NEUTRON THE ATOMIC SUPERMAN VS. THE AMAZING DR. CARONTE (1964) **

Just as everyone is breathing a sigh of relief following Neutron’s defeat of the evil Dr. Caronte (Julio Aleman), the fiendish doctor rears his head yet again.  His plot to take over the world is stalled when he gets mixed up with a spy (Guillermo Alvarez Bianchi) who works for a foreign government.  He steals Caronte’s formula for the neutron bomb with the intention of using it for his own devious purposes.  Once Caronte gets the formula back and disposes of the spy, he sets out to claim Nora (Rosita Arenas) the nightclub singer for his own, all the while unmasking his arch-nemesis, Neutron (Wolf Ruvinskis). 

After two smashing entries in the Neutron series, along comes this over-plotted third entry to take the wind out of the franchise’s sails.  The laborious subplot with Caronte and the superfluous foreign villain (who looks like Sydney Greenstreet in Casablanca and listens to Beethoven) pretty much stops the movie on a dime.  What’s more is the fact that he quickly unmasks Caronte, discovers his identity, and then uses it as leverage against him.  Forced with the prospect of having to do the spy’s bidding, Caronte then spends 2/3 of the movie wriggling out from under the bad guy’s thumb.  So much for being “amazing”. 

All this rigmarole with Caronte ultimately gets in the way of Neutron doing his thing.  The film was already low on fight scenes to begin with, but the dense, dull, and misguided subplot only allows for him to have three brawls, and in only one of them does he wear his trademark mask.  For Lucha Libre fans, this will come as a disappointment.  Heck, even the zombies don’t get a lot to do in this one, so horror fans will undoubtedly feel let down too. 

On the plus side, returning director Federico Curiel once again brings a strong sense of style to the proceedings.  The laboratory scenes feel like something out of an old Universal movie, and there are segments that may remind you of a Republic serial.  That’s not quite enough though to live up to the heights of Neutron, the Atomic Superman vs. the Death Robots, but at least the atmosphere is decent.

AKA:  Neutron vs. Dr. Caronte. 

MEAN MOTHER (1973) * ½

 

(Programming Note:  I know I was making August Al Adamson month, but since I still have a good chunk of movies left on Severin’s Al Adamson box set left to watch, I figured I’d extend it through September.  I'll try to watch them all before The 31 Days of Horror-Ween kicks off in October, although I kind of doubt I’ll be able to wade my way through them all by then.)

Dobie Gray (the pop singer known for such hits as “The In Crowd” and “Drift Away”) stars as Beauregard Jones, who in the pre-title sequence guns down a drug kingpin, his goons, and some dirty cops atop a tall building.  We then flashback to Vietnam where Beauregard and his buddy Joe (Dennis Safran) go AWOL and set out on separate paths.  In Spain, Beauregard gets in hot water when he helps a sexy senorita evade some hitmen from the Syndicate.  Meanwhile, in Rome, Joe comes into possession of a hot diamond and quickly gets in over his head.  Eventually, they decide to take off to Canada together, but fate has other plans. 

Mean Mother is a weird mother.  It’s one part Italian crime picture and one part Blaxploitation actioner.  Legendary schlock producer Sam Sherman got a hold of a flick called Run for Your Life directed by Leon (“Kill ‘em off ski”) Klimovsky that he couldn’t sell.  So, he gave the one and only Al Adamson a call and had him film new scenes with Gray and turn it into a black action movie so they could cash in on the Blaxploitation craze.  Despite the fact that Safran appears in both narratives, the two halves never really gel as the whole thing feels like it’s been Frankensteined together. 

Based on the evidence supplied here, Dobie is a much better singer than actor.  Safran is even worse, but the ladies in the cast are engaging.  Former Bond girl Luciana Paluzzi appears in the Klimovsky portions of the film.  She looks great and gives a decent performance, although it’s hard to grasp what she sees in the bland Safran.  (I wonder if she ever realized her scenes would someday wind up in an Al Adamson Blaxploitation flick?)  The ever-sexy Marilyn Joi shows up in the Adamson sequences and makes the sluggishly paced scenes worth watching.  We also get a bit by the sultry Robyn Hilton (Mel Brooks’ secretary in Blazing Saddles) as a bombshell in a bikini who unsuccessfully tries to waylay Gray during a roadside ambush.

The Run for Your Life segments are indifferently edited into the action, which is often poorly staged.  The pre-title sequence isn’t bad though.  You can see why Adamson frontloaded it into the picture because it’s easily the best thing the movie has to offer (Joi and Hilton’s nude scenes notwithstanding).  It quickly settles down from there and becomes something of a chore to sit through, mostly on account of the constant shifting back and forth from the Klimovsky footage to the Adamson stuff. 

Another problem:  Beauregard really isn’t all that… mean?  He’s the hero and all, but he really doesn’t do anything particularly bad to justify the title.  Maybe he had a mean mother growing up and that’s why he turned out to be such a good guy.

I’m a big fan of the Blaxploitation genre.  Even lesser Blaxploitation fare can be enjoyable for the dated fashions, low production values, and the bad acting.  Mean Mother, unfortunately, is just plain bad.

AKA:  Run for Your Life.

WRESTLING WOMEN VS. THE KILLER ROBOT (1969) ****

Gaby (Regina Torne) is the reigning lady wrestling champion of Mexico. Her uncle gets kidnapped by a mad scientist named Dr. Orlak (Carlos Agosti) who wants him to perfect a mind-control device that will turn ordinary people into “human robots”.  When her uncle refuses, Dr. Orlak has him killed by his badass robot henchman.  (He looks like a cross between Pizza the Hut’s sidekick in Spaceballs and Blade from Puppet Master.)  Dr. Orlak also keeps an ugly mutant named Carfax (Gerardo Zepeda) locked up in cellar.  He’s one of the doctor’s failed experiments who likes to kill nurses.  After her uncle’s body is discovered, Gaby vows to put a stop to Orlak’s plans once and for all.  Just when you think you’ve seen the last of the mad Dr. Orlak, he puts the brain of Carfax into a wrestling woman and turns her into a human robot named Elektra who challenges Gaby for the title! 

Wrestling Women vs. the Killer Robot was directed by the great Rene Cardona, who also made the very similar Night of the Bloody Apes that same year.  (Zepeda essentially played the same role in that film.)  Apparently, there was also a “hot” version of the movie called Sex Monsters, which supposedly had sex and gore inserted into the picture, a la Apes.  Unfortunately, that version is presumed to be lost.  Even without the sexy and gory inserts, Wrestling Women vs. the Killer Robot is one of the finest hours in the history of Mexican Wrestling cinema.

I mean how can you not love a movie that involves sexy wrestling women in formfitting spandex throwing each other around a ring while a robot dressed like an ‘80s music video version of a ‘30s gangster busts through I don’t know how many balsa wood doors, as horny caged human freaks assault sexy nurses?  Also, one thing just occurred to me.  The mutant is named Carfax and our heroine is named Gaby.  That is so almost a Dracula reference. 

Some may take issue that the wrestling scenes are for the most part, completely random.  Some may also note that they aren’t up to the grappling standards of an El Santo picture.  I say they are some damned fine examples of Lucha Libre, mostly because the women in this movie are hot (especially the vivacious Torne).  Whatever these scenes lack in wrestling expertise, they more than make up for in the eye candy department.

The dialogue is pretty great too.  There are so many terrific lines and quips throughout the film.  However, I think my favorite line came when Gaby professes her love of Lucha Libre, and her uncle retorts, “You should try a safer sport… like marriage!”

AKA:  Sex Monsters.  AKA:  Wrestling Women vs. the Murderous Robot.  AKA:  Sex and the Mad Killer.

MIL MASCARAS (1969) ***

 

A group of world leaders raise a young boy to be an undefeatable champion of justice.  When he grows to be a man, he dons a Lucha Libre mask and becomes Mil Mascaras.  Working from intel provided to him by his mysterious benefactors, Mil sets out to smash a crime syndicate bent on world domination. 

Unlike El Santo, who never really had much of a backstory in his movies, Mil Mascaras devotes nearly an entire reel to his origin story.  If you can stomach the ill-fitting stock footage left over from WWII, the scene where the baby Mil is discovered in the bombed-out wreckage of a dilapidated building is quite effective.  I also liked the training montage of Mil growing into adulthood as he learns to sharpen not only his physical attributes, but his mind as well.  (There’s even a brief shot of him working in a mad scientist lab!)

Speaking of getting physical, Mil is a lot of fun to watch in his wrestling scenes.  He is quick on his feet, does a handful of flashy moves, and has a commanding presence in and out of the ring.  The film is likewise fast-paced and contains a number of action sequences and fight scenes to keep you entertained.

Another way this picture is a little different than say, the works of El Santo is the music.  In most Lucha Libre movies, the music sequences are akin to easy listening and/or traditional folk music.  Mil Mascaras features wall-to-wall rock n’ roll.  The scenes set in a rock n’ roll club where a bunch of teenagers twist the night away have a lot of energy, and the big musical number (sung by a girl who looks like Twiggy) will get your toes tapping.  The musical score, though repetitive, is catchy too, and gives the assorted fight scenes an added flair. 

In short, this is another top-notch Mexican wrestling movie.  Based on the evidence here (as well as the El Santo films I’ve seen in which Mil had supporting roles), I’m going to have to add the Mil Mascaras series to my ever-growing pile of must-see Mexican wrestling franchises.  In these troubled times, the genre has offered me a lot of comfort and strength.  I often ask myself why I am so drawn to them.  I think I know the answer now.  It’s because the Luchadores of Mexican Cinema harken back to a simpler time.  They stand for truth, justice, and the Mexican way.  Plus, unlike a lot of people in this country, they know how to wear a damn mask.

ANGELS’ WILD WOMEN (1972) **

(ARCHIVE REVIEW:  ORIGINALLY POSTED:  APRIL 28^TH, 2010)

Angels’ Wild Women came about when director Al Adamson added new spicy footage to an unreleased biker film.  The new scenes of bosomy women kicking ass are pretty cool and play like an Adamson version of a Russ Meyer movie.  However, all the stuff involving the bikers is boring as Hell.

Speed (Ross Hagen, no stranger to biker movies after The Sidehackers and The Hellcats) is the leader of a biker gang that spends most of his time balling his old lady and riding his motorcycle.  The gang spends a weekend at a commune headed by a weirdo hippie cult leader who is secretly growing pot.  When word gets out about the operation, he sacrifices Speed’s girlfriend.  That of course sends Speed into a frenzy and he sets out to get revenge on that dirty hippie scumbag.

A lot of Angels’ Wild Women is just plain stupid, but it has a handful of memorable scenes containing highly quotable dialogue that makes it stand out from most of the titles in the Adamson filmography.  Like the scene when a couple of rednecks rape a black biker chick then her tough gal pals show up to get revenge.  One chick distracts the guy by popping her top and says, “Do you want to see some boobies?” before kneeing him in the nuts.  Then there’s a great scene where the biker broads hold down a studly farmhand and force him to fuck.  He protests, “Poontang is poontang, but these sex orgies just ain’t natural!” but eventually gives in and bangs them.  The finale is also pretty WTF.  Hagen drives his motorcycle off a cliff, and it lands on the roof of the bad guy’s car, causing an inexplicable explosion.

Although most flicks need a straightforward story to keep your attention, Angels’ Wild Women’s loose-as-a-goose plotting is one of its strong suits.  Stuff just sorta happens at random in this movie.  First the Angels are fighting, then they’re riding their hogs, then they’re fucking, then they’re battling a third-rate Manson knockoff. 

Unfortunately, the film also contains more than its fair share of dull patches.  Too many in fact to give it a wholehearted recommendation.  Still, Two Stars for an Adamson flick is like Three Stars for most directors, so if you have a high tolerance for Al’s oeuvre, then you should probably check it out.

 

NEW REVIEW:  ANGELS’ WILD WOMEN  (1972)  **

My old review pretty much summed up my thoughts on Al Adamson’s Angels’ Wild Women.  My only real addition is the fact that so much of the movie was filmed at Spahn’s Movie Ranch.  Adamson had filmed several films there over the years, but this is the first time I think he started to meld his own legend into his pictures.  It was at Spahn’s Ranch where his frequent star Gary Kent (who also has a small role in this one) had his run-in with Charles Manson, which later became the genesis of Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.  In this one, the heroines confront a Manson-like cult leader who has taken over the ranch for his own devious purposes.  Adamson and company had exploited Manson before (most egregiously in the marketing for Satan’s Sadists), but this is the first time they put a not-so thinly veiled version of him on screen. 

As for the movie itself, it feels no less cobbled together than any other of Adamson’s films I’ve watched this month.  The stuff with the wild women tormenting men and/or using them for sex are easily the best.  The stuff with biker Ross Hagen (who is saddled with a terrible haircut) is notably less involving. 

All this kind of flows decently enough in the early going.  The aforementioned “Do you want to see some boobies?” and “Poontang is Poontang!” scenes are a hoot.  These scenes, along with healthy doses of nudity, help to keep Angels’ Wild Women in the better-than-average range as far as Adamson’s films go.  However, once the action switches over to the ranch and the Manson-like cult leader begins to take over the narrative, the fun begins to dwindle.

AKA:  Commune of Death.  AKA:  Rough Riders.  AKA:  Screaming Eagles.  AKA:  Screaming Angels.  AKA:  Wild Women.

DRACULA VS. FRANKENSTEIN (1971) ***

(ARCHIVE REVIEW:  ORIGINALLY POSTED:  JULY 17^th, 2007)

Dracula (Zandor Vorkov, who has an echoy voice and a disintegrating ring) digs up the Frankenstein monster and gets the good doctor (J. Carroll Naish), who runs an amusement park (complete with a house of horrors), to revive it.  Lon Chaney, Jr. is his mute assistant who decapitates girls with an axe and Angelo (The Corpse Vanishes) Rossitto is the midget ticket taker who says, “In order to see, you must open your eyes!” 

Director Al Adamson’s wife, Regina Carrol plays a Vegas showgirl who teams up with philosophical hippie Anthony Eisley to find her missing sister.  When they stumble into his lab, Frankenstein tries to turn them into his next experiment.  When they escape, Rossitto falls on an axe, Chaney gets shot, and Naish gets inadvertently gets decapitated!  Dracula then kidnaps Carrol and disintegrates Eisley with his ring.  He wants to turn her into his vampire bride, but the monster has the hots for her too.  The monsters fight (of course it had to be over a woman, right?) in Drac’s backyard and The Count pulls the monster apart limb from limb, but the sun comes out and he crumbles to dust! 

This is probably Adamson’s best-known movie and it’s pretty entertaining too.  Whenever the monsters are onscreen it’s a lot of fun.  However, the hippies, stock footage of protests (“What are we protesting today?”), and slang date it unmercifully.  Co-starring Russ (West Side Story) Tamblyn as a biker rapist, future director Greydon Clark as a hippie and Famous Monsters creator Forrest J. Ackerman as a victim (he was also a consultant).  There’s also a cool credit sequence and good music by Bill Lava, but the familiar Creature from the Black Lagoon music is used for the final reel.  Not to be confused with the Paul Naschy movie Dracula vs. Frankenstein from the previous year.

 

NEW REVIEW:  DRACULA VS. FRANKENSTEIN  (1971)  ***

After sitting through thirteen Al Adamson movies this month, I think it’s safe to say Dracula vs. Frankenstein is his masterpiece.  It has all the hallmarks of his best (and worst) stuff.  There are parallel narratives that feel like they came out of two entirely different movies, confusing editing, shoddy make-up, and a cast full of his usual stock players, including his wife, Regina Carrol.  Sure, it’s just as patched together as most of his work, but there are some downright memorably WTF passages here that will make any lover of B cinema stand up and take notice. 

The first ten minutes alone rank as some sort of minor classic.  After an awesome title sequence, Dracula (Zandor Vorkov) digs up the Frankenstein monster (John Bloom), then a carnival barker (Angelo Rossitto) leads a couple of hippies through a haunted house owned by Dr. Frankenstein (J. Carroll Naish), before Frankenstein’s mute assistant (Lon Chaney, Jr.) goes on an axe murdering spree, chopping off a woman’s head.  The showstopper though is Regina Carrol’s Vegas song and dance number about packing too many things in her suitcases, which enrages her wimpy back-up dancers who can’t carry it all.  Incredible. 

Things start to get erratic once Russ Tamblyn enters the picture.  In fact, all the biker shit in the movie feels out of place with the monster plotline.  However, this does lead up to a great scene where he doses Carrol with acid, and she has a big freak-out sequence in which she imagines herself on a giant spider web.  Even Salvador Dali himself would get a kick out of this scene.

I think I should also mention that Kenneth Strickfaden loaned the production his lab equipment from the original 1931 Frankenstein.  Everyone made a big deal when Mel Brooks used it in Young Frankenstein, but Al Adamson did it three years before him.  Adamson also used some equipment from Horror of the Blood Monsters for variety’s sake, I suppose. 

AKA:  Revenge of Dracula.  AKA:  Blood of Frankenstein.  AKA:  They’re Coming to Get You.  AKA:  Teenage Dracula.

BRAIN OF BLOOD (1971) ** ½

 

(ARCHIVE REVIEW:  ORIGINALLY POSTED  JAN. 14^th, 2008)

Eddie Romero’s shot-in-the-Philippines “Blood Island” trilogy made a buck for somebody back in the USA during the late ‘60s, so the producers wanted another film for the franchise.  They were too cheap to go back to the Philippines to film it, so instead they hired director Al (Blood of Dracula’s Castle) Adamson to helm it in his own backyard for $12.  The results are somewhat of a mess, but it’s still one of Adamson’s best movies. 

A dictator of a fictional country (Reed Hadley) dies and his sons (The Incredible Shrinking Man’s Grant Williams and Zandor Vorkov) hire a mad scientist (Kent Taylor from The Mighty Gorga) to perform an illicit brain transplant to save his life.  The first step is naturally to wrap his corpse head to toe in aluminum foil like a baked potato; then Taylor sends out his hideously deformed assistant Gor (John Bloom) to get a (unwilling) donor body.  After Gor drops his potential patient from a fire escape and fractures his neck, Taylor decides to put the dictator’s brain into Gor’s body, which complicates things with his fiancée (Regina Carrol, the director’s wife).  There’s also a subplot involving Taylor’s midget assistant (played by who else, Angelo Rossitto) who keeps women chained up in the basement, a great flashback where a bunch of rednecks pour battery acid on Gor’s face, and some pretty memorable and messy brain surgery scenes. 

Taylor is pretty great as the demented doctor (he was in SIX Adamson movies altogether), but the rest of the cast (most of whom appeared in Adamson’s Dracula vs. Frankenstein) is uneven to say the least.  I guess that’s to be expected when you cast your wife and friends in your movie instead of experienced actors.  The goofy premise and funky performances will keep you snickering, but it’s Gor’s get-up that receives the most laughs.  The make-up is positively awful and he resembles a close cousin of the monster from The Brain That Wouldn’t Die; and just like that monster, you can see the actor’s hair showing through the bald cap. 

Brain of Blood loses points for its slapdash storytelling and erratic editing, but ironically, it’s one of Adamson’s more coherent efforts.  It moves along at a steady pace, and if you have a high tolerance for Adamson’s ineptitude, you’ll probably find yourself in Bad Movie Heaven. 

AKA:  Brain Damage.  AKA:  The Brain.  AKA:  The Creature’s Revenge.  AKA:  The Oozing Skull.  AKA:  The Undying Brain.

 

NEW REVIEW:

BRAIN OF BLOOD  (1971)  ** ½

After re-watching Brain of Blood, I reread this old review and realized it pretty much already summed up my thoughts on this one.  Because of that, I don’t really have a whole lot to add.  One thing I did notice this time around is that I liked the brain surgery scenes even more.  They’re gory, gooey, and ludicrously drawn out.  Unfortunately, the rest of the movie is drawn out too, just not in a good way.  On this viewing, the assorted subplots, including the stuff with the chained women in the dungeon, Gor’s backstory, and the political maneuverings associated with the surgery went over like a lead balloon.  Things eventually pick up in the third act, just not enough to put it over into *** territory.  Still, the heights are just high enough to rank this as the best movie on the box set so far. 

Also, the performances are among the best found in any Al Adamson film.  Williams makes for an appealing lead, Rossitto is a lot of fun to watch, and Carrol shows she’s a little more than just “the director’s girlfriend” (as I callously referred to her twelve years ago).  The movie really belongs to Kent Taylor as the demented doctor.  No matter the film’s flaws, whenever he’s on screen chewing the scenery, Brain of Blood is a ghoulish delight.

Another note worth mentioning is that the transfers on the box set have been gorgeous from top to bottom.  Sure, many of the elements for some of the movies were damaged beyond repair, but the care in which Severin was able to pick up the pieces and put them back together (especially on The Female Bunch) has been nothing less than stellar.  They really outdid themselves on Brain of Blood as the picture has never looked better.  Even though it’s nearly fifty years old, there are some scenes that look like they could’ve been filmed yesterday.  The gory operation scenes particularly pop, with every drizzle of blood and pulsating brain tissue looking as fresh as the day they were created.