Monday, August 26, 2013

Point Counterpoint Review: Night Of The Demon

 Night Of The Demon Directed By James C. Wasson starring Michael Cutt (1980) Tonight on TOG we're gonna try something slightly different, a critic battle or point counterpoint. Each critic will weight in on what they like or dislike about the selected film; two critics enter, everybody loses!

A bigfoot that tears off dicks, appendages and rapes human women? Sign me up I once said, that is until I sat down and watched this snoozefest!
Skunkape: Certainly the right attitude to have based on the accurate description, however, slighty boring while waiting for the action. This movie may not have what it takes to be a "best" worst movie but the stupid characters can be more than entertaining with their god awful dialogue between each bigfoot killing.
Crankenstein:It's like a nyquil bomb covered in ape hair with stupid characters, blood clots that trickle along in slo-mo and the film even wants to re-define what a sasqatch is, it's a fucking Bigfoot not in any way shape or form a demon! Let me outta here! 
Skunkape: I love the slow motion! Normally I can't stand it, for example at the end of They Call Her One Eye. It brings the climax of the film's excitement to a screeching halt  But in this film, when the keyboards of doom start to fade in with some growling noises you catch all the ridiculous facial expressions of the actors and the death scenes become funny. Just wait till you see Mr. Foot bang two girl scouts together Three Stooges style all in glorious slow-mo. They picked the wrong forest to sell cookies
Nyuck Nyuck Nyuck, gimme some Samoas!
 I'll Smash you Girl Scouts into "brownies"!

Crankenstein:The second time I watched it I was appropriately drunk and found it funnier that way, like certain bands or movies you should only go in heavily medicated before attempting that journey. There have been better "beast mating with women" films that have destroyed this one, like The Beast Within and Humanoids From The Deep. This one should rot in the same vault as other forgotten big foot bestiality epics (if other one's exist!!)
Skunkape: Ok so the Bigfoot rape could have been better, but Bigfoot love is still something you don't see everyday. It wasn't about Bigfoot just getting his rocks off in that scene,he genuinely wanted to be a dad and almost succeed. He loved Crazy Wanda(actually he loved normal Wanda but after he raped her she became known as Crazy Wanda) and if her father didn't kill the hairy little critter maybe he wouldn't be so pissed off. Yes drinking is recommended but have some redbull and vodka and don't watch to late and you'll be fine.
 Crankenstein: Highpoints for me were that sexy babe with the pointy nipples, the disembowelment toward the end and of course the biker getting his dick pulled off while urinating! Another monkey turd that doesn't deserve all the attention it got from the Video Nasty list.

"You can't piss on hospitality or Bigfoot!"

"Wipe your big feet on the mat before coming in the RV."

Skunkape: (My highest point is the sleeping bag death, watch as a poor bastard gets swung around in a circle in sleeping bag vision you get the POV shot of bigfoot holding the bag and he throws him right into some dead wood were the victim gets impaled on a branch. Ouch! Watching a biker pee, and seeing his wee is nasty even before it gets ripped off so keep it on the video nasty list but find a copy and indulge in the stupity because its a hoot.
 Crankenstein: I think if I watch something enough it grows on me, but in this case it just falls out of my brain like so many other forgettable junk. I understand why You enjoy it, but I can't help but despise this movie, its incredibly dark (almost entire shots don't register on the screen) and the acting and tension is non existent! I like Harry & The Hendersons a hundred times more than this flop! 
Skunkape, Blow it out your ass, you old stick in the mud!

Skunkape says "CHECK IT OUT"
"Cookin up some fried lips."

To much Botox

"You fertile baby?"

Night Of The Demon, not a Sid & Marty Kroft Production

Does the Bigfoot match the drapes?

Some crazy flowers for crazy Wanda.

Theater of Guts
Tribute Trailer

Saturday, August 24, 2013

The Freakmaker

The Freak Maker (The Mutations) Directed By Jack Cardiff. Starring Donald Pleasence (1973). 
I first became aware of this flick through the trailer on the infamous Mad Ron's Prevues tape under its other title The Mutations. That trailer was very misleading, it had flashes of eyes popping out, barking dogs and little people with knives running through the woods, so I was hesitant when I first checked it out, I wasn't sure what I was in store for. I'd already seen She Freak, David Friedman's sleazy Todd Browning update and expected more of the same.
Welcome to Raul's Wild Monkey Kingdom
   The Freak Maker is extremely British, but not so much that it's dull like an Amicus Studio film, (I defy anyone reading this to watch The Creeping Flesh and not want to claw out their eyeballs out of shear boredom and misery)!
   The always supremely creepy Donald Pleasence plays a warped college professor who lectures about human cloning and Mendelian type genetic mutation (can plants and human's be fused together in a monstrous hybrid)? Basil Kirchin's music score goes from melancholy to goose strangling jazz fusion.
Rock N Roll is a fad, Jazz is where it's at daddio
   While walking though a woodsy path after school, a redhead is stalked by two midgets, one looks like David Warner. It turns out to be a diversion for Lynch, played by Dr. Who actor Tom Baker in an unrecognizable role as a grouchy mutant with gigantism of the face. Lynch is a victim who believes that if he helps the Doctor capture helpless victims for his human experiments, he will pay for plastic surgery (this is my theory and not mentioned in the film).
   The Freakmaker is more original than a straight laced Freaks ripoff, it does have a ghastly cast of authentic human oddities like The Pretzel Boy, Popeye, and The Alligator Lady (who was featured in The Sentinel during the controversial hellmouth segment). There is some Art Clokey style animation mixed in with time lapsed plant footage. In class Donald brings his rotten fruit reverse ray, this apparently is his secret weapon to spawn a human/plant hybrid race (don't ask me how, I've pieced together enough logic where there's very little already in this narrative)!
Pull my fingers
   The film tries to illustrate how the freaks have a sophisticated candor over the college "normies", who go on about an acid trip one of them had, where they saw "Carrot's with human babies faces on them". The college kids come off very juvenile and many of them have yellow candy corn rotten teeth. Pleasence could learn a thing or two from the college experiment lab in Strange Behavior (I mean kids were literally stabbing their friends to get in and make a little fast cash)!
Your eyes look like two cherries in a glass of buttermilk
   There's an obligatory "Loving Cup" homage to the original Todd Browning film during a birthday, as Lynch is razzed by his co-workers for being a sell-out. He drools bucketfuls and when he screams, it reminds me of Vivian from The Young Ones! This episode drives him out onto the big bad city, where he pays a hooker for sympathy. There's a certain amount of empathy that you feel for Lynch because he's being forced to capture victims for the doctor to experiment on, begrudgingly wants acceptance from his own kind and pathetically has to pay a stranger to tell him that she loves him. He's pretty abrasive though, but not as wretched as Cleopatra and the Strong Man from the original Freaks, they seriously deserved the punishment they got in the end. Things start going to hell in a handbasket in the final curtain call and college kids mutate into duck like hybrids as Pleasance fights off his own creations.
Ack! It smells like rancid cabbage
I loved this movie though and welcome any film where they use genuine human oddities and give them a job instead of using fakers and covering them in latex to make it look like the real deal. Hire more freaks, I say and don't be too down on them, because their appearance outwardly reflects the "real" ugliness that we harbor within. The insipid way we condemn each other callously in our daily lives, is an argument that we could learn much from these outcasts.
Highly Recommended!

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Negative Happy Chainsaw Edge

Negative Happy Chainsaw Edge Directed By Takuji Kitamura (2007).
Review By Goat Scrote
First of all, points for the title. That’s what made me give the first ten minutes of the movie a chance, and I was glad that I did. This is a pleasantly weird superhero-kung fu-supernatural-romance film, not so much a horror film. There’s no gore and no scares. In fact I don’t think anybody died at all. That’s something of a disappointment since there is a very scary-looking villain who would be right at home in a teen slash-a-thon. He’s a creepy cowled figure in black with lots of gratuitous chains and a big emm-effing chainsaw with pistons made of human skulls. This monster is such a badass he keeps his heart in a cage of bone in his chest. Yeah, I know, technically we all do that, but the way he does it is much, much cooler: His heart is partly exposed and the cage around it is held together by screws in the flesh. Now, if you or I walked around like this, it would be a serious problem for any number of reasons, not least of which is the fact that anyone could come along and stab us right in the heart. This is in fact what happens to the villain, but he demonstrates why he can walk around with his internal organs exposed: He pulls the knives out and throws them right back.
Seaworld Chainsaw Massacre
 The movie is centered around a series of inconclusive fights that occur between the superpowered heroine and the chainsaw-wielding villain. She is an ordinary woman who suddenly developed powers at the same moment the villain appeared for the first time, apparently. He always arrives flying out of the sky, chainsaw swinging, taking chunks out of the local scenery. She fights back with wire-fu powers, knives, golf clubs, and rakes. These encounters become so ritualized that at one point they make a joke of it, showing Chainsaw Man’s dramatic surprise arrival and then promptly cutting to the aftermath of the combat. Chainsaw Man eventually turns out to be sort of a manifestation of her own dark side, which is why she can only fight him to a standstill and never defeat him.
stop following me!

The main protagonist is actually her sidekick, a dopey guy who starts following her around after she saves him. This motorcycle-riding teenaged everyman promptly formulates the idiotic notion that he is going to beat Chainsaw Man to impress his crush, despite a complete lack of superpowers or basic common sense. Ultimately that’s pretty much what happens, though. There’s a weak subplot about one of his friends that used to be good at everything and then died, which is apparently supposed to be his motivation for, uh, trying to be a good motorcycle rider or something. Feel free to skip over those bits and just watch the fight scenes, because those are a lot of fun.

Monday, August 19, 2013

Forbidden World

Forbidden World (Mutant, Subject 20) Directed By Allan Holzman. Starring Fox Harris (1982).
I know what you're thinking, how can a movie that recycles those rinky dink sets built by the future director of "Dances With Smurfs" James Cameron, for other Roger Corman space ripoffs like Battle Beyond The Stars and Galaxy Of Terror be any good at all? For one thing it's bursting (pun intended) with character actors like "Spinal Tap's Yoko", the sultry June Chadwick, Fox Harris the mentally disturbed driver of the Chevy Malibu with melted aliens in the trunk from Repo Man and many more.
   In the Deep Red Horror Handbook the reviewer said they liked it better than Alien, so there! I wouldn't go that far, but there's something very appealing about this Xenophobic gore fest (years later an Alien inspired arcade game that reminded me of this flick would arrive in the malls of 1987 and make an impression on this reviewer).
Xenophobe! the H.R. Giger inspired arcade game
    Forbidden World should not be confused with its earlier B-List celebrity vehicle counterpart, Galaxy Of Terror because unlike G.O.T., the alien never at any point whips out his genitals and accidentally invents a new fetish: rape tentacle porn! 
   Fox Harris has liver cancer and injects himself with a serum that later evolves into one of the most creative and jaw dropping weapons in cinema. In the grand finally Jessie Vint slices Harris open, while he's still conscious and literally feeds the beast his carcinogenic organ! Harris' incessant coughing, disheveled combover and thick glasses reminded me of Neil Hamburger.
The laughs are on me, COUGH, COUGH!

   The menacing alien looks like a milkdud with vampire fangs and the whole film has that Heavy Metal Magazine quality or horny sci-fi hokiness. Mike Colby (Vint) wakes up from space hibernation in the midst of a lazer battle, only to find his work has only just begun as he is blasted forth into the farther reaches of the galaxy by his robot co-worker SAM.
Feed Me your entrails Seymour!
   They have their work cut out for them as they enter a room full of slaughtered animals (that are the real deal, according to IMDB, they bought dead corpses from a pet hospital). They meet a team of genetic scientists along with the fanatical Cal Timbergen (Harris). Him prattling on and on about how the slimy creature (called subject 20) is a perfect specimen, reminds me of Ian Holm in the original Ridley Scott classic. This film took the aspect of a scientist's excessive admiration for an advanced life form and magnified it for Fox Harris to chew on (he's not an android though, just a creep)! It seems that the alien in actuality is less H.R. Giger and more a mutation they developed in the lab that went apeshit! On the surface though, this is clearly an Alien ripoff.
   While the crew is having dinner, which consists of the typical horrible looking spongy space food; Jimmy (Valley Girl's jocky jerkface and Tarantino bit part actor, Michael Bowen) is attacked by a face hugger and killed.
   There is alot of pathos going on that I never got from any other the Alien thefts, the light up yo-yo scene with Scott Paulin staring at the video monitor in a sexually frustrated way as Mike Colby (Vint) and Barbara get it on, is seething with ultra rejection and space loneliness. The synth score makes it more hilarious.
   This might be the only time I thought, Thank God they brought in Jim Wynorski to cheapen up the script, I'm pretty sure he's the reason there's so much gratuitous nudity!
These Yellow microdots are marvelous for tension
   Dawn Dunlap (who later vanished into obscurity) gets naked in a sauna and also sleeps with Mike, I mean this spaceman gets so much Tang!
   Dunlop screams alot as part of her acting performance and is pretty wooden. The mutant moves to different locations around the ship and at one point in the desert. Corman cut out alot of the goofiness in the director's cut Mutant (which is a more appropriate title, since they hardly leave the space ship to go to any Forbidden World). If you like sleaze with your sci-fi (and who doesn't)? Check this film out, which is currently streaming on Netflix in sadly an inferior quality format. Shout Factory did a wonderful job of restoring this on a DVD worth purchasing, using some catchy artwork-- the cover looks to me like a cross between Atari's Centipede and Krull.
You've seen too much

Mike Colby gets more ass than a zero gravity toilet

Oh good, our vaseline smothered pork loin is ready!

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Fight For Your Life

Directed By Robert A Endelson. Starring William Sanderson, Robert Judd. (1977)
Review By Graham Rae

There are some movies that can really reaffirm your faith in humanity. You leave the viewing with a spring in your step, knowing that at heart humanity is basically good, right always wins, right makes might, might conquers wrong, and all is really hunky-dory in the occasionally-too-demented-seeming world.
      Fight For Your Life is not one of those films.
      Hell no.
      FFYL tells the torrid tall tale of Kane (William Sanderson, who played JF Sebastian in Blade Runner; he has great fun with his nasty role here, alternating between chewing scenery and providing moments of real pain and pathos and poignancy), Chino (Daniel Faraldo) and Ling (Peter Yoshida). On the way to the pokey after being sentenced in New York, they escape from the prison van (to a rump-jumping funky soundtrack by Jeff Slevin – available on Fire Sign Records, according to the end credits, but nowhere to be seen on the net) after it nearly crashes into an escaping bank robber’s getaway car(!), and they commandeer the parked car of a cacklin’ black mack slappin’ his wack-ass bitch for purloined smack.
      We learn about the villains through the ingenious device of having announcements about their vices crackle through the police radio of the main cop who will be pursuing them, the Irish-cop-cliché-named Reilly (David Cargill; one of several wannabe-thespians in this film whose acting careers seemingly disappeared straight down the toilet after it), and his sidekick Hamilton (Richard Rubin). Chino, looking like a twitching Tom Savini, has been banged up for 75 years for assault, manslaughter, and first-degree murder. Ling, a truly evil and creepy turdcutter, has been done for three counts of child beating, two counts murder in the first degree, and two counts of arson.
      And a partridge in a pear tree.

      We get it, they’re mad and bad wee bastards. But southern-born-and-inbred Kane (note the appropriately Biblical-murderous name) is the real evil shite in this group, and we know this because they don’t announce him over the radio. No sir, that ignominious lower level of dramatic entry is only for the lesser bastards he escaped with. Reilly nips over to prison and meets a former cellmate of Kane’s, who, smirking, tells him that the group’s ringleader is a murderer who kills for the fun of it, and a rapist who rapes for the, eh, fun of it too. And he fights dirty. Now we know what we’re up against. Unease stirs easily and teasingly in our violence-voyeur bellies.
Ted Turner
       The plot thickens and sickens as we get introduced to the Turners, a peaceful black family with deacon Ted (yes, Ted Turner, played by Robert Judd) preparing his next sermon about the meek inheriting the earth. His round-12-years-old son Floyd (Reginald Bythewood) quotes rhymes like Muhammad Ali and throws faux boxing moves around, being chastised by his father and being told that “strength isn’t everything.” Black-power-loving Grandma Turner (Lela Small) isn’t into all this turn-the-other-meek-cheek “pile of nonsense” and loudly lets this be known. Of course, this being the film it is, we know that this ideological schism in the family will soon be being tested to the limits; the brush strokes being used are very broad and we can see the picture starting to emerge already.
      There’s another interesting wee bit of character development here, though, too. Mother of the family Louise (Catherine Peppers) laments the fact that “that white girl” is coming to dinner. The derided Caucasian in question is Karen (Bonni Martin), who dated the eldest Turner son, Val (Ramon Saunders), and when he was killed in a car crash after a rendezvous (shown in a ‘taboo’ interracial sex scene) with his white beau it soured relations with some of the family.

      Meanwhile, back at the ranch, our anti-hero zeroes have filled up with gas at a Texaco station (doubt the company would allow their name to be featured so prominently in a film featuring this material now) and stabbed the shit out of the attendant to a bad and melodramatic soundtrack overture for good measure. Well, it beats paying for their gas-guzzling pimpmobile, as the owner, whose clothes they stole for some reason, never had any money anyway. Reilly is hot (well, lukewarm) on their trail, getting regular bulletins on who’s getting dispatched from the flat-voiced female dispatcher.
I said Huggies not Muggies
      He’s soon hearing about a liquor store clerk who gets shot by Kane during a robbery at a place the cons stop off at. The maniac even menaces the store owner’s baby with his (empty) gun for fun, in a nasty scene that shows us that he basically has no limits. As is discovered by eldest Turner daughter Corrie (Yvonne Ross), who just happens to be in the liquor store during the robbery to buy wine, saying she needs “a white for dinner.” Well, she gets a white for the meal, and a Mexican and an Asian for good measure, when the escapees kidnap her and take her back to the Turner family home until the heat on them cools off a bit and they can steal the family car to further their escape.
      At the same time, in the woods near his home, Floyd is playing with his white pal Joey (Devid Dewlow), who is Hamilton’s son. They cut thumbs and become blood brothers. Horsing around, Joey falls over and calls “hot dog,” which is their Hardy Boys-like-level-of-complexity code phrase for “real emergencies only” and not “crapping around.” The tension mounts, starts thrusting, sloppily slips out by accident, and mounts again.

A brief tender moment 
      Back at the Turner house, we know things are going to get nasty because of a Halloween-like ear-jangling dingdongdingdong two-note nerve-mangling soundtrack. It’s actually uncanny how alike the music in the two movies is in places, given that they both originally came out in the same year. Pure coincidence; urban invasion and ominous monotonous soundwounds must have been in cinematic vogue that year. Kane and his able-bodied weasel crew shoulder their way into the house, with Kane wielding his gun and saying that he is the law as long as he has it.
      When Ted Turner comes home from an errand, the next hour of the film becomes a grueling exercise in racial humiliation and degradation and madness and, well, just plain fucking bastardness. Tossing racial slurs like cracker-cracked firecrackers, Kane forces the family to eat at gunpoint. “I’m the master of the house,” he barks, and we just know he’s over-compensating for something or other. Kane gets called “poor white trash” by the feisty Granny Turner, so there’s not a single race in this film that doesn’t get racial abuse thrown at them – the idea of having a mixed-race gang seems to be purely to be able to throw insults at a few more ethnic minorities.
Die! Cracker Die!

       So –
      (Great! The copy of this film I was watching on Youtube just literally got yanked halfway through as I was watching it for copyright infringement! Must have known somebody from the UK was watching it and it’s still banned there! Bastirt! Anyway. One quick download later, and we’re back to the action. Ah, takes me back to the good old bad old days of illegal Scottish bootlegs! Very old school Deep Red!)

starring Dr. Caligari as J.F. Sebastian
      Kane gets drunk and his big bad man façade starts to unravel. He whines piteously and self-pityingly on about his “tired old spineless father” who “got so tired of tilling his acres he just melted into the soil.” He also talks about how the state “rob you of your manhood” by incarcerating you and “cut you off between your legs.” It becomes ever-more-clear we’re dealing with a small, cowardly, emasculated-feeling man who makes himself feel bigger and better by using a gun. It’s not exactly Shakespeare, but for exploitation character exposition and motivation exploration it’ll do. He’s been raped in prison as a boy, and is now bestowing on others the kind violent and sexual abuse that he was subjected to. Big gun, small cock; the usual ball-less ballistics-bullshit dynamic. The whole movie is basically a power play, racial and sexual, from a powerless man enjoying making others feel powerless for his own empowerment and pathological abusive amusement.
      “The measure of a man is dignity,” Ted gravely tells Kane.
      “The measure of a man is power!” the sarcastic and vicious reply is barked, complete with wave of phallic gun and an invitation to shine and lick his shoes.

That's Sergeant Sex Dwarf to you!
      On the other side of town, the cops are investigating the liquor store murder, and one thirsty flatfoot attempts to steal booze from the crime scene! Luckily straight cop Reilly (who looks uncannily like authoritarian homophobic Russian sex dwarf Vladimir Putin) is there to sort him out and keep him on the straight and narrow. The mythical life of Reilly would be a boring but righteous one, it must be said.
      Home, home on deranged, Ling amuses and lives up to his arson billing by setting a newspaper on fire and putting it into the hands of a sleeping Chino, who freaks and throws it away. Their subsequent fight is broken up by Kane, who distracts them by making Ted do a “jig,” by shooting at his feet, then sing a hymn standing on a stool. It’s a depressing, humiliating scene, one that just makes you shake your head and ask…why? Well, this is an exploitation film so “there is no why!,” to quote the old cheesy trailer for Chunkblower.
      Just as Ted is making “like a black canary” and getting some hated-by-Kane familial solidarity with the singing of The Battle Hymn of the Republic, Karen unfortunately decides to turn up for dinner. Ling runs after her to intercept her, tears off her clothes, and kills her by throwing her down a waterfall. Nearby, Joey decides to look up his blood brother to play in their tent in the woods some more and knocks on the Turner door, but is told that Floyd isn’t coming out to play. 

Say it don't spray it!
      Joe’s given the uncrackable Enigma code about hot dogs and wanders away wondering about it and pondering the significance of this weighty utterance. Unluckily for him, Ling spots him in the woods, grabs him, and unceremoniously smashes his brains in with a rock! It’s an unexpected, vile, insane scene, which really only exists for schlock shock value, and to allow Hamilton to go apeshit later on. This (ob)scene is apparently cut from many prints, and it’s not hard to see why. With the child beating-cum-murder, Ling has lived up to all three of his rep-raps – murder, arson, and child-beating – and is as popular with the viewer as a pregnant woman who wants an abortion at a Texas Tea Party rally.
      Ted, Ling and Chino cut out to hide the cars, and some more Kane-spewed racial venom ensues. Floyd knocks a knife out of “grey garbage” Kane’s hand, but the female family members and young boy are not up to the task of stabbing this “pink pig,” despite his goading them into it.
      Back on the trail, the cops arrest a drunk driver whose car they mistake for the one being driven by our guys. Nobody gives a shit.

      Kane gets the upper hand of the sewing circle encircling him with knives, and, after saying he is going to hang Floyd, decides to hang Mrs. Turner instead. This is an action with obvious racial historical baggage, especially coming from a white man from the south hanging a black person, but in the end the scene oddly veers away from the subject matter and, bizarrely, hangs her by her feet, scaring her instead of killing her. Maybe the filmmakers thought it might be an incitement to riot, just as Scorsese did when he changed Harvey Keitel’s pimp character in Taxi Driver from black to white. Perhaps it was just a bit too near the then-recent-past knuckle. Though the film certainly doesn’t shy away from graphic violence, sexual assault, or racial epithets, so who knows.
      The police are still driving around and get a tip-off about Corrie’s bicycle she left at the liquor store. The plot thins.
      Getting progressively drunk on whiskey, Kane decides that he is going to take the phrase ‘Bible-bashing’ to a whole new level and beats “assholy roller” (neat phrase!) Ted around the head with his good book, in a strange sped-up scene that almost seems to be played for laughs. Who knows if it’s meant to be found funny. Some of this film genuinely comes across as a black comedy (no pun intended) and you don’t know whether to laugh at the sheer outrageousness on display, or put on an offended front in polite company. The choice is entirely yours.
I'm getting sick of this shit
       Granny derides the invaders as “fakers in a whorehouse,” and that seems not too far from the truth, really, as Kane keeps excitedly stuffing his gun down the front of his pants after some particularly superlative outrage he perpetrates.”Now we’re gonna see if black womanhood is up to white manhood,” he snarl-chuckles as he drags Corrie away to be the first of the three to gang-rape the young virgin. It’s very unpleasant, if all too believable, and the weird sexual undercurrents in this film really leave a bad taste in the mouth. Unlike the child murder and drunk-slurred racial slurs, obviously.
      The police arrive and camp out outside the house with faulty listening gear. Your heart pounds with the excitement of it all.
      Corrie staggers through into the living room, in physical pain, bow-legged, and with torn clothes. Her family is shocked and traumatized. At the same time, Hamilton’s dead son Joey is found and brought to his dad, mirroring the family trauma inside the house. Hamilton, understandably, goes completely apeshit and runs at the Turner house with gun drawn, being shot dead by Kane before he can even get close. In the ensuing post-shooting confusion, the three cons are disarmed and held captive. The boot is finally on the other neck. 
      Robbed of his gun, of course, Kane is no tough guy. He gets beaten around, and the family puppy even pisses on his face on the floor! Mrs. Turner is ready for the nightmare to end, but her husband isn’t. He’s no longer a (cough) turner of the other cheek, and wants payback for the atrocities inflicted on him and his family. At gunpoint, he gets Chino to tell the cops the cons aren’t coming out. At this point the black family are throwing around insults like “spic” and “slant eyes,” so it’s just a degrading heartwarming hatefest all round.
I can feel the love!
      The cops are going to swarm in with teargas, but Floyd fake-tearfully convinces them not to. Corrie is pissed and has an electric knife she wants to castrate the man(iac) who took her maidenhead with. She can’t do it and drops the knife. Chino exhorts Kane to grab it, lunging forward excitedly, and gets a ballbuster ballistics vasectomy for his troubles. The cops outside get their shite surveillance gear working, and Reilly throws away his rulebook when he hears the family talking about all the chaos visited upon them and others close to them; the straight cop says the equipment is still busted and leaves the cons to their sorry sordid fates, letting nature red in tooth and claw take its course.
      Soon after, the cops decide to storm the house. In the confusion, Ling leaps through a window and is nastily impaled by a huge chunk of broken glass, whilst Ted is knocked unconscious and Kane gets the gun again. He grabs Mrs. Turner and edges out of the house, demanding a getaway vehicle of the cops. Handily, Ted wakes up and goes outside, taunting Kane, who apparently has a moral code and doesn’t want to shoot an unarmed man. Ted asks for a gun and is thrown one by the now-morally-fucked Reilly. The classic warm and fuzzy dialogue exchange takes place:
      “Ain’t never gonna be a fair fight, coon! Everybody knows whites are naturally superior, boy!”
      “Then let her go and prove it to me, white trash faggot!”
      Early teen-level dialogue, don’t you just love it?
      Ted rants and raves for a while, mocking Kane’s manhood and prison-raped sexuality. “You’re just like the black man my momma run off with! I’M GONNA SHOOT YOU!” cries the con, and is shot in the throat. The same funky song from the opening credits is played slowed down at a funereal pace, letting you know the horror is finally over, as Kane’s broken contorted corpse fades from the screen.
       And that, as they say, is that.
       Now. Fight For Your Life was the only Video Nasty (a tiresome 80s UK phenomenon that only Anglophilic Americans who never lived through it now find interesting) ever banned because of racial content and language. It certainly earns this dubious honor – and has not been released to this day across the pond. When Ted Turner comes back home, the racial epithets and insults start flying in earnest at the 22:35 mark, and do not stop for the rest of the film’s running time. Every racial insult for a black person ever known to man puts in an appearance, and more.
      The screenwriter here, Straw Weisman, sounds like he was having fun running with the race-hate-expression ball, and just crammed as many hate-speech insults into the running time as he could. Any lowlife no-brain redneck would only have a stock few phrases he would use in his mockery, unless he was of a quick intellect, so his using constant different creative insults didn’t quite fit the dumb character. It’s so over-the-top it becomes almost inoffensive, in a Troma movie sort of way.
      I say ‘almost inoffensive’ advisedly, though. I hadn’t seen this film until a couple of months ago, though I knew from hearing it mentioned occasionally that it had a fearsome reputation as a piece of vile exploitation filth. Which it most certainly is, of course, no doubt about that, but I also didn’t find it as bad as it had been made out to be. Which may say something about my own mindset, I suppose, but in a deeply cynical, calculating era where ‘entertainment’ includes stuff like sex with a baby (A Serbian Film) or remaking 70s rape-revenge flicks (Last House on the Left, and I Spit on Your Grave, both of which have material paralleling FFYL), anything else is going to look kind of tame. 

can we stab them already?
       That’s not to say that Fight For Your Life doesn’t pack a wallop today. It still does, mainly because you can’t believe how un-PC it is, and it’s difficult to believe that it got an ‘R’ rating. You can only imagine that any filmmaker trying to make a film like this today would be financing his film through selling his bodily fluids or collecting returnable soda cans. Violent, degrading sex is loved in America, a Puritan-roots country that hates women (witness the current risible and depressing rightwing War on Women) and hates its own flesh, and of course it masturbates happily to violence. But racism is still very much a taboo subject in this country. It underlies everything here, as the reaction to the Travyon Martin case brought to the fore.
      Whether you think the fact that this film would probably never gain financing today is a good thing or not is merely a personal opinion. It’s an odd time capsule, in a way. It displays vestigial traces of race relations in the American South during the 60s, transposed a few years into the future via the Kane character. He has grown up in a segregated area during a violent, turbulent time, and his racial bigotry and madness reflect this upbringing. He drags 60s-era civil rights turbulence right into the escapism-era late 70s America (remember, 1977 was the year of Star Wars too) and slaps it right in the face with it. His sneering insults towards “Martin Luther Coon” are telling, as are the pictures on the wall of MLK and the dead Kennedys, John F and Robert, all of whom died during turbulent American times. 
the fake Blaxploitation ad

      Kane is a displaced anachronism, still smarting from the mental and emotional wounds he suffered in jail in his southern youth, which I would say could almost be regarded as a metaphor for north-south relations to this day, but that would be giving a sleazy exploitation film too much credit and depth. It’s not a particularly deep film – it’s lazy, nasty, vicious, insipid and disgusting, with a cynical level of knife-fighter street-smarts to it. But that doesn’t mean that it says anything much about racism, except that it can exist under the skin of any and all races (much as it’s taboo to articulate this simple fact in America these days) and can come poking out in unexpected places under enough intolerable provocation. 
don't cry Deputy Dog
      Miscegenation provides the backdrop for racism on both sides of the equation, with the Turner mother hating Karen for her affair with Val; and Kane hates his mother for running off with a black man. Past experiences have poisoned the views of the family and cons, or more specifically, Kane, at least. His accomplices act as little more than two-dimensional foils to help him control the family – and to get a few racial epithets thrown at in this race-hate clusterfuck, of course. The fact that Kane didn’t like his mother being with a black man doesn’t stop him from raping Corrie, of course, so his racial views are selective. The only two people in the film who seem to have race relations down-pat are young Joey and Floyd, who become literal ‘blood brothers,’ but even then one of them is killed.
      There’s a danger here of reading way more into the film than was originally intended – it’s a straight, very-well-acted, exploitation murder-rape-revenge flick, after all. But all the stuff I am talking about is definitely in the film, crudely rendered and signposted as it may be. Fight For Your Life is, sadly, still totally relevant today, as the south’s vociferous racist reaction to Obama’s terms as president has unfortunately proven. Racial politics in this confused, lost country don’t seem to have moved forward much since this grindhouse classic was released. It’s a fave rave flickershow of Quentin Tarantino (though don’t hold that against the production), a hack who knows all about racial controversy in moviemaking, what with being a proud black man himself and all. 

What's Happen-in hot stuff
      Fight For Your Life is a strange, anomalous, one-off, low-blows-flowing film, and nothing like it has ever been made before or since. You watch it and wonder what the fuck the filmmakers were thinking when they put it out, except, of course, about making money. The director Richard Edelson only has one other film to his (dis)credit, Filthiest Show in Town, a softcore porn, which tells you something. FFYL has two trailers online, one for black audiences (“You are about to see a few moments from an extraordinary gut-crunching movie that will make you get down and shout, I AM PROUD TO BE A BLACK MAN!”) and one for, well, everybody else. Pick your own favorite. One thing’s for sure: as long as there are people of more than one color, which of course there always will be, there will always be racism. And people to make low-budget films exploring and exploiting it. Case in point: the 2011 piece of bigotry-soaked dementia The Cuckoo Clocks of Hell. The more things change, the more they stay the same, indeed.


Monday, August 12, 2013

The Plague Dogs

Plague Dogs Directed By Martin Rosen. Starring John Hurt (1982)
    Review By Goat Scrote
    If Franz Kafka had ever had children, this is the kind of bedtime story he would tell them. Yes, this is a cartoon with lovable talking animals in it, but no, you absolutely should not show this film to young children unless you're doing illicit psychological experimentation involving childhood trauma [ ]. There's animal torture, some human gore, dark social commentary, and a whole lot of heavy existential seeking, and no happy endings for anybody. The movie is way too honest to give easy answers to the questions it raises. Even adults might have a little trouble digesting such a heavy mental meal.
check out

    These dogs only wish they could be as lucky as Bambi's mother and die quickly. If you thought the animated violence in "Watership Down" was traumatic for the tots, you should know that "Plague Dogs" ups the ante considerably. Both films are based on books by Richard Adams, and are written, directed, and produced by Martin Rosen. It's not surprising that there are similarities, but where "Watership Down" tells an essentially hopeful story about loss and renewal, Plague Dogs tells a relentlessly hopeless story about senseless cruelty and pointless tragedy. It's a good movie, and using cute animals to say something serious is one of the oldest storytelling traditions there is, but Plague Dogs is so bleak and sad in places that I find it genuinely painful to watch!
    For the trivia buffs, dialogue from this movie is sampled by Skinny Puppy in their anti-vivisection song "Testure", and a clip from the movie can be seen in the background of the music video. [].
    The story opens in an animal testing facility where we witness a little slice of animated Hell on Earth. It's a dismal picture of institutional cruelty with little discernible purpose. Some of the lab dogs like Rowf (Christopher Benjamin) are locked inside a water-filled tank and forced to swim until they become exhausted and drown, only to be resuscitated, put back in their tiny cages, and made to do it all over again the next day. Other dogs like Snitter (John Hurt) subjected to experimental brain surgery. "Why do they do it?" he wonders in bewildered pain, "I'm not a bad dog."

Inside Snitter's mind

    When a cage door isn't latched properly, Snitter and Rowf take the opportunity to escape.  Snitter has odd hallucinations and seizures from his surgery, and he is ridden with guilt for his role in the accidental death of his former master, but he still has a basic trust of human beings. Rowf is less certain about the goodness of mankind, but together the two seek a new master. Their innocent attempts to connect with humans go wrong every time. They go to town but get spooked when they see a butcher in his bloody white apron, so similar to the doctors at the lab. They see a shepherd and his sheepdogs and try to fit in by chasing the sheep, which fails to win them any affection.
    In a world that seems endlessly hostile, they finally find something of a friend out in the wild. The Tod (James Bolam) is a wily fox who makes a deal with the dogs. He will teach them to survive as "wild animals" and they will help him get bigger prey, like sheep. Unfortunately, their success at sheep-killing just gets them hunted by the locals.
    Things finally seem about to take a turn for the better when Snitter encounters a kind man in the woods - a new master! As Snitter finally realizes his dream and scampers into the man's arms, however, fate betrays him. His paw snags the trigger of the man's shotgun and the man's face is suddenly gone with a boom and a big red splash. This is the most brutal scene in the movie and it kicks me right in the nuts every time.
raspberry jam is pouring out of my face!

    Snitter's spirit is broken. "I'm bad," he despairs. Things don't get any cheerier for the strange little pack, either. Winter comes and their ribs are showing. A hunter stalking them falls to his death and the starving dogs eat him. When the hunter is found ripped to shreds it doesn't help the fugitive dogs' public image. Reporters have started stirring up sentiment against the dogs and the lab. The lab directors kept the escape quiet to avoid embarrassment  but this seems downright sinister when rumors start that the dogs might be infected with the bubonic plague. The absurdity of the situation reaches its peak when escalating public outcry leads politicians to call in the military to deal with the two tormented, weak, confused stray dogs.
Where are those Snausages we ordered?

    The Tod proves to be a true friend when he sacrifices himself to help Rowf and Snitter escape onto a train car. The dogs reach the sea as soldiers close in, and flee together into the water in sort of a canine "Thelma and Louise" moment. At first Snitter hallucinates that the sun shining through the ocean fog is an island, a place where they can finally find peace. As they swim on and on into the fog Snitter realizes that the island was just another illusion from his damaged brain and he despairs. Rowf, the veteran of the water-tank, urges Snitter to keep swimming. The two dogs vanish together into the fog, never to be seen again. So did Snitter give up? Does Rowf drown in the end, after all? Is the whole world just a big version of the torture tank, where every living thing is drowned and resuscitated over and over for reasons we can never comprehend, bereft of any hope of escape except one final plunge into cold and darkness? I ain't sayin', and neither does the movie. As the credits roll, though, the fog slowly parts, and there is a smudge in the distance that might be the hoped-for island. It seems impossibly far off, too far for a couple of exhausted dogs to reach, but the island is there... a tiny sliver of possibility.
Highly Recommended!
Do they make it out OK?

Paramilitary Dog termination squad

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