Hello! This is the Doomed Show 296 - Mark of the Witch (1970)

Hello! This is the Doomed Show has returned for another year of madness and badness. It looks like we're gearing up for episode 300. I guess we better do something special, huh? Anyway, here's Mark and I talking about this bonkers flick from the director of Return to Boggy Creek (1977).

Hello! This is the Doomed Show 291 - Spookies (1986)

The Moviethon Vlog 48 - My Favorite Comedies

Franco Friday 63: My Top 20 Favorite Jess Franco Films

It has been far too long since I've had a Franco Friday on this blog and I was trying to think of a way to get back into it and get inspired to dig into more of the unseen-by-me work of Jess Franco. Even though the man's giant-sized career can be pretty perilous, I really miss exploring the unknown with Captain Jess at the helm. And so here I am with some list-making! Everyone loves to make lists of lists and this list should fill your listy heart. 

The following pile of film titles is in the order in which I thought of them and not a best to least or most leastest to mostest best order or anything like that. These have been human hand-selected by me from the 55 or so Jess Franco films that I have seen. My main goal is to make hardcore Francophiles mad at me, which is very easy to do, so mission already accomplished. Let's go!

Eugenie De Sade (1973) 

Of course, I thought of this one first. This is still my favorite Jess Franco film even with its wildly uncomfortable subject matter. It's just so jam packed with ennui and cold beauty that I just adore it. This is one of the achingly beautiful Soledad Miranda's best roles. And yes, Paul Muller is achingly beautiful too. Heart breaking and cruel in the most endearing way.

Oasis of the Zombies (1981)

And yes, this was the second film I thought of when I think of my Franco favorites. That's probably weird, right? I champion this languid crap, but I don't expect anybody out there to try and high five me when they read this. Perhaps Oasis of the Zombies is just for me. It sucks but in a uniquely Franconian way.

The Silence of the Tomb (1972/1976)

Jess Franco made a giallo? Heck yeah he did! He made a couple. This is a very, very low budget production with a solid cast and quite a mean streak. I'd watch just about anything with Montserrat Prous. Several of Franco's regulars (Kali Hansa!) are in this, and it just makes me happy. Plus, that title! Very charming, nihilistic, and listless (in a good way).

The Devil Came from Akasava (1971)

This silly spy thriller with sci-fi and fantasy overtones is just a hoot. The fact that it has thirteen cast and crew members in common with She Killed in Ecstasy (1971) is just mind-boggling to me. I like to think of this fluffy nonsense as the wacky B side to that film's brooding A side.

The Sinister Eyes of Dr. Orloff (1973)

Do you like your William Berger with lettuce, tomato, and onions? Too bad, because this one is covered with cheese! Sinister Eyes is quite the strange little Orloff movie (a character that Jess Franco would return to many, many times). It's dreamy, weird, sad, and goofy. I love it.

Les ebranlées AKA Dolls For Sale (1972)

Now here is a film that I wish would get a Blu-ray. Howard Vernon playing a womanizing private eye must be seen to be believed. The whole film is kinda kooky, very trashy, and delivered through what feels like a drug-fueled haze.

Erotikill (1973) 

It's safe to assume that most fully licensed Jess Franco fans (let's just call them "Jess FANcos") will make fun of me for preferring the thrashed/neutered VHS version of Female Vampire, but I friggin' LOVE this version. The dubbing is straight up gold and the cruddy, washed out look makes this one ever so beautiful and claustrophobic. Lina Romay is diabolically sexy in this one.

Blue Rita (1977)

Speaking of films that are almost too weird to exist. If inflatable furniture and gooey alien sex slime are what you're craving, then Blue Rita is for you. You don't just watch this brightly colorful oddball gem, you insert it into your eyeholes. Hyper-stylized to a nearly impossible degree, Blue Rita is one that I highly doubt you will ever forget.

Dr. Orloff's Monster (1964)

This one gets under my skin in a way that is just lovely. It's perfectly filmed in stark black and while the pretty malaise is set to maximum power. The jazzy score combined with the gothic setting, taboo breaking eroticism, and somnambulitic plotting make Dr. Orloff's Monster a fine example of Franco's early work that show the promise of things to come.

A Virgin Among the Living Dead (1973)

I can't even put this one into words other than to say that THIS is 100% essential Jess Franco. You need to see this one yesterday or sooner. The Queen of the Night is waiting...

Vampyros Lesbos (1971) 

My first Franco will always be a favorite. Could I have chosen a more perfect title as my first? I certainly don't think so! Is the THE BEST Jess Franco film? Definitely not, but timing is everything, especially when you're a burgeoning Euro-horror freako. Also, it has the whole bag of Franco's tricks in one colorful and dreamy package. Get it!

Daughter of Dracula (1972)

I love this one even though it's decidedly lower tier Franco. But it's lower tier Franco from my favorite period of his work, so it's pretty great. As usual, Anne Libert steals the movie even when she's just sitting on a wall looking intense. Walk or crawl but definitely don't run to watch this beautiful failure.

Rites of Frankenstein (1973) 

Wait a minute! Isn't this supposed to be called The Erotic Rites of Frankenstein? I don't have that version. I have the sex free Image Entertainment DVD, which is an English dub of the (probably Spanish) censored version. I did not seek out this version on purpose, I swear. It just happened. This is a great example of the power of good old Jess. Even though this film has been chopped up to hell, it still captured my imagination. It's wonderful.

Faceless (1988)

Here's another one of Franco's attempts to change with the times and bring the gore to a story he'd made over and over again. This remake of Eyes Without a Face (1960) is a well that Jess would nearly run dry, but damn, this one is very unique. Tacky 80s bullshit to make your pores leak blood while you cackle at the ecstatic stupidity. Brigitte Lahaie, Caroline Munro, Florence Guérin, and Lina Romay in the same movie?! Need I say any more?

Kiss Me Monster (1969)

Could Jess Franco do comedy? Of course he could! He could do anything. Don't let anyone tell you this isn't a party movie. They don't know how to party. This is one of my absolute favorites and a fine example of the power of cinema to make you feel good for no reason. Heartily and sillily -how is "sillily" not a real word?- recommended.

Bloody Moon (1981)

If not for the actual onscreen murder of a snake, this would be a perfect Euro-slasher. This film's bloody and trashy excesses are only matched by how ridiculous its story and English dubbing are. I strongly recommend Bloody Moon, but as soon as you see that snake, hide your eyes. And that's not a euphemism!

Venus in Furs (1969)

Sing it with me folks: VENUS IN FURS WILL BE SMILIN'! Another absolute banger from the master. I am almost comically overdue for a rewatch of this film. I've only seen it once(!), but it has stayed with me for years now. This plot is uh... familiar if you've ever seen a Jess Franco film, but whatever, it's great. Get ready to get buried under a mountain of jazzy style.

Night of the Skull (1974)

Another bargain basement Franco giallo and a period piece to boot! This may be cheap, but it fits the mold of the thrillers of the time perfectly. The killer's mask will embarrass you. It embarrasses everyone. You're gonna love it. Carlo Savina's music is probably the most expensive thing this movie has going for it. Worth a look because I genuinely dig this film, but maybe watch this before you get to some of the other classics. I wouldn't save this one for later.

The Other Side of the Mirror (1973)

I'm putting this one on here to remind myself to watch it again. Cheers to my pal David Ladd for getting me the non-porn version finally. The only copy I had for years was the terrible French (I think) version with unrelated genitals cut in to make a spicier cut. That version truly did this masterfully depressing, artful, and nuanced melodrama a disservice. Emma Cohen and Alice Arno? Need I say more?

She Killed in Ecstasy (1971) 

Going out on a high note here, folks. This is one of those movies that sits proudly on my shelves, but every time I see it sitting there, I get too excited to watch it. Soledad Mirana fucking owns this one and this film just makes me angry that she died so damn young. What a nightmare. Life sucks. Oops, sorry. Anyway, this languid, melancholic, and kinky masterpiece is an excellent example of why film is an awesome medium. Strongly recommended.

Hello! This is the Doomed Show - Vibrations (1996)

Wednesday Ramble: Repo Man Sauce

One lazy summer day, my plans fell through. Take my hand and mourn with me! You see, I was 16 years old and I had failed my driving test (a huge blow to my gigantic ego) so I was pretty much stuck. I might as well have been 12 years old in my worthlessness (as you’ll soon see). It feels so wrong not being able to do jack squat on a Saturday when your buds are out doing God knows what and giggling maniacally at the very mention of your name. Friend 1: “Should we call Dicky?” Friend 2: “Har har, that’s a larf. Let that loser soak in his own loser juices until Hell freezes over.” Wow, some friends! Am I right or am I right? Paranoid delusions aside, I was having a pretty lame day.

I tried but couldn’t sleep in. I called my friend who was to be my ride to whatever event was going on that day and found out about the cancellation. I called some other friends that I couldn’t reach (no cell phone in 1993, y’all). I found out there was no food in the house. I called my mom to see what she was up to and found out she wasn’t going to be home until later that night. My dad had been dead a month or two so his ghost was kind of lingering around the place but was no help whatsoever. Oh yeah, one more thing: I had stupidly dumped my girlfriend a few weeks before but don’t think I wasn’t tempted to call her to try and patch things up (at least so I could get a ride somewhere).

So I did what any lame-brained teenager would do. I poured some Ragu pasta sauce into a bowl, heated it up in the microwave, threw in some chunks of cheddar cheese, and ate it with a spoon. Sounds delicious, right? Well, I thought it was. See, there was no macaroni and cheese in the house so I didn’t really know what to do with all that pasta. To give you an idea of how dumb I was, I had no idea how to prepare pasta for myself. Macaroni and cheese? No problem! You boil the macaroni and then add the sauce. Simple. But what about pasta? How does that shit get magically transformed from its hard form into its soft form. I shit you not, dear reader, I had no clue.



So I turned on the TV and there was a movie called Repo Man about to start on TV. To this day, I can’t remember what channel was showing it. It may have been TNT or something. It was definitely a channel that edited out cursing, that’s for sure. But anyway, I had never heard of this movie before so I just left it on. Suddenly, the punk rock credits kick in and I was glued to the spot. In the desert, a cop pulls over a guy named J. Frank Parnell driving a 1964 Chevy Malibu. The man is singing to himself and is almost totally oblivious to this cop’s presence. The cop knocks on the window and asks to see what’s in the trunk. J. Frank Parnell says “Oh, you don’t want to look in there.” The cop takes the keys and walks around to the back of the car. As he opens the trunk, J. Frank Parnell’s eye, reflected in the rear view mirror, widens with anticipation. The cop is instantly vaporized. The car speeds away leaving only the cop’s smoking boots and his lonely motorcycle behind.

That is how Repo Man begins. Basically, every scene will knock your socks off. This is what I discovered, eating spaghetti sauce, and cheddar cheese. I can’t imagine a better film for a boring Saturday morning. Nearly every frame of this movie is hilarious, quotable, and just supremely awesome. Since then, I have watched this film more times than I can remember and can quote pretty much every line for you, if you’d like. No? Okay, I won’t. “You wanna be a hero or rather be a chickenman? You ever see a farmer’s wife?”

Okay, the movie is actually about a loser punk named Otto (played by Emilio Estevez) who is full angst and can’t hold a job to save his life. After his “best friend” steals his girlfriend from him at a party, Otto goes on an all night drinking binge. While walking home the next morning, he is approached by Bud (Harry Dean Stanton), a repo man who tricks Otto into helping him repossess a car. At that very moment, he is hired by the “Helping Hand Acceptance Corporation”, a sleazy repo outfit. Otto quickly discovers that the life of a repo man is a dangerous one. He gets a new girlfriend, Leila (Olivia Barash), a member of UFO (United Fruitcake Outlet) who is desperately searching for some proof of life from outer space.

When word comes down that there is a Chevy Malibu worth $25,000, every repo man in the city and various government agencies goes after it. What’s with this mysterious car? Are there decomposing aliens in the trunk? Is that a crazed scientist behind the wheel? This is Repo Man and it's all you ever needed to know about the 1980s.

Obviously, Repo Man made me aware of both Harry Dean Stanton and Tracey Walter, two gentlemen who rule the Earth as brilliant character actors but the film’s other major accomplishment is introducing me to the amazing Fox Harris as J. Frank Parnell, the man with the aliens in his trunk, inventor of the neutron bomb, and victim of a (probably) botched lobotomy. I tell ya, this actor is so over the top in his scenes that you can almost feel him burning right through your fucking television. Harris made a few appearances in some pretty decent B movies and just about every one of those appearances is totally unforgettable. The guy died in 1988 and his picture can be seen next to the term ‘underutilized’ in the dictionary. He did get his chance to shine in the totally bonkers Dr. Caligari and the obscure horror anthology Dark Romances (among other things).

So what did I learn on that fateful Saturday? I learned that eating nothing but pasta sauce for an entire day can give you massive amounts of life-altering heartburn. I learned that Ecco the Dolphin gets way too difficult after a while so just give up. I learned that life is long and boring and that Repo Man will only get you through 90 minutes of it (or 2 hours if it’s on network TV). I eventually bought the movie on VHS and played it for everyone who would sit still long enough to enjoy it.

A few years later, I dated a girl whose family ran a repo lot. The first night hanging out with her and her folks, her mom asked me if I had ever seen Repo Man. I, of course, said yes and they didn’t believe me! Well, after I telegraphed the dialogue for the first 10 minutes of the film, they conceded that I did indeed have proficient knowledge of Emilio Estevez’s finest work. Somehow, that nerdy act got me the girl and even earned the respect of her family. How many times has a movie done that for you?

Wednesday Ramble: Rocky Horror

You should not under any circumstances go to an old rundown theater to watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show where the audience throws rice and toast and used condoms (regional) at the screen. Well, I guess you could. But you'd be going against the spirit of the film. If you're one of those folks who gets dressed up in lace and/or gold lame to reenact the film at a rundown theater, you too have got it all wrong. The whole point of The Rocky Horror Picture Show is that you watch it completely alone, locked in your room and then cry your eyes out when Columbia gets killed.

In 1990, there was all this hoopla about Rocky Horror's 15th anniversary and I decided to rent it. This a was very odd experience. I was 14 years old and I had absolutely no idea what this film was supposed to be about. I assumed that it was a horror movie, which it is. But it's also a gender-bending camp fantasy fetish festival of gay. This is a good thing, obviously. To say that I didn't 'get it' would be an understatement. But I did fall in love with Columbia and Magenta instantly. There was something eerily comforting whenever they were on the screen. For a teenage boy, it was impossible not to notice Susan Sarandon jiggling about but Little Nell and Patricia Quinn stole my heart. I was crushed when Riff Raff guns down Columbia at the climax of the film. Nobody can get over that.

When I was a senior in high school, I was dating this magical chick who insisted that I go with her and see Rocky at the local almost-condemned theater in Palm Beach County. How could I resist? It was a reason to stay out until 2am and a reason get in good with this girl that I was head over heels in love with (after all, we'd been dating nearly 2 weeks). We went with her obnoxious friends and I got the 'virgin' treatment from the cast when we arrived at the theater. I'm sure this varies from state to state but I seem to remember getting on stage and... I don't know. There was whip cream involved. I've blocked the rest of it out and will need a therapist to uncover that particular public humiliation.

We had a blast. Throwing rice, toast and toilet paper, screaming at Brad and Janet, and dancing in the aisles. It was the best night. Plus I got to make out with my girl in the backseat of her gay friend's hatchback all the way home. She was wearing these bright red stockings and... I don't know. I'm blocking that memory too. On purpose, so you guys don't start throwing up on your monitors. So like a week later, she and I broke up. It was my first real heartbreak and I was totally inconsolable for an entire day.

The next time I watched Rocky Horror, it was after my mom had bought me a copy for Christmas. Like most movies I owned on VHS, I proceeded to watch it over and over again. Oh, there's so much to love in every frame. The gay and cross-dressing themes don't really speak to me (I can hear you guys going 'yeah right') so much as the film's limitless love of bad sci-fi, horror, and rock and roll. I bought the CD of the soundtrack and cruised around Jupiter, Florida blasting it from my car's speakers. Later in my senior year, when I was dating someone new, we went to another midnight showing at the same crap theater with a bunch of our friends.

While I sat there, watching the film with the crowd the second time around, I realized that I should have just left this experience alone with my 'virgin' run. It wasn't fun this time. It felt like a chore to get up and dance. I could tell my gf wasn't into it either (she was a dang stick-in-the-mud so that wasn't a big surprise) and I just wished I hadn't bothered. For me, The Rocky Horror Picture Show's real power lies in one's personal devotion to it. The public spectacle is an essential experience (if only once) but the movie was specifically written to be watched alone. How do I know that? Well, I read this interview with Richard O'Brien who said that "the musical play was only ever meant to be performed before one person at a time. I've always felt that the people who perform it live in front of a large audience are tainting my original vision. Please, I implore you, if you're a real fan of Rocky Horror, watch it all by yourself."

You should really Google that interview. It's fascinating. Anyway, I guess I could launch into a diatribe about what exclusionary dicks the Rocky Horror cast and crew in your area are probably like. But I've heard they're not all like that. Florida tends to ruin everything. Meh, I'm kind of an asshole myself so I'll just shut up now.

MST3K: Teenage Crime Wave

I watched Teenage Crime Wave last night. It had been sitting on my DVR for a while (thank you Turner Classic Movies) so I fired it up. Well, it is a real piece of shit but watchable and fun as hell to heckle. While looking for a trailer for this little slice of melodrama, I find that Mystery Science Theatre 3000 already tackled this one back in 1994. Oh well, at least we can all watch this together. ALL OF US! Have a great weekend, y'all.

Here's Part 1 (the rest are on the Youtube):

VHS Covers of Doom - Part 1

This story does not have a happy ending. You know what though? I'm not even sure that this counts as a story. I was thinking of sending this over to the godlike Kindertrauma but decided it wasn't all that exciting. Anyway, as my childhood came to an end (the first one, the actual one, not the one that I keep perpetuating now), my parents gave me their old VCR and carte blanche in Video-X-Tron (which became a Blockbuster Video in 1990) to rent pretty much whatever I wanted.



No, they weren't letting me get stuff from that little room in the back with the curtain over the door (but don't think I didn't peek back there a few times)! Thankfully, my folks were letting me rent any horror movie that caught my eye. My goal of seeing every horror movie in the store had just popped into my brain one day and I couldn't let it go. But there were some things that were just too much for my young brain to take. One cover that managed to frighten and sicken me at the same time was Color Me Blood Red.

To this day, I can still remember the feeling of nausea that passed over me when I beheld the lurid and ghastly artwork for the film. I think the air conditioning was broken and it was suddenly stifling inside the video store. Plus, there was this smell of something rotten wafting through the store and everything started to swirl around me. I almost, almost puked. This story would have been better if I had tossed my cookies all over the floor right at the foot of the shelves. Forget renting it, I was afraid to even touch Color Me Blood Red to see what was on the back cover. However, I was brave enough to rent 2,000 Maniacs (even though I had no clue the two films shared the same director) but fell asleep before any of the good stuff happened.

The saddest part is, I've still never watched Color Me Blood Red. Sure, I've read about it (in this awesome book) but I kind of want to preserve this unpleasant memory because it's still pretty special to me. The fact that cover art alone could drive me to the brink of projectile vomiting is very magical. Or maybe I'm still scared... Okay, fuck it, I'm putting this on my Netflix queue right now. Thanks you guys. I knew you'd help me get through this.

Thanks to the internet, I can now see what was on the back!

Beyond the Valley of the Dolls

For years, I've been under the delusion that I had already seen Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. Truth is until last night, I'd seen most of Valley of the Dolls (which I need to revisit soon) and about two minutes of Beyond and my mind had melded them together with a false memory of seeing the film. For reasons I only now understand, I recorded the flick on the DVR when IFC played it a few days ago and just started watching it after dinner last night. Well, it only took me about two seconds before I realized: "HOLY SHIT! I have never seen THIS before!"

If you haven't seen this movie yet and you have even a passing interest in trashy nonsense, then do yourself a favor and experience Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. The editing is like a lightning-powered blender stuck on purée. Many instances of dialogue are trimmed so tight that they almost don't make any sense. The script and the plot are so contrived, convoluted and campy that my brain exploded. There's sleaze to spare and a surprising amount of violence wrapped in a comically dated late 60s package that is still offensive after all these years. I consider this a life-changing experience that I cannot recommend highly enough.

Behind the scenes promo:

Inglorious Basterds

We had a good though small crowd over at Muvico Starlight 20. My wife LeEtta and I were able to drag ourselves out of bed for the 10:05am show on Saturday (sorry Nafa, we just couldn't wait!). Ah yes, this truly is the best way to see R-rated movies since most of the people who would want to watch senseless violence probably don't wake up until noon. But the crowd was enthusiastic and I think a good time was had by all (no one stormed out during the first scalpings anyway).

Anyway, the film is about an anti-Nazi guerrilla strike force led by Lieutenant Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt) with orders to go deep into Nazi occupied France and kill as many Nazis as possible. A young woman named Shosanna (Mélanie Laurent) whose family was slaughtered by the 'Jew Hunter', Colonel Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz), is in hiding as the owner of a cinema in Paris. Their paths cross when a Nazi film festival is planned to take place in Shosanna's cinema and nearly every high-ranking Nazi officer will be in attendance.

Shosanna plans to burn the place down with the highly flammable films in the cinema's library while everyone is locked inside and Lieutenant Aldo and his very angry (mostly) Jewish American squad intends to blow it up. These two groups, who have no knowledge of each other, set about on two suicide missions with the same goal: Nazi obliteration. The stakes are raised drastically when Adolf Hitler himself (Martin Wuttke) decides to attend the cinema on that fateful night.

I was waiting for Tarantino's apology for Death Proof (which I both loved and loathed) and Inglorious Basterds is it. This film has a whole lot of intrigue, historical inaccuracies, hilarious dialogue and brutal violence. The cast is excellent but it is Christoph Waltz who steals the show as Hans Landa, one of the greatest evil pieces of Nazi shit of all time.

I need some more time to process all of the insane goodness of this film but let me say this: I didn't realize that our generation needed our own The Dirty Dozen but yeah, we did. Quentin Tarantino has reminded America of one of its favorite pastimes: killin' Nazis (and their wives)! While my German-American heritage was deeply offended by all the damage done to my people, LeEtta explained to me that those weren't Germans, those weren't even human beings, they was NEH-ZEEZ! Go see this one.

Spoiler time! Don't read on if you ain't seen the movie.

The finale is pretty fucking incredible and is an orgasmic release of Jew-rage. The sight of Eli Roth and Omar Doom gunning down Nazis and their (probably innocent) wives and/or mistresses as the cinema burns around them made my hair stand on end. When Hitler gets his face chewed up into a thousand pieces by machine gun fire, the alternate history element struck me as very wonderful. Everyone wishes that Hitler hadn't had a chance to take his own life and it feels mighty good to see him destroyed and mutilated before our very eyes.

The brutal death of Shosanna is quite unfortunate and it is made even more painful thanks to the fine performance by Mélanie Laurent. However, she does go out like a hero and the image of her laughing face projected onto the smoke of the burning cinema is all kinds of eerie and beautiful. I just noticed how much time I spent on the finale. There was a great movie attached to it, by the way.

I love calling this movie "Terds"!

My Notes On Devil Times Five

Sometime in August last year, I watched Devil Times Five with the intention of reviewing it. Well, I'm lazy and I never did get around to it but here are my notes from the film:

soundtrack jazzy AM electro strangeness awesome
demented children's music

who is this Papa Doc? what a dick! Harvey?

is it winter or Summer?

sped up film for the bus crash

evil kidz the children are coming! slowly

don't pick on the simpleton - Ralph
why is this lady seducing a retard? lovely?
what an evil and horrible bitch

chick fight! nudity! sex! classy

slo mo kill scene - ludicrously prolonged and post dubbing
ominous - what a silly little film

Harvey and his wife. they're fun

really odd kids
do they keep switching that one kid? wig? wtf?

a little talky - confusing

happy and dysfunctional

Rick - white butt
very weird

J&B

let's reminisce over Harvey

nihilistic but so dang clunky
strange editing
sick and twisted

"I had a mother and two sisters but they squished in a bus."

Profoundly Erotic

Why am I reading a dirty book? But I'm not! Profoundly Erotic: Sexy Movies that Changed History is a (relatively) clean book about dirty movies by Joe Bob Briggs. Even after his awesome Profoundly Disturbing book, I was still skeptical of this examination of the sordid history of films such as I Am Curious (Yellow), The Shiek, and Looking for Mr. Goodbar. Once again, Briggs examines one film each chapter, how it was critically received as well as short but thorough biographies of the life and careers of the folks involved in the production.

As you may have guessed by now, I don't really like sex movies. While I was making my way through Sleazoid Express, I was much happier reading about and not watching the sleazy crap playing on the old grindhouse screens. The same thing applies for Profoundly Erotic though I will be seeking out The Miracle of Morgan's Creek and Kitten with a Whip which both sound like a lot of fun. Speaking of fun, the chapter on Russ Meyer's The Immoral Mr. Teas is my favorite of the book just because the personalities behind that flick were fascinating and very, very weird. And that's what makes this book so great, it is a very entertaining read, especially for film history buffs and it will definitely turn you on (hey o!) to films you've probably never heard of.

The Joe Bob Report

Sleazoid Express

I am not fascinated with New York. Could it be that living in Florida has made me immune to the place where all the snowbirds seem to come from? I've never been there and I'm very comfortable in my ignorance. What I have discovered from my reading is that the heyday of the grindhouse era sounds totally repellent to me. From the authors of Sleazoid Express, I get the impression that 42nd Street from the late 60s throughout the early 80s was like The Old West except the prairie dust was vomit and sperm. Um, anyway...

Sleazoid Express gets major points for attitude. This very opinionated book perfectly captures the bygone grindhouse days when trash ruled and the only thing scarier than the films were the audience often composed of junkies, pimps and perverts. The best thing for me when reading about exploitation films is not having to watch them. I'd rather get the synopsis of one of Micheal and Roberta Findlay's "roughies" from a book than actually sit through one. And I would prefer slamming my fingers in a drawer than attempting to watch an Andy Milligan film. Luckily for my vanilla tastes, Sleazoid Express covers a variety of genres in each chapter from unforgivably offensive Blaxploitation epics and Eurosleaze offerings from Jess Franco to the notorious Mondo films (another genre I'd rather read about).

Italian horror and giallo fans might be a tad annoyed with this one as many of the reviews tend to be situational. A film's bad sound at the time of its release will affect the review it gets which I find pretty amusing since Italian films aren't exactly known for their great sound quality. Perhaps the 1970s and 1980s grindhouse audience should have watched the DVD of Zombie with remastered sound instead of watching it in some shitbox theater. Maybe they couldn't afford a DVD player or perhaps DVD players hadn't been invented yet. I'm not sure. Also, some of the reviews are based on the authors' drug addled memory and the plots are incorrect. This I will forgive because plot and I have stopped being friends years ago. Clearly, I love gialli too much.

Who am I to argue over Italian cannibal films, anyway? I don't even like them! But I was intrigued when the authors actually split hairs over who is the more repugnant human being, Umberto Lenzi or Ruggero Deodato. Are you fucking kidding me!?! Any director who slaughters animals on camera for the "entertainment" of the audience is a dick and a dumbass so what is the point? But if I had to choose between Cannibal Ferox and Cannibal Holocaust, I'd pick Holocaust because it made me want to seek counseling. Ferox made me want to wash my DVD player but otherwise there was no lasting psychological damage. Or was there? Wow, I'm being a contradictory ass today.

Gory horror films are given a great deal of attention so you know I'm pleased. The films of Herschell Gordon Lewis are explored thoroughly as is Wes Craven's Last House on the Left and all of its ripoffs. All things considered, Sleazoid Express is an essential slice of trash reading and is a sleazy good time (as the title promises). It is more than just a nostalgic trip through a pool of sick, the book just friggin' rocks in every way. And don't think I didn't appreciate the audience reactions recorded in the film reviews. That's just good stuff.

Profoundly Disturbing

You know who I completely forgot about? Joe Bob Briggs! How is that even possible? A couple of weeks ago, I managed to fight my way through Blood Sisters, a really pitiful slasher directed by Roberta Findlay. When it was over, I decided to check out Joe Bob’s audio commentary track. I ended up sitting through the entire movie all over again. The track was informative, especially about Findlay’s career and it was friggin’ hilarious. After it was over, I immediately pursued more Joe Bob, which led me to his book, Profoundly Disturbing.

In Profoundly Disturbing, Briggs examines 15 underground films that changed the world of cinema forever: The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, Mom and Dad, Creature from the Black Lagoon, And God Created Woman, The Curse of Frankenstein, Blood Feast, The Wild Bunch, Shaft, Deep Throat, The Exorcist, Isla: She-Wolf of the SS, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Drunken Master, Reservoir Dogs, and David Cronenberg’s Crash. He delivers a mountain of information regarding the production of these films as well as their critical reception but Briggs always manages to keep it interesting.

I was a little disappointed in the brevity of the Wild Bunch chapter only because after reading that amazing Peckinpah biography (If They Move . . . Kill 'Em!: The Life and TImes of Sam Peckinpah), I can never get enough Sam Peckinpah. I was a little confused about Drunken Master’s inclusion in the book only because I couldn’t figure out how it was profoundly disturbing. Even after reading the chapter (which was a good read by the way), I still don’t know. The most profoundly disturbing chapter however is the one on Deep Throat. The stories about how the most infamous porno of the 70s came to be and the troubled life of its star are pretty twisted. Reservoir Dogs gets the longest chapter mainly because Quentin Tarantino is a jackass and needs lots of explaining.

My biggest complaint about Profoundy Disturbing is that, even at 250 pages, I still want more. This book could be 50 of the most shocking films of all time and I’d be just as fascinated. For all the list-makers, there is a wrap-up at the end of each chapter called “For Further Disturbance” where Briggs spouts off another couple of dozen related films to check out. I highly recommend Profoundly Disturbing to all burgeoning film buffs out there and oh yes, you can be sure that I will be seeking out more Joe Bob Briggs books in the near future.