FALLEN ANGEL (1981)

Made for television at the onset of the American public's stranger-danger panic, "Fallen Angel" has matured into a darkly-hued hilarious camp piece over the span of its 30 year life. Mixing elements of "The Bad News Bears" with Paul Schrader's "Hardcore," the movie is exceptionally creepy despite being tame enough to meet the restrictions of its format. Dana Hill, best recognized for assuming the role of Audrey Griswold in "National Lampoon's European Vacation," plays Jennifer Philips, a young girl on the thresh hold of burgeoning womanhood who has recently lost her father. Meanwhile, kiddie porn talent scout Howard Nichols (Richard Masur) is under the gun to replace one of their stars who's falling apart at the seams. Still grieving, Jennifer is reluctant to accept the new man in her mother's life, and soon rising tensions at home are pushing her out into the street and into the assuring arms of good old Howie, who is also the coach of an all girl's softball team. At first Howard merely panders to her insecurities through flattery, but he soon works up to Orange Crush & Quaalude cocktail fueled woodland fuckfests with other teens in no time. Eventually, the cat gets out of the bag, Jennifer runs away out of shame, but is quickly tracked down by her mother, who confronts Howard for all the evil he has done.

The cast is rock solid, also featuring Ronny Cox as the pending step dad, while mom is played by Melinda Dillon ("Close Encounters of the Third Kind," and "A Christmas Story"). Dana Hill is impressive through every bit of the film, demonstrating a remarkable battery of facial expressions you rarely see in a performer her age. Unfortunately, puberty stomped out any evidence of her adorableness by '85. Richard Masur's performance as the manipulative coach Howie Nichols is undoubtedly the best thing about the movie. Howie is both sweet and seedy, but manages to avoid an over the top performance despite the fact that his lines are a rich lunch of double entendres. At one point, when meeting Jennifer's parents after a losing soft ball game, he puts his arm around her, and says, "don't worry, we'll work on her grip next week."

This Columbia Pictures Home Video release can be a little on the pricier side, but for fans of camp and the unintentionally hilarious, this is a worthy addition to your collection that will have no problem getting over at parties.

"Poor Michelle will never be the same."

THE BOY WHO CRIED WEREWOLF (1973)

This title brings a flood of nostalgia and memories of sitting on my grandmother's living room floor while glued to the TV set. Her house, which was where I grew up, was located across the street from the state hospital on Foothill Road. Back then, there was a constant routine, where I'd be out in the back yard digging holes with salad spoons and playing with my pet turtle, and then I'd hear the siren from up the street and move into the security of our home. That meant that someone had escaped the hospital, and that it was a good idea to move inside and lock the doors. I became a very pale child thanks to the crazies who regularly roved our neighborhoods, and KCOP kept me occupied in those days.

One of my most vivid recollections from childhood occurred one Sunday afternoon while I was parked in front of the TV while my grandmother was in the kitchen making dinner. I can't remember what I was watching, but I saw a bald man in a hospital gown pass by the window behind our large television set. He was shaking and covered in blood. I called to my grandmother, who stepped away from the stove to see what the matter was. She looked out the window and saw this gory escapee ascending our driveway toward our garage. She frowned and shook her head in the sort of way she would when I'd made a minor mess. So she called the hospital, grabbed her broom and went outside to SHOO THE MANIAC AWAY. I protested but she went out anyway. I stood in the living room, stooped down behind the window sill, watching the whole thing. When confronted by my grandmother, the trembling nut job merely turned back around and wandered down the incline of our steep driveway, and into the arms of a few nurses who had parked on the edge of our property in a state hospital station wagon. Apparently the guy had gotten out of his wing and jumped through a plate glass window in a lobby and no one had noticed until my grandmother called.

Anyway, "The Boy Who Cried Werewolf" was one of my favorite features that I'd see with some regularity around that period. After searching for a VHS of the film for a while, I was told that it was actually never put out on tape. Truly a shame. But you can watch it on YouTube, thanks to Jeff1969z, who also put up the "Rock Devil Rock" episode of "CHiPs," starring Donnie Most!

THE EVIL (1978)

It’s rare that a film packed with so many problems still manages to be somewhat likable. In “The Evil,” we have supposedly bright characters doing incredibly stupid things and an ending so crushingly bad that it stunned me out of whatever vengeance I craved toward its filmmakers for squandering a batch of genuinely great ideas. There’s nothing particularly effective about any of the scares, and it struggles to achieve mood, but there's still some over-the-top supernatural action that’s hard not to enjoy. Above all, the quality of the film's special effects are deceptively smashing and a cut above every other aspect of production. While they hurl grand concepts under speeding tires, I still recommend that film maker's should study and steal "The Evil"'s visual accomplishments. This film deserves to be plundered but not imitated.

The set up is preposterous. Richard Crenna plays a psych professor who purchases a sprawling, cobweb-infested mansion with the intention of turning it into a house of mental health. He calls upon a colorful bouquet of former students and, strangely, former patients to help him restore the estate. In other more effective films of this ilk they slowly build upon a sense that something sinister is afoot, but there’s none of that here. Instead, the haunting pretty much explodes in your face. This is a winning point for me, basically because it's different. Hilariously, the egghead characters immediately attempt to dismiss their experiences with their secular education. Yes, static electricity was the culprit that hurled you thirty feel across the room. This is yet another brownie point, but it’s a half-empty one. So much more could have been done with a scenario that pits deadpan skeptics against the ultimate evil. Unfortunately when the movie hits a fork in the road it veers from the intellectual direction, but it also swerves to avoid going down the cheap and narrow path. Instead, it just clunks down the median to become a middle-of-the-road supernatural thriller. There’s just a real lack of commitment to any true direction.

There’s another really cool concept, where there are two opposing supernatural forces within the house; one inherently evil, and another that’s more benign and guardian-like. This idea makes the mind crackle with possibility, but the ultimate approach does not do justice to how great this really could have been. For every good thing about this movie, there seems to be an equal counter weight of crap to balance things out.

And then there are the protagonists. I have a short list of things a movie can do to really piss me off to the point where I smash furniture. I hate it when a writer dumbs down characters that have PhDs. During one scene, professor and pupil attempt to escape by propelling down the side of this sinister building using loose cable during an electrical storm with 40 mile an hour winds. Now, I’m no genius. In fact, I once stuffed a computer monitor full of M80s, lit it, and pushed it off the roof of a two story house. Still, I’d never consider doing what those two guys did, no matter how haunted that house was. I’d find a corner and wait for the weather to clear up first. Furthermore, during the initial tour of the house, Caroline (Joanna Pettet) not only sees the obvious manifestation of an entity, but the ceiling of the foyer caves in on her husband. These are things that common people would generally regard as “bad omens.” The characters are just too smart to be stupid enough to be superstitious, which, again, is kind of a genius stroke. They are doomed by their Ivy League egos. But there’s also a fine line between stupid and stubborn, and characters lean more toward the former.

The one thing for which there can be no amnesty is the presence of Victor Buono, whom most remember best as King Tut from the 1960s Batman TV series. Most of the supernatural violence is kind of cool – until Victory Buono’s cornball laughter comes in and ruins it. His cackling sounds like something off of one of those hokey Haunted House records that some obnoxious asshole who owns a Tiki bar and likes Shag would probably play at his shitty Halloween party.

Check out this trailer, courtesy of henryandmaryx.

The ending, featuring Buono as the devil, is so fucking ridiculous that it must be seen to be comprehended, and it is so bad that it’s actually fascinating. The final moments aren’t gonzo or anything, but the unfortunate choice of scoring gives it a bizarre Disney vibe.

The terrible elements of this film are so bad that they often come full circle to redeem themselves. Still, there are some good ideas that aren’t thoroughly explored. Nevertheless, the seeds are still there and they possess some value that no one's bothered to rescue yet. Overall, “The Evil” is a compelling disappointment with some fun pops mixed in, but it’s nowhere near the league of “Legend of Hell House” or “The Changeling”

NEW STUFF: METALSTORM - THE DESTRUCTION OF JARED-SYN (1983)

It’s pretty much a certainty that if you manage to become prolific enough that you will probably create something that constitutes a legacy. Exactly what that legacy is usually depends on the quality of what you produce. Charles Band is one of those guys who’s probably dyed his estate something ugly as he’s become more productive over the years. Quality is not something Full Moon is known for. I’m not one of those dudes who throws a blanket hatred over everything he’s done, but I’m not going to lie and pretend that “Evil Bong” is worth your time. I think the worst thing to happen to film within the last thirty years is that filmmakers became aware of what camp is and learned to use it as some sort of out for when they didn't want to bust their balls trying to squeeze blood from a stone. Now, instead of a short coming being something a director strives to over come by virtue of his ingenuity, he draws attention to it and exalts it as camp. Band pretty much churns out insincere goofs now-a-days, but that’s not to say he didn’t at one time produce some pretty good stuff. Case in point, “Tourist Trap” is worth anyone’s time.

I will admit that a lot of Band’s movies are surrounded by a force field of nostalgia for me. I know “Ghoulies” is a piece of shit, but fond memories of Jolt Cola fueled late nights and USA Network tag along with it. It’s kind of like when your best friend gets a shitty girlfriend, and you pretty much just make nice for his sake. Nevertheless, I’ve seen enough good films that Band had some hand in to make me take a chance now and again, whereas some people see his name or the Full Moon brand and avoid with vengeance. “Metalstorm: The Destruction of Jared-Syn” was a total gamble, and I got cleaned out on this one. Now, judging by the trailer, this looks like it might be a lot of fun. Well, somehow, this movie manages to be totally boring. I can't even imagine the 3D theatrical release being a salvageable experience. This is total eject fodder.

Thanks to deadenddrivein for the trailer.

HELL HIGH (1986)

I’d have to classify this one as another "little movie that could," because in spite of the fact that a lot of die-hard horror junkies have crucified "Hell High" repeatedly, it really isn't as terrible as they say. In fact, it's not anywhere near terrible. If you think this is an awful experience, then you've been comprehensively sheltered by your mother's rack. You want to see some bullshit? Sit through the first six "Witchcraft" films with a "Demonoid" chaser, and then come back to this one. That shit load will tatter your patience like gasoline would an infant kidney and expand your understanding of what bad truly is. I don't give a fuck what Joe Bob Briggs says: if you call this movie bad, then you have a shallow barometer when it comes to your understanding of awful cinema.

The performances are above par for a low budget genre film, and it achieves a rich atmosphere. One of the things that elevates the value of "Hell High" is that the depth of characterization isn't typically what you find in horror films. I'm not saying this movie is some Mike Leigh shit, but it's still far more than what you typically get in movies like this. There are a lot of things that lift this movie above the average curve, so I'm just not sure why people hate it. Granted, there are a few retarded things that defy logic, but they seem to awaken a craven blood lust in the common horror fan that makes them wanna bury this movie. It is a seldom occasion that I am pleasantly surprised by a film so bitterly maligned. Most of the time when I approach something that's strongly hated by people I walk away with the impression that the subject at hand isn't really worth hating. But I actually found "Hell High" to be completely charming.

I can understand why most casual film goers might dismiss "Hell High" with a smirk. Most horror films are typically greeted with strong cynicism by general audiences. And on the off chance it's of remarkable quality, the movie will be sifted from the grit and the grime of a classless horror section and upgraded to thriller/suspense. So, when people who joyfully hold hands with a film genre that has become the red-headed step child of the cinematic realm revolt against movies like this, I’m baffled. This film is certainly not without its faults, but it also has some elements that work quite well.

Since acquiring this title as part of a lot I’d won off of eBay, “Hell High” had been collecting dust until very recently. I was in no hurry to see it since I’d been warned about it by friends. But whenever I’d peruse the shelves, my eyes were always attracted to the colorful spine. The box itself almost has a vintage JD schlock look to it. Most every guest that enters my video room almost always inquires about the title. One night last week, my friend Joe and I weren’t exactly having much luck during our routine weekly movie night. We’d tried sitting through a sex comedy bomb called “Pretty Smart,” only to hit eject after its first quarter. I'd never actually had a film with that quotient of nudity suck the life out of me. It was almost like being with a real woman. We sat there, feeling empty for a few minutes before I uttered what has become my usual Wednesday evening catch phrase: "Well, Joe. Pick a movie."

Joe got up, moved to the shelves, and almost immediately grabbed the box and said, "How about Hell High, maaaaan? It looks awesome." For the past month or so, Joe would do this any time I'd ask him to pick a movie, and I would hear this exact phrase up to four times a night. And I would rear from the suggestion, like the tape itself had a sort of psychic stink, and suggest he find something else. The "Pretty Smart" experience had robbed me of any spirit that evening. Thoroughly demoralized, when Joe suggested "Hell High," I sighed, and said, "It can't get much worse, right?" Joe cackled and rubbed his hands together as I slid the tape into the deck.

Joe Ryan is someone whom I’d refer to as extraordinarily pure in some ways. He has absolutely no sense of pretension. While pouring over the various titles in my library, he will often grab things I’d never think of watching even though I own them, and somehow he will convince me that we must see that particular film. Joe has a sort of new born enthusiasm that’s untainted by a bunch of hyper negative shitheads on IMDB. He doesn’t really care what anyone thinks, or about a movie's star rating. All he really understands is if something is fun or not. If the box looks fun, he will give it an opportunity. Having fun does not require a complex understanding of good technical film making. Joe simply seeks to be entertained, and through his enjoyment I’m often made aware of a film’s good points instead of simply focusing on its struggles. Watching a movie with him can be an overwhelmingly positive experience. After sitting through a few tapes with Joe, I began to realize that most people who watch a lot of movies develop a false sense of their own sophistication. They begin to think that a film must be worthy of them. They go into the film with the same mentality an English teacher relies on to grade papers. They lay in wait for errors to occur so they can spring out of their chair, smugly waggling their fingers, which of course makes them feel important. To these people, films are more like opponents in a game of chess instead of entertainment for their benefit. They don't enjoy movies. They use them. I don’t know why, but nothing makes a would-be film snob feel more secure in his meaningless position than tearing a movie to shreds in front of an audience. After all, turning people off is the easiest thing in the world to do.

One of the more common complaints about this film is that the acting is lousy. To the contrary, the performances are actually pretty good. Most of the cast are charismatic enough to entertain and engage. The more sinister characters are somewhat sympathetic. No one's really unlikable. The only problem I had with regard to the characterization is that you don't get enough time to really connect with Maureen Mooney's character, or what's going on inside of her head. The most noteworthy performance comes from Christopher Stryker, who plays the wannabe ring-leader of a would-be gang at the center of this story. Stryker shows great promise here, but unfortunately his career was cut short as he passed away several years after the movie’s filming due complications from AIDS.

The story begins years prior, with young Brooke Storm, ridiculously patterned after Patty McCormack’s Rhoda from “The Bad Seed,” playing out in a rural country side. Quality time with her dollies is interrupted when a pair of free wheeling teens bust into her shed for some heavy petting. When the boy’s advances are rejected, he rips the head off of Brooke’s doll as she watches through a slat in the wall. The teenagers climb back onto their motorcycle, and as they depart, Brooke hurls a pale of “swamp slime” into their faces, which results in a grizzly accident. The prologue is camp to the bone, and it does not do the rest of the film any justice. But still, it’s catchy and fun.

Years later, the unstable Brook is stuck teaching biology to a bunch of ungrateful delinquents at the local high school. Trouble maker Dickens gets disruptive, and Ms. Storm belts him in the mouth for it. Naturally, Dickens demands satisfaction. Christopher Cousins plays Jon-Jon, a guy coping with the disapproval of his former football team mates after quitting mid-season. Dickens capitalizes by wrangling disenfranchised Jon-Jon into his band of misfits, and soon they’re all off to terrorize Mr. Storm with Halloween masks and sacks of swamp slime. Ms. Storm has long been tormented by the deaths she caused so many years ago, and is in a fragile mental state, so they have her freaking out in no time. In the most inexplicably hilarious Scene, one of Brooke’s friends stops by, ceasing the students’ reign of terror. In spite of the fact that the house is covered in swamp slime, the back door being busted out, and her friend on the floor in hysterics, she decides to give her some fucking Quaaludes and leave. This is probably the only time in a movie where Quaaludes were actually used for their practical purpose. However, once the friend leaves, the terrorism resumes, and eventually backfires when Ms. Storm snaps.

While this film is often lumped in with late wave slasher films, it has more in common with something like “Class of 1984.” Vengeful students run amok and terrorize their teacher, which results in the teacher striking back. There are some definite horror elements within the film. It’s definitely not a run-of-the-mill slasher, primarily because of the revenge theme. There is no purely evil masked antagonist slashing through a string of high-as-fuck bangers and mashers. The performances are strong, and there are actual Degrassi-grade characters within the film, which give the situations some weight. "Hell High" further endears with a strange ending that feels like something out of an old E.C. comic. The unfortunate re-title to “Hell High” from the far more evocative “What Do You Want To Do Tonight?” almost prevents you from thinking you could get something brighter. I can see why some folks might have been disappointed if they were expecting a by-numbers slasher film set against "Grease." Fuck, I'd like to see that myself. However, "Hell High" is still fun. It doesn’t shake the foundation of the genre, but it does achieve an atmosphere worthy of any cold, damp night.

Thanks goes to FaggotSmasher for the trailer.

DRIVING FORCE (1989)

Alright, everyone can relax. They still serve Pabst Blue Ribbon in the post-apocalypse. There, I just saved you 90 minutes of your life that would have been otherwise wasted on this piece of shit. Happy fuckin’ birthday. This is one of the best examples of Academy’s dubious marketing methods. Each element of advertising is like a siren, luring you toward a rocky fate with promises of Sam Jones in Rob Halford gear and clown car demolition derbies. All of these things are lies. The closest Jones gets to leather in this movie is Catherine Bach’s face. Holy crap, does she look bad in this. For those of you struggling with the name, she’s best known for playing Daisy Duke in the original “Dukes of Hazzard” series. She was pretty hot on that show, and it’s not like this was too far along after that, so she must have been on one hell of a bender up to this point. She looks like Leatherface in an Ari Up wig here.

Right out of the gate, this flick commits a cardinal sin which is unforgivable within this particular subgenre, where they don’t really bother to explain just what brought the world to its grim state. Okay, I understand that this is a Filipino production, but they couldn't have strung a loose introduction together with public domain footage that explains the global situation a little better? The most they give us is that unemployment is, like, really high. So the job market is shitty. That’s it.

The initial story is shades of "Dead End Drive-In," where tow truck driver Steve (Jones) finds himself at odds with a pack of feudal wreckers, lead by Nelson (Don Swayze). What really foils the proceedings though are two whack soap opera style plots, revolving around a custody battle between Steve and the parents of a woman with whom he’s had a child. Then there’s a burgeoning romance between he and some chick named Harry (it’s the future, I guess) played by Bach. Swayze's character is even diagnosed with cancer, but it doesn't really have much of an effect on him. He's an asshole in the beginning, and he's still an asshole later on, so I don't know why they went there. In all, it’s pretty much like a super shitty episode of"Dallas" set in Detroit.

This movie manages to avoid being obvious, but that’s actually a bad thing in this case, because anywhere you can go with this story in your own head will pretty much be better than where the story actually ends up. The custody battle just fills time they couldn't afford to stock with shit blowing up. It also goes nowhere. Meanwhile, the bad guys spend an inordinate amount of time repeatedly harassing and threatening Steve. Then Steve contributes to the cycle of boringness by retaliating. After which, the heavies sit around, pissing and moaning about how they "should have killed him the last time." Well then why didn't you? What, did the 37 opportunities prior to this point where he was at your mercy just not "feel" right, asshole? Give me a break!

In the end, what you get is a lame duck drama that fails to commit to themes of revenge because the writer didn’t have the balls to throw in some rape or murder. The tacked on post-apocalypse theme is contemptibly shallow, if not entirely inconsequential. There's nothing worse than a bunch of assholes who decide to make a movie of this nature simply because they think it’s a cheat on putting effort and money into good locations or production design. Billy Blanks is more of a badass because I now know that he managed to have some facsimile of a career after dragging it from the twisted, burning wreckage that is “Driving Force.”

Trailer courtesy of ActionPackedCinema.

HOUSE OF PSYCHOTIC WOMEN (1973)

Despite the title, this is actually not a documentary. Paul Naschy plays a seedy handyman hired on by three eccentric sisters. Shortly afterward, blond-haired blue-eyed women start turning up dead. According to several reviews, the copy I found is completely bereft of nudity. It's the World's Worst Videos (VidAmerica) brand, which I've never seen, so I'm not really sure. This is some Matt Clark shit.

No thanks goes to the douchebag who disabled embedding. All the credit goes to North Korean ex-pat Donlee Brussel for making use of this trailer possible.