GODZILLA (1977) **

In 1954, Toho Studios released Godzilla and the world was never the same.  In 1956, some American producers re-edited the film, inserted Raymond Burr into the narrative, and created a new version tailored specifically for American audiences.  In 1977, 21 years after the Americanized version of Godzilla was released, Italian schlock filmmaker Luigi (Hercules) Cozzi made his own Italianized version of the Americanized version of the original Japanese version.  (Got all that?)  

Since two full decades had passed since the last time audiences saw this footage, Cozzi knew he had to spice it up a bit.  First off, he knew the then-modern audience wouldn’t sit still for an old black and white film, so he colorized it to make it look new.  Since this is a cheapskate Italian director we’re talking about here, he used what’s probably the most rinky-dink colorization process imaginable.  Seriously, it looks worse than some tinted moldy oldie silent films I’ve seen.  Most of the time, the screen is only tinted with one or two colors, so Godzilla often appears blue, red, or even purple (a precursor to Barney, perhaps?), but rarely his traditional green.  Most of the time, it all looks like a pop art student film or something.  There are a few instances however in which it looks as if Cozzi spent a little more time or money on the process and the footage looks surprisingly cool (especially the scene where Godzilla uses his fire breath for the first time).  By the end though, there are just a bunch of scenes that look black and white, as if they shot their wad on the color budget by the time the final reel came around.

If Cozzi had just tinkered with the color, I don’t think this would even warrant mentioning in the pantheon of Godzilla movies.  What makes this version reprehensible is that he uses real war atrocity footage of the Hiroshima bombing to substitute as stock footage of Godzilla’s wrath.  I can see using the aerial shots of the damage to buildings and the landscape and such, but did we really need up close and personal shots of horribly mangled, hideously burned women and children?  Not cool, Luigi.  Not cool.  That said, the new soundtrack by Magnetic System is THUMPING.  I mean, it will never replace the iconic Godzilla theme by Akira Ifukube, but I’ll be damned if that track wouldn’t get the dancefloor jumping.

So that’s about it.  Do you really want to see an Italian version of a beloved classic needlessly colorized (Cozzi was ahead of the Ted Turner curve, you have to give him that) with disturbing war footage callously inserted?  If you’re a dumbass like me, you probably already know the answer to that one.

AKA:  Cozzilla.  AKA:  Codzilla.  AKA:  Godzilla:  The Euro-Trash Version.

LAS VEGAS HILLBILLYS (1966) ***

Ferlin Husky stars as Woody, a Tennessee hayseed whose uncle dies and leaves him a Las Vegas casino.  He heads out to the desert with his best friend Jeepers (Don Bowman) only to discover he’s now up to his eyeballs in debt.  An unscrupulous businessman wants to take the place out from under him, but Woody gets a hand from a mess of his Nashville singing star pals to help turn the club around.  Naturally, it all ends in a half-assed pie fight. 

If you can’t already tell, Las Vegas Hillbillys is sort of a riff on The Beverly Hillbillies, and as a fish out of water comedy, it’s predictable and corny.  In fact, there’s not a laugh to be had from any of the one-liners and comic shenanigans.  Mostly though, it’s an excuse to string together some damned fine country numbers from some of the top names of their day.  (At one point, when the plot threatens to get too thick, Husky falls asleep and dreams an entire hootenanny that eats up a lot of screen time.)  Bill Anderson does a great rendition of “Bright Lights and Country Music”, Connie Smith belts out “Nobody but a Fool”, Del Reeves sings the great “Women Do Funny Things to Me”, and Husky kicks off the movie with the catchy “White Lightning Express”.   

Las Vegas Hillbillys is also historically noteworthy for being only film that contains both mega babe bombshells Mamie Van Doren and Jayne Mansfield.  No matter how lame the comedy gets, any movie that has Mamie and Jayne in it is worth watching.  The highlight comes during the unintentionally hilarious scene where Jayne breathlessly belts out “That Makes It”, while on the phone.  (It’s basically a woman’s rewrite of “Chantilly Lace”.)  Mamie is fun to watch too, but the funniest part is when she finally “shares” the screen with Jayne.  The filmmakers had to resort to using doubles because according to Hollywood legend, the pair despised each other and refused to appear on screen at the same time!  All this and Richard Kiel as the villain’s towering henchman!

Husky and Bowman returned the following year for the sequel, Hillbillys in a Haunted House (which is even better because it’s a pseudo-horror movie) with the buxom Joi Lansing stepping into Mamie’s role.  

AKA:  Country Music.  AKA:  Country Music, U.S.A. 

HOLLYWOOD HIGH PART 2 (1981) *

I never saw Hollywood High Part 1, but something tells me there weren’t enough dangling plot threads from that film to warrant a sequel.  Even though the original remains unviewed by my eyes, it’s pretty safe to assume Part 2 is completely unrelated to that flick.  Heck, there were even times when I doubted it was related to itself.

The plot, and I use that term loosely, has three sets of horny teenagers necking, going to the beach, necking, throwing pool parties, and necking.  Occasionally they go to school when time permits.  Sometimes, a cop (played by ‘70s sexploitation vet Con Covert, who usually, but not this time, dresses in drag) hassles them, but the teens get payback on him when they take pictures of him smooching with his mistress.  He eventually gets the upper hand when he catches the teenage boys making time with their sex-starved teachers, which gets them in hot water with their respective girlfriends.  

Much of Hollywood High Part 2 relies on long, sluggish scenes of the teens hanging out.  These scenes are unimaginatively filmed too, and usually done in one long master shot.  Eventually, someone will say something like, “Hey, let’s all go into the jacuzzi!” or “Fuck it, let’s get stoned!” and some semblance of action occurs.  Most of the time though, it’s just nothing more than a lot of boring scenes of the teens ambling along the beach, cruising down the Strip in their car, or splashing around in the pool.

These inane teenage shenanigans might’ve been bearable if the T & A quotient was higher.  As it is, we get a few OK nude scenes, but for the most part, it’s a lot of skinny-dipping and topless sunbathing sequences.  Cinematographer Gary Graver has certainly done better work than this, although I’m sure the grainy print I saw isn’t the best example of his talents.

DEATH RACE: BEYOND ANARCHY (2018) *

1975’s Death Race 2000 is one of my favorite productions from Roger Corman’s New World Pictures.  Paul W.S. Anderson’s 2008 remake was a top shelf Jason Statham vehicle that was better than it had any right being.  Its sequel was less than stellar, but the recent sequel to Corman’s original film, Death Race 2050 was breezy dumb fun.  Somehow, I didn’t see Death Race 3, but that didn’t stop me from seeing this fourth entry in the remake cycle. 

In the near future, the Death Race has expanded to a massive prison known as “The Sprawl”.  Frankenstein (Velislov Pavlov) now rules over the racers with an iron fist.  A new inmate named Connor (Zach McGowan) teams up with a grizzled prisoner named Baltimore Bob (Danny Glover) to beat Frankenstein at his own game and take over his throne. 

Beyond Anarchy is closer to Mad Max in inspiration than the original Death Race, with a little Escape from New York thrown in there, just because.  I wouldn’t have minded the blatant homages so much if the execution was borderline competent.  However, this one is pretty much a chore to get through thanks to the rampant ADD editing.  Many sequences feel like leftover footage from a Korn video, and the editing is especially incoherent during the racing and action scenes.  Beyond anarchy is right. 

It’s also weird that they make Frankenstein the villain this time out.  Imagine if Mad Max was the villain in Fury Road, and that’s kind of what it’s like.  Now, I didn’t see Part 3, so I don’t know if there was some incident in that film that changed his character and turned him into a half-assed Colonel Kurtz, but I highly doubt it.

There are a few not-terrible parts.  The nudity is rather plentiful, bordering on completely random.  We also get an OK game of motorcycle chicken.  It’s just that at 111 minutes… yes… 111 minutes, it goes on forever.  There are way too many subplots, irritating supporting characters, and superfluous action beats that make this race a marathon rather than a sprint.  Add to that the fact that it is sorely lacking the zany spirit of the original (or at the very least the brain-dead fun of the remake) and you have yourself a helluva slog on your hands. 

The original Death Race 2000 was a lean and mean 79 minutes.  Part of its success was that it didn’t wear out its welcome.  This one has too many preliminary races (including an actual Death Foot Race) and undercooked subplots that could’ve easily been cut out without anyone missing them.  In fact, the Death Race in this one starts at the 79-minute mark; right when the original film would’ve been over! 

Strangely, the race scenes in the third act feel rushed and are frantically over-edited.  It’s particularly strange when you consider how slow moving and dragged-out the first eighty minutes were.  Plus, it seems like the drivers spend a lot of time getting out of their cars to engage in fights and shootouts with one another, which kind of goes against the whole aspect of racing.  

McGowan has no screen presence whatsoever, so it’s hard to root for him.  The character of Frankenstein is even worse.  He’s devolved over the years from an iconic drive-in hero to just some biker dude in a mask, which is equal parts frustrating and heartbreaking.  Glover is basically there to earn a paycheck as he merely goes through the motions as the obligatory mentor figure, and Danny Trejo is given fuck-all to do as the bookie taking bets on the race. 

If there was more of an emphasis on the race itself, and the racing scenes were clearly photographed and edited properly, this might’ve been a passable sequel.  Heck, even if the action sequences still sucked and it clocked in at 79 minutes, I could’ve been more generous.  As it stands, this Death Race feels more like a Bataan Death March.

AKA:  Death Race 4:  Anarchy.  AKA:  Death Race:  Anarchy.

THE WONDERFUL LAND OF OZ (1969) *

A boy named Tip (Channy Mahon, son of the director, Barry Mahon) creates a walking talking pumpkin man using his evil stepmother’s magic. When she discovers what he’s done, Tip and his new pal escape to Oz where they learn that Emerald City has been taken over by an all-girl army of babes in ‘60s stewardess outfits.  With the help of Scarecrow, the Tin Man and a bug-eyed guy, the friends set out to restore the throne. 

Mahon also directed Santa and the Ice Cream Bunny, so that might give you an idea of what you’re in for.  I’m something of a Mahon apologist, but I much prefer his skin flicks to his matinee kiddie pictures.  As far as these things go, The Wonderful Land of Oz is even duller than his other storybook sagas, if you can believe it.  The actors are terrible as they mill around mumbling their lines with the barest amount of energy possible.  The sets are depressing and look like something made for a drama production by students from a high school suffering from a series of crippling budget cuts.  As for the songs... well... let’s just say they’re no “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”. 

The Wonderful Land of Oz is quite painful for much of its seventy-one-minute running time (which feels much longer).  I do have to give credit where credit is due.  The ending is positively bonkers.  I wouldn’t dream of spoiling it for you.  Just know the eleventh-hour plot twist is just nutty enough to keep it from getting a ½ * rating.  Also, the make-up on the Wogglebug guy is the stuff nightmares are made of.  No matter how cheap the rest of the production is, I have to commend the make-up department for some truly disturbing work.

AKA:  The Land of Oz.

AIR STRIKE (2018) ½ *

Japanese forces bombard China with a series of crippling air strikes during WWII.  As the bombs fall, a group of disparate people try to make their way across the countryside.  Meanwhile, a crusty American general (Bruce Willis) is brought in to make pilots out of the ragtag group of hotshots who want to do their part to sock it to the enemy. 

To put it bluntly, Air Strike is a fucking mess.  The choppy narrative makes it feel like a ten-hour miniseries that was butchered into feature length form in postproduction.  Subplots come and go, and characters pop up randomly and disappear just as quickly. 

To make matters worse, the special effects are so piss-poor that nearly all the dogfights and bombing raids look like cut scenes from a goddamn video game.  In fact, the first half of the movie feels like you’re watching a video game.  Willis shows up, barks some orders, and then there’s a lot of shots of shoddy CGI planes flying around shooting each other before the cycle repeats once again.  

Somewhere around the second act, the effects give way to the human drama, and it’s here where the film really sinks into an abyss of abysmal ineptitude.  There’s a subplot that blatantly rips off Wages of Fear that might’ve had potential.  However, the plot jumps around so much that it never focuses on anything for more than a minute or so.  One minute, Willis is barking orders and the next he’s ordering a pilot to go on a date with a girl so there can be an obligatory romantic scene.  (The editing is so abrupt during transition scenes that it’ll give you whiplash.)  Add to that the fact that the bombing sequences occur every few minutes, just frequent enough to get on your nerves.  I never thought the sight of explosions and mass destruction could be so monotonous. 

Willis isn’t given much to do, aside from looking crabby and yell a lot.  At least he’s awake in this one.  I will say the sight of him sitting inside a WWII cockpit in front of a painfully obvious green screen is hilarious. 

We also get a random ass appearance by Adrien Brody, no stranger to Chinese co-productions after the Jackie Chan flick, Dragon Blade.  He pops up just long enough to grab a paycheck and get his face on the poster.  In fact, if you look at his face on the poster for ninety seconds, it’ll be five seconds longer than he’s in the actual movie.  Heck, I think he gets less screen time here than he did in The Thin Red Line.

If you can’t already tell, this is another one of those Grindstone Entertainment flicks.  I’ve sat through a few of these things lately, and I can safely say this is by far the worst.  This is also quite possibly Bruce’s worst too, although it’s not really his fault.  

A couple of facts before I go:  Mel Gibson is credited as a “consultant” on the film.  Who he consulted I have no idea.  Also, it was produced by the star of Chained Heat 2, Kimberley Kates.  I can only imagine what the movie would’ve been like if both of them were on the other side of the camera.  Then again, hiding their faces and burying their names deep in the credits was probably a smart move of their part because any way you slice it, Air Strike is a bomb. 

AKA:  Airstrike.  AKA:  The Bombing.  AKA:  Unbreakable Spirit.  

TRAILER TRAUMA V: 70S ACTION ATTACK! (2020) *** ½

For my money, the Trailer Trauma series is the gold standard when it comes to movie trailer compilations.  After thoroughly exhausting the horror genre in parts 3 and 4 (I consider 3 to be the best trailer compilation ever made), the franchise now sets its sights on the action movies of the ‘70s.  While this collection lacks the OCD level of detail the past two sets had, it still packs plenty of punch, giving you over three hours of badass trailers.

There is a nice amount of variety here as 70s Action Attack! covers plenty of ground.  The action subgenres include Blaxploitation (Three Tough Guys, Three the Hard Way, Hit!), biker pictures (Angels Die Hard, C.C. and Company, The Losers), westerns (High Plains Drifter, The Ballad of Cable Hogue, Junior Bonner), revenge flicks (Rolling Thunder, Mr. Majestyk, Vigilante Force), Good Ol’ Boy movies (Return to Macon County, High Ballin’, Convoy), Kung Fu (Steel Edge of Revenge, The Young Dragon, Deadly China Doll), and drive-in fare (The Abductors, Hustler Squad, The Hot Box).  Although there is no shortage of fun trailers here, many lack the distinct grimy, sleazy, grindhouse edge that made the past Trailer Trauma collections so much fun.  (It could’ve used more wild trailers like the one for the amazing looking Wildcat Women 3-D.)  Also, because of the sheer number of trailers, it becomes a bit numbing as it enters its second hour.  Because of that, I think this set would work best if you broke it up in parts and watched it over several nights as opposed to trying to tackle it in one sitting.  

These are relatively minor quibbles in the long run.  I mean I am pretty much destined to give a rave review to any trailer compilation that starts with a trailer for Cockfighter (shown here under its alternate title, Born to Kill), followed by one for another Warren Oates classic, Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia.  That right there tells you it’s going to be something special.  Not only that, but it concludes with trailers for Lee Marvin (Prime Cut, Emperor of the North) and Charles Bronson flicks (The Family, Hard Times).  In between, we see a lot of William Smith (The Losers, Camper John, Fast Company) and Jan-Michael Vincent (Buster and Billie, Big Wednesday, White Line Fever), which is always a sure sign that you’ve come to the right place.

I’m something of a connoisseur when it comes to trailer compilations.  Watching these things is one of my favorite things to do on this planet.  So, trust me when I tell you this one is a damned good one.  While it may not reach the dizzying heights of the previous entries in the series, any ‘70s action fan worth their salt needs to pick up Trailer Trauma V:  70s Action Attack!  

DRIVE-IN DELIRIUM: MAXIMUM ‘80S OVERDRIVE (2017) ****

These unprecedented times are a motherfucker.  The state of the world today is a constant source of misery and depression for me.  Add to that the fact I constantly have to put a brave face forward day in and day out as my wife undergoes her chemo treatments makes things especially rough.  All this kind of wears me down after a while.  

We all have our coping methods during the dark times.  Mine used to be alcohol.  Sometimes it still is.  Some habits are hard to break.  I’ve tried to find a healthier alternative to heal my sadness and gloomy outlook.  The best thing I’ve found is to curl up at night on the couch and watch a bunch of movie trailers.  It’s kind of like a moment of Zen for me.  I can tune out my problems and the problems of the world, and for a few hours, I can find my center as I enjoy bite-sized bits of exploitation goodness.  

As far as trailer compilations go, Drive-In Delirium:  Maximum ‘80s Overdrive is one of the best.  It’s a sequel to Drive-In Delirium:  ‘60s and ‘70s Savagery, and it surpasses that admittedly stellar collection in just about every way.  It’s not as jam-packed as that compilation (it runs almost four hours compared to its predecessor’s whopping six hours), but pound-for-pound, it’s tough to beat.

The first half contains an eclectic mix of Kung Fu flicks (Shogun Assassin, Raw Force, Nine Deaths of the Ninja), Chuck Norris movies (Code of Silence, Invasion USA), vigilante actioners (The Exterminator, Ms.45, Death Wish 2), comedies (Up the Creek, Used Cars, The Ice Pirates), Charles Band productions (Metalstorm:  The Destruction of Jared-Syn, The Dungeonmaster, Zone Troopers), and Italian splatter (Zombie Holocaust, Nightmare City, and Cannibal Holocaust).  This stretch of the collection is a lot of fun, but it really kicks into gear in the second half when it unleashes a non-stop barrage of ‘80s horror goodness.  There are just too many classics to list here.  Just know there are tons of slashers (Terror Train, The Burning, Pieces), sequels (Halloween 3:  Season of the Witch, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, Evil Dead 2), zombies (Return of the Living Dead, Day of the Dead, Night of the Creeps), and Stephen King adaptations (Christine, Children of the Corn, Cat’s Eye) represented here.  I especially have to tip my hat to whoever thought to follow up the trailer for The Children with Friday the 13^th since both films use the exact same score.  Not only that, but many of the trailers are narrated by guys like Don LaFontaine and Adolph Caesar, whose voices are like a salve for the soul.  

In short, Drive-In Delirium:  Maximum ‘80s Overdrive was about the best security blanket I could ask for.

LAS VEGAS LADY (1975) **

Stella Stevens and her two gal pals plan to rob a crooked Las Vegas casino owner.  (Are there any other kind?)  Naturally, the heist goes wrong, and Stella and her associates are forced to improvise in order to make a clean getaway.  

Las Vegas Lady is watchable ‘70s junk, mostly because of Stella Stevens’ neckline.  It’s a Crown International flick, so you probably already know what (not) to expect.  I have to say, it might’ve earned some extra points had Stevens’ wardrobe had a malfunction or two.  I mean, most of the suspense comes from whether or not she’ll bust out of her form-fitting costumes.  Overall, there are some bare backs, one butt shot, and a little side boob action from one of the other shapely actresses, but it’s not nearly enough to put the PG rating in jeopardy. 

Things are extremely slow going for the first half of the movie as there’s way too much filler that clogs up the works.  Again, the padding wouldn’t have been so obvious if director Noel (Best Friends) Nosseck tossed in some T & A here and there.  The only thing that keeps the early scenes tolerable is the fact that the flick offers us a nice little snapshot of what Vegas was like in the mid ‘70s.  That’s the best thing I can say about it though.  The film does pick up a little bit once the heist finally gets underway, but Ocean’s 11 this is definitely not.  Although the heist scenes are competently executed by Nosseck, the various complications are predictable.  (Speaking of predictable, you should also be able to guess the identity of the “Mr. Big” character right from the first frame.)

Stella’s performance is pretty much the main draw.  I also enjoyed seeing Stuart Whitman playing her love interest.  It’s a shame there are no sparks between them. 

With the barest of expectations, Las Vegas Lady might fit the bill as lamebrained lazy afternoon fare.  Fans of Stevens will probably roll the dice on it just to see her in a series of revealing outfits.  Ultimately, the odds aren’t in the viewer’s favor.

AKA:  Raid on Caesar’s.  

MURDER BY DECREE (1979) **

The prospect of Sherlock Holmes matching wits with Jack the Ripper is a grand idea.  Add in the fact that it stars Christopher Plummer as Holmes, James Mason as Dr. Watson, and it was directed by the great Bob Clark, and you certainly have my curiosity.  Too bad the execution is muddled and the whole thing is overlong to a fault.  Still, the performances are strong across the board, and there are stretches where you can see the promise the premise held.  

Clark had an amazingly diverse filmography, directing everything from Deathdream to Porky’s to A Christmas Story.  His horror roots are definitely on display during the early scenes of the Ripper stalking his victims.  (The first-person POV shots are quite similar to the ones found in Clark’s Black Christmas.)  Once Holmes proclaims, “The game’s afoot!”, the movie hits many speed bumps along the way. 

Some scenes are more successful than others.  My favorite detour involved Donald Sutherland’s amusing extended cameo as a clairvoyant who may have knowledge of the killer’s identity.  Ultimately, there are just too many subplots and unnecessary moving parts that gum up the works.  Genevieve Bujold’s long nuthouse scene in particular, stops the movie on a dime.  Holmes’ big deduction scene is also longwinded and goes on way too long.

Even when things are getting severely bogged down, Plummer and Mason are so good that their scenes remain watchable.  Plummer cuts a dashing figure as Holmes, underplaying the role ever so slightly.  Unfortunately, he’s not much of an action hero though as he gets knocked flat on his ass and/or out cold no less than three times in the movie, allowing the killer to escape each time. 

As a Clark fan, I was disappointed I didn’t like this one as much as I had hoped.  Then again, for a director with such an eclectic filmography, it’s only natural to expect some near misses.  I mean, they all can’t be Rhinestone.  Maybe if Clark let Jack the Ripper into the editing booth and he cut the movie to ribbons, getting it to ninety minutes, it would’ve worked.  At two-hours-and-change, it’s just too slow moving to ever catch fire.

AKA:  Sherlock Holmes and Saucy Jack.  AKA:  Sherlock Holmes:  Murder by Decree.

ASSASSIN’S BULLET (2012) * ½

In between directing Scott Adkins actioners, Isaac Florentine found time to make this boring Bulgarian-lensed espionage thriller.  It’s not very good, but it is interesting to see the trio of leading men, all of whom possess vastly different acting styles, populating a DTV flick.  Although none of them had an ice cube’s chance in Hell of salvaging the sluggishly paced snoozer, I’m still glad they at least got a paycheck out of all this.

First, we have Christian Slater who plays a former FBI agent who works at the American embassy in Bulgaria.  Donald Sutherland is the ambassador who wants to put Slater’s investigative talents to good use to find the vigilante who’s been assassinating some VIP’s.  Then there’s Timothy Spall, who plays Slater’s buddy who smokes a hookah, ogles belly dancers, and helps dole out the massive amounts of exposition.  While out clubbing, Spall helps Slater get out a lot of his pent-up Dead Wife exposition, and when Elika Portnoy is on his therapist’s couch, she gets to spout a bunch of Hypnosis May Help Me Remember My Secret Past exposition.  These big chunks of exposition aren’t especially involving and help to bring the film to a dead halt on more than one occasion.

The plot at hand is pretty weak too, and the twists are painfully predictable (and sometimes downright corny).  Florentine does his darnedest to dress it up the best he can.  He tries to cut dialogue scenes like fight sequences with a lot of camera movement and frequent edits.  Too bad that neither he nor the actors can make you give a rat’s ass about their characters or their various plights.  Also, what little action we do get is far from Florentine’s best work.  The fight scene and shootout that caps the movie is OK, but it comes up a day late and a dollar short.

Look, I like Florentine as an action director, and I admire his attempt to try something a little outside of his wheelhouse.  Ultimately, that’s all it is:  An attempt.  Other than the fact that the three leads delivered strong performances, Assassin’s Bullet is a complete misfire.

AKA:  Sofia.

TERRIFIER (2018) ***

Terrifier is a nasty, gory little shocker.  Fans of old school slashers will definitely enjoy it as it caters to many of the genre's demands with gleeful abandon.  Even though the film treads upon a well-worn path, it still manages to spring a surprise or two on its audience.  It certainly scratched the itch for this dyed-in-the-wool gorehound.

Tara (Jenna Kanell) and her friend Dawn (Return to Nuke ‘Em High’s Catherine Corcoran) get white-girl wasted on Halloween night.  After hitting the bars, they stop for a bite at a pizza joint where they are stalked by a demented looking clown named Art (David Howard Thornton).  He soon makes life a living Hell for them as he chases the lovely ladies through an abandoned building with the intention of mutilating and killing them (and not necessarily in that order).  

Terrifier begins with a nifty little sequence that almost feels like its own self-contained short film.  It nicely sets the tone for what’s to come in the next seventy or so minutes.  I have to say that the scenes of Art playing cat and mouse with the two heroines in the early stretches of the movie are more effective than the scenes of him playing cat and mouse with the new potential victims that occur later in the film.  That said, there is some pretty gnarly stuff here, so whatever qualms I had were washed away whenever Art the Clown did something disgusting.  

I mean, I respect any movie in which the killer dispatches one of his victims by cutting her in half LENGTHWISE.  Too many jokers nowadays are content to cut their victims in half at the waist.  This guy Art not only cuts them in half lengthwise, he uses a rusty hacksaw to do it, and folks, that takes time, skill, AND dedication.  You have to tip your hat to that.  

It also helps that we actually like the characters.  Both Kanell and Corcoran are engaging and charming.  They both feel like real friends, and more importantly real people.  Corcoran in particular is a lot of fun to watch (especially during her drunken phase) and exhibits genuine charisma.  Too bad she doesn’t make it past the halfway mark.  

Art makes for a solid horror mascot too.  Walking around like a demented mime, he gets into his quarry’s psyche and makes it hard for them to shake his image.  He also knows how to dish out the torture and slashes up his victims like few of his contemporaries.  What I like about him is that Art takes what the slashers that came before him have already done and puts his own twist on it.  Remember when Leatherface cut off somebody’s face and wore it as a mask?  Well, Art cuts off somebody’s… err… region and plays dress up with it.  Imagine if Marilyn Manson was doing Silence of the Lambs cosplay and that might give you an inkling of what’s in store.  I guess what I’m getting at is there is a shortage of modern horror mascots today, and I for one hope that Art will be back for many more sequels.   

THE TRACKER (2019) *

Dolph Lundgren stars as a tracker whose family is brutally murdered.  Ten years go by, and he gets word regarding the whereabouts of his family’s killers from an Italian cop.  When Dolph arrives in Italy, he learns the cop has died under mysterious circumstances.  He then joins forces with a wet behind the ears detective who helps him in his quest for revenge. 

It seems to me I’ve seen a lot of these Grindstone Entertainment movies lately.  You know how these things go:  Name action stars are prominently featured in the credits and box art, but they usually wind up having limited screen time.  Although The Tracker isn’t as egregious as some of the Bruce Willis flicks when it comes to its star barely appearing, there is a lot of unnecessary stuff with the detective that gets in the way of Dolph doing his thing.  (The domestic scenes with the cop and his very pregnant wife are especially time consuming.)

Still, even as brief as Bruce’s appearances in the other Grindstone flicks are, at least the movies themselves run the gamut from so-so to not bad to pretty good.  I can’t say the same thing for The Tracker, which is probably the worst Grindstone picture I’ve seen.  The tip-off this was going to be bad happened early on when Dolph’s family is kidnapped.  He goes to the cops and asks, “Have you found them yet?”, and I’m over here thinking… DUDE YOURE THE FUCKING TRACKER SHOULDNT YOU BE… I don’t know… TRACKING THEM OR SOMETHING? 

I mean, there’s this whole flashback scene in the beginning of the film where Dolph’s dad teaches him how to track his quarry.  His father also imparts to him the difference between tracking and hunting.  He maintains there is a sacred bond between the tracker and his quarry and that the act of tracking is intrinsically tied to a man’s nature.  

So… when it finally comes time to track something, Dolph… Lets the cops handle it?  Naturally, the bad guys get away.  Then, you’re expecting Dolph to go track them suckers down because, he is, after all, The Tracker.  Does that happen?  NOPE!  Instead, he waits ten years to finally do something about it, but ONLY after receiving a tip from a cop halfway around the world in Italy?  

What the hell. 

If you can’t already guess, The Tracker definitely belongs on the lower rungs of the Dolph ladder.  In fact, of the four films he’s made with director Giorgio Serafini, this one is by far the worst (the other three being Ambushed, Blood of Redemption, and Puncture Wounds).  There’s not a lot of action either, and what action we do get is poorly filmed and edited.  To add insult to injury, the plot is slim, the pacing is slow, and the villains are weak and unmemorable. 

Dolph spends lot of time driving in the first act looking bored.  He then moves on to hanging out in cafes and walking down the street wearing a scarf in the second act.  Once the action finally kicks in (kinda), he trades the scarf in for a poncho and spends a lot of time looking through a sniper scope.  In short, this is far from the best use of his talents. 

At least the movie is watchable whenever Dolph is on screen.  Whenever it cuts back to the Italian cop and/or the bad guys, it stops on a dime. In short, The Tracker ain’t worth tracking down. 

WHEN WOMEN LOST THEIR TAILS (1972) * ½

Last week, I watched the excruciating Italian caveman comedy When Women Had Tails to eulogize the late, great composer Ennio Morricone.  As bad as that movie was, it still had the charms of the luscious Senta Berger to make it bearable.  Her presence was the only reason I decided to give this lamebrained sequel a chance.  Oh, and Morricone also provided the score once again, although I suspect they just reused his music from the first movie.  

Right away, you notice that the production values are much better than the original.  Instead of filming the flick in a jungle somewhere, the producers actually sprung for a studio, and the art directors managed to come up with some halfway cool looking caveman digs.  (I liked their hollowed-out dinosaur house.)  The main inspiration this time seems to be The Flintstones as there are domestic scenes where Berger uses a parrot as a kitchen appliance.  Now, I know the “a woman needs to stay in the kitchen” rhetoric is outdated and only a Neanderthal would dare to suggest it, but you have to understand, we are dealing with actual Neanderthals here, so take that into consideration.  

Anyway, Senta is eking out a meager existence as a housewife to the five chucklehead cavemen from the first film.  A conman caveman comes to the tribe and realizes he’s sitting on a gold mine.  He then proceeds to bilk the thickheaded cavemen out of their money, home, and land; all the while making time with Senta.  (You see, she likes him because he’s apparently the only caveman who’s heard of foreplay.)  

This is just as stupid as its predecessor, but the upside is Senta looks even hotter than she did in the original.  In that film, they tried to make her look like a legitimate cavegirl by covering her in mud and filth, mussing her hair up, and making her wear unflattering animal pelts.  Here, she flat-out looks like a cheesecake model doing a prehistoric photoshoot.  Her hair is well-coiffed, her make-up is just so, and her ample cleavage is on full display in her form-fitting cavegirl attire.  It’s almost expected the caveman humor is going to be painfully unfunny, so at least the copious eye candy helps take away some of the sting.  

Yes, the humor is painful, but that’s nothing compared to the odd subplot about the sole gay caveman who is so depressed that he doesn’t have a mate that he pays one of his friends to kill him.  Just when you think you’ve seen everything.  In an appropriate setting, this scene might’ve been touching and sad, but it feels sorely out of place in a stupid Italian caveman sex comedy.

DREAMS COME TRUE (1984) **

Lee (Michael Sanville) is a shiftless factory worker who meets the girl of his dreams (Stephanie Shuford), quite literally.  They soon figure out their chance meeting was a product of astral projection that occurs whenever they have sex.  Eventually, the two lovebirds discover they’re able to whisk themselves away to far off places every time they do the deed.  

Dreams Come True is a low budget astral projection sex comedy/drama released by Troma, and it’s not nearly as exploitative (or fun) as their in-house productions.  Strangely enough, the version I saw had all the nudity cut out of it.  I can’t say that heaps of nudity would’ve salvaged the picture, but it certainly couldn’t have hurt.

At least the astral projection scenes have a kooky allure to them.  Every time the couple falls asleep, a glowing version of themselves rises up and begins spinning around towards the screen during a half-assed light show.  It kind of looks like a cross between outtakes from Xanadu and deleted scenes from an a-ha video.  These sequences are repeated often, but they do help break up the monotony of the ho-hum drama between the pair of paranormal paramours.  

While the comedy portions of the film are largely unfunny (like when they steal a pizza), it works much better than the awkwardly handled scenes of Shuford confronting her rapist uncle.  These scenes are unappealing and give the otherwise harmless movie a tinge of unnecessary unpleasantness.  It also doesn’t help that the matter is resolved in such an unsatisfying manner.

My favorite scene comes when the couple go to the movies and see The Children.  Later, while making love, they accidentally astral project themselves INTO the movie and are attacked by the ghoulish boys and girls from that classic killer kiddie flick.  That scene alone is enough to keep this one from being a total washout.  (Which makes sense since both films were from the same director.)

Oh, and the music for the movie was provided by the band Spooner, whose members later went on to form Garbage, so I guess that’s something. 

HITMAN’S RUN (1999) * ½

Hitman’s Run kicks off with a great opening scene.  The titular hitman, played by the one and only Eric Roberts, refuses to perform a hit.  He then gets into a car chase with his former employers that results in a pretty strong crash stunt.  So far, so good.  Unfortunately, it all goes downhill fast after that. 

Two years later, Eric is in the Witness Protection Program with a new life and a new family.  He cooperates with the Feds to testify against his former bosses when the Mob comes looking for him.  You see, they’ve come into possession of a disc with a list of the names of all the witnesses in the program.  The teenage hacker (Esteban Powell) responsible for obtaining the list winds up in Roberts’ charge, and together they have to race against time to save his girlfriend from the bad guys. 

Hitman’s Run was directed by great Mark L. (Showdown in Little Tokyo) Lester, but it’s far from his best work.  At all times the film feels like the producers had a bunch of unrelated car chase and car crash scenes sitting around the editing room and they decided to edit them together into a feature.  They cobbled together an overly simple (and yet, strangely overly complicated) story to hold everything together, but somehow forgot to make it fun.

While the action is decent, the stuff in between the car chases and shootouts is ho-hum at best, and downright irritating at worst.  Roberts isn’t bad.  His massive mullet is pretty rocking.  The big problem is Powell as the dorky teenage sidekick.  This kid will grate on your nerves something fierce, and the banter with him and Roberts is often insufferable. 

The supporting cast is solid though.  Brent Huff is in a few scenes as a hired gun, and C. Thomas Howell has the thankless job as the Fed helping Roberts.  I also enjoyed seeing Michael D. (The Ice Pirates) Roberts as Howell’s boss, and it was fun spotting perennial Mob movie vet Joe Viterelli as another killer in the Witness Protection Program. 

Although some of the action beats work, the editing throughout the film is choppy.  Some scene transitions look pretty rough, which only adds to the already awkward narrative.  The ending, set aboard a boat, is particularly sloppy.  Not only that, but it seemingly goes on forever, featuring everything from Mexican standoffs to Roberts swinging around on a rope like Tarzan to and a father/son reunion DURING a bomb diffusion scene.  

In the right hands, this might’ve worked.  This sort of thing is usually well within Lester’s wheelhouse, but for whatever reason he kinda dropped the ball on this one.  Because of that, even the most devoted Eric Roberts die-hards are likely to skip Hitman’s Run.

JACKIE CHAN: KUNG FU MASTER (2010) **

A teenage boy (Zhang Yishan) who idolizes Jackie Chan runs away from home to meet him and become his disciple.  Somewhere along the way, he gets kidnapped by a gang of pickpockets who hold him for ransom.  Eventually, the kid escapes thanks to a helpful policewoman (Jiang Hongbo) who takes him in.  When he learns Chan is filming a movie nearby, he runs off yet again and sneaks onto the set hoping to meet his idol. 

Jackie Chan:  Kung Fu Master is a well-meaning and heartfelt drama masquerading as a Jackie Chan movie.  Jackie appears only in the lame fight scene in the beginning that turns out to be a film within a film inside a dream sequence and once again in the finale.  (He also turns up in an airport safety video.)  Since nearly all the focus is on the annoying kid, much of the film is a bit of a chore to get through.  At first, I thought it was going to be kind of like a variation on the Chuck Norris flick, Sidekicks, but unfortunately, Chan is given even less to do here than Chuck. 

It also hurts that the fight scenes are subpar, and the comedy stuff is unfunny.  (The fast motion running gag is particularly weak.)  The humor is especially ill-fitting once the kidnapping subplot rolls around.  In fact, the whole thing has an uneven, episodic feel to it and very few sequences flow organically into the next.  (Most are just strung together by the kid’s half-assed narration.)

If you’re okay with watching a movie with the words “Jackie Chan” in the title that features very little Jackie Chan in it, then you may like Jackie Chan:  Kung Fu Master.  The rest of us will no doubt be disappointed.  I will say in its favor that the eventual meeting between Jackie and his starstruck fan hits all the right notes, but it’s ultimately too little, too late.

AKA:  Looking for Jackie.  AKA:  Looking for Jackie Chan.  AKA:  Jackie Chan and the Kung Fu Kid.

DOOM: ANNIHILATION (2019) **

Doom: Annihilation is a sequel/reboot to 2005’s Doom.  It follows in the cinematic tradition of Mortal Kombat in that it’s another sequel to a video game movie that uses the word “Annihilation” for its subtitle.  I guess I could say it’s a better film than Mortal Kombat:  Annihilation, although that isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement.

A group of space marines go to the Mars moon of Phobos on a rescue mission.  There, scientists have discovered an ancient teleporter that connects our planet to other worlds.  Naturally, once they go through the portal, it brings forth monsters who bite people and turn them into mutant zombies.  It’s then up to the team to blow away as many of those suckers as possible. 

The first movie had good turn by The Rock, a decent plot twist, and at least one cool first-person shooter scene.  The rest of it was sort of insufferable.  I can say none of those things about this one as it’s consistently mediocre throughout.  There are no real highlights here, but there are no glaring missteps either. 

At all times, Doom:  Annihilation looks and feels like an early 2000s Syfy Channel show.  That will be your litmus test.  If you want to see a beloved video game franchise turned into an early 2000s Syfy Channel show, then you will probably eat it up.

For the most part, all of this is watchable.  However, it looks pretty cheap, and most of the monsters look like half-assed zombies.  You also have to wait a while before real monsters show up, and even longer to see the BFG.  Sadly, the filmmakers never let the heroine make good use of it. 

Speaking of which, Amy Manson gives about as good of a lead performance in this as you could hope for.  She’s tough and likeable and takes her role very seriously, even if the movie doesn’t.  She also looks convincing bossing around the other soldiers.  I will say the awkward romance with the dorky scientist feels forced, but hey, this is a fourteen-years-later-DTV-sequel-to-a-video-game-movie-starring-The-Rock we’re talking about here, so I’ll cut it some slack.

Overall, Doom:  Annihilation is rudimentary on just about all levels.  It aims low, but it hits its mark.  There’s something to be said for that.  It’s been a while since I played the game, so I’m not sure how some die-hard fans will take to it.  For me, it was an OK way to kill ninety minutes and change.

CHILD’S PLAY (2019) ***

I resisted seeing this remake of the 1988 horror classic in theaters (mostly because it didn’t stay very long).  I love everyone’s favorite foulmouthed killer doll, Chucky.  Heck, even the sloppy, uneven sequels are endearing to me.  It just seemed sacrilegious to reboot the franchise, especially given the fact that no one from the original was involved.  

I’m glad I waited a year or so to stream it in the comfort of my home because with lowered expectations, it turned out to be a lot of fun.  It’s just different enough from the original to justify its existence while still retaining the nasty edge that makes the series so great.  It’s consistently funny and has a cruel mean streak a mile wide.  Also, the gore that is just as over the top as some of the later sequels.  In short, it’s a legit Chucky flick. 

The bare bones of the original plot is the same.  A single mom (Aubrey Plaza) gets a talking doll for her son, Andy (Gabriel Bateman).  The big difference is that instead of being a riff on Cabbage Patch Kids mania, this Chucky is sort of a walking, talking Alexa.  This Child’s Play is less a parody on kiddie consumerism and more of a parable about inviting seemingly harmless technology into your home that will ultimately turn on you.  That means Chucky can synch himself up to the family’s devices and use the cloud to tap into everything from the house lights to the Roomba to driverless cars to drones to wreak havoc on his victims. 

Another interesting change is that it’s not voodoo that causes the doll to become malevolent, but a disgruntled employee who sabotages its wiring.  What separates this iteration of Chucky from the original series is that he’s not initially evil.  In fact, his main goal is to protect Andy from harm (or at least what he perceives to be harm.)  He only goes psycho once he’s spurned by Andy, who finds “real” friends.  In fact, you kind of feel bad for the little sucker, which is a compliment to the sharp writing and the stellar vocal performance by none other than Mark Hamill.  Hamill refuses to go over the top with the character and manages to imbue Chucky with a hint of sympathy.

Naturally, all that goes out the window once Chucky starts slicing and dicing.  I’m happy to say that the gore is often gnarly and some of the set pieces work better than you’d expect.  I had mixed feelings about director Lars Klevberg’s previous film, Polaroid, but there was enough there to suggest he had potential.  Child’s Play proves me right.  He gives the flick a sense of style that helps set it apart from the original franchise and injects a fun spirit that was more than appreciated by this horror fan.  (The nods to other horror and genre classics work very well.)  

While the film stops short of being a home run, it is consistently entertaining throughout and Klevberg delivers a killer finale.  As far as comparing the remake to the originals, I’d say this is probably the third or fourth best one, which is high praise coming from such a dyed in the wool Chucky fanatic.  I enjoyed this one so much that I am hopeful that both the original series and this new franchise can coexist peacefully.  I wouldn’t mind seeing new entries in both universes for years to come.