star: Bela Lugosi, Maria Alba
OK, in 1932, there was this Saturday Matinee movie serial called “Chandu, The Magician” and it starred old-timey actor Edmund Lowe as Frank Chandler, a preppy looking middle-aged dude who dresses in yachting duds but has also mastered “mind control” from a teacher in Tibet and, in his spare time, as a sort of hobby, becomes “Chandu” and fights black magic practitioners, led by the evil Bela Lugosi.
“Chandu” was a popular serial, so the producers decided to make a second one in 1934 (“The Return of Chandu”), but this time, banking on the fact that children’s memories are pretty short (or that they just plain didn’t care), they decided to star Bela Lugosi and make him “the good guy,” by giving him the role of “Chandu.”
Plus, when the producers re-released the film again, probably for TV showings, they merely took the first 6 serial episodes and made one “Chandu” movie out of it and then took the last 6 episodes and made a second film out of it! I saw the second set and they totally deliver.
Are you confused yet? Talk about discombobulated! It doesn’t get anymore incoherent than Return of Chandu, yet the somewhat disconcerting reality is that, instead of being a gratuitous, misbegotten follow-up, Return of Chandu is actually good, and Lugosi is extremely effective as the reluctant hero, who looks like he’d “rather be sailing!”
Lugosi spiritedly goes through the paces as the wealthy L.A. yachtsman who has also mastered mesmerism and mind control from a Tibetan guru and the movie is an awful lot of fun! The serials are not repetitive and tend to move very quickly, while the sets (especially of a mean looking giant , scowling cat) are frightening even 75 years after the film’s premier. The film’s heavy, with his sagging, over-sized turban, is every bit as nasty and verbose as the script requires and every episode is worth watching.
There is a good reason why Lugosi is far more popular among collectors and movie buffs than Karloff even though his cinematic output was far more low-budget and obscure. He brought a European style of staginess to horror movies which has never existed before or since.
Check out “The Return of Chandu” (either the first chapters or the second set of chapters). As Lugosi says, “you will obey me!”
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Saturday, November 3, 2007
BAD MOON (1994)
star: Mariel Hemingway; Michael Pare
lensed in Canada, pretending to be Seattle
Mariel Hemingway is a somewhat attractive lady attorney who acts rude and condescending to everyone she meets and lives in the deep woods with her young son and a big old dog and berates her younger brother who lives in a trailer even farther into the woods, and even though she’s an attorney she can’t seem to figure out that the guy might be a little wacked out even though people start dying immediately wherever he goes and he lives alone and says his fiancé is on a long vacation and the dog, who used to like him, keeps barking at him all the time. C’mon, Mariel, get a clue! He’s a werewolf! OK?
But Mariel insists on wearing these funky, earth-mother, brown slacks that are about two sizes too big and keeps rationalizing that they just happen to be going through a crime spree every time her brother comes around, and that her dog is weird. Would you really want someone as dumb as this representing you in court?
As for the brother, Michael Pare gives a typically tired-looking, phoned-in performance (the same one he’s been doing since Streets of Fire, over 25 years ago!) as the scientist who got bit by the werewolf but thinks his condition can be controlled, not by medication, but by industrial strength handcuffs and being tied to a really strong tree!
What really saves “Bad Moon” is the outstanding photography of NW Washington (make that Canada!) and the un-self-conscious direction of the picture, which moves very quickly through its under-90-minute running time. Horror buffs will enjoy the mostly pre-CGI special effects which hearken back to the original “Werewolf of London,” starring Henry Hull (which the characters actually watch on TV, as sort of a smug in-joke) and the fact that Mariel, as the dyspeptic attorney, and Pare, as the sleepy-eyed wolf dude, both take the proceedings more seriously than this big-budget B-movie actually deserves.
It’s a lot less pretentious than The Howling and far better than any of the discombobulated Howling sequels (especially the Australian one!). If you only watch one horror film this year, don’t make it “Bad Moon.” But if you’re staying home tonight and you’ve called Chicken Delight, and the lights are low, with nowhere to go, pop the “Moon” into your player and let it take you back to the ‘70s when there were still drive-ins and walk-in snack bars and the worst crimes committed were hiding in a smelly trunk even though the driver only paid by the carload.
When I was in college, we did a lot of “bad moons” on people and, believe me, looking at Mariel Hemingway, even in funky, oversized kahkis, is still better than that! Oh, the horror!
lensed in Canada, pretending to be Seattle
Mariel Hemingway is a somewhat attractive lady attorney who acts rude and condescending to everyone she meets and lives in the deep woods with her young son and a big old dog and berates her younger brother who lives in a trailer even farther into the woods, and even though she’s an attorney she can’t seem to figure out that the guy might be a little wacked out even though people start dying immediately wherever he goes and he lives alone and says his fiancé is on a long vacation and the dog, who used to like him, keeps barking at him all the time. C’mon, Mariel, get a clue! He’s a werewolf! OK?
But Mariel insists on wearing these funky, earth-mother, brown slacks that are about two sizes too big and keeps rationalizing that they just happen to be going through a crime spree every time her brother comes around, and that her dog is weird. Would you really want someone as dumb as this representing you in court?
As for the brother, Michael Pare gives a typically tired-looking, phoned-in performance (the same one he’s been doing since Streets of Fire, over 25 years ago!) as the scientist who got bit by the werewolf but thinks his condition can be controlled, not by medication, but by industrial strength handcuffs and being tied to a really strong tree!
What really saves “Bad Moon” is the outstanding photography of NW Washington (make that Canada!) and the un-self-conscious direction of the picture, which moves very quickly through its under-90-minute running time. Horror buffs will enjoy the mostly pre-CGI special effects which hearken back to the original “Werewolf of London,” starring Henry Hull (which the characters actually watch on TV, as sort of a smug in-joke) and the fact that Mariel, as the dyspeptic attorney, and Pare, as the sleepy-eyed wolf dude, both take the proceedings more seriously than this big-budget B-movie actually deserves.
It’s a lot less pretentious than The Howling and far better than any of the discombobulated Howling sequels (especially the Australian one!). If you only watch one horror film this year, don’t make it “Bad Moon.” But if you’re staying home tonight and you’ve called Chicken Delight, and the lights are low, with nowhere to go, pop the “Moon” into your player and let it take you back to the ‘70s when there were still drive-ins and walk-in snack bars and the worst crimes committed were hiding in a smelly trunk even though the driver only paid by the carload.
When I was in college, we did a lot of “bad moons” on people and, believe me, looking at Mariel Hemingway, even in funky, oversized kahkis, is still better than that! Oh, the horror!
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
THE CASTLE OF FU MANCHU! (1968)
Dir. by Jess Franco
Star. Christopher Lee
The fifth and final entry in producer Harry Alan Towers’ Fu-Manchu series (which must have been politically incorrect even 40 years ago!) is actually the only watchable film in the entire bunch! A few of the earlier films were directed by Don Sharp, a generally good, workmanlike director, but the scripts were so lousy and the budgets so low that they smelled like that 3 month old carton of General Tso’s chicken stuck way in the back of your refrigerator! Throw that puppy out!
Of course, they’re all based on the popular Sax Rhomer novels of the 1920’s which were based on American paranoia about a Chinese or Japanese invasion of the mainland, but they actually read like early Ian Fleming novels, with Nayland Smith playing the James Bond role.
By this entry, Christopher Lee, as Dr. Fu-Manchu, is basically sleep-walking through the role, with his Fu-Manchu moustache and his Chinese finger puzzle on his fifth finger, but co-star Richard Greene actually conveys some excitement and the photography and sets (supposedly shot on location in Portugal and Spain, but actually lensed in Brazil) are mesmerizing.
In this one, Fu has kidnapped some eminent British scientist and has forced him to develop some crystals that freeze huge bodies of water. Thus, Fu can create huge icebergs near whatever ships he wants to sink and he pretty much does a “Titanic” on them. He also threatens to turn every ocean in the world into skating rinks unless the Western countries pay him a huge sum of loot.
Nayland Smith of Scotland Yard (played by Richard Greene, by then in his mid-50s, but still jumping, kicking, and boxing away with Chinese assasins) is called in to solve the mess and put an end to the evil doctor. Unfortunately, Fu and his army are holed up in a Portuguese (i.e. Brazilian) castle which has been rigged with all kinds of booby traps which dump tons of ice water on any chump silly enough to try to escape.
First off, forget about the plot. It’s silly and probably didn’t even make sense when these books were written almost 80 years ago! “The Castle of Fu-Manchu” is a genuine hoot and the credit goes to the always unpredictable, uneven, cult horror/Euro-Trash director, Jess Franco.
Franco, who made his name with “The Horrible Dr. Hitchcock” series in the early 1960s and has been making virtually incoherent direct-to-video features for the last two decades (the budgets of Franco’s “films” from the late ‘80s onward make Ed Wood’s movies look like “Gone With The Wind”), really delivers the goods in this movie, making it look far more expensive than it is, and keeping the action (pedantic as it may be) going at a lightning pace.
Franco takes the plot and themes of the film completely seriously (no camp whatsoever) and his gambit pays off!
The DVD which I saw was on a small label which also had interviews with Chris Lee, Franco, and producer Towers. Jess commented that he was paid about five times his normal salary to do “Fu Manchu” so he was upbeat from the start. Towers, looking uncomfortable in a typical English living room, seems begrudgingly respectful of Franco’s direction, but also says that Franco did the impossible—he finally killed Fu Manchu (this was the last film of the series). That’s probably due far more to growing political sensitivity, more sophisticated audiences not being interested in a hysterical villain from the ‘20s, and extremely poor distribution for the later movies, none of which reasons were Franco’s fault.
Additionally, Towers claims that his Fu Manchu series was the only one to ever make money. Huh???? What about the extremely successful big-budget 1930s films starring Boris Karloff as Fu Manchu and Myrna Loy as his evil daughter? I think those pictures made more in a week than all 5 of Towers’ Fu Manchu pictures added together! And with all due respect to Lee, Karloff is the actor people associate with the role.
Lee seems, as always, a bit grouchy as an interviewee, and doesn’t really say anything positive about anybody, while acknowledging that he sort of remembers the film and thinks it’s the last Fu movie. That interview and a quarter will buy you a phone call.
Forget about the dyspeptic and hysterical politics of the film, and just enjoy it for the wonderful sets and exuberant acting (by Greene) and Franco’s superb and puzzlingly effective direction. And don't believe Fu when he says "I Will Return!" He didn't.
Star. Christopher Lee
The fifth and final entry in producer Harry Alan Towers’ Fu-Manchu series (which must have been politically incorrect even 40 years ago!) is actually the only watchable film in the entire bunch! A few of the earlier films were directed by Don Sharp, a generally good, workmanlike director, but the scripts were so lousy and the budgets so low that they smelled like that 3 month old carton of General Tso’s chicken stuck way in the back of your refrigerator! Throw that puppy out!
Of course, they’re all based on the popular Sax Rhomer novels of the 1920’s which were based on American paranoia about a Chinese or Japanese invasion of the mainland, but they actually read like early Ian Fleming novels, with Nayland Smith playing the James Bond role.
By this entry, Christopher Lee, as Dr. Fu-Manchu, is basically sleep-walking through the role, with his Fu-Manchu moustache and his Chinese finger puzzle on his fifth finger, but co-star Richard Greene actually conveys some excitement and the photography and sets (supposedly shot on location in Portugal and Spain, but actually lensed in Brazil) are mesmerizing.
In this one, Fu has kidnapped some eminent British scientist and has forced him to develop some crystals that freeze huge bodies of water. Thus, Fu can create huge icebergs near whatever ships he wants to sink and he pretty much does a “Titanic” on them. He also threatens to turn every ocean in the world into skating rinks unless the Western countries pay him a huge sum of loot.
Nayland Smith of Scotland Yard (played by Richard Greene, by then in his mid-50s, but still jumping, kicking, and boxing away with Chinese assasins) is called in to solve the mess and put an end to the evil doctor. Unfortunately, Fu and his army are holed up in a Portuguese (i.e. Brazilian) castle which has been rigged with all kinds of booby traps which dump tons of ice water on any chump silly enough to try to escape.
First off, forget about the plot. It’s silly and probably didn’t even make sense when these books were written almost 80 years ago! “The Castle of Fu-Manchu” is a genuine hoot and the credit goes to the always unpredictable, uneven, cult horror/Euro-Trash director, Jess Franco.
Franco, who made his name with “The Horrible Dr. Hitchcock” series in the early 1960s and has been making virtually incoherent direct-to-video features for the last two decades (the budgets of Franco’s “films” from the late ‘80s onward make Ed Wood’s movies look like “Gone With The Wind”), really delivers the goods in this movie, making it look far more expensive than it is, and keeping the action (pedantic as it may be) going at a lightning pace.
Franco takes the plot and themes of the film completely seriously (no camp whatsoever) and his gambit pays off!
The DVD which I saw was on a small label which also had interviews with Chris Lee, Franco, and producer Towers. Jess commented that he was paid about five times his normal salary to do “Fu Manchu” so he was upbeat from the start. Towers, looking uncomfortable in a typical English living room, seems begrudgingly respectful of Franco’s direction, but also says that Franco did the impossible—he finally killed Fu Manchu (this was the last film of the series). That’s probably due far more to growing political sensitivity, more sophisticated audiences not being interested in a hysterical villain from the ‘20s, and extremely poor distribution for the later movies, none of which reasons were Franco’s fault.
Additionally, Towers claims that his Fu Manchu series was the only one to ever make money. Huh???? What about the extremely successful big-budget 1930s films starring Boris Karloff as Fu Manchu and Myrna Loy as his evil daughter? I think those pictures made more in a week than all 5 of Towers’ Fu Manchu pictures added together! And with all due respect to Lee, Karloff is the actor people associate with the role.
Lee seems, as always, a bit grouchy as an interviewee, and doesn’t really say anything positive about anybody, while acknowledging that he sort of remembers the film and thinks it’s the last Fu movie. That interview and a quarter will buy you a phone call.
Forget about the dyspeptic and hysterical politics of the film, and just enjoy it for the wonderful sets and exuberant acting (by Greene) and Franco’s superb and puzzlingly effective direction. And don't believe Fu when he says "I Will Return!" He didn't.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
THE SHE BEAST! (1965)
Star: Barbara Steele; Mel Welles
Barbara Steele and her husband are aimlessly speeding through Eastern Europe, when they stop at a rundown hotel operated by a uxorious communist-quoting landlord to whom they act condescending and then beat the crap out of when they catch him peeping on them later in the evening. They then speed out of town, not knowing that the landlord messed with their car brakes, and they end up crashing into a lake that isn’t anywhere near the road, whereupon Barbara Steele is killed, but she returns to life as a hideous, foul-mouthed, hermaphroditic, insane cleaning-woman-monster with really bad breath.
Oh, I forgot, before they’re peeped upon by Mel Welles (playing an unsympathetic character with an extremely bogus accent), Barbara and her husband are visited by a dithery, pompous, impoverished, incoherent old British dude in a tatty tweed coat and a worn-out bowler hat, who tries to warn them about the curse of this weird witch who’s supposed to come back on this particular day to wreak vengeance upon the superstitious villagers who executed her three hundred some-odd years ago.
They also ignore and make fun of the old putz. But after the accident, he’s the only hope to turn the insane, smelly, bad breath monster back into sexy Barbara Steele.
Sadly, the movie sounds like a lot more fun than it really is! Director Michael Reeves (“The Conqueror Worm” “The Sorcerers”) isn’t quite up to speed yet as the director he would become and the pedestrian look and frenzied pacing of the film bemoan its extremely small budget (most of which probably went for Steele’s salary) and, probably, rushed shooting schedule. There’s also an extremely unfunny and tiresome ten-minute scene (that feels like 50 minutes!) involving some Eastern European Keystone Kops who keep driving around and around and around (in sped-up footage, of course) chasing Steele’s husband and the tatty English guy. Was that trip really necessary?
In fairness, the public domain prints of this film are all fuzzy and faded, with barely adequate sound, so no one I know has actually seen a watchable print of it. There may also be scenes that are cut out that would might make some of the incoherent scenes a bit more coherent. We can only hope. Supposedly, some company is getting ready to release a cleaned-up definitive print, so check that out---but regarding the currently available P.D. prints, as Mr. Clampett’s kin advised him, “Jed, move away from there!”
Barbara Steele and her husband are aimlessly speeding through Eastern Europe, when they stop at a rundown hotel operated by a uxorious communist-quoting landlord to whom they act condescending and then beat the crap out of when they catch him peeping on them later in the evening. They then speed out of town, not knowing that the landlord messed with their car brakes, and they end up crashing into a lake that isn’t anywhere near the road, whereupon Barbara Steele is killed, but she returns to life as a hideous, foul-mouthed, hermaphroditic, insane cleaning-woman-monster with really bad breath.
Oh, I forgot, before they’re peeped upon by Mel Welles (playing an unsympathetic character with an extremely bogus accent), Barbara and her husband are visited by a dithery, pompous, impoverished, incoherent old British dude in a tatty tweed coat and a worn-out bowler hat, who tries to warn them about the curse of this weird witch who’s supposed to come back on this particular day to wreak vengeance upon the superstitious villagers who executed her three hundred some-odd years ago.
They also ignore and make fun of the old putz. But after the accident, he’s the only hope to turn the insane, smelly, bad breath monster back into sexy Barbara Steele.
Sadly, the movie sounds like a lot more fun than it really is! Director Michael Reeves (“The Conqueror Worm” “The Sorcerers”) isn’t quite up to speed yet as the director he would become and the pedestrian look and frenzied pacing of the film bemoan its extremely small budget (most of which probably went for Steele’s salary) and, probably, rushed shooting schedule. There’s also an extremely unfunny and tiresome ten-minute scene (that feels like 50 minutes!) involving some Eastern European Keystone Kops who keep driving around and around and around (in sped-up footage, of course) chasing Steele’s husband and the tatty English guy. Was that trip really necessary?
In fairness, the public domain prints of this film are all fuzzy and faded, with barely adequate sound, so no one I know has actually seen a watchable print of it. There may also be scenes that are cut out that would might make some of the incoherent scenes a bit more coherent. We can only hope. Supposedly, some company is getting ready to release a cleaned-up definitive print, so check that out---but regarding the currently available P.D. prints, as Mr. Clampett’s kin advised him, “Jed, move away from there!”
Saturday, October 6, 2007
FORBIDDEN JUNGLE!
Forbidden Jungle (1942)
Star: Don C. Harvey
A shallow, yet self-analytic, big-game hunter who is being payed big bucks to find a boy who was lost 15 years earlier in an uncharted jungle (and who keeps repeating “I’m just doing this for the money!”) learns the meaning of friendship and altruism when the noble jungle boy saves him from being killed by a slow-moving stock-footage man-eating tiger (who never eats a man during the film).
An introspective jungle movie---that’s right! Most of these mid-WW II quickies were satisfied with showing George Burrows running around in a gorilla suit and maybe a public domain animal stampede or two, plus endless low-budget dialogue to fill out their 65 minute running time, but “Forbidden Jungle” is different.
For one thing, it was lensed in 1950, near the end of the “jungle flick” cycle, and it reflects the freedom people felt after the claustrophobic war years of the 1940s. Secondly, it reflects America’s growing need to have fun and watch bikini ladies. There’s about two long scenes of village women wearing extremely small sarongs that seem to have no reason justifying their existence other than to spotlight beautiful ladies wearing skimpy jungle apparel. As Paul McCartney sang: “And what’s wrong with that? I want to know.”
Finally, there’s the character of the big-game hunter, himself, as played by Don C. Harvey, a prolific actor who died in his mid-50s, but not before starring in over 150 productions. Harvey started out as a B-serial actor, then got into jungle films and gradually went heavily into TV in the mid-50s, acting in everything from The Roy Rogers Show to Combat to The Outer Limits. His last film (and final acting job) was “It’s A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World” (1963).
Harvey plays the hunter as a well-meaning guy (he’s hesitant to shoot anything!) who keeps trying to sell himself on the idea of being a highly paid mercenary when he actually spends much of the movie wondering about the other characters’ motivation and questioning his right to take the jungle boy back to civilization. Even when an unfriendly native messes with his drinking water and gives him jungle fever, Don never really harbors a grudge!
OK, I like jungle movies. Always have. These absolute bargain-basement films—usually shot in shabby Burbank back lots and spiced up with stock animal footage--were a staple of Saturday afternoon local television programming everywhere in America throughout the 1960s. Tarzan (Gordon Scott was my favorite, though Denny Miller was a close second); Jungle Jim (Johnny Weismuller); Bomba ( Johnny Sheffield)—I loved ‘em all.
I even enjoyed that cheesy late’60s Tarzan tv series, shot on a very low budget in Mexico, that ran for a few years and starred Ron Ely. And I’ve had the opportunity to meet most of my heroes (except for Weismuller) with the added bonus of chatting with Irish “Sheena of the Jungle” McCalla! Life really doesn’t get much better than that.
Star: Don C. Harvey
A shallow, yet self-analytic, big-game hunter who is being payed big bucks to find a boy who was lost 15 years earlier in an uncharted jungle (and who keeps repeating “I’m just doing this for the money!”) learns the meaning of friendship and altruism when the noble jungle boy saves him from being killed by a slow-moving stock-footage man-eating tiger (who never eats a man during the film).
An introspective jungle movie---that’s right! Most of these mid-WW II quickies were satisfied with showing George Burrows running around in a gorilla suit and maybe a public domain animal stampede or two, plus endless low-budget dialogue to fill out their 65 minute running time, but “Forbidden Jungle” is different.
For one thing, it was lensed in 1950, near the end of the “jungle flick” cycle, and it reflects the freedom people felt after the claustrophobic war years of the 1940s. Secondly, it reflects America’s growing need to have fun and watch bikini ladies. There’s about two long scenes of village women wearing extremely small sarongs that seem to have no reason justifying their existence other than to spotlight beautiful ladies wearing skimpy jungle apparel. As Paul McCartney sang: “And what’s wrong with that? I want to know.”
Finally, there’s the character of the big-game hunter, himself, as played by Don C. Harvey, a prolific actor who died in his mid-50s, but not before starring in over 150 productions. Harvey started out as a B-serial actor, then got into jungle films and gradually went heavily into TV in the mid-50s, acting in everything from The Roy Rogers Show to Combat to The Outer Limits. His last film (and final acting job) was “It’s A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World” (1963).
Harvey plays the hunter as a well-meaning guy (he’s hesitant to shoot anything!) who keeps trying to sell himself on the idea of being a highly paid mercenary when he actually spends much of the movie wondering about the other characters’ motivation and questioning his right to take the jungle boy back to civilization. Even when an unfriendly native messes with his drinking water and gives him jungle fever, Don never really harbors a grudge!
OK, I like jungle movies. Always have. These absolute bargain-basement films—usually shot in shabby Burbank back lots and spiced up with stock animal footage--were a staple of Saturday afternoon local television programming everywhere in America throughout the 1960s. Tarzan (Gordon Scott was my favorite, though Denny Miller was a close second); Jungle Jim (Johnny Weismuller); Bomba ( Johnny Sheffield)—I loved ‘em all.
I even enjoyed that cheesy late’60s Tarzan tv series, shot on a very low budget in Mexico, that ran for a few years and starred Ron Ely. And I’ve had the opportunity to meet most of my heroes (except for Weismuller) with the added bonus of chatting with Irish “Sheena of the Jungle” McCalla! Life really doesn’t get much better than that.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
THE DAY TIME STOPPED!
(1978)
Dir. by Charles Band
Star: Jim Davis, Dorothy Malone, Chris Mitchum
(and a lot of really cool monsters!)
This almost unknown sci-fi potboiler from the late ‘70s bears more resemblance to the work of Pedro Almodovar (“El Topo”) than to the kind of stuff that played drive-ins in the late pre-video/pre-cable world of 1978—and that’s good!!! Directed by Charles Band, in an unusually light and fast-moving style, with outstanding performances by the veteran cast, this film is truly a rare pearl found among a dungheap of cinematic swine.
Imagine David Lynch and Ray Harryhausen co-directing a film based on a screenplay by Ed Wood—and you come kind of close to understanding the discombobulated and incoherent intensity of this camp masterpiece!
OK, so Jim Davis is this really hip grampa in polyester slacks and he’s just constructed this completely solar-powered home somewhere in the high desert for his family and his grown daughter, son-in-law and grand-daughter. But when they all arrive at the place…whoooooah! The inside of the new home has been trashed! The teenage son, kind of on the porky side, immediately blames the local bikers, but nothing is stolen.
Also, the little granddaughter is acting weird because she’s found this gigantic glowing green pyramid which has swallowed up her pony. Then it barfs back the pony and gets real small, so she uses it for a necklace. Meanwhile, the house gets hit by weird electrical storms (which look like they’re animated, since this movie was decades before CGI) and a little humonclues (a small man) appears to the granddaughter and the grandma and does a weird, constipated space ballet for them.
Then a rather pathetic Star Trek type plastic model (obviously suspended by strings) follows everyone who goes outside the house around and threatens to vaporize them. Of course, the phones are acting funny and the electricity all goes out. Jim Davis goes into this knee-jerk reaction of pulling out his pistol and taking some shots at the weird model, but of course, his weapon is useless (hasn’t he seen any sci-fi movies before?). Grandmother Dorothy Malone, still looking awfully attractive in middle-age, gets kind of panicky and concerned, while Grampa just gets grumpy and looks constipated for most of the movie. But the little girl is the key and she befriends the weird aliens.
At this point, things really start to get incoherent! With absolutely no explanation or rationalization, two Japanese-style giant monsters (one of which looks like Godzilla, Jr., from the Son of Godzilla movie) start to fight it out in the family’s backyard. Then a weird dragon invades the barn, but grandpa pitch forks him in the head and, man, that makes him mad! Remember, Alka-Seltzer works faster and better!
Events continue to escalate at a dyspeptic and dizzying pace, defying all logical theories about plots, themes, and generally accepted theories of filmmaking, until “The Day Time Stopped” starts to resemble what would happen if “El Topo, The Mole,” met “Mars Invades Puerto Rico” and they had a baby!
The film contains absolutely no humor, but is immensely campy and perfectly suited to home-viewing by baby-boomer film buffs who are consuming alcohol. Coming in at just over 70 or so minutes, the hits just keep on coming! And if that isn’t enough, the ending has that “we’ve run out of money, so film the ending—today!” feeling, and it’s complete lack of linear or thematic continuity make “Santa Claus Conquers The Martians” look like an advanced course in Logic. No matter how many bad Grade-Z movies you’ve seen, you haven’t seen enough until you’ve watched “The Day Time Stopped!”
Dir. by Charles Band
Star: Jim Davis, Dorothy Malone, Chris Mitchum
(and a lot of really cool monsters!)
This almost unknown sci-fi potboiler from the late ‘70s bears more resemblance to the work of Pedro Almodovar (“El Topo”) than to the kind of stuff that played drive-ins in the late pre-video/pre-cable world of 1978—and that’s good!!! Directed by Charles Band, in an unusually light and fast-moving style, with outstanding performances by the veteran cast, this film is truly a rare pearl found among a dungheap of cinematic swine.
Imagine David Lynch and Ray Harryhausen co-directing a film based on a screenplay by Ed Wood—and you come kind of close to understanding the discombobulated and incoherent intensity of this camp masterpiece!
OK, so Jim Davis is this really hip grampa in polyester slacks and he’s just constructed this completely solar-powered home somewhere in the high desert for his family and his grown daughter, son-in-law and grand-daughter. But when they all arrive at the place…whoooooah! The inside of the new home has been trashed! The teenage son, kind of on the porky side, immediately blames the local bikers, but nothing is stolen.
Also, the little granddaughter is acting weird because she’s found this gigantic glowing green pyramid which has swallowed up her pony. Then it barfs back the pony and gets real small, so she uses it for a necklace. Meanwhile, the house gets hit by weird electrical storms (which look like they’re animated, since this movie was decades before CGI) and a little humonclues (a small man) appears to the granddaughter and the grandma and does a weird, constipated space ballet for them.
Then a rather pathetic Star Trek type plastic model (obviously suspended by strings) follows everyone who goes outside the house around and threatens to vaporize them. Of course, the phones are acting funny and the electricity all goes out. Jim Davis goes into this knee-jerk reaction of pulling out his pistol and taking some shots at the weird model, but of course, his weapon is useless (hasn’t he seen any sci-fi movies before?). Grandmother Dorothy Malone, still looking awfully attractive in middle-age, gets kind of panicky and concerned, while Grampa just gets grumpy and looks constipated for most of the movie. But the little girl is the key and she befriends the weird aliens.
At this point, things really start to get incoherent! With absolutely no explanation or rationalization, two Japanese-style giant monsters (one of which looks like Godzilla, Jr., from the Son of Godzilla movie) start to fight it out in the family’s backyard. Then a weird dragon invades the barn, but grandpa pitch forks him in the head and, man, that makes him mad! Remember, Alka-Seltzer works faster and better!
Events continue to escalate at a dyspeptic and dizzying pace, defying all logical theories about plots, themes, and generally accepted theories of filmmaking, until “The Day Time Stopped” starts to resemble what would happen if “El Topo, The Mole,” met “Mars Invades Puerto Rico” and they had a baby!
The film contains absolutely no humor, but is immensely campy and perfectly suited to home-viewing by baby-boomer film buffs who are consuming alcohol. Coming in at just over 70 or so minutes, the hits just keep on coming! And if that isn’t enough, the ending has that “we’ve run out of money, so film the ending—today!” feeling, and it’s complete lack of linear or thematic continuity make “Santa Claus Conquers The Martians” look like an advanced course in Logic. No matter how many bad Grade-Z movies you’ve seen, you haven’t seen enough until you’ve watched “The Day Time Stopped!”
Saturday, September 22, 2007
THE CHOPPERS!
THE CHOPPERS! (1961)
Star: Arch Hall, Jr.
Dir. by Leigh Jason
Written by Arch Hall, Sr.
The Choppers was filmed in 1961 and was the first film of actor/singer/songwriter/airline pilot, Arch Hall. It’s generally regarded as a crime-themed “throw-away,” having neither the cult/camp status of “Eegah” (with Richard “Jaws” Keil as the caveman trying to crash Las Vegas teen society) nor the serious psychological—almost Bergman-esque—overtones of the highly regarded “The Sadist.” That’s an unfair assessment of what is actually Hall’s best film. Let’s set the record straight.
First, the technical details: Arch Hall, Jr. was born in 1943 and is the son of Arch Hall Sr., an infamous, charming and lovable promoter and hustler and Army buddy of Hollywood scriptwriter, William Bowers. Bowers had written several popular films, such as “She Couldn’t Say No” (starring Robert Mitchum) and “30” (starring Jack Webb).
During W W II, both Bowers and “Archie” Hall were stationed at a stateside base where they, as pilots too old to actually serve in combat, were given military training in case their services became necessary (the program was later cancelled due to the war winding down). Bowers later wrote a screenplay about Hall’s adventures and Jack Webb directed. The film was called “The Last Time I Saw Archie,” and was released in 1961. The movie is actually quite funny as far as “service comedies” go. Robert Mitchum portrays
Archie Hall. Jack Webb plays Bowers. Hall Sr. later sued, claiming Invasion of Privacy, and won, but didn’t receive much in damages as the movie was a huge money-loser.
Arch Hall, Sr., appears in The Choppers as the liberal national news reporter who cynically comments on The Choppers’ shenanigans; makes fun of one of The Choppers’ drunken father; and eventually blames all juvenile delinquency on the parents. Uhhh…..yeah.
OK, back to Arch Hall, Jr. He was a gifted guitar player and songwriter in the “Ricky Nelson” mode. Rumor has it that a major label was interested in Jr. and made offers, but Arch Sr., nixed them preferring Jr. to record for his Fairways Records label. Apparently, having a major film made about himself and later suing the writer of said film, gave Arch, Sr. the “movie bug,” so he produced and wrote “The Choppers,” and hired veteran director Leigh Jason, mainly known for directing such classics as “Knife of the Party” (starring Shemp Howard and his Three Stooges).
The Choppers is basically one more re-write of “Rebel Without A Cause,” with Arch Jr. in the James Dean role, but with a difference—James Dean was confused and sullen, Arch Jr. is mad, mean, and he never stops talking! With his blonde Elvis “pompadour” haircut, he’s always barking out orders to his gang of low end losers through his cool walkie-talkie while cruising in his $5,000 Hot Rod (make that $40,000 in today’s money). Arch and The Choppers have graduated from stealing hubcaps to stripping cars, thanks to some coaching by sleazy junk yard owner, Bruno VeSota.
The Choppers hang out at gas stations and siphon gas out of tourists’ cars when they’re not looking. Then they wait for them to run out of gas on a lonely stretch of road and, as soon, as the rubes walk off for help, The Choppers zoom up in their “chicken truck” full of live chickens. Of course they’ve got the middle of the truck full of “chopping gear” (they keep their tools in a guitar case). They then jump out of the back (hopefully not covered with chicken poop) and strip the car in 5 minutes flat, leaving it a wasted, worthless hulk. They then “fence” the car parts to sleazy VeSota and his sidekick, “Cowboy” a grumpy,dyspeptic, old curmudgeon with bad breath and a lot of issues, for 10 cents on the dollar.
There’s a new theory about the “Angry American,” which holds that Americans are angrier now than ever before in our history. “Cowboy” was angry way back in 1961. What’s he angry about? He’s obviously got a problem, since he dresses and speaks like a cowboy, yet he plays delta blues on his guitar. He wants to express himself, yet junk yard owner Bruno VeSota just tells him to “shut up!” Maybe medication would have helped or maybe Cowboy needed a professional “listener,” since he was obviously a talker. Oh, well, back to our plot.
Arch Jr. doesn’t strip cars for the money, since he’s already rich. He’s angry because his father was killed in the war. The other “Choppers” are sort of like fugitives from a “Psychology 101” primer. One guy has the drunken, no-good father, etc., etc., etc.
Of course, The Choppers start chopping too many cars and the police start putting the heat on VeSota at his junk yard. He tells Arch to “cool it,” but that’s a no-go, and that’s when things start to go bad.
Arch Jr’s film debut in “The Choppers” can be compared to Elvis Presley’s debut in “Love Me Tender.” Both seem unsure and a bit unsteady, but give excellent performances. And like Elvis, Arch does warble three very cool self-penned rockin’ tunes (“Konga Joe” “Monkey In A Hatband” and one other ) in the film. They’re really about the same, except for the fact that Elvis sold about ten billion more records and movie tickets than Arch.
For more than twenty-plus years, Arch Hall Jr. was a professional pilot flying for Flying Tiger Airlines. He also wrote a successful suspense novel, The Apsara Jet (under the pseudonym, Nicholas Merriweather). He retired in 2003, but still flies for private clients. Around 2004, Arch was persuaded to appear at The Ponderosa Stomp in New Orleans, along with his band, The Archers. He was a huge hit.
I saw Arch and The Archers play The Ponderosa Stomp in 2006 (in Memphis) and he and the band stayed on our floor at The Wyndam Gardens Hotel, along with Scotty Moore, James Burton, Clarence “Frogman” Henry, and The Hombres (“Let It All Hang Out!”). Arch is a wonderful man who’s extremely modest (i.e. honest) about the quality of his movies and does credit them for reviving his musical career. In concert, he performs songs from “Wild Guitar” and “The Choppers,” to wild acclaim and approval from his audiences.
Arch has remarked that, although his films received wide “drive-in” distribution and played heavily throughout the country, his father, Arch Sr., never made much money from them as they were cheated by crooked exhibitors, who would often send Hall Sr. a $15 check for a one-week booking of “The Choppers” or “Wild Guitar.” When I told Arch that European critics were comparing “The Sadist” to the works of Ingmar Bergman, he was amazed, as he always downplays his acting. Regarding my enjoyment of the cinema of Arch Hall Jr. over the years, and meeting the man and watching him rock in Memphis, I can only quote from the last line of The Choppers: “We had a ball!”
Star: Arch Hall, Jr.
Dir. by Leigh Jason
Written by Arch Hall, Sr.
The Choppers was filmed in 1961 and was the first film of actor/singer/songwriter/airline pilot, Arch Hall. It’s generally regarded as a crime-themed “throw-away,” having neither the cult/camp status of “Eegah” (with Richard “Jaws” Keil as the caveman trying to crash Las Vegas teen society) nor the serious psychological—almost Bergman-esque—overtones of the highly regarded “The Sadist.” That’s an unfair assessment of what is actually Hall’s best film. Let’s set the record straight.
First, the technical details: Arch Hall, Jr. was born in 1943 and is the son of Arch Hall Sr., an infamous, charming and lovable promoter and hustler and Army buddy of Hollywood scriptwriter, William Bowers. Bowers had written several popular films, such as “She Couldn’t Say No” (starring Robert Mitchum) and “30” (starring Jack Webb).
During W W II, both Bowers and “Archie” Hall were stationed at a stateside base where they, as pilots too old to actually serve in combat, were given military training in case their services became necessary (the program was later cancelled due to the war winding down). Bowers later wrote a screenplay about Hall’s adventures and Jack Webb directed. The film was called “The Last Time I Saw Archie,” and was released in 1961. The movie is actually quite funny as far as “service comedies” go. Robert Mitchum portrays
Archie Hall. Jack Webb plays Bowers. Hall Sr. later sued, claiming Invasion of Privacy, and won, but didn’t receive much in damages as the movie was a huge money-loser.
Arch Hall, Sr., appears in The Choppers as the liberal national news reporter who cynically comments on The Choppers’ shenanigans; makes fun of one of The Choppers’ drunken father; and eventually blames all juvenile delinquency on the parents. Uhhh…..yeah.
OK, back to Arch Hall, Jr. He was a gifted guitar player and songwriter in the “Ricky Nelson” mode. Rumor has it that a major label was interested in Jr. and made offers, but Arch Sr., nixed them preferring Jr. to record for his Fairways Records label. Apparently, having a major film made about himself and later suing the writer of said film, gave Arch, Sr. the “movie bug,” so he produced and wrote “The Choppers,” and hired veteran director Leigh Jason, mainly known for directing such classics as “Knife of the Party” (starring Shemp Howard and his Three Stooges).
The Choppers is basically one more re-write of “Rebel Without A Cause,” with Arch Jr. in the James Dean role, but with a difference—James Dean was confused and sullen, Arch Jr. is mad, mean, and he never stops talking! With his blonde Elvis “pompadour” haircut, he’s always barking out orders to his gang of low end losers through his cool walkie-talkie while cruising in his $5,000 Hot Rod (make that $40,000 in today’s money). Arch and The Choppers have graduated from stealing hubcaps to stripping cars, thanks to some coaching by sleazy junk yard owner, Bruno VeSota.
The Choppers hang out at gas stations and siphon gas out of tourists’ cars when they’re not looking. Then they wait for them to run out of gas on a lonely stretch of road and, as soon, as the rubes walk off for help, The Choppers zoom up in their “chicken truck” full of live chickens. Of course they’ve got the middle of the truck full of “chopping gear” (they keep their tools in a guitar case). They then jump out of the back (hopefully not covered with chicken poop) and strip the car in 5 minutes flat, leaving it a wasted, worthless hulk. They then “fence” the car parts to sleazy VeSota and his sidekick, “Cowboy” a grumpy,dyspeptic, old curmudgeon with bad breath and a lot of issues, for 10 cents on the dollar.
There’s a new theory about the “Angry American,” which holds that Americans are angrier now than ever before in our history. “Cowboy” was angry way back in 1961. What’s he angry about? He’s obviously got a problem, since he dresses and speaks like a cowboy, yet he plays delta blues on his guitar. He wants to express himself, yet junk yard owner Bruno VeSota just tells him to “shut up!” Maybe medication would have helped or maybe Cowboy needed a professional “listener,” since he was obviously a talker. Oh, well, back to our plot.
Arch Jr. doesn’t strip cars for the money, since he’s already rich. He’s angry because his father was killed in the war. The other “Choppers” are sort of like fugitives from a “Psychology 101” primer. One guy has the drunken, no-good father, etc., etc., etc.
Of course, The Choppers start chopping too many cars and the police start putting the heat on VeSota at his junk yard. He tells Arch to “cool it,” but that’s a no-go, and that’s when things start to go bad.
Arch Jr’s film debut in “The Choppers” can be compared to Elvis Presley’s debut in “Love Me Tender.” Both seem unsure and a bit unsteady, but give excellent performances. And like Elvis, Arch does warble three very cool self-penned rockin’ tunes (“Konga Joe” “Monkey In A Hatband” and one other ) in the film. They’re really about the same, except for the fact that Elvis sold about ten billion more records and movie tickets than Arch.
For more than twenty-plus years, Arch Hall Jr. was a professional pilot flying for Flying Tiger Airlines. He also wrote a successful suspense novel, The Apsara Jet (under the pseudonym, Nicholas Merriweather). He retired in 2003, but still flies for private clients. Around 2004, Arch was persuaded to appear at The Ponderosa Stomp in New Orleans, along with his band, The Archers. He was a huge hit.
I saw Arch and The Archers play The Ponderosa Stomp in 2006 (in Memphis) and he and the band stayed on our floor at The Wyndam Gardens Hotel, along with Scotty Moore, James Burton, Clarence “Frogman” Henry, and The Hombres (“Let It All Hang Out!”). Arch is a wonderful man who’s extremely modest (i.e. honest) about the quality of his movies and does credit them for reviving his musical career. In concert, he performs songs from “Wild Guitar” and “The Choppers,” to wild acclaim and approval from his audiences.
Arch has remarked that, although his films received wide “drive-in” distribution and played heavily throughout the country, his father, Arch Sr., never made much money from them as they were cheated by crooked exhibitors, who would often send Hall Sr. a $15 check for a one-week booking of “The Choppers” or “Wild Guitar.” When I told Arch that European critics were comparing “The Sadist” to the works of Ingmar Bergman, he was amazed, as he always downplays his acting. Regarding my enjoyment of the cinema of Arch Hall Jr. over the years, and meeting the man and watching him rock in Memphis, I can only quote from the last line of The Choppers: “We had a ball!”
Sunday, September 16, 2007
CREATURE FROM THE HAUNTED SEA!
CREATURE FROM THE HAUNTED SEA (1961)
dir. by Roger Corman
star: Betsy Jones-Moreland, Anthony Carbone, Robert Towne.
Although Roger Corman was my favorite film director when I was in high school way back in the way back, I must admit that now, many decades later, his films, especially those made in the 1950's, strike me as discombobulated, at best, and mentally debilitating at worst.
We just showed this film to a campy, all-ages crowd at a local coffee shop, and, to my horror and surprise, they absolutely loved it! So much for erudite film criticism! Of course, they were all hopped up on coffee and espresso, but still...
Originally, "Creature," wasn't even scheduled to be made! Corman took a film crew and a gaggle of actors down to Puerto Rico to film "The Last Woman On Earth" (also pretty bad) and "Battle of Blood Island." Since both movies finished up a few days ahead of time, Corman decided to film a third movie, "Creature From The Haunted Sea." Quickly written by Charles Griffin, who wrote many of Roger's best films, and who had written at least one, if not both, of the other two films made in Puerto Rico, the movie is not a monster flick at all!
The movie is sort of a pre-Laugh-in, campy, in-your-face comedy about
a corrupt American skipper who transports some Cuban generals and soldiers off Castro's Cuba and to Miami with a footlocker of stolen Cuban gold, planning all the while to invent a phoney monster and thereby use that as an excuse to kill them and steal their money. Something weird happens when he puts his plan into action. Can you guess? Are you laughing yet?
Every scene is tongue-in-cheek, with a sly--and not very subtle--wink to the audience. Additionally, the monster, composed of pipe cleaners, rags, tennis balls, and with ping-pong ball eyes is so bad and fakey and discombobulated that he might be the best monster ever created. There are also innumberable incoherent scenes with characters appearing outof nowhere dressed in British suits and bowler hats. And remember, this was way, way, way before the drug era!
Hey, I don't know! I don't write these, I only review them. The film also contains a scene of female lead, Betsy Jones-Moreland, singing an innocuous torch song, while the ping-pong ball, pipe cleaner monster is about to attack. The jump shots b/w the two are absolutely mind-numbing and defy all traditional logic and wisdom as to how to actually film a movie. There are also endless long shots of the yacht floating around, and around, and around.
With "Creature" being almost 95% dialogue (including a character who mainly makes animal noises), the double-takes and self-conscious campiness of the entire project seems more like 1969 than 1961.
This film would have to get better to be bad.
But the live audience loved it, so who are we to judge? Edd "Kookie" Byrnes, who made a war film ("The Secret Invasion") with Corman in the late '60s, once told me that Roger was always reading books by Bergman, Fellini and others about how to direct films, since he was unsure of his own ability to helm a movie. Obviously, by the time of "House of Usher" and "The Saint Valentine's Day Massacre," Corman had mastered his craft.
His 1950's films are another story, but maybe Bob Seger said it best when he sang, "Wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then." I just know you'll have fun if you watch this movie with a crowd of campy movie lovers.
"Creature From The Haunted Sea" is Public Domain and can be found on
myriad cheapie Public Domain DVDs. Sadly, most of these have good visual quality but extremely bad and unintelligible audio (a trademark of "Under $5 " DVDs). Some outfit just released all three movies that Corman filmed in Puerto Rico in 1961 ("Creature From The Haunted Sea;" "The Last Woman on Earth" and "Battle of Blood Island") in a boxed set and supposedly, these are excellent prints.
For the record, actor (and I use the term loosely) Robert Towne, went on to write "Chinatown." And there is no Haunted Sea in the film.
The film was padded out from its theatrical release length of 63 minutes to 75 minutes (for TV broadcasts) with illogical scenes (filmed later) involving a beautiful Island girl who speaks spanish with funny subtitles about ripping off tourists. Her appearance is never explained and she doesn't turn up in any other scenes. This only adds to the unavoidable and compellingly irresistable absurdity of the film. Muy divertido pero bastante barata!
dir. by Roger Corman
star: Betsy Jones-Moreland, Anthony Carbone, Robert Towne.
Although Roger Corman was my favorite film director when I was in high school way back in the way back, I must admit that now, many decades later, his films, especially those made in the 1950's, strike me as discombobulated, at best, and mentally debilitating at worst.
We just showed this film to a campy, all-ages crowd at a local coffee shop, and, to my horror and surprise, they absolutely loved it! So much for erudite film criticism! Of course, they were all hopped up on coffee and espresso, but still...
Originally, "Creature," wasn't even scheduled to be made! Corman took a film crew and a gaggle of actors down to Puerto Rico to film "The Last Woman On Earth" (also pretty bad) and "Battle of Blood Island." Since both movies finished up a few days ahead of time, Corman decided to film a third movie, "Creature From The Haunted Sea." Quickly written by Charles Griffin, who wrote many of Roger's best films, and who had written at least one, if not both, of the other two films made in Puerto Rico, the movie is not a monster flick at all!
The movie is sort of a pre-Laugh-in, campy, in-your-face comedy about
a corrupt American skipper who transports some Cuban generals and soldiers off Castro's Cuba and to Miami with a footlocker of stolen Cuban gold, planning all the while to invent a phoney monster and thereby use that as an excuse to kill them and steal their money. Something weird happens when he puts his plan into action. Can you guess? Are you laughing yet?
Every scene is tongue-in-cheek, with a sly--and not very subtle--wink to the audience. Additionally, the monster, composed of pipe cleaners, rags, tennis balls, and with ping-pong ball eyes is so bad and fakey and discombobulated that he might be the best monster ever created. There are also innumberable incoherent scenes with characters appearing outof nowhere dressed in British suits and bowler hats. And remember, this was way, way, way before the drug era!
Hey, I don't know! I don't write these, I only review them. The film also contains a scene of female lead, Betsy Jones-Moreland, singing an innocuous torch song, while the ping-pong ball, pipe cleaner monster is about to attack. The jump shots b/w the two are absolutely mind-numbing and defy all traditional logic and wisdom as to how to actually film a movie. There are also endless long shots of the yacht floating around, and around, and around.
With "Creature" being almost 95% dialogue (including a character who mainly makes animal noises), the double-takes and self-conscious campiness of the entire project seems more like 1969 than 1961.
This film would have to get better to be bad.
But the live audience loved it, so who are we to judge? Edd "Kookie" Byrnes, who made a war film ("The Secret Invasion") with Corman in the late '60s, once told me that Roger was always reading books by Bergman, Fellini and others about how to direct films, since he was unsure of his own ability to helm a movie. Obviously, by the time of "House of Usher" and "The Saint Valentine's Day Massacre," Corman had mastered his craft.
His 1950's films are another story, but maybe Bob Seger said it best when he sang, "Wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then." I just know you'll have fun if you watch this movie with a crowd of campy movie lovers.
"Creature From The Haunted Sea" is Public Domain and can be found on
myriad cheapie Public Domain DVDs. Sadly, most of these have good visual quality but extremely bad and unintelligible audio (a trademark of "Under $5 " DVDs). Some outfit just released all three movies that Corman filmed in Puerto Rico in 1961 ("Creature From The Haunted Sea;" "The Last Woman on Earth" and "Battle of Blood Island") in a boxed set and supposedly, these are excellent prints.
For the record, actor (and I use the term loosely) Robert Towne, went on to write "Chinatown." And there is no Haunted Sea in the film.
The film was padded out from its theatrical release length of 63 minutes to 75 minutes (for TV broadcasts) with illogical scenes (filmed later) involving a beautiful Island girl who speaks spanish with funny subtitles about ripping off tourists. Her appearance is never explained and she doesn't turn up in any other scenes. This only adds to the unavoidable and compellingly irresistable absurdity of the film. Muy divertido pero bastante barata!
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