounds resemble Christmas trees with their bright red, yellow, and blue “stars,” the “dogfights” are brisky and clumsy, and as for the makeup, Gortner and Hasselhoff wear as much mascara as Munro does.

It’s difficult to judge the performances, due to the crude dubbing and cringe-inducing dialogue, but I can’t imagine any other actors who could make STARCRASH better. You can’t really take your eyes off Munro, one of the sexiest women ever to appear in genre movies, anyway, thanks to a steady array of cleavage-baring leather bikinis. Gortner (BOBBIE JO AND THE OUTLAW) delivers another performance with the same goofy grin he always uses, a crazed Spinell flares his nostrils and spins his cape, and Hasselhoff just plain looks lonely and lost.

Don’t think I’m ripping STARCRASH, however. Nuh-uh, not at all. What’s glorious about STARCRASH is that, when viewed with the proper state of mind, it’s quite fun. The story becomes such a mess so early in the picture that you may as well give up trying to follow it, and go along with the goofy flow instead. Every few minutes, a new threat—an army of sexy Amazon warriors, a 50-foot robot with boobs, kung-fu-kicking cavemen, sword-wielding golems—is introduced that’s even funnier than the one that came before it. And every time Cozzi pulls another headscratching “plothole eraser” (for instance, at just the right time, it’s revealed that one character can see into the future, which, of course, explains why he lets himself be hit on the head and captured over and over again) out of his rear end, it’s so in-your-face audacious and shameful that you just gotta laugh.

Somehow, Cozzi or the Wachsberger brothers who produced STARCRASH convinced Bond-film veteran John Barry to do the score, which is very good and probably better than a film at this budget level deserves. After a successful international release, Roger Corman bought the rights, cut a few minutes out, hired AMERICAN GRAFFITI actress Candy Clark (!) to dub Caroline Munro’s voice, and released it through his New World Pictures.

Soon after its U.S. theatrical run, STARCRASH got onto television and VHS, but for more than twenty years, it was very difficult for American fans to see. Amazingly, Shout Factory bestowed upon audiences a sparkling 2-disc DVD and Blu-ray release in 2010. All the better to ogle the gorgeous Caroline Munro, as well as Roberto Piazzoli’s colorful cinematography and Armando Valcauda’s unconvincing but creative special effects.

Author Stephen Romano (SHOCK FESTIVAL), a big STARCRASH fan, really spearheaded the project and provides not one, but two audio commentary tracks. I listened to just one, the so-called scene-specific track, and Romano’s knowledge and enthusiasm shine through. Both Cozzi and Munro sit before Shout Factory’s cameras for lengthy interviews that cover the breadth of their careers. I wish Gortner and particularly Hasselhoff had participated, but I have no quibble with the job Shout Factory did.

The set also includes exclusive behind-the-scenes footage narrated by Romano, several STARCRASH trailers (one with commentary by Joe Dante, who edited New World’s original spot), deleted scenes, photo galleries, promotional art, deleted scenes, and even features dedicated to the film’s score and special effects. No doubt STARCRASH, as well as the rest of Shout Factory’s Roger Corman Cult Classics line, will reign as one of 2010’s best DVD releases.

Terminal Island

Seven years before MAGNUM, P.I. premiered on CBS, Tom Selleck and his co-star Roger E. Mosley appeared together in TERMINAL ISLAND. The director is Stephanie Rothman, who made this highly entertaining drive-in picture for Dimension Pictures, the studio she helped found with her husband, producer Charles S. Swartz, and former Roger Corman colleague Lawrence Woolner. She, Swartz, and Jim Barnett (DEATH AT LOVE HOUSE) also wrote the screenplay, which offers an unusual feminist spin on the usual women-in-prison tropes.

In addition to Selleck and Mosley, the cast is packed with familiar faces, many from television, that provide the loony premise with credibility. After the death penalty is rescinded in California, convicted murderers are sent to an island to serve their life sentences. There are no guards or walls, and the prisoners (male and female) are free to set up camp, grow their own food, and fend for themselves.

The prisoners have split into two camps: one sadistic, led by the vicious Monk (Mosley) and Bobby (Sean Kenney, the crippled Captain Pike on STAR TREK), in which the women are used as sex slaves, and one peaceful, led by A.J. (LAND OF THE GIANTS’ Don Marshall). Phyllis Davis (VEGA$), Marta Kristen (LOST IN SPACE), Barbara Leigh (THE STUDENT NURSES), and Ena Hartman (DAN AUGUST) are the women who escape to A.J.’s team, which spurs guerrilla warfare between the two sides.

The oddly structured script starts from the point of view of the Hartman character, but switches its focus to Kenney and Marshall, and finally ends on a hopeful note with Selleck as the hero. The schizophrenic music score by Dimension’s Michael Andres (with uncredited work by Jerry Styner) rarely fits the action, though it admittedly matches Rothman’s comic-book tone. Styner’s bizarre country song performed by Jeff Thomas under the opening titles does neither except lead the audience to expect a parody.

Certainly, Rothman is seeking a tongue-in-cheek tone. Her direction isn’t clever — it would be difficult to be, considering the short schedule and grueling location work — but it is colorful and sharply paced. Filmed on location in Malibu and on the nearby Paramount Ranch, TERMINAL ISLAND is silly fun with generally good acting and plenty of action.

But It's Always After Midnight

A college professor (Ramy Zada) teaching a course on fear invites some students over to his pad to share scary stories. Jim and Ken Wheat, who wrote drafts of THE FLY II and A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 4, wrote and shared directing duties on this United Artists horror anthology with three short vignettes. Shot in Los Angeles for $3 million in 38 days, AFTER MIDNIGHT is an amiable enough shocker, but riddled with a clichéd screenplay without a surprise in sight. UA gave it a token theatrical release in November 1989.

The first story, “The Old Dark House,” finds married couple Kevin (Marc McClure, SUPERMAN’s Jimmy Olsen) and Joanie (CRITTERS’ Nadine van der Velde) stranded at night in the boonies and forced to seek help at a creepy old house. The hokey story is well-played by the earnest actors, but sunk by a poorly directed climax.

The sexy Judie Aronson (FRIDAY THE 13TH: THE FINAL CHAPTER) plays one of four teenage girls whose convertible breaks down in a strangely empty urban area and are chased by a pack of killer Dobermans. “A Night on the Town” is not especially scary, but the Wheats milk the suspense and stuntwork for all they can.

Marg Helgenberger, then on CHINA BEACH, but a star of CSI: CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATION for the past decade, stars in “All Night Operator” as, what else, an operator at an answering service who is menaced by the psycho stalker (Alan Rosenberg, Helgenberger’s real-life husband) of a soap actress. Like the previous story, the Wheats are competent at creating suspense, but the problem with all three vignettes is their derivative premises.

The Zada wraparound, which co-stars Jillian McWhirter (of BLOODFIST VII and VIII) as a college student who has premonitions of doom, allows the Wheats to show off some impressive fire and stop-motion effects, but is ultimately ridiculous and pointless, leaving the patient viewer with a somewhat sour taste in his mouth. Anthologies were the rage in the 1980s on television and in films, but Jeff Burr’s FROM A WHISPER TO A SCREAM, for one, is a much better example of the genre.

Selling The American Dream

It’s difficult to discuss the debut feature by 41-year-old Derrick Borte without getting into the plot twist that drives it. Surprisingly, several reviewers revealed the twist (which occurs early in the film) during THE JONESES’ brief theatrical release.

The satire works just as well if you know the twist in advance (or if you guess it), I’m happy to say, thanks to Borte’s wicked scripting and his game cast. Steve (David Duchovny) and Kate Jones (Demi Moore) and teens Mick (Ben Hollingsworth) and Jen (Amber Heard) sure seem like the perfect American upper-middle-class family with the house and the looks and the golf clubs and the mani-pedis, but it won’t take you long to guess there’s also something a little wonky about them.

THE JONESES is a smart comedy that takes shots at consumerism and the insidiousness of contemporary marketing that only falters when it falls to mush and tries to make its leading characters likable. Everyone knows from THE X-FILES and THE LARRY SANDERS SHOW (and CALIFORNICATION? Dunno, never seen it) that Duchovny possesses a wry sense of humor, but Moore, a performer I’ve never cottoned to, is a surprisingly good match for him, both physically and dramatically. Lending real heart are the always awesome Gary Cole and Glenne Headly as the Joneses’ not-so-upscale neighbors whose attempts to keep up make them tragic figures.

I’m not wild about the ending or the late-in-the-game wussification of its hard-selling characters, but the premise and cast are solid, and when Borte is brave enough to stick the knife into the material, THE JONESES works quite well.

If You Can't Beat 'Em, Join 'Em

RIPTIDE was an action show co-created by Stephen J. Cannell that premiered on NBC in January 1984. Starring Perry King (CAPTAINS AND THE KINGS) and Joe Penny (JAKE AND THE FATMAN) as Cody Allen and Nick Ryder, respectively, handsome private detectives operating off a Los Angeles pier, and Thom Bray (DEEPSTAR SIX) as Boz, their nerdy computer-expert sidekick, RIPTIDE was a big hit its first two seasons.

Unfortunately, when RIPTIDE returned for Season 3 in the fall of 1985, it ran in the same Tuesday night timeslot as ABC's new juggernaut, MOONLIGHTING, which was not only a ratings sensation, but also the hippest water-cooler drama on television.

NBC finally moved RIPTIDE away from MOONLIGHTING to Friday nights, but it was too late. The Cannell show never picked up the viewers it lost, and RIPTIDE was cancelled after its third season.

However, thanks to writers Babs Greyhosky and Tom Blomquist, it went out with a bang. Its next-to-last episode, airing April 18, 1986, was "If You Can't Beat 'Em, Join 'Em." It guest-starred Richard Greene (not the ROBIN HOOD actor) and Annette McCarthy as the stars of a familiar-looking TV series who team up with the newly hired technical advisers Nick and Cody to solve a crime.

The good-natured parody was the subject of an article in the Los Angeles Times that focused on the episode's genesis and how the writers managed to appease ABC lawyers. What's really interesting, as you'll see in the clip below, is how spot-on Greene and McCarthy were with their impressions of Bruce Willis and Cybill Shepherd. Neither went on to great fame, though Greene still works steadily as a guest star in TV dramas (like BONES).

Here is the teaser and the opening titles to RIPTIDE's "If You Can't Beat 'Em, Join 'Em" with a cool surfer-dude theme composed by Mike Post and Pete Carpenter:

Who Loves You And Who Do You Love?

Stephen King’s bizarre novella THE RUNNING MAN became a silly TriStar motion picture in 1987 with Arnold Schwarzenegger at the height of his fame. Of all people, Paul Michael Glaser, the curly-haired star of STARSKY AND HUTCH, replaced Andrew Davis (THE FUGITIVE) behind the camera during principal photography, but was miscast for a movie demanding a director with a taste for wit. THE RUNNING MAN is slick, boisterous, occasionally funny, violent, but never as clever or wild as the material would suggest.

The film’s most brilliant concept is the casting of smarmy game show host Richard Dawson (FAMILY FEUD) as Damon Killian, the vicious host of the inhumane yet enormously popular television series THE RUNNING MAN, which pits convicts in a run for their lives on city streets against colorfully clothed killers like Fireball (Jim Brown), Dynamo (Erland van Lidth), and Captain Freedom (Jesse Ventura). Yep, it’s THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME, but with a lot more neon.

It’s a little tough to reconcile a totalitarian 2017 with small tube TVs and cassette tapes, not to mention a worldwide television sensation among a general public that appears to live in squalor on the streets. I suppose it doesn’t matter much when Arnold is tossing off quips and heads are exploding. Schwarzenegger has nothing in common with King’s Ben Richards, but he’s a game enough lead as a wrongfully accused cop blackmailed by Killian into competing in his vulgar spectacle.

Impressively filling her Spandex costume is a tasty Maria Conchita Alonso at the height of her hotness, and Yaphet Kotto (ALIEN) classes up the joint as Schwarzenegger's prison buddy. Also in the oddball cast are Marvin J. McIntyre, Mick Fleetwood, Dweezil Zappa, Kurt Fuller, Dey Young, Lin Shaye, Sven-Ole Thorsen, Karen Leigh Hopkins, and Professor Toru Tanaka with dance choreography by Paula Abdul!

The Zombie Rabbit Award

Sorry that my postings have been infrequently lately, but I've been using the waning weeks of summer to chill out a little and take a bit of a blogging break. Don't worry--I don't intend this to be a permanent schedule, and fully plan to get back into a more regular posting habit very soon.

In the meantime, let me humbly thank my online colleague Don Guarisco over at Schlockmania for graciously presenting me with a Zombie Rabbit! I'm not entirely sure of its origin, but I appreciate Don's gesture as the compliment it is intended to be.

The occasion is also a good excuse to link to some other blogs worthy (or more worthy) of a Zombie Rabbit. Please see Don's Schlockmania post for a good number of blogs you should be reading if you're interested in the kinds of entertainment we celebrate here at the Crane Shot. I won't repeat any of the blogs Don has already awarded Zombie Rabbits too, though I do recommend them.

Bruce Holecheck really needs to post more often at Cinema Arcana, but you should have fun playing his weekly game of Name That Movie every Monday.

Congratulations to father-to-be Neil Sarver at The Bleeding Tree, who waxes eloquently on trashy movies and comics and sometimes trashy movies about comics.

Chris Stangl at The Exploding Kinetoscope also needs to post more often, but he makes up for it with long, detailed, intricate articles of interest.

My Twitter pal Emily at The Deadly Doll's House of Horror Nonsense is always good for two or three smart film reviews--with screen caps!--each week.

My longtime colleague at Mobius Home Video Forum and good friend Richard Harland Smith is one of several Movie Morlocks at the Turner Classic Movies website. He recently wrote a great piece on the fine actor and even finer physical specimen Woody Strode in the manliest of man movies, THE PROFESSIONALS.

I don't know who he is or what he does by day, but by night, Outlaw Vern is my favorite film critic on the planet. He's unquestionably the funniest, but underneath the gags and distinct writing style is a real love of film and knowledge to match.

Finally, Wrong Side of the Art is an amazing collection of high-definition movie posters from years past. I love to see what this blog lays on me day after day. Some of them are definitely not safe for work, however, so wait to experience these cool one-sheets until you get home.

There are dozens more that I could share that would be as deserving of a Zombie Rabbit as the blogs I've mentioned above, and if I have neglected you, I apologize. Thanks again, Don!

Little Darlings

So, which “little darling” at summer camp will lose her virginity first? Will it be tough girl from the projects Angel (Kristy McNichol) or rich kid Ferris (Tatum O’Neal)? All the standard tropes of summer camp movies are in 1980's LITTLE DARLINGS—skinny-dipping, joyriding, food fighting, prophylactic hunting—but this isn’t an exploitation movie. What sets LITTLE DARLINGS apart from the MEATBALLSes and the GORPs is that its protagonists are girls. And that’s all the difference in the world.

The humor isn’t mean-spirited, the objects of desire aren’t humiliated, and when one of the girls finally does have sex, it leaves a powerful emotional impact on her. Director Maxwell (GETTYSBURG) goes for verisimilitude in his casting by hiring actual teens (O’Neal and Matt Dillon were 15; McNichol 16) with natural acting talent. The stars were already Hollywood veterans by the time they filmed LITTLE DARLINGS, but they come across as real kids. McNichol, who played a similar tomboy-type to acclaim on TV’s FAMILY, is particularly strong in the more challenging of the leading roles. Also appearing are Cynthia Nixon (SEX AND THE CITY) in her film debut as a hippie chick, Krista Errickson (HELLO LARRY), Alexa Kanin, Abby Bluestone, Simone Schachter, and a scene-stealing butterball named Jenn Thompson (HARPER VALLEY PTA) who should have had a big career. All of these girls are very good and natural, although Errickson’s thankless role as the bitchy one forces her over the top on occasion.

Of course, looking at LITTLE DARLINGS today, one can’t help but raise an eyebrow at O’Neal’s pursuit of counselor Armand Assante (who was then 29), a subplot that would never occur in a Paramount picture today, never mind the smoking and the revealing costumes. Kimi Peck, whose only produced screenplay this is, and Dalene Young (THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB) have a sharp ear for intelligent dialogue, which combines with the performances and Maxwell’s fluid direction to create a surprisingly sensitive drama. John Lennon, Blondie, Rickie Lee Jones, Supertramp, and other top recording artists perform on the soundtrack, and Charles Fox composed and conducted the score. Filmed in Georgia. NBC aired a wildly censored version in 1983.

Birdie's Hot Wheels

Birdie’s Hot Wheels
March 11, 1980
Music: John Andrew Tartaglia
Writer: Mark Fink
Director: James Sheldon

When Sheriff Lobo (Claude Akins) takes a gander at Birdie’s (Brian Kerwin) souped-up new drag-racing car, his silver tongue convinces his deputy to hire him as his personal manager. For 25% of his winnings, of course. Birdie may not make it to the starting line, however, after Perkins (Mills Watson) leaves the keys in “Bye Bye Birdie” after a joyride, and the car is stolen by bank robbers who use it during a heist. With Birdie in jail awaiting trial, it’s up to Lobo to clear his deputy’s name.

“Birdie’s Hot Wheels” was the last of five MISADVENTURES OF SHERIFF LOBO episodes directed by James Sheldon, whose television career began helming MISTER PEEPERS back in 1952. Sheldon continued working for another six years, climaxing with a SLEDGE HAMMER!, a series that parodied cop shows, in 1986. Veteran actor Morgan Woodward guest-stars as Lockwood, the sheriff of neighboring Marion County and a jealous rival of Lobo’s. Woodward was a good foil for Akins, and he returned to cause more trouble for Lobo in the series’ first-season finale. A much more attractive screen presence is Pat Klous, Birdie’s romantic interest in the episode, a shapely racer named C.R. Jameson. Klous had recently starred in FLYING HIGH, a drama about three adventurous stewardesses, and later joined the cast of THE LOVE BOAT as Lauren Tewes’ replacement.

For all the talking about racing, precious little is on the screen, outside of some stock footage that plays early in the episode. I don’t think Sheldon and the cast got anywhere near an actual speedway. The only original racing takes place in the Universal parking lot, where Birdie’s car is inexplicably parked. In other sloppiness, the boom microphone pops into the picture in a couple of shots.

Survival Is A Killer

I thought I'd follow up THE EXPENDABLES with another Sylvester Stallone thriller, the ill-fated EYE SEE YOU, which ended up basically going direct to video in 2002.

Jim Gillespie, whose I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER had been a huge hit, directed this adult-oriented serial killer flick in British Columbia during the winter and spring of 1999. It was called THE OUTPOST and then D-TOX. Universal then shelved it and eventually sold it to DEJ, which began playing it in early 2002 in almost every country except the United States.

Having become something of a legend, due to its strong cast and intriguing premise, D-TOX finally received a token domestic release in September 2002, when it was dumped unceremoniously into about fifty theaters in Michigan and Texas under the (awful) title EYE SEE YOU.

With a distribution history that troubled, a logical question would be, does EYE SEE YOU suck? The answer is no, definitely not. It isn't great, but it is a solid thriller with an outstanding cast, some gore, a neat premise, and solid work by Stallone as an emotionally wounded FBI agent named Jake Malloy.

Malloy’s prey is a serial killer who has slaughtered nine police officers in less than six months. After Jake’s fiancée Mary (STARSHIP TROOPERS' Dina Meyer) becomes the killer’s latest victim, because he bears a grudge against Jake for pursuing him, Malloy becomes an alcoholic and attempts suicide.

His friend Hendricks (ROC's Charles S. Dutton) convinces him to check into a very remote detox facility for law enforcement officers only, which is run by an ex-cop called Doc (Kris Kristofferson) and located deep in the snowbound Wyoming mountains. Also in residence there: the killer, who has taken the place of one of the patients and begins slaughtering Malloy’s new colleagues during a blizzard. The passel of victims includes Robert Patrick, Robert Prosky, Jeffrey Wright, and Tom Berenger.

Stallone’s status as a proven earner had taken a plunge with his previous few films, but EYE SEE YOU is certainly solid enough that it may have found an audience. It’s hard to believe Stallone’s name was such box-office poison that Universal didn’t want anything to do with EYE SEE YOU. It has its problems, but it's a nifty little movie that has trouble deciding whether it wants to be a horror movie or detective thriller.

Gillespie films a decent chase in the first act and creatively imagines the various creepy killings, though some extra gore might have helped add some zing. Stallone leads the ensemble of accomplished character actors, anchored by Patrick (TERMINATOR 2) as the obvious red herring. It’s always good to see Berenger (PLATOON), though he’s somewhat miscast as the outpost’s dopey handyman.

Gillespie has directed just one feature since EYE SEE YOU’s 1999 shoot, the little-seen horror picture VENOM. Stallone, on the other hand, made an amazing comeback by directing and starring in ROCKY BALBOA, RAMBO, and THE EXPENDABLES, which is currently America's most popular film.

Choose Your Weapon

Following the success of similar throwbacks ROCKY BALBOA and RAMBO (the third sequel to FIRST BLOOD), director/writer/star Sylvester Stallone created THE EXPENDABLES as an homage to the high-octane action pictures that kept him consistently atop the box office charts in the 1980s. Although he does overrelies on inadequate modern techniques like CGI blood squirts and shaky-cam editing, for the most part Stallone sticks to the basics, resulting in an enjoyable bone-crushing exercise in nostalgia with a body count.

It’s interesting that Stallone’s macho parade opened theatrically the same day as Edgar Wright’s SCOTT PILGRIM VS THE WORLD, which stars scrawny Michael Cera as a babyfaced slacker who fights the seven former suitors of his new girlfriend in elaborately staged martial arts battles. THE EXPENDABLES appears to have been made in direct response to the 2000s’ breed of action hero, who tend to be smaller, milder, and more introspective than Sly’s generation.

In addition to the 64-year-old ROCKY star, still looking fit in spite or because of his obvious facelifts and steroid-enhanced physique, THE EXPENDABLES marks the big-screen return of Stallone’s former ROCKY IV rival Dolph Lundgren, who shows off character actor chops as a drug-addled mercenary named Gunner that plays a big part in the storyline by Stallone and Dave Callaham (DOOM).

Gunner, Lee Christmas (second-billed Jason Statham), Ying Yang (Jet Li), Toll Road (professional fighter Randy Couture), Hale Caesar (Terry Crews), and tattoo artist Tool (Mickey Rourke) are friends and members of a team of battle-hardened soldiers led by Stallone’s Barney Ross. Their easy banter makes it clear that these men have seen a lot of shit in their lifetimes, and despite Lee’s attempt at some kind of normal relationship with a woman named Lacy (BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER’s Charisma Carpenter), they’re resigned to the fact that they can only really be comfortable with one another.

The film’s most memorable scene contains no explosions or broken limbs at all. Just a short conversation that puts Stallone on the screen for the first time with fellow action icons Bruce Willis and Arnold Schwarzenegger that is shrewdly designed by Sly to dump a load of exposition in a manner certain not to bore the audience.

Ross and his team hires on for a $5 million payday to invade the army-protected stronghold of a Latin American dictator, General Garza (DEXTER’s David Zayas), who is involved in a massive drug-running operation with rogue CIA agent James Munroe (a deliciously lip-smacking Eric Roberts). Ross and Christmas’ reconnaissance teams them with their contact, the beautiful Sandra (Mexican starlet Giselle Itie, making her English-language debut), whom they discover is Garza’s ashamed daughter.

The script isn’t much to get excited about, though it does contain a few nice touches. When Ross and Christmas meet Sandra, they see that she’s an accomplished artist. Later, we discover the general is also an artist, allowing the audience to imagine a backstory of father teaching daughter his passion and the countless hours they spent together, providing an emotional resonance to their current estrangement without beating the audience over the head with it. Dialogue is mainly curt declarative statements and one-liners, but you aren’t seeing THE EXPENDABLES for the talky stuff anyway. If your memories include Friday nights at the local theater watching COBRA or COMMANDO or INVASION U.S.A., THE EXPENDABLES is right up your alley.

After The Oil Wars

Originally released as BATTLETRUCK (or at least reviewed in VARIETY under that title), WARLORDS OF THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY is a New Zealand production that has basically the same plot as THE ROAD WARRIOR, but with less action, less money, and a lesser star. After promising to put up half the budget, Roger Corman eventually provided 30 percent of the film’s budget and left it to former documentary filmmaker Cokliss to find the rest.

American character actor James Wainwright (JIGSAW) is Straker, despotic leader of a band of raiders who conquer the land using a massive, invulnerable land cruiser armed with weaponry. Michael Beck, who flunked out of the movie star ranks after XANADU, MEGAFORCE, and this, is Hunter, a typical loner with a badass motorcycle that runs on methane created from chicken guano.

Straker’s struggle to communicate with his runaway daughter (Annie McEnroe) helps to humanize the character, and Wainwright does a good job carrying the picture. Cokliss’ action scenes are effective (Buddy Joe Hooker was the stunt coordinator and second unit director), but the movie needs more of them. Chris Menges (THE KILLING FIELDS) was Cokliss’ cinematographer, and future director Lee Tamahori (DIE ANOTHER DAY) was the boom operator. Also with Bruno Lawrence (THE QUIET EARTH), Randolph Powell (LOGAN’S RUN), and John Ratzenberger (CHEERS). Kevin Peak’s score is not good.

Shout Factory’s DVD teams it with the more entertaining DEATHSPORT, and gives it a second-feature treatment. Director Cokliss provides a dry audio commentary you won’t listen to more than once, and an okay still gallery completes the supplements. Shout Factory doesn’t even letterbox it, providing a decent-looking full-frame print bearing the American title, even though it’s called BATTLETRUCK on the box.

No More Super Bowl

DEATHSPORT is a pseudo-sequel to New World’s very successful DEATH RACE 2000 that definitely falls beneath the heading of “Guilty Pleasure” (if you believe in that sort of thing). It contains a confusing plot, numerous lapses in logic and storytelling, cheap sets and props, and an absolute lack of (intentional) humor.

On the other hand, former Playboy Playmate Claudia Jennings (THE UNHOLY ROLLERS) has several nude scenes, lots of stuff blows up real good, heavy Richard Lynch (GOD TOLD ME TO) delivers a strong performance, and star David Carradine (also in DEATH RACE 2000) is almost always entertaining to watch. In fact, Carradine is often just as much fun in films he knows are terrible than in his truly good ones.

DEATHSPORT’s troubled production history starts with debuting writer/director Nicholas Niciphor, who was simply miscast as a Roger Corman filmmaker. The German graduate of USC’s film school not only had never seen a Corman movie before, but he had never even seen an exploitation movie! Based on a student film Niciphor made at USC, Corman hired the young man to rewrite and direct DEATHSPORT, but gave him only two weeks of preparation time before location shooting began in Southern California. Niciphor also didn’t get along with Carradine and Jennings (Carradine punched him and broke his nose, as longtime readers of Psychotronic Video will remember from the back-and-forth between actor and director in letter columns) either, and returned to Corman after principal photography with an unreleaseable mess.

Corman then hired Allan Arkush, the co-director (with Joe Dante) of HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD, to go back on location with the temperamental stars (and even more temperamental motorcycles!) and film more inserts and action sequences in hopes of completing a somewhat comprehensible film. DEATHSPORT really isn’t that, but it does move along fairly quickly and dishes out enough nudity and violence to keep the audience from nodding off, at least.

In the post-apocalyptic future of the 30th century, Range Guide Kaz Oshay (Carradine) wanders the desert mumbling platitudes like “must keep moving like sand in the wind” and battling Death Machine-riding soldiers—called Statesmen—led by black-clad Ankar Moor (Lynch). Death Machines are laser-firing motorcycles with silver-painted cardboard instrument panels that don’t look the least bit futuristic.

Oshay and another Guide, bikini-wearing Deneer (Jennings), are captured by the Statemen and sentenced to play Deathsport, a gladiator-style match in which they must battle an army of Death Machines while armed only with crystal-bladed swords. Escaping with a disgraced doctor (TATE star David McLean) and his whiny wimp son (Will Walker), Oshay and Deneer head for the domed paradisiacal city of Triton with Ankar Moor and his minions in hot pursuit.

The rough goings-on behind the scenes are evident on the screen—the introduction of plot threads (like an impending storm that threatens our heroes’ journey) that are quickly forgotten or ignored, a cycle chase through an “abandoned” fuel dump that features mysterious ramps and empty striped barrels that blow up for no reason, an inexplicable torture chamber involving dangling Christmas-tree lights, hastily-produced matte paintings (by Jack Rabin) that don’t look remotely believable. Carradine, although he doesn’t have a particularly muscular build, is a serviceable action hero, and pulls off the faux-Shakespearean no-contraction-using dialogue the best he can. Jennings was a better actress than most former models, and Lynch again uses his scarred countenance to good effect.

Jennings had a major cult following in exploitation films during the 1970s. Her career was sadly cut short by a fatal car accident along Pacific Coast Highway at age 29. Niciphor, who used “Henry Suso” as his screen credit, never directed another picture. Also with William Smithers, Jesse Vint (FORBIDDEN WORLD), H.B. Haggerty, and teenage Linnea Quigley as an extra. The maddening synth score by Andy Stein features not-very-impressive guitarwork by Jerry Garcia.

DEATHSPORT appeared letterboxed for the first time on home video on Shout Factory’s satisfactory DVD, which partnered it with BATTLETRUCK, a New Zealand ripoff off THE ROAD WARRIOR that Corman picked up and released theatrically in the U.S. as WARLORDS OF THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY. In addition to an entertaining and candid commentary track by Arkush and editor Larry Bock, the disc includes radio spots, trailers, and still galleries that make it an attractive package for Corman fans.

They're Here. And They're Hungry

Roger Corman’s JAWS ripoff is an enjoyable slice of exploitation, thanks to a witty script by John Sayles (LONE STAR) and clever tongue-in-cheek direction by Joe Dante (THE HOWLING), making his solo debut after teaming with Allan Arkush (ROCK ‘N’ ROLL HIGH SCHOOL) to make HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD two years earlier.

Alcoholic outdoorsman Grogan (Bradford Dillman) and spunky skip-tracer Maggie (Heather Menzies) try to prevent the deadly title fish from attacking a summer camp and a vacation resort. What’s unusual about the plot is that the heroes are indirectly responsible for all the bloodshed and death. When Maggie and Grogan are poking around an abandoned Army base looking for a pair of missing teenagers, they drain a tank where, unbeknownst to them, dwell mutated piranha artificially developed by army scientist Hoak (Kevin McCarthy) for use as a weapon against the Viet Cong.

Many, many movies were made in the late 1970s to jump on the JAWS bandwagon featuring killer animals striking back against humans, often with an ecological theme, but PIRANHA is certainly one of the best of them. Dante and Sayles’ masterstroke was to play the story with wry humor, allowing the eccentric supporting cast to have fun spinning the usual clichés. Using subtle gags to offset the scares helps the more extreme scenes, such as a setpiece involving children at a summer camp being victimized by the razor-toothed fishies, go down more easily.

Dante loves genre actors and populated PIRANHA with great faces like Barbara Steele (BLACK SUNDAY), Bruce Gordon (THE UNTOUCHABLES), Dick Miller (A BUCKET OF BLOOD), Keenan Wynn, Richard Deacon (Mel Cooley on THE DICK VAN DYKE SHOW) and Paul Bartel, and balanced them with interesting and attractive young actors like Barry Brown (DAISY MILLER), Belinda Balaski (BOBBIE JO AND THE OUTLAW), and Melody Scott Thomas, who went on to decades of starring in THE YOUNG AND THE RESTLESS.

Believe it or not, Peter Fonda was the original choice for Grogan, though Dillman carries the leading role just fine, and Eric Braeden (COLOSSUS: THE FORBIN PROJECT) actually shot some scenes in McCarthy’s role. Both actors dropped out, however, when they feared the special effects would look silly. Though you’d never mistake the effects for top-notch, they actually look pretty good. Some of Hollywood’s best effects artists, such as Phil Tippett (JURASSIC PARK), Rob Bottin (THE THING), and Chris Walas (THE FLY), worked on PIRANHA very early in their careers, and, aided by sharp cutting by editor Mark Goldblatt (THE TERMINATOR), turned out effective scary, gory stuff. Pino Donaggio (DRESSED TO KILL) composed and recorded the surprisingly lush score in Italy.

PIRANHA was a huge success. It was, up to that time, New World Pictures’ most profitable film, grossing more than $30 million worldwide and spawning a 1981 sequel (James Cameron’s directorial debut!), a 1995 remake with William Katt and Alexandra Paul in the Dillman and Menzies roles, and a bloody 2010 remake in 3D! Shout Factory gave Dante’s film a shiny DVD and Blu-ray release as part of its Roger Corman Cult Classics line, porting over the extras (including Dante’s commentary track with producer Jon Davison) from an earlier DVD and adding a few more, such as a new making-of documentary featuring Dante, Miller, Balaski, and others to talk about the film. Shout Factory also gave the print a nice touch-up and released it in letterbox form for the first time on home video. PIRANHA is one of New World’s finest productions and deserves a look by horror fans.

They Hunt Human Women. Not For Killing. For Mating.

One of Roger Corman’s most notorious films features so much gratuitous sleaze that both its leading lady and its director publicly protested it and tried to get their names removed from the credits. Director Barbara Peeters (SUMMER SCHOOL TEACHERS) refused to shoot the extra scenes of gore, nudity, and intraspecies sexual assault Corman demanded, and the new footage directed by James Sbardellati (DEATHSTALKER) was so explicit that the cast freaked when they saw the film for the first time. Audiences loved New World’s gruesome homage to CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON, however, and the result of Corman’s post-production meddling is one of the studio’s most popular horror movies.

Scaly six-foot sea monsters terrorize a small California fishing community already rocked by racial tension between whites and Native Americans. An ecological storyline involving a new cannery coming to town and polluting the waters provides Corman’s patented social commentary that helps justify the incessant rapes, eviscerations, and explosions (the mutant sea monsters are the result of DNA experiments done on salmon to make them breed faster and larger). Doug McClure (an experienced monster-fighter in drek like WARLORDS OF ATLANTIS and THE LAND THAT TIME FORGOT) toplines as married fisherman Jim Hill, who takes the lead in battling the horny buggers, along with Ann Turkel (RAVAGERS) as shapely scientist Susan Drake and a ranting, curly-haired Vic Morrow (COMBAT) as race-baiting cannery owner Hank Slattery.

Shot as BENEATH THE DARKNESS to fool the actors and crew into believing they were making a somewhat respectable movie, HUMANOIDS FROM THE DEEP was released by United Artists overseas as MONSTER and spawned a 1996 remake. It’s a lurid film that certainly delivers the goods, particularly a rousing, fiery finale with enough breasts and spurting blood to stock a couple of creature features. And no sissy stuff with keeping the monsters hidden in the shadows either. These beasties are front and center, clearly played by men in rubber suits, but designed by Rob Bottin (THE THING) seamy, creepy style. Newcomer Mark Goldblatt (THE TERMINATOR) edits with tightly wound exuberance. James Horner’s jangly score adds a few jolts, and Peeters’ impressive truck explosion was recycled in many Corman pictures to come.

Cindy Weintraub (THE PROWLER), Anthony Pena, Lynne Theel (WITHOUT WARNING), Denise Galik (DON’T ANSWER THE PHONE), Hoke Howell, and Linda Shayne (SCREWBALLS) co-star. In addition to Horner, Bottin, and Goldblatt, production assistant Gale Anne Hurd also graduated to bigger, better Hollywood movies, including producing THE TERMINATOR. Electrician Rowdy Herrington went on to direct ROAD HOUSE. Shout Factory’s impressive DVD and Blu-ray release includes the international cut, which offers a few extra seconds of a brutal decapitation that was censored from New World’s U.S. release to get an R rating from the MPAA.

Perhaps more enticing to HUMANOIDS fans is Shout Factory’s inclusion of never-before-seen deleted footage of gore and nudity that was cut from the movie before its release, probably to meet Corman’s usual demand to keep the running time around 80 minutes. About seven minutes of mostly gratuitous gore and T&A unspool for your prurient delight. Other extras include a new making-of doc with plenty of talking heads, none of them Peeters or the main stars; an old Leonard Maltin chat with Corman; trailers; and a still gallery. Like Shout Factory’s GALAXY OF TERROR and FORBIDDEN WORLD discs, HUMANOIDS FROM THE DEEP comes with reversible cover art, so you can display your disc with the foreign MONSTER art if you like.

The Soul Of Nigger Charley

Paramount made enough dough from THE LEGEND OF NIGGER CHARLEY to bring star Fred Williamson back for a sequel, this time directed by the original’s producer and co-writer, Larry G. Spangler. THE SOUL OF NIGGER CHARLEY, one of four Williamson movies released in 1973, is a pretty good western and maybe even a little better than LEGEND.

A Confederate Army colonel called “Blanchard the Butcher” (a hateful Kevin Hagen) and his men, who refuse to accept the war is over, slaughters a small town and kidnaps the black citizens. Down in Mexico, Blanchard has set up a new community of Southern aristocracy that raids the poor and uses the blacks as slaves. Charley (Williamson), something of a folk hero after the events of LEGEND, partners with sidekick Toby (D’Urville Martin), Mexican bandit Sandoval (Pedro Armendariz Jr.), Herculean archer Ode (George Allen), beautiful but broken Elena (Denise Nicholas, on summer vacation from ROOM 222), and a ragtag bunch of former slaves to hijack $100,000 of Blanchard’s gold and free his captives.

For a first-time director, Spangler and his cinematographer Richard Glouner (an Emmy winner for COLUMBO) do a nice job stretching Paramount’s low budget to feature a decent look and plenty of bloody action. It’s still rough around the edges in terms of script and editing, but Williamson’s unique style of heroics and the frequent violence make SOUL something of a crowdpleaser. Charley brings out the best in Fred, since he’s a more vulnerable and more human character than the actor played in his later films. Lou Rawls performs two songs, and Don Costa composed and conducted the fine score.