New Reviews :: There They Went :: Bob Rafelson's HEAD (1968)

Read the full review at 3B Theater.

Vintage Review Sportlight :: Del Tenney's The Horror of Party Beach (1964)

For the longest time, The Horror of Party Beach was only available in a severely truncated version; a version where almost eight minutes of footage was removed to make it more Standards & Practices friendly when it was packaged and sold off to TV after its theatrical run played out. Now, even without those missing scenes, the film earned itself a strong cult-following over the years for its bizarre monster and rockin' tunes, but when you put those eight minutes back in, you take a highly entertaining piece of schlock and turn it into one of the greatest gonzoidal movie classics of all time!


You see, after a solid career as a New York based stage actor and theatrical roustabout, Del Tenney got married, to fellow actress Margot Hartman, had a couple of kids, and decided to switch professions to something a little less time-consuming that didn't call for all-night rehearsals and extended road tours. Wanting to stay in the arts, and with a desire to leave a more permanent legacy for his career in the same, he ingratiated himself into New York's seedier film scene, and, using his theater connections, landed a few bit parts in some early burlesque films, where he was soon drawn behind the camera, which garnered him a few assistant-director credits for the likes of Satan in High Heels and Orgy at Lil's Place. While learning the trade with these sleaze-noirs, Tenney crossed paths with Richard Hilliard, another fledgling writer/director, who had churned out his own little opus to sexual-dysfunction gone homicidal with The Lonely Sex. Together, these two would collaborate on a similar project, Violent Midnight.


Taking a cue from Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho, [producer] Tenney and [director] Hilliard's stark and grisly whodunit may appear to be a cheap-jack exploitation piece on the surface, but the devil, as they say, is in the details; and when you start peeling back the layers you'll find a movie with some interesting ideas, a steady and stylish eye behind the camera, and a fearless attitude as it aggressively pushed well beyond what mainstream Hollywood would/could allow at the time. But the true secret of the film's success both artistically and economically, in all of Tenney's films, actually, is that Tenney and his crew took the time and effort to make their $40000 budget seem like $45000. Now, that may not seem like much, but if you took a straw poll of equally budgeted genre films, and do a little contemporary compare and contrast, I think you'll see what I'm getting at. Just because its cheap doesn't mean it can't be made better with a little focus, ingenuity, and effort -- a "keep it simple, stupid" attitude whose main goal was to give the viewer what they paid to see without the usual bait and switch. Audiences seemed to appreciate the effort, and after a name change to Psycho-mania, Violent Midnight went on to earn Tenney Productions a tidy profit.


Alan V. Iselin, meanwhile, was a regional entrepreneur who ran a string of theaters out of Albany, New York. Seeing the business the locally produced Violent Midnight was pulling in, Iselin, wanting to expand his empire into film production, like a lot of other chain-owners looking for a bigger piece of the box-office pie, sent out feelers to Tenney through a mutual acquaintance about the possibility of making another film for him. Tenney agreed, and this time taking their cue from American International, who were raking it in with their Beach Party and Poe franchises, the duo settled on co-financing a double-bill in the same vein.


And also like AIP, the films began with a just couple of titillating titles Iselin cooked up, The Curse of the Living Corpse and The Horror of Party Beach, in which a script was then concocted to fit. Originally, Curse of the Living Corpse was to be the top bill, was shot first, and shows more polish with its gothic setting and cast culled from Tenney's theater buddies. And it's a pretty good film, too, much better than being just Roy Scheider's anomalous film debut, but it was destined to become a second banana to the second feature that was still being scripted by Hilliard while Living Corpse was shot ... And for the rest of the story click here.

Other Points of Interest for The Horror of Party Beach:

Full film review at 3B Theater.

Newspaper ads at the Morgue.

Poster campaign at the Archive.

Rehashed Reviews :: Saturday Morning Flashbacks!

New Adventures of Flash Gordon.

As much as I love the old Buster Crabbe serials and Dino De Laurentiis’ gloriously moronic and maniacal feature film, I'll have to say my absolute favorite interpretation of Alex Raymond’s ray-gun blasting, rocket-jockey was Filmation Studios' wonderfully animated adaptation from the late 1970's...

Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends.

Unknown to Aunt May and the rest of the world, her tenants are bona fide superheroes. See, Peter is really Spider-Man, Bobby is the snow-balling mutant Iceman, and Angelica is the flame-wielding Firestar. Together, whenever trouble of a super-villain variety pops up, they costume up, power up, and take care of business...

Pryde of the X-Men.

When told she is a mutant, Kitty confides her "gift" is a curse, but Professor Xavier thinks differently. She then gets his sales pitch about the band of do-gooders he’s assembled: the X-Men, who right wrongs and fight for mutant tolerance and acceptance...

Captain America.

This version of Captain America is a wonderful time capsule of Marvel's early days, and has a nice retro-vibe going for it. And when it premiered on the syndicated Marvel Super-Heroes Show back in 1966, the segment opened with yet another whiz-banger of a theme song...

The Sub-Mariner.

The Sub-Mariner was one of Marvel Comic's flagship characters. He fought alongside Captain America and the first Human Torch against the Nazis and Japs in World War II. He also successfully made the transition to the newer continuity where he alternated almost weekly from being a hero or a villain, making old Namor an odd choice for animation. But there it is and here we are...

For Your Holiday Hangover, Another Rehashed Review :: Nicholas Webster's Santa Claus Conquers the Martians (1964). You're Welcome.

We open on a TV set tuned into the KID Network, whose anchor cheerfully announces that since it’s almost Christmas they have a special report lined-up directly from Santa’s workshop at the North Pole. Sounds like fun, right? Well, no, as we slowly pan around to see who’s watching -- and unless those rumors about sitting too close to the TV are true, we can p'rolly safely assume these green-hued children with the kitchen utensils glued to their heads are Martians. And there is no joy on the Boring Red Planet, where Kimar and his wife-mate, Momar, openly worry about their children, Bomar and Girmar. They won’t eat their food pills; won’t sleep without the help of the sleep-ray; and spend their entire day in front of the tele-screens, watching those silly Earth programs. Case in point, with bedtime approaching, Kimar has to pry his kids away from the screen and set the sleep-ray to full blast.


It’s the same way in households all over Mars, and Kimar doesn’t know what to do until Momar suggests they consult with the ancient Chochem, who's, like, 800 years old and should know what to do. Kimar agrees and calls together the high council, including the spiteful crank, Voldar, to meet him at the endless caves. Once there, Kimar calls to Chochem, and, in a puff of smoke, the wizened old coot appears. And after the dilemma is laid out for him, Chochem says the answer is obvious: the Martian children are rebelling. From the day they are born, they’re hooked into Martian learning machines and are adults before they can walk. Thus, the listless children must learn to have fun. In other words: Mars needs a Santa Claus -- and Larry Buchanan kicks himself for not thinking of this movie first. To read the full, demented review of Santa Claus Conquers the Martians, click here.

Rumblings from the Mothership :: Rehashed Reviews :: Sherman A. Rose's Target Earth (1954)

First bitten by the showbiz bug while rapidly working his way from janitor, to projectionist's assistant, to usher, to head manager at a local theater in his native Detroit, Herman Cohen, after a brief stint in the Marines, and barely in his twenties, then took a job as sales manager for Colombia Pictures' Detroit branch, and later made the move to Hollywood to work in the same studio's publicity department. This was about the same time that fellow Detroiter Jack Broder began re-releasing Universal's old monster movie catalog through his Realart Pictures. And wanting to produce his own films, Broder hired Cohen on as his production assistant, allowing his new hire to learn the nuts and bolts of the trade as Realart quickly and cheaply churned out two films: Bride of the Gorilla, whose production, including the tragic tale of lead actress Barbara Payton and her illicit ménage à trois with actors Tom Neal and Franchot Tone (-- that ended violently shortly after the film was in the can), is a lot more interesting than the finished product, and Bela Lugosi Meets the Brooklyn Gorilla, featuring the horribly -- make that painfully, unfunny antics of the Dean Martin & Jerry Lewis knock-offs, Duke Mitchell & Sammy Petrillo, which seemed to ignite the fledgling producer's life-long obsession with men in monkey-suits. And after a few more co-productions over in England with Nat [no relation] Cohen's Anglo-Amalgamated, Herman Cohen was finally ready to fly solo and make his own movie: Target Earth. To read the full review, click here.


Well, folks, after almost a year of giving me the finger and refusing to work, my old web-building program on my ancient mariner of a computer has magically healed itself. And pouncing on the opportunity before it decides to go tits up again, I'm scrambling to get a few more of these refurbished reviews published for you reading pleasure. Enjoy!

Rehashed Reviews :: The Sinister Soul Cinema Edition : Where the Supernatural Gets Super Funkified!

Let's get our Freaky on, shall we?

In The Thing with Two Heads, we have the most fantastic medical experiment ever dared! And taking into account that one half of this diabolical transplant operation is an ebony man-mountain, built like a brick shit-house, things are bound to get very interesting when he awakens with the head of a crotchety old bigot welded to his neck. Well, you'd think they would -- he typed ominously...


Next, when a quadriplegic Vietnam vet named Eddie is volunteered for some more diabolical experimentation by his fiance, the result is Blackenstein! The Black Frankenstein -- or, more appropriately, The Black Frankenstein Monster, but now I'm just nitpicking, and, believe you me, this film just ain't worth it. Frankly, I don't even want to fathom why Dr. Stein dressed up his patient in high-water pants, sport coat, and patent leather shoes but, nonetheless, his experiment has gone awry, leaving Franken-Eddie to shamble off into the night, like a drunk trying to act sober, grunting like an obscene phone caller, looking for some more entrails to disgorge and play with...


As for our third feature, we open in Transylvania, circa 1780, where an African ambassador and his bride fall victim to Count Dracula; and cursed with vampire's name, from now on, Prince Mumawalde will be known as Blacula. But, not done tormenting him yet, and being the evil bastard that he is, the Count then places him in a sturdy coffin and locks it shut, meaning his latest victim, unable to satiate his need for blood, will spend an eternity in agony -- unless, say, someone lets him back out in Los Angeles, circa 1972...


Ask your average B-Movie or Blaxpo fan about Rudy Ray Moore and they'll automatically think of his Dolemite movies. Not me, though. Nope. To me, Rudy Ray will always be Petey Wheatstraw, the Devil's Son in Law. Here, after he's gunned down by rivals, our rhyme-busting and kung-fu champion is escorted to hell by Lucifer himself, who pours him a drink and tries to strike a bargain. Seems if Petey will marry his daughter and give him a son, the Cloven One will grant him the power to gain revenge on those who murdered him. But, being Satan, there's a catch: seems his daughter fell out of the ugly tree -- and hit every branch on the way down...

Rehashed Reviews :: The Trick or Treat Edition!

First up, Will Vinton's magic clay whips up a wild and hilarious tale of a talking pig (with delusions of grandeur) and his snail sidekick crashing a Monster Convention in search of fortune and glory and Frankenswine's monster. Nietzschean self-help seminars, Hack-n-Slash knife demos, and drunken monsters in fezzes ... if that ain't it enough to get you to click on over and read more, then don't bother.

And after your survive that escapade, pour yourselves a little Hair of the Werewolf that Bit You, knock it back, then join us on the Isle of Evil, where the tandem of Rankin & Bass, Boris Karloff, and the rockin' sounds of Little Tibia and the Fibulas has us amped up and in the mood for an all out Mad Monster Party.

Rehashed Reviews :: The Stalk-N-Slash Edition

Happy Birthday to Me proclaims to claim six of the most bizarre murders you'll ever see. Well, I'm here to say that maybe half of them qualify for that. Still, despite its somewhat glacial pace, and a final reveal that makes no sense at all, the film is still worth your time.

Girls Nite Out, on the other hand, only has one reason and one reason only that makes it worth a once through. It has, hands down, the goofiest looking killer in cinematic history.

And then there's House of Death, whom I'm sure suckered in a lot of folks, myself included, with that nasty video-box art back in the day, only to find a giant turd-burger of a movie inside. Yes. The video box lied. Again.

Evil Laugh may be dumber than a bag of hammers, with a bad habit of killing off suspects as soon they're introduced, but, against all rational explanation, I kinda dig it. And it does deserve some credit for beating the self-awareness of the Scream franchise to the punchline by almost a decade.

And last, but not least, we have Sleepaway Camp, which, despite all of its shortcomings, deserves its legendary cult status for having one of the ballsiest shock-endings off all time. You see that? I actually kinda gave it away there. Wotta dick I am.

And fair warning, this Teenage Wastedland retrospective contains massive plot-spoilers with all killers and motivations revealed.

Rehashed Reviews :: The Über Schlockmeister Edition!

Clockwise, from top left: Ray Dennis Steckler, Charles Band,
Larry Buchanan & Ted V. Mikels.

In The Thrill Killers, our man Steckler sticks it to his old nemesis, Alfred Hitchcock, in this demented tale of axe-wielding psychos and maniacs on the loose, with a nice scenic tour of every square inch of Topanga Canyon as an added bonus.

Before he started howling at the Full Moon, Charles Band was the head honcho of Empire Pictures, which unleashed a ton of fodder for USA's Up All Night and TNT's Monstervision. But by far my favorite, lost in the wash of your Re-Animators and your Ghoulies, was this forgotten sci-fi tale called Zone Troopers -- but I like to call it Saving Private Chewbacca.

Larry Buchanan: now there's a guy whose provided more cinematic Waterloos for countless seasoned genre viewers. And once again, he gets our hopes up with an outstanding premise -- the premise being that Nixon ordered the FBI to kill Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison -- but then pulls the football away, leaving the Charlie Browns who tuned in flat on their collective asses -- again! So, be warned when you go poking Beyond the Doors.

And lastly, we once more dance a cautious waltz with Ted V. Mikels and the nigh undigestable The Worm Eaters, where our noted auteur and bigamist gives Herb Robins a bunch of money to see if he can make the audience throw-up.

And You Thought Your Family Had Issues :: Rehashed Reviews Mark (...I Can't Remember)!

This month we revisit our Bad Blood Month Marathon, with the focus on dysfunctional families that had a tendency to hack each other to pieces:

Blood and Lace :: The sickest PG-Rated movie ever made? If not it's real damned close.

Legacy of Blood :: Where the deceased has the last laugh on his offspring, who've gathered for the funeral and, more importantly, the reading of the will.

Blood Ruby :: Obscure Exorcist knock-off where the spirit of a dead mobster comes back to haunt the gang who rubbed him out.

A Bay of Blood :: Perhaps the strangest version of CLUE ever conceived. It was Mario Bava; with a knife, machete, spear, and shotgun etc.; in and around the Donati estate.

Rehashed Reviews :: The All Yuks Edition!

As I hammer through all these old reviews I came to a startling revelation: of all the genres that I've snockered myself through over the years the one that was represented the least were [intentional] comedies, which made that an easy choice to tackle next since there were only, like, four of them...

First up, we head to a parallel universe where the 1970's oil-embargo and gas-grunch never abated. And now, with the United States up to it's eye-balls in debt, the President launches a desperate, month long televised telethon to save this once great nation from defaulting to its creditors. God bless the Americathon...

Next, we break off a whole chunk of Meatloaf with a huge side-helping of corn when the world's greatest Roadie bites off more than he can chew when his groupie-addled-girlfriend is more interested in his clients than him.

Then, we have midgets, spies, midget spies, and Princess Leia in her underwear. Hell, what's not to love in the farcical flick Under the Rainbow. Unless,of course, you don't like short jokes, ethnic buffoonery, and are a card carrying member of the ASPCA. If so, you might want to look somewhere over the rainbow instead.

And last, but surely not least, we have, hands down, the funniest spoof to come out of the 1980's that didn't have the name Brooks, Zucker or Abrams anywhere in the credits -- but wait until you see who is lurking in the cast. As the old saying goes, When Nature Calls you gotta go...

Rehashed Reviews :: The Made for TV Edition!

Inspired by the equally inspired folks behind the Made for TV Mayhem Blog, namely Amanda by Night, this latest, and critically overdue, batch of rehashed reviews found me digging up and dusting off our long dormant CultTV section for seven tele-films, one for each day of the week, from the 1970's that are weird and wonderful and well worth your time. Enjoy!

Monday:

Check out Pamela Franklin and 2/3rds of Charlie's Angels, who
are rats trapped in a maze as they fight the minions of evil
and lose, sort of, in Satan's School for Girls.

Tuesday:

Then, when Deborah Raffin and Lynne Moody pick the wrong
place to have a flat tire and run into a sadistic Sheriff, he quickly
railroads them right into a Nightmare in Badham County.

Wednesday:

Next, get yourself over the mid-week hump with this tale
of a sentient and homicidal piece of earth-moving equipment
that, somehow, keeps managing to sneak up on people.
Behold, the stealthy Killdozer.

Thursday:

Our Thursday night spectacular finds the Rifleman, that guy
from The Invaders, Jed Clampett and Captain Kirk trapped in a
plane and in a battle for their very lives against an unwanted
supernatural stowaway in The Horror at 37000 Feet.

Friday:

Then, our weekend starts off with a bang. A lot of them,
actually, when mad sniper Kurt Russell starts a killing spree,
making nowhere safe from The Deadly Tower.

Saturday:And the world of sleuthing will never be the same when psychic
race-car driver Leonard Nimoy teams up with occult expert
Susan Hampshire to unravel the mystery of Wyndom Manor.
The results of which are guaranteed to leave you Baffled!

Sunday:

And last but not least, our week wraps up with the Deadpan-Duo,
Detectives Joe Friday and Bill Gannon, as they try to track down
several missing women and solve a few other, grisly murders.
Yassir. Just the facts in Dragnet 1966.