BLAZING STEWARDESSES (1975) * ½

 

I already reviewed this a decade ago, but it never hurts to watch the movies on this Al Adamson boxset with a fresh set of eyes.  Adamson made a career out of slapping together two genres in order to reach a wider market.  Blood of Ghastly Horror was a mix of crime picture and horror movie.  The Dynamite Brothers was a hybrid of Blaxploitation and Kung Fu flick.  This is a blend of western and sexploitation.  As far as nudie westerns go, it’s got nothing on Herschell Gordon Lewis’ Linda and Abilene, THE definitive work of the genre, as far as I’m concerned. 

Connie Hoffman returns as sexy stewardess Debbie.  She returns home from a flight and finds her boyfriend in the sack with another woman.  She and her stewardess gal pals (Regina Carrol and Marilyn Joi) then take off for a vacation at a casino ranch owned by her old pal Brewster (Robert Livingston).  When a gang of modern-day rustlers try to put a stop to Brewster’s gambling joint, it’s up to a mysterious cowboy in a white hat (Geoffrey Land) to save the day.

The idea of cowgirl stewardesses could’ve worked, but there’s just too much filler.  It’s one thing to pad the movie with travelogue scenes of the stewardesses going to the zoo, shopping, watching parades, and attending rodeos.  I guess it makes sense as the film was still kind of aping the Stewardess Report template.  However, the straight western scenes are terrible, and all the comedy shit just plain doesn’t work at all.

The good news is, the sex scenes are decent.  Foot fetish fans will enjoy the toe-sucking rendition “This Little Piggy”, and the funny bit when a couple does it while standing on their heads.  Ultimately, there just aren’t enough of them to make it worthwhile. 

The cast aren’t much to write home about.  Yvonne DeCarlo (who sings!) plays the madam of a cathouse, but her role really could’ve been played by anyone.  While Hoffman was a lot of fun in the original, this time around, she seems like she really doesn’t want to be there.  Also, Joi, who was such a memorable presence in the first movie is pretty much wasted here.  Carrol on the other hand, gets way too much to do.  She completely overdoes the whole bimbo thing and her schtick becomes instantly annoying. 

Speaking of annoying schtick, seeing the Ritz Brothers (whose roles were originally intended for The Three Stooges!) still doing their antiquated pratfalls and facial contortions way past their prime is downright embarrassing.  Their impromptu dance number alone is enough to make you want to blow your brains out.  Originally a trio, only two of the Ritz Brothers, Harry and Jimmy, perform as Al passed away several years prior.  He was the lucky one.

Despite the fact his previous film, Jessi’s Girls was a decent enough western, Blazing Stewardesses shows that Adamson’s strength was more in the drive-in exploitation genre and not in westerns.  He isn’t particularly adept at comedy either (the stuff with the Ritz Brothers is painful), so whenever there aren’t any smokin’ stewardesses disrobing for the camera (which is about the majority of the second and third acts), it can be awfully rough going.  

Here’s my original review that ran on my old site on November 22^nd, 2010:

BLAZING STEWARDESSES  (1975)  * ½

Blazing Stewardesses is director Al Adamson’s pretty awful sequel to the pretty good The Naughty Stewardesses.  In this one, our swinging stewardesses head west to help an elderly cowhand revitalize his dude ranch.  Of all the places Adamson could’ve sent his sexy stews, he put them in a dumb western.  Why couldn’t we have gotten The Stewardesses in a Haunted House or The Stewardesses in Space or something along those lines?  But no, we’re stuck with this crap.

I will say one thing; the opening credits are kinda cool and look like something out of a B western from the 30’s.  After that though, the movie kinda falls apart.  To make matters worse, the sex scenes are few and far between.  There is however, one rather hot part where a chick plays an oral-centric version of “This Little Piggy”.  That’s about the only marginally sexy moment the movie has going for it.

Mostly though; it’s too much filler and not enough fucking.  This might be the first movie that’s all padding.  There are long parade sequences, rodeo scenes, and way too much godawful comic relief by the supremely annoying Ritz Brothers to make you think this could’ve ever been a good flick.  Speaking of annoying, Regina Carrol will grate on your nerves and totally overplays the whole bimbo thing.  Because she’s the director’s wife though, she gets a shit ton of screen time.

Bottom Line:  Ask your stewardess for extra pillows because you’ll be sleeping through this one.

AKA:  Cathouse Callgirls.  AKA:  Cathouse Cowgirls.  AKA:  Texas Layover.  AKA:  The Great Truck Robbery.  AKA:  The Jet Set.  AKA:  Up Like a Shot.

JESSI’S GIRLS (1975) ** ½

 

Jessi’s Girls is one of the more obscure titles on the Al Adamson boxset from Severin.  (Well, I had never heard of it.)  I had low expectations seeing as it was another western and Adamson’s last western, Five Bloody Graves was easily the worst film in the collection.  Turns out, it’s not too bad.  It’s competently put together, features some solid performances, and features just enough sleaze to appease to the drive-in crowd while simultaneously catering to western fans. 

Sondra (Policewomen) Currie stars as Jessi, a preacher’s wife who is traveling out west in a covered wagon with her husband Seth (Rigg Kennedy).  Notorious outlaw Frank Brock (Ben Frank from Death Wish 2) and his gang ambush the couple, tie up Seth, and take turns violently raping Jessi.  The hoodlums then shoot both husband and wife and leave them for dead.  Jessi miraculously survives, and with the help of a friendly old prospector (Rod Cameron) becomes a crack shot.  She sets out to get revenge on the men who raped her and ends up crossing paths with a trio of criminal women who aid her in her quest for vengeance. 

The opening is strong.  Adamson wastes no time getting to the sleaze with an extended gang rape scene.  From there, it becomes sort of a western version of I Spit on Your Grave (I Spit on Your Tombstone?), but with the addition of three fugitive women.  

Currie gives a fine performance as the vengeance-seeking cowgirl.  She gets naked a lot too, which helps bulk up the skin factor.  The other ladies in the cast are appealing too, even if they don’t get a whole lot to do.  (Save for Regina Carrol and Ellen Stern’s catfight).  Their characters never really get a chance to bond in a meaningful way either as they mostly feel like they’re just along for the ride.

The traditional western sequences look the part, even if they aren’t really all that involving.  The big problem is that revenge scenes lack the punch that the early attack scenes had.  Considering the Hell they put her through, you’d expect Currie to make her tormentors suffer, at least a little bit.  Instead, she merely hunts them down, flashes back to the men’s grimy faces, and then shoots them.  The lurid scenes of Currie and Carrol (who used a body double because after all, she’s the director’s wife) nursing wounded men back to health by banging them feel out of step with the serious tone, but again, it does up the skin factor. 

Also, you have to wonder if Rick Springfield saw this at the drive-in before writing “Jesse’s Girl”. 

AKA:  Jessi’s Gang.  AKA:  Jessi’s Gun.  AKA:  Wanted Women.

I SPIT ON YOUR CORPSE! (1974) ***

 

Note:  Although the title on the Blu-Ray is Girls for Rent, the version I originally saw (on Beta, no less) back in the early ‘00s was called I Spit on Your Corpse!  Because that’s the version I’m most familiar with, that’s the title I will refer to it as.  Of course, the retitling was meant to cash in on the infamous cult classic, I Spit on Your Grave, but apart from a subplot about a slow-witted redneck rapist, it’s really nothing like that flick.  It is however a solid slice of drive-in moviemaking, and certainly one of director Al Adamson’s all-time best efforts. 

Moreno (frequent Adamson star Kent Taylor) runs an organization that is kind of like an evil version of Charlie’s Angels.  One girl handles counterfeiting, another runs a call girl operation, one deals in stolen goods, etc.  He hires Sandra (Georgina Spelvin) as the team’s hit woman, and immediately gives her an assignment to take out a politician.  She doesn’t want to get her hands dirty, so she gets a call girl named Donna (Susan McIver) to unwillingly poison the perverted politico.  Once she realizes she’s killed a man, Donna hightails it out of there and heads for Mexico.  Moreno, nervous Donna will talk to the authorities, sends Sandra out in hot pursuit to silence her for good. 

While it never hits the zany heights of Adamson’s Dracula vs. Frankenstein, I Spit on Your Corpse! is his most consistently entertaining film.  It’s briskly paced, well-made, and looks great, thanks to Gary Graver’s excellent cinematography.  The score, which alternates from sounding like a Spaghetti Western to resembling a James Bond rip-off, is also very good.

Hot off the heels of her notoriety from The Devil in Miss Jones, Spelvin delivers a knockout performance.  Sporting a pixie hairdo and spouting her dialogue through a mischievous sneer, the tough-talking Spelvin kinda looks like a cross between Shirley MacLaine and Tura Satana.  The opening sequence, where Spelvin escapes from a prison roadwork crew, perfectly sets the tone for the movie.  Two female prisoners begin wrestling in the dirt to distract the guards before Spelvin conks them on the head and takes off into the desert.  My favorite moment though is when Spelvin seduces the slow-witted would-be rapist and blows his brains out just before he’s about to get his rocks off. 

We also get a great bit where Spelvin and her partner in crime, Rosalind Miles are hitchhiking, and roll a trio of drunks.  Spelvin lures them in by whipping out her tit (most people stick out their thumb while hitchhiking, but not Georgina), and it doesn’t take long for her and Miles to kick the shit out of some Good Ol’ Boys.  This sequence also features a brief smattering of topless kickboxing, and as far as I can tell, it is only the second instance of topless kickboxing in film history as it premiered just a few months after Cirio H. Santiago’s seminal T.N.T. Jackson. 

Although the film clips along at a steady pace for the first hour or so, it kind of fizzles out just before the finale.  The end chase through the desert is needlessly drawn out, almost as if Adamson was contractually obligated to reach a mandated ninety-minute runtime.  That blemish aside, there is enough skin and action throughout the movie to make it highly recommended for connoisseurs of sleazy drive-in fare. 

AKA:  Girls for Rent.  AKA:  Fatal Pursuit.  AKA:  A Life in the Balance.

THE REVENGE OF HURRICANE RAMIREZ (1969) ** ½

The Revenge of Hurricane Ramirez was an attempt by the series to copy the success of the El Santo movies.  Sure, you still get the family drama (and comedy) you’d expect from a Hurricane Ramirez picture.  Only this time, you have the added pleasure of a mad scientist villain. 

Right from the get-go, the villain works tirelessly in his mad scientist lab performing illicit experiments on animals.  Soon, he perfects a formula to turn his two simpleton henchmen into luchadores!  After Hurricane, who is once again played outside the ring by David Silva, hands them a crushing defeat, the villain uses the formula on himself and goes after Hurricane in the ring.

The wrestling action is great this time around.  The tag team match with Hurricane and his father (Tonino Jackson) against the two henchman is a lot of fun.  One henchman uses chloroform to subdue Jackson while the other has the power to engulf his hand in flames like The Human Torch!  The best scene though is when the mad scientist is unmasked in the ring as a Mr. Hyde-type monster.  These gimmicks only enhance what were already stellar fight sequences to begin with and help set them apart from the other more traditional wrestling scenes in the previous installments. 

The music isn’t bad either.  I liked the impromptu concert at a record store, and the number that occurs at a TV station has a lot of energy.  The camerawork during the pool party song is also very good.

Like most Hurricane Ramirez films, the problem is the ho-hum family drama.  The scenes that take place in the family’s diner are easily the weakest parts of the movie.  The multiple romantic subplots (including Tonino contending with an overzealous female fan) slow down the pacing considerably and get in the way of the Lucha Libre hijinks.  The comedy fails to elicit any laughs too.  (There is a pie fight.)

Like Son of Hurricane Ramirez, this was projected in a half-assed version of post-conversion 3-D.  Overall, the effects were much better than the ones found in Son.  Early on, there’s a shot of a lizard’s head emerging out of the screen that works quite nice.  There’s also a musical performance in which a couple of guitar necks poke out at the viewer a bit, as does the singer’s beehive hairdo.  That’s about it in terms of 3-D effects though.  For the most part, the flatly projected scenes look a bit blurry.  I’d say if you have a choice over seeing it this way or the 2-D, I’d go with the 2-D.

AKA:  The Vengeance of Hurricane Ramirez.   

THE EVIL ONES (1968) *** ½

 

Remember a few days ago when I watched Wrestling Women vs. the Killer Robot and I fell head over heels for Regina Torne, who played the main badass wrestling lady?  Well, lo and behold, here she is again!  This time, she’s the saucy villainess in the second Mil Mascaras movie (which, according to IMDb, was actually released first).  She plays Kaneda, the leader of a female biker gang.  In the opening scene, she and her cohorts ride to her underground lair where she dances wildly while a swinging rock n’ roll band belts out a great number.  She then makes it a point to bring down Mil Mascaras, the wrestler who wears a million masks, once and for all. 

This leads up to a scene where Torne, dressed head to toe in black leather is sitting on a red velvet throne in her dungeon.  The camera slowly pulls back to reveal a couple who are strung up on adjacent columns.  When they refuse to tell her what she wants to know, she whips the shit out of them with a riding crop. 

It’s as if director Federico Curiel knew exactly what my innermost fantasy was and filmed it in precise detail. 

We also get a scene where Torne and her minions don masquerade masks, drug Mil, pin him down, and try to remove his mask against his will.  Another choice moment finds Torne dressing up like a Vegas showgirl and participating in an Aztec ceremony where she puts a hex on Mil by using a voodoo doll made of clay.  (It looks like a Lucha Libre version of Mr. Bill.)

As you can see, this one is a little kinkier than your average Mexican wresting flick.

The wrestling scenes are plentiful and feature a lot of action.  (There’s one in which Mil bloodies up his opponent.)  Curiel gives these sequences a distinct documentarian flair.  Many times, the camera is up close and personal with the grapplers, which allows the viewer to feel every armbar and stranglehold.  (I also enjoyed the bit where Torne’s sidekick sneaks into the ring and gives Mil a poisoned kiss with arsenic lipstick.) 

The music is positively buzzing too.  My main gripe is the subplot where Torne takes to breaking two criminals (one of whom has a Captain Hook prosthetic) out of prison to help her take down Mil Mascaras.  She was doing just fine on her own.  She didn’t need these two mugs mucking things up. 

I can’t say the film is as much overall fun as Wrestling Women vs. the Killer Robot.  However, it is downright riveting whenever Regina Torne is front and center acting salacious, sadistic, and saucy.  In my humble estimation, her performance remains the definitive portrayal of a Hell’s Angel dominatrix who lives in an underground lair and moonlights as an Aztec priestess and voodoo practitioner.  Torne’s vivacious energy alone makes The Evil Ones a treat from start to finish.

AKA:  Infernal Angels.  AKA:  The Scoundrels. 

THE DYNAMITE BROTHERS (1974) **

 

I reviewed this back in February under the title East Meets Watts.  Most of the Al Adamson films I have re-reviewed while poring through the Severin Films box set were originally reviewed as long as twelve years ago, so I have no problem reappraising them and writing a brand-new review.  However, since I watched this only seven months ago, and my thoughts haven’t really changed, I have decided to forego writing a new review for this one.  In the interest of posterity, here is a reprint of my original review:   

EAST MEETS WATTS  (1974)  **

Larry Chin (Alan Tang) travels from China to San Francisco to find the man who killed his wife.  Along the way, he crosses paths with a soul brother named Stud Brown (Timothy Brown) who’s being hassled by a racist cop (Aldo Ray) who handcuffs them together.  They give the cops (not to mention another assorted crop of racist shitkickers) the slip, get the cuffs off, and decide to work together to take down a local drug kingpin (James Hong). 

East Meets Watts is what you get when Al Adamson can’t make up his mind whether he wants to make a Kung Fu movie or a Blaxploitation actioner.  He splits the difference and tries to give both genres his own unique spin.  It’s obvious that the Kung Fu sequences are much more competent.  By “much more competent”, I mean they’re just as crummy as your typical low budget ‘70s chopsocky flick.  Still, there’s plenty of kicking, chopping, and nunchuck twirling to keep your interest.  We also get at least one memorable death when Tang rips a guy’s scalp off with his bare hands. 

The Blaxploitation elements are the weakest aspects of the movie, mostly because Adamson films the action so poorly.  Simple shootouts and chase scenes are rendered nearly incomprehensible thanks to the schizophrenic editing.  There’s also an unintentionally hilarious subplot involving a mute love interest (played by Carol Speed from The Mack) that will leave you howling. 

The scenes where our two heroes are cuffed together work well enough.  You almost wish they had spent the whole movie that way.  Think a Kung Fu version of The Defiant Ones.  (The Defiant Wongs?)  However, whenever they split up for their separate missions, the movie often spins its wheels.  Despite its shortcomings, I find it hard to completely dislike any film that features Aldo Ray AND James Hong, so it’s still worth watching not only for die-hard Kung Fu and Blaxploitation fans, but for connoisseurs of cult movie stars as well.

AKA:  Dynamite Brothers.  AKA:  Killing of a Chinese Bookie.  AKA:  Stud Brown.  AKA:  Main Street Women.  AKA:  Dynamite Brown.

THE NAUGHTY STEWARDESSES (1973) ** ½

 

I had this on DVD from the Retro-Seduction Cinema line back in the early 2000’s and enjoyed it well enough to keep it in my collection for all these years.  Now that I have the Al Adamson Collection Blu-Ray box set from Severin Films, it’s (mile) high time I upgraded.  Since I bought the disc prior to the creation of my original blog, I never got around to reviewing it.  Until now. 

Even back then I knew this was one of Adamson’s best, and that opinion hasn’t really changed all that much, even if it isn’t exactly “good”.  Although many of his films had a smattering of nudity here and there, The Naughty Stewardesses was Adamson’s first out-and-out sexploitation flick.  Once again, he and producer Sam Sherman were cashing in on the latest exploitation craze.  In this case, they were riding the coattails of the booming Stewardess genre.  It’s also one of his best-looking films, thanks to Gary Graver’s excellent cinematography.  The editing is equally remarkable as this has to be Adamson’s most coherent feature to date.

I only wish the editor was more judicious in the cutting room as this clocks in at a whopping 109 minutes.  There’s no reason for a softcore stewardess movie to be 109 minutes.  Heck, there’s no reason for an Al Adamson movie to be 109 minutes.  In the film’s defense, I will say that this is the “steamy” international cut that includes six extra spicy minutes of footage previously unseen in America.  Just one more reason why I’m glad I upgraded my disc.

The film centers around a shy and virginal stewardess named Debbie (Connie Hoffman) who rooms together with three sexy, much more experienced stews, played by Donna Desmond, Marilyn Joi, and Sydney Jordan.  Slowly, Debbie loosens up and eventually finds herself torn between the horny old rich man Brewster (Robert Livingston) and a young photographer named Cal (Richard Smedley, who played Akro in Adamson’s Blood of Ghastly Horror), who has a mysterious sexual hang-up.  When Debbie spurns Cal in favor of Brewster, he plots to get even. 

Adamson had previously shown restraint with nudity in his films.  While there is much more of it here in The Naughty Stewardesses, it’s still more tease than please.  Still, many scenes are sexy without going overboard.  For example, this movie probably features the first pussy shaving scene in a non-hardcore flick.  That sounds great and all, but Adamson’s shy handling of it makes it feel a bit tame. 

The opening scene is particularly great.  Marilyn Joi asks, “Have you girls ever tried doing it standing up?”  Then one of the stewardesses proceeds to bang the captain standing up in the back of the plane, just out of view from the passengers.  We also get a memorable birthday party scene where a stewardess receives a cake that’s just a dude with whipped cream all over his body and candles sticking out of his nether region. 

The travelogue scenes of the girls walking around Las Vegas, San Francisco, and Palm Springs, adds to the abundance of padding.  Despite that, it plays rather well, and works more often than not.  The problem is the third act.  It’s here when the film turns into a dull kidnapping drama.  The pacing was already erratic to begin with, but once this subplot takes hold, the movie hits a brick wall and never quite recovers.  If the script had just stuck to being a slice of life look into the bedroom activities of sexy stewardesses, it could’ve been a minor classic.  Too bad that last half hour moves like molasses. 

If you can get past the obnoxious length and the gratuitous third act, I think you’ll enjoy The Naughty Stewardesses.  The ladies in the cast (especially Joi) are sexy, feisty, and likeable, and are equally amusing in their clothes as they are out of them.  The music (by the girl group Sparrow), is quite good too. 

Desmond gets the best line of the movie when she tells Livingston:  “Life to me is just one big orgasm!”

AKA:  Fresh Air.