DVD Review: Troma's War (1988)

According to company president and co-founder Lloyd Kaufman, his 1988 war movie spoof Troma's War is something of a cursed movie. Eviscerated by the MPAA upon its release, what Kaufman and company (allegedly) intended as a biting satire of Reagan/Rambo-era war-glorification ended up a defanged mess that pleased neither the die-hard Troma fanbase nor the mainstream movie-going public at which it was (allegedly) aimed. Seeking to rectify this gross historical injustice, Troma Team has now released an uncut, director-approved, extras-laden version as the latest entry in its "Tromasterpiece" DVD collection.

Those two "allegedlys" in the previous paragraph are not meant to diminish the seriousness of the MPAA's unfair treatment of the flick, nor the passion with which Kaufman and co-director Michael Herz constructed and defended the movie. However, anyone who is familiar with Uncle Lloyd's unique sense of humor and gleefully skewed world view must realize that he has a habit of comically over-aggrandizing his intentions and dropping over-the-top jokes into otherwise serious diatribes. It's what makes Troma what it is, in a way, but it also makes it difficult to know just how much of what we hear is to be taken at face value, and how much should be sent down to the salt mine for some minor flavoring.

The movie opens like Troma's version of Lost--a plane crashes on a remote, seemingly deserted island, with a large number of passengers inexplicably surviving the cataclysm. There's a handsome, take-charge hero type in Taylor (Sean Bowen), a tough-talking no-nonsense female hero in Lydia (Carolyn Beauchamp), a Southern-accented asshole with a penchant for violence and getting his own way named Parker (Rick Washburn), shy and constantly-eating fat guy Cooney (Ara Romanoff), a snooty elitist businessman for whom the crash is an inexcusable delay tho his schedule named Kirkland (Patrick Weathers), and a punk rock band from Tromaville. Rounding out the already huge cast are a crippled old man (one-armed instead of wheelchair-bound), a 007-style Englishman, a young mother with her infant daughter (instead of just being pregnant), a priest, a barely bilingual Hispanic woman, and a hysterical girl struck blind in the crash.

Lost n' Found

After some flashbacks to the fiery cataclysm of the previous night, some gratuitous nudity, and a few visual gags such as the priest offering confession through the window of the destroyed fuselage, the characters decide to go into the jungle and explore. (Also: fuck.) The punks find a maggot-ridden corpse by their makeout spot, and soon the whole group is under attack by a small army of terrorists and mercenaries, led by a pig-nosed, snorting Rambo-type (he's a FASCIST PIG, yageddit?) and a Kinski-esque German general. The terrorists are hatching a scheme to bring down the United States of America by dumping drugs into the water supply, forstering class warfare, infecting the populace with sexual diseases, and finally through guerilla assault. But even the grunts don't know that it's all setup by a pair of industrialists who hope to profit monetarily off all the confusion and get more right-wingers elected to further their corporate goals thanks to the resulting terror and need for "toughness on the Commies"--after all, people will give up freedom for security, and then they're easy pickins right? Of course it's up to the ragtag group of plane crash survivors to take on the baddies and save the day, for America, Mom, and gigantic breasts.

There is a deep cynicism and bitterness in the movie's portrayal of the military industrial complex, symbolized here by a pair of siamese twins joined at the face, one in a business suit and one in a General's uniform (the aforementioned masterminds). There's also some good old-fashioned conspiracy theory mongering, as in the scene where the German unveils his "AIDS Squad," a group of harmless looking people who are tasked with the mission of spreading AIDS across the US, let by the agressively repulsive and offensive Senor SIDA. (ba dump) The sell-your-mother-for-a-dollar businessman Kirkland is another easy target.

Subtle Satire

But as is often the case, the satirical points are sometimes buried under a mountain of sight-gags, fart jokes, and bare breasts. This is what makes Troma Troma, and nobody's apologizing for it. There's gore, rape, babies in peril, overblown German accents, and lots of fine explosions--all trademarks of the brand. There's also a clunky idealistic sweetness to some of the subplots, as when the blind girl falls in love with the fat man and inspires him to become a hero, or the one-armed geriatric offers to sacrifice himself for the good of all, since he has nothing to live for now that his wife has passed. This sweetness is present in much of Troma's output, though again it's often overshadowed by the animatronic penises and vomit guns.

That same mixture of cynicism and strange idealism comes through in the feature-length commentary track by Lloyd Kaufman, wherein he expounds bitterly and at length on the MPAA's treatment of the film and Troma's output in general, comparing some of the offensive cut scenes to similar scenes in MPAA-approved R or even PG-13 movies. And he has a point--the gross-outs in Troma's War are extreme, but so far over the top as to be cartoonish, and certainly nothing next to the bullet-based bodily dismemberment of Robocop or even the heart-ripping of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

Watch out, that thing's loaded!

The idealism comes in when Kaufman starts talking about how he "followed his own vision" with the movie and considers it a near perfect expression of the Troma ethos, which he calls "a Cuisinart of strong emotions...in a Troma movie you have comedy, science fiction, horror, AIDS, Shakespeare, whatever." It may be hard to understand why the director who seems serious about wanting to make a war movie satire that would appeal to the mainstream would still have one character snort like a pig between lines and another pop facial boils directly into the camera, but that's Lloyd's vision, and he followed it. This insistence on staying true to a skewed world view has alienated most viewers who've ever watched a Troma film, but has also won them their rabid following.

Of course Lloyd is a jokester as well, and when he claims that the flouncy male flight attendant "represents Troma's support of the gay community" or that a cut scene with the blind girl naked in a stream, unknowingly covered in leeches, was intended as an homage to The African Queen--you have to wonder how much of his talk about biting war satire is for real, and how much is typical Kaufmanian overselling.

Spandex Blowout

The DVD extras are rounded out by several cool interviews with members of the cast and crew, all of whom have entertaining stories to tell about the production. (Several mention nightly orgies in the barracks, for instance, which were apparently segregated by sexual perversion perference.) There's also the expected theatrical trailer.

As far as rating the movie itself, I'm prepared to believe Kaufman thinks it's an undiscovered masterpiece, but I'm not sure I fully agree. For Troma fans it has everything you could want, but not to the degree of say Tromeo and Juliet or Terror Firmer. For non-Troma fans...well, there won't be much to win you over. Still, Kaufman clearly makes movies for himself first; whether that qualifies as a success or not depends on your fandom. Therefore, 1.75 thumbs for the average viewer, 2.25 for Tromites, 2.5 for the loving dvd presentation.

She has vayz to mek you tawk.

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RIP T.P. -- Actor Tony Fish (MADMAN, 1982) Passes Away

Sad news in the world of Mad Mad Mad Mad Movies this morning: Code Red DVD reports on its blog that Tony Fish, who assayed the role of camp counselor and hot-tub ballet star nonpareil T. P. in Vicar-fave 80's slasher MADMAN, passed away last year.

T. P. is Fish's only credited movie role on his imdb page, but it's a portrayal that should live on in the hearts of Mad Movie fans forever.

No one rocks the campfire like T.P.

T.P. valiantly attempts to free Axecalibur from its stump.

Here's a link to the item on Code Red DVD's blog announcing the sad news.

Here you can read the Vicar's paean to MADMAN and Fish's part in it, which is so wonderfully MAD it was selected as the proper film to mark our 100th review.

And finally, here you can download the Vicar's musical tribute, The Madman Theme Song--Extended Version, wherein I sing T.P.'s praises.

Rest in Peace, Tony, and thank you.

The Legend Lives

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Kill, Baby... Kill! (1966), Or How A Boy In Drag Inspires Fear In All

Friends, comrades, and random people attempting to sidle up to me during a garden party, effetely holding your hand out, twittering at my every comment in an obvious attempt to enter my bedchamber, I bid thee all welcome! It is I, the Duke of DVD, once more brandishing my pulsing member to passersby from the store window of MAD Cinema, dispelling the demons of Hollywood and yanking down the frilly pantaloons of stuffy critics. Oh sure, they'll nod knowingly at one another, cloistered in their smokey dens, adjusting the fronts of their trousers and sniffing with disdain at the so-called "bad" movies. But we know better! We know better.

As has been obvious of late, I have a man-crush on Mario Bava. "But sir!", you say in a piping voice, "Surely there are other, even more obscure, even more MAD, filmmakers from 1960's Italy that you could expound upon!" You would be incorrect, peasant. Mario looks down upon us now from his throne of bone and sinew, tilting his head slightly to the right in order to hear us talk about his masterworks over the screams of the damned.

Let us not keep him waiting!

Kill, Baby... Kill! is not really a good title, in my opinion. It is also known as The Curse of the Living Dead and, my personal favorite, Operation: Fear. "Operation: Fear" is so very much more descriptive to what the movie contains. "Kill, Baby... Kill!" sounds like the title of a Russ Meyer film, or perhaps the title of the Vicar's upcoming autobiography (ghostwritten by Tom Clancy). Granted, a "baby" does do some killing, but in this case it's a young child instead of a busty blonde. This movie is very much about fear, though, and when a certain Italian director initiates a clandestine operation titled "Fear," well, you better be ready!

"Die, Baby... Die!" or "The, Baby... The!"

Our movie opens with a woman shrieking "No, NO!!" as she flees from a stately mansion. Running across the expansive front lawn, she flees upstairs in an abandoned tower. Shrieking again, she leaps to her death, impaling herself onto the top of a spiked fence! We see the shadow of someone watching. They turn to leave, walking slowly back down the stairs, and we see the lower half of what appears to be a young girl, buckle-shoes and all. Some giggling is heard. Creepy!

"I regret nothing!"

We cut to a group of fellows carrying a coffin through the dilapidated streets of a poor Transylvania town. A carriage arrives, and out steps the strikingly handsome Dr. Eswai (Giacomo Rossi-Stuart). He watches the coffin parade as it goes around a corner, out of sight. His coach driver warns him that this village is known for its hatred of visitors and general unpleasantness (and apparently abysmal housing market). The doctor goes off in search of the only inn in town. He passes windows where pox-ridden villagers watch him with distrusting gazes. Finally he arrives at the tavern/inn, where it seems most of the populace has gathered.

"The name's Handsome. Doug Handsome."

As it turns out, the good Dr. Eswai is a coroner, called into town to conduct an autopsy. The person who called him is Inspector Kruger (Piero Lulli), an out-of-towner himself called in to investigate the apparent suicide of the chick who impaled herself. The doctor is shown up to Kruger's room, where we see him getting slightly angry and rough with a local in an attempt to get some information. The Inspector knows something is foul in the town and is dedicated to finding it. Accompanying the Inspector is the burgomeister of the town, Karl (Max Lawrence). Karl knows the score, being a local, but so far he's keeping mum on the subject.

"That's Mr. Burgomeister to you. Bitch."

The doctor asks to be shown to the body, only to find out that it happened to be in the coffin he saw upon arriving in town. It seems the townsfolk are in a mad hurry to get the body buried as soon as possible. The doc and the Inspector manage to stop the gravediggers, who protest loudly that handling the dead is a sin and will be punished. Not deterred, the doctor has the body delivered to a local shop of sorts, and lets the Inspector know that he'll need a witness. That witness turns out to be the stunning Monica (Erika Blanc), a medical student who is a native of the village, returned to visit the graves of her parents, or so she says.

"Who does #2 work for?!"

The autopsy reveals a surprise in the form of a silver coin embedded in the heart of the deceased! Monica lets us know that this ancient custom apparently is designed to protect the soul of the departed from further evil influence. Sounds like a good idea that needs to be adopted in our day and age. Suddenly, we get the first of what will be many creepy little kid moments: a small hand is pressed up against the window of the autopsy room, unnoticed by the doc or Monica. Slowly it pulls away, leaving us on edge.

"Now, Monica, I want you to make out with whatever you find under that sheet. I'll be taking notes."

It must be said here that Bava plays up the "creepy kid" thing like few others. Melissa, who according to sources was played by a young boy in drag, is all sorts of creepy. Wide staring eyes, like saucers they are, send shivers down the spine as this little ball that she plays with bounces in and out of scene after scene. Bava uses some odd zoom-in, zoom-out camera tricks to replicate the child swinging on a swing in a very dream-like sequence, filled with fog and beautifully creepy lighting. His use of colored lenses and unsettling camera angles is simply unparalleled, and it's little wonder that directors like Scorsese and many others have admitted to taking inspiration from Bava.

After the autopsy, our two protagonists part, Monica going to her lodgings, Dr. Eswai going to his. He is accosted, however, by the two gravediggers, in a dark alley. They attempt to murder him(!) for simply performing the autopsy. Sheesh, overreact much? He fights them valiantly, but they appear to be getting the upper hand when suddenly they are scared away. A mysterious, raven-haired woman has appeared up some stairs nearby. The doctor turns to watch the diggers flee, and upon turning back finds that the woman has disappeared.

"This will be the last time you speak ill of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints!"

The doctor returns to the inn, where the serving girl (and daughter of the innkeeper) tells him that the town's ills can be firmly laid at the feel of the Villa Graps, a haunted spooky mansion containing untold evil. Suddenly, the girl realizes her mistake! She shouldn't have even mentioned Villa Graps! The creepy blond girl shows up at the window again, pressing her hands against it. The serving girl screams, knowing she's been cursed. Her parents know they must send for Ruth. Turns out, Ruth is already at the door, sensing the need for her services. Ruth, as it happens, is the dark haired mysterious lady who scared off the gravediggers. Played by the stunning Fabienne Dali, she is apparently the local witch/medicine lady.

Dayum.

Ruth sets about helping save the serving girl, employing the use of various herbal essences and abrasive chemical solvents. The ritual culminates in Ruth whipping a bundle of herbs across the bare back of the serving girl, which apparently saves her from Melissa's wrath (as well as making her Massengil fresh). Upon leaving the inn, the doctor stops Ruth to demand answers. She informs him that a curse is upon the village but doesn't elaborate, telling him to leave or risk death. Not content with this, and having read nothing about it in the village's brochure, the heroic doctor takes it upon himself to check out Villa Graps firsthand.

We cut to Ruth's house, which looks very witch-like with herbs hanging to dry and various apparatus sitting around. Jars and vials sit around, no doubt containing such witch-related items as "bunghole of toad" and pixie farts. Karl the burgomeister is there and it turns out they are lovers! Ewwwwwww! Karl has another dead body with him, shrouded with a sheet, fresh from the Villa Graps. Ruth lets us all know that the body needs to be buried before sunrise the next day, and then proceeds to implant a coin in its heart. We are never really let in on why the dead bodies need to be buried so quickly, but I'm gonna go with my answer to all of life's unanswered questions: zombies.

"I hope you brought protection, Inspector. The Burgomeister doesn't do bareback."

Meanwhile, Dr. Eswai arrives at Villa Graps, which is (no surprise) the large mansion we saw the girl at the first of the film fleeing from. He goes inside, seeing as how the door is unlocked, and explores. The mansion is a dusty collection of Gothic furniture and mouse droppings. Going upstairs, the doctor finds a haggard old lady, who informs him that she's the Baroness Graps, living alone. The doc finally leaves, but sees Melissa on the way out. He tries to talk to her but she teleports around, bouncing her ball and giggling creepily. The doctor chases after her to no avail, but he does find a portrait of Melissa, which informs us all that she is long deceased.

The Vicar's latest Love Wench awaits him in his chambers.

We cut to Monica, sleeping in her bed, terrorized by ghostly whispers. The doctor heads back to the inn and finds that the serving girl is also being haunted. The doc goes in search of help, leaving the serving girl alone long enough for her to impale herself on the sharp edge of a candelabra! The doctor sees Ruth and the gravediggers carrying a shrouded corpse to the graveyard. He follows and gets a free moment to check out the body. It's the Inspector! We cut to the burgomeister, alone in his room. He opens his wardrobe and we are all shocked to see Melissa there, staring death at him! He backs away, but Melissa is too strong. Using only her mind, she forces him to cut his own throat with a handy sickle hanging by the door.

"Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?"

Just as the doctor arrives back at the inn and discovers Karl's body, Monica walks in and sees his corpse. She takes off, screaming that she just can't take it anymore. Dr. Eswai follows, and they soon get lost (due to her wailing meanderings), and then, surprise, end up back at Villa Graps. The Baroness Graps, feeling extra chatty, shows them Melissa's room, which is covered in dolls for that extra creep factor. The doc and Monica soon get seperated, and as he's trying to find Monica the doc runs afoul of the ghostly whispers. Fleeing in terror, he runs through a shitload of cobwebs, which stick to him like, uh, cobwebs. He finally makes it outside the house before fear overcomes him and he passes out on the front lawn, looking like a cobwebbed frat guy after a particularly rowdy party.

The doctor comes to in Ruth's house. She's had time to rescue the doc and then return to her house. He watches as she's about to insert a coin into the heart of her lost love Karl, the burgomeister (I love that word, btw, and plan to use it every day). Suddenly, the bombs start dropping! Ruth informs Dr. Eswai that Monica is in fact Melissa's sister! Apparently they were separated at birth or some such. We cut back to the Villa and Monica is talking to the Baroness, who informs her of that very same fact. She also tells of how Melissa died in an accident and has systematically gone about killing everyone because of it.

Monica flees in terror, down into the family crypt (when is it EVER a good idea to seek refuge in a fucking CRYPT? When, I ask?!). Of course Melissa shows up, saucer eyes in full effect. We cut back to the Baroness's room as Ruth enters, ready for a showdown. She informs us that the true evil in Villa Graps is the Baroness herself, who, it turns out, is a powerful medium and is using her powers to control the dead, forcing them to kill with fear! We next see Dr. Eswai running to the Villa to save Monica. Monica, however, is in the grip of fear via Melissa via the Baroness (got that?).

The doctor arrives to see Monica walking up to a ledge just outside the family crypt. The door won't budge! We cut back to the Baroness and Ruth, locked in mortal combat! Ruth begins choking the life out of the Baroness, who in turn is grasping for a poker near the fireplace. Suddenly the Baroness collapses, dead. The door opens finally letting the good doctor in, who rushes up to save Monica from throwing herself off the ledge! Alas, poor Ruth is done for. We switch scenes back to the Baroness's room where Ruth stands impaled through the stomach with the fireplace poker. She collapses knowing that she's rid the town of the curse for good.

A rare still from the Aunt Bee snuff film.

Monica and Dr. Eswai walk off back towards town as the sun rises on a new, and hopefully less evil-filled, day... Fin.

Operation: Fear is, in my humble opinion, one of Mario Bava's most awesome masterpieces. The Gothic styling, the way he uses the small setting of the town to instill a sense of isolation, and his acute awareness of just what makes us scared, all of these things add up to something many have attempted, and failed, to copy. I was constantly stunned by how beautiful the scenery was, how Bava's camera transported me to this small hamlet. His use of fog and light should be held up as a master class on environment and space. The use of slightly fogged windows upon which Melissa's hands would press was genius.

The acting was top notch as well. Giacomo Rossi-Stuart, who played Dr. Eswai, was very much the image of the everyday man thrust into a situation which requires a hero, and rising to the occasion. I was particularly smitten with Fabienne Dali, who was simply beautiful in every single scene she was in. Her Ruth affected a slightly disheveled look, and constantly gripped a black shawl draped around her neck. Her beauty was breathtaking. Melissa (or rather the young boy who played her) was also equally adept, but in a way more creepy way. His/her way of never blinking and simply looking ominous was spot-on.

In the end, I must conclude that this movie is the bee's knees and give it 3 Thumbs Up. Everything from the sets, to the camera work, to the acting is across-the-board fantastic and represents everything we all love about Italian Gothic horror.

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Sweet Sugar (1972): or My Mojo's Working, But It Won't Work On You

Michel Levesque's Sweet Sugar (1972) is a movie with a split personality. On the one hand it plays out like a weird attempt at a spoof of Women-in-Prison flicks, with a staff of guards who come off more like bumbling teens in an 80s sex comedy than the sadistic keepers they're meant to be, an eccentric but largely ineffective warden-cum-mad scientist, and a two-dimensional heroine as quick with a sassy double-entendre put-down as she is to drop her top. On the other hand, the oddball comedy of the guards and summer-camp camaraderie of the girls is punctuated by sick ideas and gore scenes that are less shocking for their presentation than for their stark incongruity in tone. As a result the whole is not really equal to the sum of the parts, but those parts are kind of interesting in their own right and keep the flick from being a complete waste.

As the film opens, our heroine Sugar (Phyllis Davis of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls [1970]), who is either a prostitute or just a super-aggressive girl who knows what she wants, is bringing a prospective john/pickup back to her apartment for a little slap and tickle. Her male companion fends off her advances and laughs in heavily Spanish-accented English, "Can't you keep your hands to yourself, Sugar? There are more important things in life than sex!" Sugar raises an eyebrow and challenges, "Name three." Yes folks, that's our girl!

Recommended Pregaming

Unfortunately Sugar has been a little careless in selecting her bar pickup--not Diane Keaton-careless, but still. Providing her with a big fat spliff and then excusing himself to the powder room, Sugar's male friend quickly returns with the vice squad in tow, who promptly arrest her for possession of illicit drugs and an outstanding rack. These are serious offenses in the unnamed Latin American country we find ourselves in, and after rejecting the police chief's offer of tat-for-tit, Sugar's only chance of staying out of prison is to agree to work in the government-owned sugar cane fields as unpaid labor. The irony of a girl named Sugar being sentenced to cut cane for two years is--dare I say it?--delicious.

Next thing you know Sugar and a group of other wayward girls are loaded into the back of a flatbed truck for transport to the sugar plantation, all to the strains of an earnest title-track theme song of the sort we just don't get enough of these days, imo. Along the way she meets fellow female ne'er-do-wells Simone (Ella Edwards), a sassy black hooker with attitude, and Dolores (Pamela Collins), a 17-year-old blonde bombshell of a virgin who has basically been sold into slavery by her old man. The girls get their first taste of what life on the plantation will be like when a wide-eyed innocent tries to escape the truck, only to be brutalized by the guards, who then make as though to rape her. But Simone, possessing the heart of gold her profession obviously requires, steps in to lure the lecherous lugs away and jumps on the...um, grenade? in her stead.

Into the fortress with El Capitan America's female sidekick, Spunky.

Once at the plantation proper we meet the guards who will be watching over our girls: old hand Max (Albert Cole, who looks and acts like All in the Family-era Rob Reiner) and new kid Ricky (James Houghton). It's here we get to see the beginning of the movie's somewhat tiresome running gag, as Ricky, who has apparently never seen a "women in chains" movie before, behaves like a bashful, lovestruck teenager on getting his first look at Sugar, and tells Max he'd "really like to get to know her." Similarly unclear on the whole sadistic guard/helpless captive relationship, Max sets about peddling a variety of products to Ricky he guarantees will win over the ladies and make him a man.

Not unclear on the concept at all are head guard Burgos (Cliff Osmond) and plantation boss Dr. John (Angus Duncan). Burgos is a disciplinarian of the old school, not above checking the new recruits' teeth as if they were horses nor whipping them when they get out of line. Dr. John doesn't wield his authority quite as strongly (an early scene where he propositions Sugar from his bubble bath starts out promisingly, with the good doctor boasting, "I know the secrets of UNDREAMED-OF pleasures!"--but when she refuses he merely pouts and sends her away in a huff), but makes up for it with his interest in ethnopharmacology (the study of traditional tribal remedies to see if they have modern application), which sets the stage for some subsequent mad-science flavored goodness.

Dr. John and his cravat of SCIENCE!

The rest of the movie plays out along the well-worn path of WiP flicks, with the girls alternately catfighting one another and bonding in opposition to oppression. Sugar cements her hero status by mouthing off to the guards and taking up extra work for Dolores, who can't handle the strain, and when a platoon of male laborers is brought in, Simone starts a relationship with Mojo (Timothy Brown), a musclebound voodoo priest with strangely boyish charm.

However, despite the recognizable trappings, there's something about the movie that feels like it's not taking its genre all that seriously, or else just doesn't know enough about it to hit the notes. First of all, there's the continuing oddball humor, mostly centered around huckster Max and gullible mark Ricky, as they try and fail first to seduce Sugar and then several of the other girls. Also, this has to be one of the only captive women films I've seen where after the work day is over, the guards and laborers of both sexes gather round a bonfire for a folk-guitar singalong and beach party-style dance! Rather than guarding the prisoners and quashing joy, which is usually in the guard job description, Max sells them liquor from a huge overcoat and coaches Ricky on how to score with the nearly-raped innocent from the transport scene. And the ease with which Sugar and the other girls can go to and from their bunkhouse after curfew is fairly shocking--to say nothing of Sugar's encounter with a PUMA OUT OF FUCKING NOWHERE, whom she's able to tame with her feminine wiles. Seriously.

The J. Geils Band's rendition of "Sugar's Zigzag Panties" always got a reaction from the crowd.

All this would make the movie seem like a PG-13 attempt at a WiP flick remake, except for periodic and totally incongruous scenes of nastyness or outright batshittery. For instance, Dr. John's "experiments" all seem to involve ancient cures for frigidity, a malady none of his test subjects seem to suffer from. But that doesn't stop him from strapping Sugar to a table, hooking her up to a mad science headpiece, and injecting her with an herbal extract that causes her to have a spontaneous orgasm so strong it sends smoke billowing out of the orgasmometer! A later experiment has Dr. John injecting several domestic cats with a "primitivizing agent," then having the guards toss the cats on the girls to teach them a lesson. I thought we were going to get the elusive "death by cats" scene here, but instead the kitties just scratch the girls up--or rather, sit around looking confused while the girls shriek and rub fake blood all over their arms, which is almost as good.

On the nasty side, right after the aforementioned scene the doc similarly straps down Dolores, and upon finding out she's a virgin, paws her while whispering discomfiting things in her ear before finally carrying out a (blessedly off-screen) rape. Later when Sugar tries to seduce other guard Carlos into helping her escape, Burgos strings her up outside and whips her like he means it. When her would-be lover tries to interfere, the chief guns him down, pumping the corpse full of lead while some rather pyrotechnic squibs spray blood all over! After the Hogan's Heroes-esque tone of Ricky's aw-shucks shyness and Max's good-natured aphrodisiac-peddling, this comes as quite a shock.

That's Entertainment!

Later Mojo uses his...um, powers...to locate a mass grave of previous failed experiments, and the girls try to use the skulls to blackmail Dr. John into better treatment. Instead he has Burgos hunt down Mojo, who hides successfully for a while in the ladies' shower room, which gives the director the opportunity for more Hogan's Heroes-like comedy as the naked girls shriek and toss the embarrassed guards out to cover their (also naked) compadre. This gives Mojo the opportunity to score with Simone before going out to perform a voodoo ritual to "ask the gods" what to do. Apparently the answer is "DIE!" because Burgos captures him (but not before he magically DODGES A BULLET from Burgos's gun) and burns him at the stake while Dr. John laughs maniacally. Later in Mess Hall, Burgos informs the ladies that they've been dining on Mojo's roasted flesh, which is nicely sick but really crossing the line in terms of the overall tone.

Of course it all leads to the expected jailbreak, with Dolores and Sugar seducing the guns off a couple of guards, Max and Ricky joining the ladies in their run for the border, and Sugar running Burgos through with a machete. Somewhere in there Dr. John gets a knock on the head and starts talking about himself in the Maniacal Third Person, shouting "Dr. John cannot die! DR. JOHN IS INDESTRUCTIBLE!" before Simone sacrifices herself in a fiery cataclysm, presumably just to shut the dude up.

Oh, and there's an out-of-nowhere lesbian love scene in a river halfway through, just for spice.

Just another Employee Appreciation Picnic at the Duchy

As I said, it's kind of hard to know where this flick came from, or what the director might have had in mind mixing TV sit-com comedy with BDSM, cannibalism, and kitty torture (and a few admittedly zang-worthy nude scenes), but it has to be said the strange juxtaposition makes the movie much more interesting (if confusing) than it would have been playing straight one way or the other. The acting is all pretty bad, making me wonder whether Phyllis Davis was the money-man's squeeze and this vanity vehicle was a gift to her. (Note: probably not.) Duncan is entertainingly eccentric as Dr. John, and Albert Cole as Max seems to have a knack for the kind of skit-show comedy he does throughout, ill-placed as it might be. Still, for the most part it just leaves one scratching one's head.

I would call this an average entry in the rather dubious genre, which would earn it a 1.5 thumb rating on a good day; however, the weirdness, Dr. John's mad science, and the sight of slow-motion cat hurling lifts it another quarter point to 1.75 thumbs. Because when you can't get the big things, the little things can still get you through.

"MRRROWWWR!"

Credit where credit's due--I shamelessly stole the poster graphic from Samuel Wilson's review of the same flick on his excellent blog, Mondo 70, which you should check out for this and other cinematic treasures, not to mention scholarly and insightful writing on same.

A few more stills from SWEET SUGAR (1972):

It's a tough life in the Joint.

"Freeze frame! FREEZE FRAME!"

Church of Meathead

"Is that a machete in your pocket? Oh."

Cougar Town

Booby Trap

It's good to be the Doc.

Kitty Apocalypse

"My God, Vicar! It's HUGE!"

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Eaten Alive (1977): or, See You Later, Crocodile

It's not breaking any big news in the blogosphere to say that Tobe Hooper is a director with a rather...problematic filmography. After he famously caught lightning in a bottle with his justly revered debut effort, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, Hooper was quickly lumped in with contemporaries John Carpenter and Wes Craven (and often slightly pre-contemporary George A. Romero) as one of the Next Great Horror Directors.

But while his other classmates went on to forge bodies of work adhering to recognizable levels of excellence in form, theme, and style, Hooper seemed to go a little crazy. All but abandoning the gritty, realistic style for which his first film was praised to hell and back, Hooper went on to tackle such subjects as space vampires, exploding humans, and possessed laundry presses, all in a dayglo, EC comics style about as far removed from the "documentarian" laurels of TCM as one could imagine. Certain recurrent themes popped up in every third or fourth film--the Outsider Family being perhaps the most recognizable--but even his follow-up to the movie that put him on the map had more of the comics page and less of the found footage mystique than fans and critics could make themselves comfortable with.*

*I don't mean to suggest that his efforts in this vein don't have their fans--I know TCM 2 is well loved by a certain viewing segment, and while I appreciate the original TCM for its historical significance and stylistic impact, I find myself watching and enjoying Hooper's The Funhouse much more often and vehemently. I only posit that their stylistic difference from the director's best-loved effort works for some to their detriment.

I count myself a fan of Hooper's post-TCM output, for the most part (I'm one of the few I know who really, really liked his Toolbox Murders redux, for instance), and the more of his work I watch, the more convinced I am that people looking for a return to the TCM style and calling everything else "atypical" are coming at things bassackwards. Because that EC Comics color was there, if not from the very beginning, certainly from Hooper's second horror film and today's review, the 1977 backwoods psycho/killer croc movie Eaten Alive. It seems clear now that TCM was the anomaly.

Mama Harper never told the Family what she did before she met their daddy.

We open with a tight close-up of a belt buckle, so already I'm in love. (The only other movie I know that opens this way, Pick-Up, was absolutely batshitastic.) We then find ourselves in a suitably grimy scene in a backwoods whorehouse, where new girl Clara (Roberta Collins) has been chosen to receive the attentions of Louisiana Lothario Buck (a very young and gangly Robert Englund). After the young gentleman introduces himself with the appropriate formality and dignity--I believe the exact phrase is, "My name is Buck, and I'm ready to fuck!"--they sashay upstairs to get down to bidness. However, when Buck reveals his hankerin' to take a drive up La Strada Chocolata, Clara calls the whole thing off and has to be replaced by two of her coworkers--as part of the longstanding whorehouse policy, "satisfaction guaranteed or double your pussy back." Downstairs Clara sobs to the madame, Miss Hattie (Carolyn Jones, later Queen Hippolyta of TV's Wonder Woman!), "Maybe I'm just not cut out to be a hooker!" Agreeing, Miss Hattie sends to failed courtesan packing into the swampy wilderness.

The only other place to rent a room is apparently "The Twilight," a bed-and-breakfast in the middle of the swamp that has clearly seen better days. Proprietor Judd (an excellently unhinged Neville Brand) lives there alone except for the unexplained mannequin in his bedroom (ooer) and the tourist-attraction he has penned in the water off the porch, a 15-foot crocodile! (Which ain't like an alligator, Judd explains, in that they'll eat just about anything they can get their teeth around. Because alligators, as we all know, are nature's most finicky eaters.) Recognizing Clara from Miss Hattie's place, Judd woos her with even less subtlety than Buck, which leads to a surprisingly brutal beating for Clara followed by a tumble down the stairs and then a rake to the rack that leaves her bloody and broken but still breathing. Horrified by this turn of events, Judd does the only reasonable thing--he pushes Clara over the porch railing to be eaten by the croc, then goes for the mop to clean up the blood.

The Rake and the Ho.

By this time the aesthetic of the movie is well established, and seems to inhabit a stylistic country somewhere between Bava and Creepshow. Everything is lit in stark blue or red gels, giving a somewhat unreal, expressionistic tone to the piece, very like a comic book. Adding to the comic book vibe is the absolute over-the-topness of the characters on display, from harem-keeper Miss Hattie, who dresses and acts like an old-fashioned accountant/telegraph transcriber (complete with vest and green visor), to Englund's cartoonish redneck, to the super-stereotypical "wise old black woman" brothel maid, culminating in Judd's bug-eyed, mealy-mouthed, paranoiac villain.

The OTT train doesn't stop there, either. Despite its evident remote location, after the first murder business really picks up at The Twilight, with each new arrival adding to the cast of comic book characters. Bickering vacationers Roy and Faye (William Finley and TCM final girl Marilyn Burns) arrive along with adorable moppet Angie (Kyle Richards, who also appears as a cute kid in Carpenter's Halloween and joined Victor French in the recently-mentioned sitcom Carter Country) and her terrier Snoopy. Literally within moments of their disembarkment, Snoopy becomes a bite-sized croc-treat and Angie falls into a trauma-induced coma, leading to many vicious hubby-recriminations from Faye and climaxing when daddy Roy, out of nowhere, starts barking like a dog, deepening his daughter's emotional scars.

Nature is Cruel, Charlie Brown

Shortly thereafter another couple arrives, father/daughter duo Harvey and Libby Wood (Mel Ferrer and Crystin Sinclaire), who are looking for Libby's wayward sis Clara. What are the chances? While Libby is kind and polite to the crazier-by-the-minute Judd, Harvey wastes no time insulting everyone within shouting distance, including Sheriff Martin (character actor Stuart Whitman), for being useless in the search for his missing child.

When the Woods drop their bags and head off to the local "prostitution house" to make inquiries, the vactioners take up their marital strife with renewed venom, suggesting that Roy may have got into Hooper's coke stash in the interim--after pretending to crush his wife's head in his hands, Roy shouts such non sequiturs as "Why don't you just take your cigarette and grind it out IN MY EYE?" and "What do you want me to do, throw myself to the alligators? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?" When Roy melodramatically goes out to hunt the terrier-gulping croc with the shotgun he happened to have packed along with his golf clubs, it's no surprise to anyone that Judd helps him out with that last bit of prophecy.

"My last girlfriend said I had abandonment issues. What do you think?"

The movie has never rested easily on any narrative rails, and at this point jumps them completely. Judd reveals his heretofore unmentioned wooden leg, implying that the croc et it at some point in the distant past. He engages in a couple of odd soliloquies before attacking mom Faye, again beating her rather brutally before gagging her and tying her to a bed, then running off to hunt the revived and fleet-of-foot Angie, who hides under the house and shows herself more resourceful than any other character in keeping (the fuck) away from the innkeeper. The Captain Hook/Peter Pan subtext in the Judd/Angie relationship here should be obvious even to the casual viewer.

After a strange interlude at the whorehouse, Daddy Wood heads back to the Twilight and Libby stays with Sheriff Martin, developing a could-be-romantic, could-be-Father Figure relationship with the kindly older man. Libby and Martin have dinner at the local pool hall, where Buck--who is still quite prepared to engage in sexual intercourse--and some of his rowdy friends harass a scrappy Nice Kid before getting kicked out. (One of the redneck crew, Marlowe, played by David 'Goat' Carson, is a Manson-esque nut who I wish had been in it more, but quickly disappears.) Back at the Twilight, Harvey gets a scythe through the neck courtesy of Judd, who then plays tug-of-corpse with the crocodile in a weird splatstick scene.

"Blue Öyster Cult, you are so full of shit!"

While Faye screams and writhes against her bonds upstairs, Judd tries and fails to capture Angie under the house, finally getting the bright idea to loose the crocodile under there to either flush her out or take care of the problem the Darwinian way. He's interrupted when Buck and the slutty pool hall waitress return to stress-test some bed springs, giving some nice Robert Englund tighty-whitey shots for the ladies. The dudes fare better, as Lynette heads up to her room, gets completely nekkid, and wanders around aimlessly for several scenes that define both the words "gratuitous" and "zang."

There's a lot of weirdness in this movie, and it's accentuated by several gleefully odd directorial flourishes. I've already mentioned the constant red and blue gels, which continue to give the visuals a comic book gothic style. The soundtrack, composed mostly it seems of country-western murder ballads, is surprisingly effective and adds to the disturbing ambience. And a late scene in which Judd is tormented by a chorus of female groans--sexual from Buck's partner, horrified from the bound-and-gagged Faye, helpless from Angie under the house--made me more than a little uncomfortable. There's also a through-the-woods chase that climaxes in a pickup truck pick-up that seems to be something out of another--which is to say, a very specific other--movie.

Freddy's Erotic Nightmares

The slam-bang finale features half-clad Libby finding and freeing Faye, Judd engaging in more senseless violence against women, Buck taking his predestined dive into the jaws of death, and the expected Cap'n Hook comeuppance for our weird little innkeeper. The only way it could have ended really, but it's nonetheless effective.

As I say, this movie is OTT from frame one. Brand delivers a powerhouse performance as Judd, mixing The Hitchhiker and Choptop from the TCM movies with a backwoods recluse flavor that within the weird world of the the movie is strangely compelling. William Finley makes a huge impression in his brief screen time as Roy, and Marilyn Burns screams as only she can in a role that requires her to do little else. Crystin Sinclaire and Stuart Whitman put in good performances and share a believable, likable chemistry. Robert Englund does a terrible hick accent (which he would go on to reprise in 2001 Maniacs), but plays the asshole with such elan and energy it's hard not to enjoy. And Kyle Richards as poor endangered Angie is cute without being cloyingly pretentious, which makes her easier to root for, and her predicament that much more nerve-wracking.

The Movie's Majestic Opening Shot

You can probably tell I enjoyed Eaten Alive a lot--a lot more than I thought I would, actually. I would have expected the immediate follow-up to TCM to share more of that movie's aesthetic, but it seems that for better or worse that was a real one-off in Hooper's career. Still, that shouldn't dampen one's enjoyemnt of out-there grindhouse fare like this one. It's crazy, it's off the rails, it's MAD, and thus right up my alley. 2.5 thumbs.

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