Rich old woman Pauline Christophe (Mary J. Todd McKenzie) seems to have everything a woman could want: a palatial estate, devoted and attentive servants, and the respect of her community engendered by her fabulous wealth and rumored occult powers. However, like many landed aristocracy, as she nears the appointed hour of her death she begins to think about the important things that are missing from her life--namely, family. Therefore, from her deathbed, she sends out four letters to her remaining living relatives, summoning them to her mansion for a chance at reconnection and an opportunity to pass the torch, and presumably all her glorious riches. However, before her grandchildren--none of whom has ever met any of the others--arrive on a stormswept summer afternoon, Pauline kicks the old bucket, clutching a voodoo doll in her gnarled, wrinkled fist. Of course almost immediately Strange Things start happening around the Cristophe estate.
Stop me if you've heard this one.
It may not tread any new ground, but here's a movie that hits its marks with competence and enthusiasm if not overwhelming skill. Featuring some well-done voodoo sequences, a couple of strong performances, and enough nonsensical supernatural happenings to keep you from getting bored, 1974's The House on Skull Mountain does manage to divert and entertain for its hour-and-twenty-minute running time. And really, what more could you ask for from a voodoo epic starring Carter Country's Victor French?
The first of the family to arrive at Christophe Manor is Lorena Christophe (the elegant and lovely Janee Michelle)--or rather, she would have been the first to arrive, had her loud-mouthed, jive-talkin', fast-drivin' cousin Phillipe Willette (Mike Evans, better known as the straitlaced spawn of George and Weezy Jefferson) not nearly run her off the treacherous mountain road in his pimped-out land yacht. Understandably shaken by her brush with automotive cataclysm, Lorena pulls over to the shoulder of the road...
...gets out of the car, takes a few deep breaths...
...and then looks out through the clear, sunlit summer afternoon sky to get a look at her destination, which looks...well, a little like THIS:
He-Man's Summer House
Welcome, Matte
Say what you will about this movie, but when it promises a house on Skull Mountain, it FUCKING DELIVERS.
Lorena gets to the house in time to attend the last half of Grandma Christophe's funeral, attended only by the old lady's servants Louette (Ella Woods) and Thomas (Jean Durand). Here we get a little voodoo lore for no extra charge, as the servants have scattered shards of broken mirror on the grave "to keep the evil spirits away." It doesn't seem to work, though, as Louette sees a crow drop a chicken-foot totem on the coffin, which bursts into flames! I don't know from voodoo omens, but it's clearly meant to be a not-so-good one here.
Inside, Lorena spars with Phillippe over his near-vehicular homicide, though her righteous indignation does not prevent him from putting the moves on his much classier cousin. Nor his OTHER much classier cousin, Harriet (Xernona Clayton, who arrives safely despite having a vision of Hooded Death on her plane trip), nor serving girl Louette--here's a brother who believes in keeping all options open. One Christophe is still missing, and stately Mr. Leroux (Senator Leroy Johnson, the first African American to be elected to the Georgia General Assembly since the end of the Reconstruction era--thanks imdb!) insists they wait for him to arrive before reading the will.
"Whattaya think? Too much, right?"
Photographic proof of the existence of the Lightning Worm
Man, I just love that.
After some racial tension between Phillippe and Andrew (that neither of the much more sophisticated female cousins take part in), they all turn in for the night, and of course that's when the voodoo vengeance starts in earnest. Drunken Phillippe is lured to his death in a vacant elevator shaft, and Andrew finds a chicken-foot totem beside his corpse. The next day Lenora and Andrew go out on the town (Atlanta, I think, though I don't know of any famous skull-like rock formations in that general area) for a falling-in-love montage and an appropriately heartfelt love song. Back at the house, Harriet sees more visions and finally falls prey to a venomous snake in the old lady's rocking chair. Another chicken-foot calling card is found at the scene.
Don't go thinking this is some kind of pre-Clue whodunnit, however--we the audience know from early on that the bad mojo in the Christophe House is being delivered courtesy butler Thomas, a voodoo priest of great power who was (I think) enslaved by the more-powerful Pauline Christophe while she was alive. Now seeking vengeance on her heirs (not to mention an undivided chunk of the estate), Thomas is bumping them all off with his evil black magic. Can Dr. Cunningham's university training stand between Thomas and his evil goals?
"Don't worry, Sheriff--I'll handle-it handle-it."
With at least two relatively famous TV personalities in the cast and a cinematic style that would be right at home in a two-camera sit-com of the era, The House on Skull Mountain feels like it'd be right at home as a Very Special Episode of The Jeffersons or Good Times. (You know, like the evil-Tiki Hawaiian episode of The Brady Bunch, only a lot funkier.)
Still, there are a few things that lift it from the "meh" to the "actually pretty okay." Despite a largely static camera, one-time director Honthaner does give us a couple of nice transitions based on skull imagery, including a rather effective overlay of a death's head on a living (?) character's face near the end. And late in the proceedings there's a voodoo ceremony/human sacrifice that is actually well filmed and choreographed, a few suggestive snake scenes (sometimes a bulging python is just a bulging python, but not here), and a double-astral projection for no reason that nonetheless made me smile.
It's symbolic, of course
Benson: The Untold Story
"WHAAAAT?"
"Okay, son...show me how funky and strong is your fight."
Monday, December 14, 2009
The House on Skull Mountain (1974): or, Voodoo House Party
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
The Erotic Rites of Frankenstein (1972): or, Creating a BDSMonster
Damn it, Jess, you just WON'T make it easy for me, will you?
Much as I want to love the cinema of Jess Franco without reservation, after getting a smattering of his work under my belt I still find myself maddeningly on the fence. My early experience of Oasis of the Zombies put me squarely in the "Jeez, what a hack!" camp; but then he hit me with the beautiful Vampyros Lesbos, and I had to recalibrate my judge-ometer. The Awful Dr. Orloff, while not without its charms, left me cold (sorry, Kate), but then I was blasted into giddy glee by his much more colorful and MAD retelling of a similar story in the excellent Faceless (1987). Succubus hypnotized me with imagery and dreamlike narrative on par with the best work of Vicar-fave director Jean Rollin, but 99 Women seemed pale and uninvolving by comparison. The charming, enthusiastic interviews Franco is famous for only make it that much harder, since often he manages to convince me the movie I just watched was much more impressive and enjoyable than my initial viewing experience would indicate.
I guess what I'm saying is that for me, Franco more than lives up to his billing as a "difficult" filmmaker. And my latest foray into his inarguably unique cinematic vision, 1972's The Erotic Rites of Frankenstein (Ritos de Frankenstein, La maldición de Frankenstein), did little to settle the matter. On the one hand, it's largely a poor production with laughable effects and a story so incoherent it would have the late, great Paul Naschy shaking his head in bewilderment; on the other, it has some gorgeous compositions, tasty psychedelic lighting, and enough sexy-horror MADNESS to prevent my dismissing it entirely. Hack or genius? HACK OR GENIUS? GAHHHH!
"My creature will be the greatest Solid Gold Dancer the world has ever known!"Ritos de Frankenstein hits the ground running and seldom stops for breath. Skipping all preliminaries and niceties, we open in the sparsely appointed lab of Dr. Frankenstein (Dennis Price), in flagrante de genesis. Highlights here include a nicely disgusting brain in a jar, Franco himself assaying the role of the doctor's skeezy assistant Morpho, and monster makeup consisting of a bodybuilder (Fernando Bilbao) with a cereal box flat-top covered from head to foot in metallic silver body paint! Seconds later the monster is jolted to life and utters his first words--"It HURTS!" Flush with success, Dr. Frankenstein explains that since he put a human brain in the monster, it now has the power of speech and is thus perfect!
There's no time for celebration, however, as at just that moment a strange visitor arrives at the doctor's house. Clad in a full-length robe, anachronistic shiny red platform boots, and little else, Melisa (Anne Libert) is the right-hand girl of the mysterious Cagliostro, an occultist hip to the doc's discoveries and wanting to get in on the action. Together with distinctly Vampyros Lesbos-era Morpho-like henchman Caronte (Luis Barboo), Melisa invades Frankenstein's lab, kills his assistant, and then makes short work of the doctor, revealing under her robe some strange bright green feathers and talon-like fingers, about which there will be more to say in a moment.
Cagliostro, as played by Franco regular Howard Vernon, is a perpeturally reborn supervillain with incredible powers that are apparently based on a combination of telepathy, psychokinesis, and "magnetism" with a dash of Eeevil Spirituality thrown in--sort of a Caligari-meets-Crowley with a bit of R'as Al Ghul added for flavor. By summoning the legions of the dead in service of the great devil-god Panthos, Caligrosto hopes to create a new race of supermen to rule the earth, leveraging Frankenstein's technology to breed his monster with a yet-uncreated female creature.
Caligostro learns the perils of the Taloned HandjobMelisa is apparently an earlier failed experiment in the whole "perfect being" sweepstakes, a hybrid of a Eurobabe and a bird of prey (hence the talons and feathers) that didn't quite live up to his hopes. However, though she turned out all blind and feathery, Melisa also inherited a bit of clairvoyance and the ability to transmit Caligostro's "magnetism" over great distances, sort of a relay tower between him and his creatures of the night. ("I receive images through your magnetic waves! Pleasure, blood, death! I can see Frankenstein's creature raping beautiful virgins to satisfy your desires!" All righty then!) And all she asks in return is the occasional half-naked woman (or in one case a young boy) chained to the dungeon walls in Caligostro's castle where she can find them by echolocation and drink their sweet hot blood. You know, just like a bird of prey does.
Back at Castle Frankenstein, one of the late doctor's colleagues, Dr. Seward (Alberto Dalbés, who played a pretty good mad scientist himself in Paul Naschy's Hunchback of the Morgue) has arrived for the funeral, along with the sole heir, Vera Frankenstein (Beatriz Savón), herself a fledgling mad scientist intent on plumbing the depths of her father's discoveries in order to avenge his death. At this point, my monster-kid brain kind of went into overload--we have Dr. Frankenstein, his creature, La Hija de Frankenstein, a Caligari-figure, a blind, blood-drinking, clairvoyant bird-woman, and the doctor from Bram Stoker's Dracula all tussling with each other with the fate of future generations in the balance. Could it get any crazier?
Have I mentioned the BDSM subtext yet? Well, hang on!
Frankenstein's Daughter: More than a Little CrossSo Vera and her female Igor quickly liberate the body of Dr. Frankenstein from his tomb and hook him up to the old rejuvenating ray, half-succeeding in bringing the old man back to life. Dear Dead Dad tells Vera that only Caligostro could be behind his death, and she swears to hunt him down and make him pay. Meanwhile Big C is sending Frankenstein's monster out to kidnap beautiful women and bring them back to his Build-A-Bride workshop so that he can pick the most perfect parts and stitch them together to create his Eve. Vera has to jolt Dad to life a couple more times (really, she uses him like a Living Dead Magic 8-Ball), but finally manages to trick the slow-witted monster into kidnapping her (instead of one of the other naked Eurobabes he went after) and thus infiltrates Caligostro's compound.
Of course Caligostro sees through the ruse right away and chains Vera in the dungeon along with all Melisa's tasty snack treats. There's already been a lot of leering bondage with these nameless unfortunates, but here Franco kicks the fetish up several notches. Dissatisfied with Caronte for allowing the monster to bring back the wrong dame, Caligostro concocts a fiendish system to kill two birds with one stone: he chains Caronte and Vera together back to back, places them in the center of a roomful of poisoned metal spikes,and decrees that whoever pushes the other onto the fatal spikes and survives will be released. To make it more interesting, he summons a legion of the wandering dead to watch, gives the Monster a cat o' nine tails, and has him get all whip-happy on them till someone dies.
To recap--you've got a mostly naked couple chained to one another surrounded by poisoned spikes, being whipped by a musclebound, silver body-painted Frankenstein's monster, while a bunch of skull-faced zombies look on. "Jaw dropping" is not really the word, but it's all I've got.
There's something you don't see every day.Vera wins the challenge, earning the right to become Caligostro's mindless slave and work on putting the Bride together. Meanwhile Dr. Seward and the local police inspector have jolted Dr. F to life one more time to find out where Vera went. It turns out it's one time too many, as the Dead Doc becomes a shambling zombie and goes after Seward. Luckily the cop has a jug of hydrochloric acid in hand, which he splashes on the dead man and which immediately dissolves his head to a bloody stump! I mean, in less than a second! Good thing Seward didn't get any splashback.
It all ramps up to a scene where the Bride is brought to life in a wonderfully pervy and very BDSM-tinged scene, and the Monster prepares to mate with her while the Dead Army of Panthos cheers him on. Seward arrives in time to break it to the monster that Caligostro killed his papa, which leads the creature to interrupt his coitus and go after the bad guy for the Final Confrontation.
Oh, and there's a bunch of scenes with Lina Romay as a gypsy writhing by a creek while Caligostro sends her mental messages that really seem to have nothing to do with the rest of the movie at all.
Most Romantic Honeymoon EverWhere it gets maddening in a bad way is the split-personalty nature of the way the film is made. Franco gets in some truly gorgeous shots here--standouts are an early scene with some henchmen bringing a crate containing Frankenstein's monster up the beach to Caligostro's castle (again reminiscent of some of Rollin's best work, all bright colors and weird visual poetry) and shots of the Children of Panthos creeping through the fog-drenched forest, wrapped in their burial shrouds--just creepy and lovely. However, much of the rest of the movie looks like it was shot by an epileptic ape and edited with a blender. The monster's makeup is "My Kid's First Super-8" level stuff, as is the haphazard feathering of Melisa. The scenes in the dungeon with the chained models are grimy in a grindhouse way that's either terrible or great depending on your perspective. And close-ups of Panthos' Kidz in the final scenes are frankly laughable. And despite my previous statement, sometimes the plot seems SO pulled strait out of Franco's drug-addled ass, some of the joy gives way to frustration.
Performances are all over the place too--Vernon is great as Caligostro, sporting a truly awesome fake beard and some of the craziest wide-eyed stares it's been my pleasure to witness. Vera ranges from competent to bad, and Seward isn't given much to do. I was actually kind of moved by some of the monster's scenes, particularly his painful birth, though I don't know if that's a result of the actor's performance or my own gin intake.
"Wait--you made his wang HOW big?"I do think The Erotic Rites of Frankenstein is an...interesting movie, with flashes of brilliance amid a sea of what-the-fuckery. It doesn't settle my Franco problem, but it's definitely worth at least one viewing--because let's face it, where else are you going to see Frankenstein's Monster whipping a couple of chained up naked folks? 2.25 thumbs.
Nota bene: I actually checked this DVD out of my local public library, which is pretty objectively awesome. The version on the disc is the domestic "clothed" version, but includes the for-export nude versions of the super-pervy scenes as a bonus feature. These improve the proceedings greatly--naked artist's models, the bride in all her birthday-suit glory, and even Vera and Caronte completely unclothed in the climactic whipping scene, offering a rare glimpse of wiggly Eurowang. You know, if that's your thing.
A few more images from The Erotic Rites of Frankenstein:
And this is your brain on really good drugs...
Caligostro: Next on MTV's Cribs
"A little to the left..."
A Haunting Scene
"I knew we should have worn our Ming Dynasty camouflage!"
Caligostro always got a kick out of Melisa's Grover impersonation
"Thow the switch, Jess! THROW THE SWITCH!"Monday, December 7, 2009
Tribute to Paul Naschy at Arbogast on Film
The always informative and intimidatingly knowledgeable Arbogast recently offered this excellent tribute to the late, great Jacinto Molina. Please go read it.
The Restless Heart of Paul Naschy
Thanks for that, Arbo. Brilliant stuff as usual.
--the Vicar
Friday, December 4, 2009
DVD REVIEW: MAD DOG MORGAN (1976)
Few historical figures have received as much cinematic attention as the American Western Outlaw, exemplified by such figures as Billy the Kid, Butch Cassidy, and perhaps most famously by Jesse James and his gang. The fascination with these characters began during their lifetimes with pulp adventure books and serialized newspaper stories detailing their latest raids, glossing over their literal brutality in favor of the idealized romanticism of the folk hero. It was natural that the movies would take up their legends, and it could be argued that the popular fascination with these figures (and the do-gooding lawmen who pursued them) played a major role in the popularization of the fledgling movie industry. Just think of the number of silent serials and early talky features were Westerns, and you can easily see what I mean.
You might be aware that Australian history boasts an analogous folk hero figure, the Bushranger, whose popularity was similarly influential in the development of that country's cinema. Like their American cousins the bushrangers robbed banks, stage coaches, and unwary travelers, afterwards retreating to the bush where authorities were reticent or flatly unable to follow. The most famous bushranger was undoubtedly Ned Kelly, who has been the subject of dozens of films, including The Story of the Kelly Gang (1906), which at 70 mins. long was in fact the first feature-length film ever made in any country.
Only slightly less famous than Kelly in bushranger lore was Dan "Mad Dog" Morgan, whose heavy drinking, violent temper, and brutal crimes did little to stem the spread of his reputation as a folk hero in 1860s Australia. In 1976 director Philippe Mora (whose subsequent work includes horror outings The Beast Within [1982] and The Howling II & III) directed a version of Morgan's life story with iconic American movie madman Dennis Hopper in the lead role. The resulting flick, Mad Dog Morgan, has been lauded as a classic of Ozsploitation cinema and has just been released in a 2-disc special edition by Troma Retro as part of their "Tromasterpiece" collection.
"Hotsy Totsy!"
It's not long before his robbing ways lead him to a prison cell in New South Wales, where he is tortured, branded, and raped by a gang of Ozzie rugby players by way of initiation. Whether through fear or PTSD this makes Morgan mind his manners for the next six years, after which he's paroled. He immediately returns to his life of crime, only now he seems set on avenging the wrongs done to him on the local police, the upper crusts, and anyone else who's unfortunate enough to cross his path.
"Yer acid or yer life!"
Along the way Morgan grows a series of impressive beards (the first to emulate American President Abraham Lincoln--not because he admires his politics, but because he thinks, quite simply, "That's a fine lookin' man!"), matches wits with and thwarts a series of NSW police officers, and drinks amazing amounts of liquor. When the authorities in Victoria boast that should Morgan cross the border into their territory he will be "relentlessly and mercilessly cut down," he takes it as a challenge, leading to a tense and bloody conclusion to his rum-soaked and bloody career.
At the time of its release the film was considered incredibly shocking, mostly because of the depiction of prison rape and a couple of gore scenes. This might seem quaint to the modern viewer, since the gore is relatively understated (with the exception of the stand-out EXPLODING HEAD early on in the opium den), and the rape scene is hardly explicit (not that this is necessarily a bad thing). Also, the episodic nature of the film makes it feel repetitive after a while, with Morgan robbing/shooting someone, running from police, fighting/outsmarting them, and then starting the whole process again. There's some stuff thrown in here and there about Darwin's theories of evolution and whether Morgan is a man or an animal, whether nature or nurture has made him the beast he is, but I really didn't see it going anywhere.
Ka-boom!
But of course the real reason to watch the movie is for Dennis Hopper's performance as Morgan. Hopper is clearly inebriated throughout his performance, which in an interview on the disc he shrugs off as part of his "method" acting, since Morgan was notoriously alcoholic. While I'm not sure this makes for a convincing performance, it certainly makes for an entertaining one, particularly with Hopper affecting a slurred Irish brogue that's only slightly more convincing than the amazing array of fake beards he's called upon to wear throughout the film. (The beards serve a storytelling purpose--their length and style denotes the passage of time.)
Not so beardy...
Abraham Beardy...
Ultimate Beardy
Overall this is a fine release from Troma Team, and if you have an interest in Ozsploitation cinema, bushrangers in history, or Dennis Hopper's career, you should definitely check it out.
Told you it was a bad idea.
Full disclosure: a copy of this DVD was provided to the Vicar for reviewing purposes. Apparently the FCC wants you to know.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Fertilize the Blaspheming Bombshell (1990): Or Satan Gets All the Chicks
Note: I couldn't find an adequate cover art sample, so BEHOLD THE BURNING PENTAGRAM!
Greetings dearest friends! It is I, the Duke of DVD, come 'round once again to bust a proverbial cap into the rancid ass of cinema criticism. As I have done many times before, I crept down the flagstone path within my estate, the stone worn smooth by centuries of use, to that musty vault where my servants fear to tread. Pawing through forgotten arcana, I pulled forth the moldering carcass that is the Troma treasure trove called "Toxie's Top 10". Blowing the rat droppings off the top of the can, I pulled forth yet another fetid lump.
Now, friends, when I think of bombshells, in particular the kind I would and do fertilize, I definitely lean towards the blasphemous. There are many types of bombshells, as I'm sure you are all aware. Adventurous. Sneaky. Wanton. The list goes on and on. None are quite so fun to fertilize than the blaspheming ones, though. For realz.
I'm getting ahead of myself, though. Let's explore the film, shall we?
First, during the opening credits, we learn that Fertilize the Blaspheming Bombshell was directed by Jeff Hathcock. Seriously. He's directed other shit-tastic movies such as Three Bad Men and Victims! I've never seen either, but I stand firm in my applying the "shit-tastic" moniker to both. The opening scene, which we can barely see as it's filmed at night using poor lighting and a crap camera, shows us a group of black-robe-wearing, torch-bearing cultists, walking through the desert to a remote ritual site. A sweaty, shirtless man is in the center of a ring and is surrounded by the cultists. One of them steps forward and appears to set the man on fire with a torch, though we don't really see the guy actually burning.
The fire also lights up the ring they are all standing around to review a burning pentagram, a symbol we will become highly familiar with during the course of the film. We then cut to a lone cop out on the beat. He's parked his SUV cop vehicle out on a deserted road and is surveying the landscape in a genuine Marlboro moment. His radio squawks, letting him know that a murder victim's been found out on a different deserted road (they have a lot of those in this area apparently) and has been "carved up like Texas BBQ."
Cue cheesy 70s lounge music as we then cut to a young couple driving down the desert highway. They are lost, with the guy assuring his girl that he knows a shortcut is around close-by. The chick (looking rather bombshell-ish, I must say) pulls out a map, but this doesn't help. Seeing a dirt side road coming up, the guy whips the car into it, assuming he's found his shortcut. They drive for a while in the dark, before arriving at a small town made up of about 5 buildings. The sign leading in says, no shit, "Ellivnatas - Population 13." Subtle!
"While visiting Ellivnatas, be sure and stop by Buster's Gas & Go."
Pulling up in front of the dilapidated bar, the couple get out and go in. The bar is staffed by a lone butch-looking chick with feathered hair, and a motley cast of patrons, all of whom are sitting at the bar. Everyone simply stares at the newcomers. The girl heads over to a payphone and calls up her sister, who it turns out is her identical twin. Informing her sister that they're on their way but are using a shortcut, the call is interrupted suddenly as the line has apparently been cut. The couple leave quickly, driving away from Ellivnatas as fast as they can.
"Excuse me, but you aren't blasphemous to drink at this bar. Please leave."
However, they don't get too far as someone has punctured their gas tank! They also make the mistake of following the bartender lady's directions, which leads them right into a dead end canyon! Suddenly, distant chanting is heard. It's the cultists! They somehow had time to change into robes, light torches, then sprint the 3 or 4 miles that the couple drove, all in around 10 minutes. The couple runs, of course, and they try to climb the side of the canyon. The guy makes it up to the top, only to be attacked by two cultists, who light him on fire and push his burning corpse off the side!
The girl is dragged back to the ritual area. Her shirt is ripped open, and a pentagram is carved on her chest with a knife by the head priest, who then proceeds to... wait for it.... fertilize her! Now, I'm all pro-cult, but folks, if you are going to start a cult, please try to at least be a tad more intelligent about your rituals than these particular cultists. No sooner is the bombshell fertilized (note: I never once heard her blaspheme) than the priest stabs her fatally through the chest! What, pray tell, was the point of fertilization?! I'm guessing it was to bring about Satan's son on earth. Mere gratification could be had from any number of the half-dressed cult sluts around, so that can't be it. If you are wanting to raise the Antichrist, for the love of Pete keep the vessel of your sperm alive!
We swap back to Las Vegas, where the identical twin is, sleeping no less. She wakes suddenly, a pain in her chest! She can feel what happened to her twin, but thankfully the deadliness doesn't translate over long distances. Wasting no time, she packs and leaves for the desert. She only knows the general area of where her sister was, and unfortunately only the first part of the town name, due to the phone line being cut. Arriving in the area, she stops for gas and a friendly, hunky attendant fuels her up and washes her windows while engaging in conversation. He's trying to be helpful, offering his services as a guide, but she turns him down.
"Excuse me, have you seen a girl who looks just like me, only slightly less blasphemous?"
To the desert! Driving her VW Cabriolet, Blondie Bombshell begins exploring. Very quickly she finds her sister's abandoned car, and a lot of footprints. Looking around nearby she stumbles upon the burned-out pentagram, and even some fresh blood (somehow not coagulated)! Suddenly, the hunky gas station attendant shows up, thinking she needs some help despite her earlier protestations. He's just in time, too. A sudden rock slide has them jumping for safety, rolling around in an embrace on the ground. Before he can slip her a length, though, she starts babbling to him about pentagrams, cults, and fertilization, all of which he professes ignorance of.
Cooter furrows his brow in a vain attempt to understand fertilization.
Giving her a ride back to town since her car is now stuck, he takes her to his house. Being the gentleman, he gives her the bed and he takes the couch. First, though, we are treated to a gratuitously slow shower scene in which the bombshell washes every crevice carefully, using ludicrous amounts of soap, and scrubbing her skin to a sheen high enough that the Vicar himself would be happy to forgo young altar boys in lieu of eating pancakes off her ass.
Scrubbing the sin away, one bar of soap at a time.
We also find out that the bombshell is an anthropologist, and versed in the ways of cults worldwide. How handy. While asleep the bombshell has a nightmare in which the attendant is mounting her like a rutting ram, only to suddenly morph into the high priest, whom the bombshell hasn't even seen yet.
"Pardon me for asking, but you haven't been fertilized recently, have you?"
The next morning she heads out, suddenly in her Cabriolet again, despite it being left in the desert stuck in a hole. She stops by the local sheriff's office and talks to the sheriff, reporting her sister missing. The sheriff doesn't seem too interested, telling her it's a big desert, people get lost, blah blah blah. She brings up the cult and the pentagram and he agrees to keep an eye out. Getting nowhere with the local law, the bombshell takes off back out into the desert herself. Soon, the Ellivnatas'ians show up, driving Mad Max-esque VW Beetles! They chase her for a while, her Cabriolet keeping ahead of them, when suddenly she runs one of them off the road and..... we cut to later in the day, the bombshell is riding in the sheriff's truck out into the desert. WTF?! The Mystery of the Vanishing Volkswagen Cabriolet deepens!
She doesn't mention the car chase, and instead takes him to where the burned pentagram is. He finds the fresh blood, declaring it "still wet." Apparently her sister had anti-coagulating blood, a dream of vampires the world over. Declaring there's nothing more he can do, they head back to town, to the sheriff station, where HER CABRIOLET has now appeared! She hops in and, big surprise, heads back into the desert again! She drives around in the dark until she happens upon Satanville, I mean Ellivnatas, population 13. She snoops around and finally picks a building seemingly at random.
It's symbolic of course.
Turns out it's the "church," where the bald high priest has a ceremony in full swing! Upside down crosses, red velvet drapes. Nekkid cultist women holding snakes. This place reminds me of my own study. "Welcome to the House of Satan!" intones the high priest. He tells her that her sister and her boyfriend sacrificed themselves to the will of Satan. She gives him some lip and he retorts "You un-pious slut! Kneel before the Prince of Evil!" High priests of Satan get all the best lines, needless to say! He continues: "I'm going to fuck you again and again, until thy belly is swollen with child! A child born of Satan Himself! Take her to the sacrificial pit!" Off they go, dragging her away to the pentagram spot.
Despite PETA protests, the use of snakes still continues in most Satanic cults.
After some chanting, the high priest gets things going: "My lord and master Satan, sanctify this unholy fornication! Empower this chalice of pig's blood with thy potency, that I might fertilize this blaspheming slut!" Amen, brother! With that, the cult women get nekkid and start dancing with snakes, making me recall my last birthday bacchanal. The head priest keeps shouting slogans. The priest walks over and begins undressing the bombshell, but he slaps her first for good measure. "And now shalt thou know the hard-on of sin!" He begins to thrust into her, but she grabs the sacrificial dagger from him and stabs him in the belly! He's down but not out, ordering his acolytes to kill her. She's fleeing, wearing only a see-through shirt and panties. Running to the Ellivnatas bar, she tries to use the phone only to find it non-working.
"I want YOU... to be fertilized for Satan."
The cultists show up. She pins one to the bar with a knife. Running outside, she finds another knife convienently on the ground. She stabs another cultist, and then sets another on fire with his own torch! These guys are inept. One hops in one of the VW Beetles and tries to run her over, but only succeeds in knocking down the Ellivnatas sign!
"I regret nothing!"
Suddenly it's morning, she's evaded them that long at least. Two cultists find her finally, and running through the desert in their heavy black robes, they give chase. She wrestles with one, who manages to fall on his own dagger! She then steals their Mad Max Beetle and takes off! One of the female cultists picks of a garden hoe, which just happens to be lying around (?!) and takes off after the car, not only catching up with it, but hooking the hoe onto the back window and getting dragged along. She pulls herself up onto the Beetle, but the bombshell drives under a cactus, knocking the cultist off!
Presenting the 2010 Volkswagen Beetle - Mad Max edition.
Another cultist puts himself in the road in front of the speeding Beetle and starts shooting through the window, missing the bombshell completely. She runs him over, literally launching him 150' easily! The other Mad Max VW shows up and they start ramming each other. The bombshell leaps free of her VW just as the two collide in a fiery wreck. She walks away, through the desert, still clad only in panties and a skimpy shirt. No shoes at all.
She finds a stream, that leads to a waterfall and a pool of cool water. Perfect time for a skinny dip! The sheriff comes out looking for her, but doesn't have any luck. Meanwhile, the cultists find her at the waterfall pool. She flees, but not before running one of them through with a nearby stick! Fleeing further up some rocks, one of which dislodges and crushes another cultist! She picks up that cultist's knife and uses it to stab yet another cultist just arrived to the party!
She flees again, having taken care of everyone in the area. The hunky gas station attendant is shown driving around looking for her. She sees his truck and goes rushing out to meet him. They are driving away, she is distraught and tells him what is happening. He says "We could have had something special, if you had just stayed outta this town!" and reaches over, opens the glove box, pulls out a gun! She sees a knife in the glove box, grabs it and stabs the attendant through the neck! She jumps free of the truck as it runs into a small ravine at about 1 mph and explodes in a giant fireball.
Cooter takes one in the neck.
Whew. The cop pulls up, and tries to help her. She rightly thinks the cop is in on it, but he convinces her that he isn't. He gives her the coat he's wearing, draping it around her shoulders, despite the fact that they are in the middle of the fucking DESERT and it's high NOON! His last words to her are "Let's go back to town, get somethin' ta eat." Cue credits.
"There, there. It's ok. No one will try to fertilize you anymore, little lady."
Friends, I know I wrote a ton about this movie, but I just couldn't help it. Something comes over me when I watch shoestring-budget movies featuring cultists fornicating with blasphemers. As usual with Troma films, I have to give it 1 Thump Up for non-Troma fans, and a blazing 3+ Thumbs Up for anyone who loves Troma and/or anyone interesting in the fertilization methods of inept desert Satanic cults.
Finally, a word from our sponsor:
"I don't always fertilize bombshells, but when I do, I prefer them blasphemous. Stay fertile my friends, and drink Dos Equis."
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
PAUL NASCHY: 1934-2009
It is with great and sincere sadness that I must report the passing of a horror legend. Naschy.com and other sites have broken the news this morning that Jacinto Molina, better known to his legions of fans as Paul Naschy, has passed away at the age of 75.
I'm really having a hard time expressing the weight with which this news has hit me, and find myself not in a state of mind right now to fully process it, let alone give the great man the kind of remembrance he so richly deserves. I am not at all joking or exaggerating when I tell you, my loyal readers, I'm sitting at my computer with tears in my eyes this morning.
The Duke and I started this blog because of our giddy shared discovery of the joys of Paul Naschy's films, and his passing leaves an unfillable void in our hearts. Expect a more fitting tribute after a period of mourning, and please check out our previous reviews of Naschy's work to relive some of the joy he's given us. Better yet, get yourself some of his movies, pour yourself a Sangria, and remember him as he'd have wanted: on screen, in a world of magic and monsters.
The Vicar
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