THE CLONES (1973) ***

A scientist named Gerry (Michael Greene) is perplexed to discover a clone has infiltrated and taken over his life.  He soon goes on the run when two hitmen (Gregory Sierra and Otis Young) arrive on the scene with orders to take him out.  While running for his life, Gerry sets out to stop the devious government operation behind the illicit cloning.

The Clones is sort of like a low budget precursor to The Sixth Day.  It offers a clever twist on the typical ‘70s paranoia thriller and gives it a Sci-Fi slant.  Things get off to an atmospheric start with a trippy opening title sequence and a cool Evil Dead-style steady-cam shot of Greene being chased around his underground bunker by an unseen entity.  From there, directors Lamar (Supervan) Card and Paul (Twisted Nightmare) Hunt deliver an exciting rooftop chase, freaky dream and flashback sequences, and more shots of the hero running than an entire season of The Fugitive. 

Like The Sixth Day, the hero teams up with his clone to fight the bad guys in the end.  Unfortunately, once you find out why the clones are being used, it’s kind of a letdown and pretty cheesy (even for a ‘70s Sci-Fi movie).  The car chases get a bit repetitive too, but then again, what’s a little repetition in a thriller about clones?  The good news is the action-packed finale set at an abandoned amusement park is a total blast.  Whatever its faults, any movie that ends with Julio from Sanford and Son chucking grenades off a speeding roller coaster is okay by me. 

Greene gets the best line of the movie when he disparagingly refers to his clone as “Xerox”. 

AKA:  The Cloning.

MISSION: KILLFAST (1991) * ½

Mission:  Killfast is a low budget action flick from writer/director Ted V. (Blood Orgy of the She-Devils) Mikels.  It has all his worst tendencies, namely too many characters and too much plot.  It’s sadly missing the main ingredient that makes his films so enjoyable:  An endearing sense of fun.

The plot is a confusing mess.  It involves stolen nuclear devices, a hero (Tiger Yang) who's a karate teacher that uses his students as his own personal army, bad guys that use a third-rate Playboy mansion as a front, gangsters, militants, and God knows what else.  I guess we can blame the general sense of incoherence to the fact that Ted (who has a small role as a soldier) started filming the movie in 1980 and it took him over a decade to finish production and finally edit (or should we say cobble) it all together.  (That also explains why some of the fashions go from dated to REALLY dated throughout the film.)

Mission:  Killfast is basically just like every other low budget DTV action flick from the ‘90s.  It’s a clumsy mix of Kung Fu, military action, and spy genres.  Occasionally it comes to life when Mikels concentrates on the Kung Fu action, but it’s mostly an overlong bore.  (Try to stay awake through the dull scenes of government briefings, bad guy plotting, and spy shit that wouldn’t have cut it on an episode of Charlie’s Angels.)  There are some goofy moments here (like when Yang takes time off his mission to be the grand marshal of a parade) and a little bit of nudity too (girls hanging by the pool, sex scenes, and photo shoots), but not enough of either to really make a difference.

Yang is a so-so hero.  He can’t act his way out of a paper bag, but he knows how to throw a Ninja Star into a guy’s eye and blow up helicopters.  In fact, a lot of helicopters blow up in this, but they’re mostly poorly rendered explosions over stock footage.  Oh, and there are a lot of mullets too.  

Say what you will about Mission:  Killfast (and I’ve probably said too much as it is), it does contain some things I never thought I’d see in a movie.  I’m thinking specifically of the assassination of a model during a photo shoot.  For that bit of nuttiness alone, it can’t get any lower than * ½.

PRIME EVIL: CRIMES OF THE BLACK CAT (1972) ***

The beauty of the sheer amount of shit on Amazon Prime is that the most innocuous looking movies turn out to be loaded with full-fledged lunacy.  Case in point is Crimes of the Black Cat.  I probably would’ve never even heard of this flick if it wasn’t for Amazon Prime.  It just popped up under the “Customers Also Watched” heading.  On a whim, I decided to watch it because, what the hell, right?  I don’t know what I was expecting, but I wasn’t expecting this.

Anthony Steffan stars as a blind piano player who overhears a conversation in a crowded bar.  He thinks they’re talking about a murder plot but can’t be sure because of the racket coming from the juke box.  People around him start dying and he comes to suspect a mysterious woman in a white cloak is responsible for it all.

Crimes of the Black Cat would make a great double feature with The Cat O’ Nine Tails.  Both films are Italian giallos with blind protagonists and contain the word “Cat” in the title.  It has a clever set-up, an outrageous hook (the murders are mostly performed by a cat with poisoned claws), and a healthy amount of gratuitous T & A.  The finale might be my favorite part.  It starts off at an eleven on the crazy meter and then escalates wildly from there, only to finish off at one of the most perplexing freeze frame endings of all time.  Said another way, it’s awesome.  

There’s also a good mix of tongue-in-cheek humor and unintentional laughs.  The scene where our blind hero accidentally stumbles upon a corpse is amusing and the silly plot twists will ensure you’ll be grinning like the cat who ate the canary.  The hilarious cat attacks will have you in stitches.  (It looks like a PA took a plastic cat with glowing eyes and hurled it repeatedly at the camera.)  We also get an occasional scene that the distributor forgot to dub into English.  Since one of those scenes involves a topless model yelling at her photographer, I’ll let it slide.

The gore is pretty good for the time.  There are throat slashings, a decapitated cat, and a gnarly Psycho-inspired shower scene where a woman’s boob is slashed apart by a straight razor.  The make-up in the finale is also quite well done.

It’s almost a given that Crimes of the Black Cat is uneven as hell.  Luckily, there’s enough jaw-dropping insanity here to help you get over the lulls.  Even if you find yourself getting restless, hang in there because the last five minutes is an absolute riot.

AKA:  Crimes.  AKA:  Seven Shawls of Yellow Silk.  

You can watch Crimes of the Black Cat for free on Amazon Prime here:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01MRWY1WN?ref_=imdbref_tt_wbr_piv&tag=imdbtag_tt_wbr_piv-20 

HOLD THE DARK (2018) **

Jeremy Saulnier is quickly becoming one of my favorite directors.  Green Room is a flat-out masterpiece, Murder Party is loads of fun, and Blue Ruin is genuinely unnerving.  When I heard his latest was showing up on Netflix, I was eager to check it out.  Unfortunately, this is by far Saulnier’s weakest film.

A pack of wolves have been attacking children and carrying them off into the Alaskan wilderness.  A grieving mother (Riley Keough) hires a wolf expert named Core (Jeffrey Wright) to track down the wolf that killed her son and bring back his remains.  As Core begins his search, the boy’s father (Alexander Skarsgard) returns home from war.  

It’s here where the film takes a big turn and becomes something quite different.  That’s unfortunate because the grim and unrelenting set-up held a lot of promise.  I mean Death Wish with Wolves is a great idea, but Saulnier ditches it about a half hour in.  It especially falls apart once he starts pooling from other genres.  There’s a big shootout in the second act that goes on forever and feels like it belongs in an entirely different film.  Then, near the end it practically turns into a slasher movie.  These twists and turns never fully stick the landing and ultimately feel like a mishmash of ideas without a cohesive center.

It also doesn’t help that the film is so slow moving that it becomes difficult for the viewer to become fully invested in the characters.  Saulnier’s detachment from the material is as cold and remote as the Alaskan wilderness itself.  It certainly looks great though as the shots of the snow-covered landscapes are quite beautiful.

Keough gives far and away the best performance of the movie as the damaged mother seeking revenge.  I usually like Jeffrey Wright, but he is much too subdued here to leave an impression.  He curiously is given very little to do and often feels more like a passive bystander than a true protagonist.  It’s like he’s only there to witness events, and not make an impact on them.  Skarsgard’s one-dimensional, mostly silent performance likewise fails to register.

After this and Mute, Skarsgard is quickly becoming the poster boy for overlong, disappointing Netflix movies from otherwise gifted filmmakers.  Guys like Duncan Jones and Jeremy Saulnier are long on talent and make movies that are uniquely theirs.  Unfortunately, it seems like there is no one at Netflix who’s willing to reign them.  That’s great news for the creativity of the filmmaker, but it’s not necessarily a picnic for the audience.  

BLOOD FOR BLOOD (1995) **

Lorenzo Lamas stars as a ponytailed cop who works in “youth services” teaching at-risk kids Kung Fu.  Since he’s one of the few men on the force who speaks Cambodian, he gets roped into translating for some detectives on a stakeout.  Naturally, things go sour, a shootout ensues, and there are casualties on both sides.  Shortly after the bust, an unstoppable hitman (James Lew) arrives on the scene to pick off the cops involved in the stakeout one by one.  When he comes after Lamas’ family, Lorenzo digs deep inside of himself to unlock an ancient power to defeat his enemies.

Lamas gets to Kung Fu a lot of people in this and he is quite adept; gamely slinging roundhouse kicks and flashing samurai swords.  He also spends a lot of time in his underwear.  Whether lounging in bed, sweating while having nightmares, participating in sex scenes, or fighting toe to toe with Lew, Lamas’ skivvies are on screen more often than not.  Heck, they should’ve gotten their own billing.  

The cops-and-robbers stuff is very basic.  There’s probably a little too much plot as Lamas has to deal with bad guy Cambodians AND villainous Russians.  The shootouts are handled well enough by director John Weidner, but they don’t push the Blood for Blood over the top or anything.  At least James Lew is fun to watch as the assassin who uses weapons straight out of a Shaw Brothers movie.

What isn’t basic is the fact that Lamas has half-assed Jedi powers like having premonitions and being able to move sand with his mind.  Mako shows up briefly as the Yoda to Lamas’ Luke, but not long enough to make a difference.  As cool as it sounds to have Lamas playing a mystical warrior, they really don’t do much with the concept, which is disappointing.  They should’ve really tried to milk it for all its worth, but I guess they chickened out at the risk of seeming too silly (and as we all know there’s no such thing “too silly” in a Lorenzo Lamas movie).

Then again, maybe not.  I mean I can believe Lamas possesses inexplicable mental powers in this movie.  However, I just can’t believe him as a half-Cambodian.  These little oddball touches don’t necessarily make Blood for Blood better than your average Lamas flick.  (In one scene, Lamas uses what Joe Bob Briggs would describe as “Lamp Fu”.)  It does make it more memorable though.

AKA:  Midnight Man.  AKA:  Man Hunt.

WHERE THE BOYS ARE (1984) * ½

Where the Boys Are is a remake of the old 1960 film but updated for the age of the ‘80s Teenage Sex Comedy.  I guess the main appeal of a remake was to let the girls (Lisa Hartman, Wendy Schaal, Lorna Luft, and Lynn-Holly Johnson) act wild and crazy in one of these movies for a change.  Even though they claim they’re going to Fort Lauderdale on Spring Break for “animal sex and debauchery”, it’s all surprisingly tame.  Sure, they bring along a male blow-up doll, go out drinking, and participate in a “Hot Bod” competition, but it’s all very reserved.  (There’s even a gender reversal of the cliched scene of one of the main characters inadvertently picking up a prostitute.)

It’s well-meaning, I guess and less crass and crude than other similar Teenage Sex Comedies of the era.  Maybe that’s part of the problem.  People wanting a typical Teenage Sex Comedy will walk away disappointed because of the lack of skin.  People who want a comedy from the female gaze will be disappointed as there’s really nothing here that indicates it’s coming from a woman’s perspective.

Director Hy Averback’s career mostly consisted of television work, and you can certainly tell.  There’s barely enough nudity here to get an R rating.  There are brief topless shots on the beach (the film’s biggest laugh comes from a guy with a megaphone who tricks topless sunbathers into turning over) and during a bikini contest, but that’s about it.  Otherwise, all you get is a bunch of girls in skimpy bathing suits and one in a kinky S & M get-up.  All of this probably seems just as chaste to today’s audiences as the original was in ’84.  I mean the whole thing ends with a goddamn piano recital, for Christ’s sake.  

Johnson, who was so appealing in For Your Eyes Only, is one of the few sources of fun here.  Unfortunately, most of her dumb dialogue requires her to says stuff like, “It’s like a supermarket of sex!”  Schaal is fine too as the prudish girl who gets drunk and does a striptease on top of a bar, but neither actress is given the opportunity to really cut loose, which is a shame.

If anything, Where the Boys Are is notable for being the first movie ever released by Tri-Star Pictures.

AKA:  Where the Boys Are ’84.

CHERRY, HARRY AND RAQUEL! (1970) ***

Russ Meyer’s Cherry, Harry and Raquel! is the only movie I can think of that starts off with a written plea for the tolerance of free love and sex immediately followed up by a long narration condemning the use and trafficking of marijuana.  I guess Meyer’s work is filled with contradictions, shameless moralizing, and even more shameless nudity.  It’s certainly a lesser work for Meyer, but it still contains enough of his hallmarks to make it worthwhile for fans.  There’s all the rapid-fire editing, Dutch angles, and shots of busty women making love and/or frolicking in the nude against far-reaching vistas that you’ve come to expect from the man.  The results are uneven and spotty, but I’ll be damned if there aren’t some flashes of brilliance here.

Harry (Charles Napier) is a corrupt sheriff who runs reefer out of a pissant desert town.  He keeps two women on the side, a sexy blond hooker named Raquel (Larissa Ely) and a fiery redhead nurse named Cherry (Linda Ashton).  Harry is delayed in the desert when he gets entangled in a vicious gun battle, and his ladies past the time by smoking dope and getting it on with one another.

Cherry, Harry and Raquel! is rather inconsequential and lightweight.  The fragmented, unstructured narrative is frustrating at times, but the highlights are pure Meyer.  Ely goes down on a guy while her wine goblet covers his phallus.  Napier finds Ashton buried in the sand before uncovering her breasts and balling her on the dunes.  Then there’s the scene of Napier fixing a flat tire intercut with a gynecological exam.  It’s bizarre, brazen, and totally Meyer.

I’m not saying it all works.  The random insert shots of Uschi Digard running around naked, showering, and suggestively eating celery doesn’t add up to much of anything, other than to help pad out the running time.  Then again, if you want to pad out the running time, having Uschi Digard roaming through the desert nude for no good reason whatsoever is a good way to go about it.  The overly violent shootout in the desert also feels a bit out of place.  I guess if anything, Meyer was trying to show everyone he could pull off a bloody gun battle just as well as Sam Peckinpah.    

Meyer took his comic book penchant for sex, violence, and overall outrageousness to the nth degree with his next film, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls later in the year.

AKA:  Megavixens.  AKA:  Three Ways to Love.