Hello! This is the Doomed Show - Devil's Kiss (1976)

Overlords of the U.F.O. (1976)

W. Gordon Allen, the writer, producer, and host of this documentary, takes himself and the material presented here VERY SERIOUSLY. This is the film that dares to ask the burning question, “Who are the overlords of the UFO?” Why is it worded that way? I don’t know. While this is a rather dry presentation and gets a little dull at times, Overlords of the U.F.O. is pretty intriguing. The best moments are the artistic recreations of various incidents of sightings and abductions. However, my favorite bit is the information provided by communications from aliens of the planet Ummo. This stuff is just so wild and so much damn fun. Your enjoyment of this documentary will depend entirely on your interest in UFOs and the US government’s attempts to cover up these incidents.

1976 Horror Movie Poster Gallery

Happy birthday to me! Let's revisit that magical year of my birth.

38 Years Ago Today

I was totally born. Happy birthday to me. Here's some of what was in theaters on August 4th, 1976:

H!TITDS - Episode #44 - The House with Laughing Windows

There's a new episode of the podcast up for your ears. Please welcome friend of the show, Jeffrey of the Nessun Timore blog, as special guest co-host. We get seriously delirious over Pupi Avati's classic giallo The House with Laughing Windows and have a frickin' great time. Please give it a listen right now.

For all of you purists of the show who are like "Who was that Nafa guy?" or "Who is this Jeffrey character?" and "WHERE THE HELL IS BRAD?!?!!", don't worry, Brad will return! Dats a promise. We are dealing with a whopper of a schedule conflict and I've invited some nice folks to talk to me while we get our respective acts together again.

If you're new to the show, please check out the archive of past episodes.

You must now enter... DISCO OF DEATH!

This was a long time in the making. First of all, it took me what felt like forever to acquire all these titles. Then the pure terror of actually sitting down and watching these films took over and I kept putting this moviethon off. I should have held onto that feeling for the rest of my life. When it comes to the following 14 films (watched in just one weekend), living in fear would have been much better. Please read this: Disco of Death!

HTITDS Episode #36 La Due Horroro Obscurioti Italianono

What is up with podcasting anyway? Is it some kind of a thing? Yes, it is! Brad and I talk about two Italian horror films: Damned in Venice and A Whisper in the Dark. You can download and listen to the new episode right hizzy.

And, as always, you can find old episodes hiding in plain sight at the archives.

1976 EXTRAVAGANZA!!

Whoa! An extravaganza? How does that happen? Well, I'll tell you! It happened that I watched a whole bunch of 1976 flicks and forgot to write about them. Okay, I didn't forget but I thought if I could do something important for the children of tomorrow. Shit, that isn't true either. Somebody's gotta kill this theme month and it might as well be me, duders. So here I am, dropping some last minute 76yness on ya!



I first heard about Breaking Point over at Bloody Pit of Rod and boy oh boy, I wish I hadn't. Apparently, big macho action movies weren't director Bob Clark's specialty. The film sports nearly constant logic problems, overacting from every member of the very irritating cast, and a layer of cheese so thick that the film is just freakin' ripe. The only things that work for Breaking Point are its excellent lighting and well staged action setpieces. Bo Svenson does get to kick a little ass but it's not enough to save this ultimately unsatisfying piece of dumb schlock. And I love schlock!



Every time I think I know what Mr. Brian De Palma has in store for me, I get totally suckered in and blown away. Notice that in that sentence there were the words "suck" and "blow"? Okay, don't notice that! I really thought I knew where Obsession was going but I'm glad I was wrong and I'm very glad to be giving De Palma more chances. You see, I think that several of his films are overrated. Sisters, Carrie, Blowout, and even Dressed to Kill have left me feeling empty and totally put off at one time or another. Obsession made me realize that I have the guy all wrong and need to reevaluate pretty much everything. This film is sumptuously filmed and even Cliff Robertson is good. One more thing: the score by Bernard Herrmann is astonishing, astounding, and awesomiffinizing!



Speaking of directors surprising me, I also checked out Roman Polanski's The Tenant. Much like my feelings on De Palma, I find that most of Polanski's films just don't do it for me. This grotesque piece of paranoia is very, very good. Even though one of those 100 Scariest Horror Movie Moments shows ruined the best surprise in this film for me, I still found a great deal to dig into with The Tenant. If phrases like "Kafka-esque" and "nightmarishly insane" describe your idea of fine entertainment, then check out this film immediately. Oh and it's funny too.



I had high hopes for Image of Death, an obscure Australian thriller. Other than the fact that I am obsessed with big-eyed Cathey Paine (Helter Skelter), I knew zilch about this film when the VHS arrived in my mailbox. And Cathey Paine is quite good in this probably made-for-TV flick but the script is awful. The writers insult their audience by explaining every single tiny nuance of the plot in great detail just to fill up its short running time. Instead of an unknown gem, I found a total dud that deserves to stay forgotten. In order to reach other markets, there are no Australians in this. Everyone has either an American or a British accent. Lame!



When a film like MASH mixes comedy with tragedy, it works perfectly. It's because Robert Altman is a demented genius. When a film like Mother, Jugs & Speed mixes comedy with tragedy, the viewer ends up despising the film. It's because it was directed by Peter Yates, the guy who directed Krull. There are some fun, un-politically correct, and tasteless times to be had here but this film thinks it's pretty fucking clever and it's not. Bill Cosby is awesome and Larry Hagman is sleazy. I'm not sure what else to say other than I do applaud the director for taking chances with the tonal shifts. Look for the super cute Toni Basil. Yup, she's in this one.



Director Mario Caiano delivers a pretty solid crime film with Milano Violenta. It's got the funky soundtrack, the bad dubbing, the brutal violence, the unlikable characters, and just about everything else one might expect from this sub-genre. Just a warning, the film does slow down in the middle quite a bit but makes up for it with some more ass kicking action near the end. There isn't much that separates Milano Violenta from the pack (other than some soft focus cinematography and a somewhat strange tone) but it's worth checking out.



When it comes to the phrase: "What the hell is this?", Crypt of Dark Secrets is especially special. This silly shit has some hilariously delivered and idiotic dialog and an EXTREMELY NAKED witch in it. Every scene is awkward and nearly every actor has sunstroke or malaria or something. Whatever, this movie is pure fun and is filled with totally crappy magic that must be seen to be believed. If you can stay awake through this 71 minute marvel, it's probably because you are laughing your ass off at it's inept genius.

1976: Helter Skelter

Helter Skelter
Directed by Tom Gries
1976
Starring George DiCenzo, Steve Railsback, Nancy Wolfe, Marilyn Burns, Christina Hart, Cathey Paine

In 1969, America faced its greatest crisis: godless, dirty-faced, baby-makin' hippie scum were taking over the country. Their leader, Charles Manson AKA Jesus Christ, had risen to power by undermining good, strong United States of American values! In an unprecedented event, Manson and then president Richard Nixon, got oiled up and sparred for the first of many shirtless wrestling matches. Merry Christmas, everybody! Enjoy the screenshots!

1976: A Star is Born

A Star is Born
Directed by Frank Pierson
1976
Barbra Streisand, Kris Kristofferson, Gary Busey, Oliver Clark, Venetta Fields, Clydie King
139 minutes

Kris Kristofferson plays Eric Clapton, a washed up rock and roll star playing to stadiums of disappointed fans every night. His roadie and bestest pal, Bobbie Ritchie (Gary Busey), keeps Eric all fucked up on coke and booze and the tour is going to shit. One night, Eric stumbles into a bar where he sees a woman performing some horrible fucking songs. The woman's name is Bette Midler and she's played by Barbra Streisand. Eric discovers Bette, seduces her and then gets her career started by forcing her to debut at a benefit for Native Americans. There's a joke there somewhere. How about this: "Haven't they suffered enough?"

Eric and Bette get married and they make love and stuff. She tries to get him to clean up his act. Oh shit, I forgot the motorcycle thing. Eric gets shitfaced at a stadium gig and drives a motorcycle off the stage. It's pretty funny. Anyway, after Bette becomes a bigger star than Eric, he gets all jealous and stuff. Then he fucks a groupie -well, not really; he was too drunk to get it up -and Bette smacks him and bites his lip. Then he dies in a car accident and she stages a concert in his honor. Or whatever. Hey, Robert Englund is in this!



I first encountered A Star is Born when I was a kid. My parents rented it when it came out on VHS. While it was playing on our old TV, my parents took out sharp knives and stabbed me repeatedly while it was playing. Worse than that, my mom owned a copy of the soundtrack on LP. And I remember very, very well that a naked Barbra and a naked Kristofferson holding each other was about the least sexy thing ever.

The first thing you learn from A Star is Born is that all fans of rock and roll music are idiots, the lowest common denominator. Scum. Okay, we've got that out of the way. Next thing you learn is that fans of motion pictures are even lower than rock fans. The fact that this shitbag pus-spewing visual rape was the second highest grossing film of the year in 1976 -THE YEAR I WAS BORN!- is baffling. Forget disco and bell bottom jeans, this is why the seventies sucked.

One of the worst aspects of the film, and I'm not joking here, is Barbra Streisand's dang afro perm thingie. She seriously looks like Barry Manilow. And when you have a love scene where one person looks like Barry Manilow and the other person looks a lot like Kris Kristofferson because it happens to be Kris Kristofferson, well... It could be like the worst gay celebrity fan fiction ever written. But other than that very rare instance, it's just ugly.

When Gary Busey is the voice of reason in a film, shit just got real, know what I'm sayin'? He provides Kristofferson with lots of coke but never takes any himself. What a freakin' prick! If you're at a concert and Busey offers you something he won't snort, smack it out of his hand! Smack it and run like a motherfucker! Jeez, how many frowning faces can I draw on these notes I'm taking?

Barbra Streisand and rock and roll go together like those two great tastes... What were they? Oh yeah, peanut butter and kerosene. The songs are excruciating. And not just Streisand's shite either. The garbage they wrote for Kristofferson is just that. If this had been meant to be a fun, light movie where it was all tongue in cheek or whatever, I would feel awfully silly complaining about it. But no, this shit is meant to be straight and good. More cocaine anyone?

Here are some lyrics for you:

I want to learn what I life is for
I don't want much, I just want more

and later:

Love; soft as an easy chair
Love; fresh as the morning air

This is a musical, damn it! The songs are SUPPOSED TO BE FUCKING GOOD! The whole songwriting process and then the recording process scenes are total crap. Everything is insanely awkward and just painful to sit through. But I would pay $80 million to get those scenes back after not one but two horseback riding scenes and then the bathtub scene. Seeing Barbra put makeup on Kris in the bathtub is pure unadulterated cinematic agony.

So anyway, I did this little equation:

B-A-R-B-R-A S-T-R-E-I-S-A-N-D = 19 LETTERS
19 DIVIDED BY 3 = 6
666 = SATAN!

Don't believe me? Check this out: The last 10 minutes of this movie is Streisand singing. One camera. On her. For the rest of the movie. One fucking shot. SHIT! SHIIIIIIT! A Star is Born is fucking terrible and easily one of the most astonishingly painful movies I've ever sat through. But then again, I'd rather watch this again than watch Rocky ever again. There are some things that are just too horrible to contemplate.


"Layluhhhhh!"


Heh heh. Death rock.


"Then the Cadillac, it puttered back into the graveyard!"


"In your face Petey Frampton!"


"Track marks."


Barry Manilow stuns another audience.


This pushed Superman back to '78.


Barry. Fucking. Manilow.

The Sounds Of 1976

Crank this shit up, duders!

Wednesday Ramble: Pimpin' Ain't Not Isn't Easy

I have watched Taxi Driver countless times. I don't relate to the film other than I used to work nights and I have caused a public scene over a girl before. (There was less bloodshed but more abstract humiliation. But that's another story.) One of my best cinematic memories is catching an old beat up print of Taxi Driver at a midnight screening back in 1998. Talk about revelatory. I was sitting there in a real theater with my friend Mike Fusco, watching a film from my birth year, and seeing scenes that I swear weren't on my VHS dub. Of course, there wasn't anything actually different in the print, I was just overwhelmed by the experience and noticing details that a full frame VHS copy just can't express.

One scene that struck me as odd is when Sport The Pimp AKA Matthew (played by Harvey Keitel) is convincing Iris The Underage Ho (Jodie Foster) not to leave him. He puts on some nauseating love-jazz record and sweet talks her into submission. Ew ugh blargh. Aside from being insanely disturbing, the scene feels almost unnecessary to me. Who is this scene for? Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore fans? I guess there had to be SOMETHING to show what hold he had over Iris.

If you think about it, I guess any scene that doesn't involve Travis Bickle (played by Robert De Niro) is kind of pointless. We get to see Albert Brooks and Cybil Shepherd goofing around but I'm wondering if the movie be better if we only ever saw things from Bickle's perspective. But then again, maybe we need some normalcy when the whole fucking world is totally nuts.

I guess that I'm kind of talking myself into accepting the Sport/Iris scene. We see many sides of Iris. We see the streetwalker persona which is probably one of the most freakish things ever committed to film due to Foster's young age. The fact that Sport is charging $15 for 15 minutes and $25 for half an hour is ludicrous. Maybe the economy really was that bad but come on! Those are just insultingly low prices.

Later we see her funny, relaxed side in the diner scene with Bickle. Like OMG, she's a real kid! Next, we see her "my universe is crumbling" face when Bickle confronts her about getting out of the prostitute biz in the same diner scene. Then Sport talks her down and we see something important which I'll get to in a moment. And lastly, we see the shit-scared and most human of all: the "Iris sees some scumbag's head blown off and feels bad about it" face.

So what's important about Iris and Sport's "tender" scene is seeing the pure rapture on Iris's face when she's in her pimp's arms. The guy is clearly a sophisticated manipulator who has this poor girl wrapped around his demonic finger (with Satan's Harelip #666 Nail Polish). I guess this hook could have been expressed in some other way but the scene works. We see that Iris is a human being in the ultra-wrong place at the supremely wrong time. Tell Scorsese he can leave it in there.


In remembrance of Sport The Pimp AKA Matthew. 19??-1976

1976: Films Released On My Dang Birthday

I'm thinking August 4th was a lousy day for the film industry.