COTTON CANDY (1978) **

Ron Howard directed this tame, harmless, innocuous, and forgettable TV movie shortly after making Grand Theft Auto for Roger Corman.  Howard’s co-star from American Graffiti, Charles Martin Smith, Terry the Toad himself, stars as a George, a high school senior who doesn’t make the football team.  He then sets out to join the town’s hottest rock n’ roll band, “Rapid Fire”, who reject and humiliate him.  Undeterred, George starts his own band, Cotton Candy, and almost immediately falls in love with his drummer (Leslie King, of Gas Pump Girls and Cheerleaders’ Wild Weekend fame).  Naturally, their bliss is shaken when she gets accepted into MIT, and it threatens to tear their relationship, and the band, apart.

Cotton Candy pretty much plays like an overlong After School Special.  Either that, or an unsold pilot.  There are moments that WANT to be semi-risqué (there’s a strip poker scene that is predictably cut short), but you have a feeling that Opie didn’t want to tarnish his squeaky-clean image, so it just winds up being watered-down.  (There are even silly variations on curse words like “flush you!” that just seem forced.)

Smith (who was also in The Buddy Holly Story, which came out the same year) is pretty good.  Howard’s brother, Clint (who co-wrote the screenplay with Ron) is goofy as usual as the band’s manager, Corky.  It was a family affair all around as Howard’s dad Rance also appears in a small role (as well as produced).  King has a likeable presence, and it’s a shame she didn’t make more movies because she really holds her own here.

Cotton Candy (the band) are kind of square.  Their songs are forgettable, and Howard’s staging of their performances is lackluster.  Fortunately, when Rapid Fire takes the stage, the film fitfully comes alive during their hilariously bad numbers.  The sequence where they perform the whitest version of “I Shot the Sheriff” you have ever seen, is a ripe slice of must-see shitty ‘70s Made for TV nonsense. The rest of the movie, not so much.

GROUP MARRIAGE (1973) **

Chris (Aimee Eccles) and Sander (Solomon Sturges) are a free-spirited couple who pick up Dennis (Jeff Pomerantz), a seemingly square parole officer hitchhiking.  Chris takes a shine to him and soon invites him for a romantic rendezvous.  Dennis surprises them with a bit of sexual freedom of his own as he asks his friend Jan (Victoria Vetri) to join their joint arrangement.  Before long, a handsome beach bum (Zack Taylor) and a sexy lawyer (Gator Bait’s Claudia Jennings) also join their ever-growing polyamorous relationship.  Things become increasingly complicated once Chris gets pregnant and the neighborhood, who doesn’t take kindly to their nontraditional lifestyle, causes a ruckus.

Directed by Stephanie (The Working Girls) Rothman, Group Marriage tries to be a low rent version of Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice.  However, the plot mostly feels like a series of set-ups to corny jokes complete with unfunny punchlines.  The other, racier scenes often play like filmed versions of the old comics you used to see in Playboy.  The silly sitcom scenarios and predictable plot twists would’ve been tolerable if the skin quotient was there, but there’s ultimately not enough nudity to make it worthwhile. Also, while the film has a progressive attitude towards polygamy, it’s filled with dated stereotypes, which may turn off some modern-day viewers.  

The women in the cast help propel it along, not only because they are all sexy, but because they also deliver fine performances.  It’s just a shame that Jennings, the loveliest one of the bunch, has the lamest storyline. She also unfortunately doesn’t show up till the movie’s halfway over.  

The theme song, “Darling Companion” is pretty great though.  It was written and sung by none other than The Lovin’ Spoonful’s John Sebastian, which seems like a good get for a low budget drive-in skin flick.  The song was later covered by Johnny and June Carter Cash on the Johnny Cash at San Quentin album, if you can believe it.

DESTROYER (1988) ***

When I was about ten or so, the first video store I remember frequenting closed its doors forever.  On my last visit, I was able to grab some free posters.  Many of the posters, I have held onto, including the one for Destroyer.  I never put it up on the wall though because I have never seen the movie, and I didn’t want to be rocking a poster for a film I’ve never watched.  (Despite the fact that the poster, which features a sweaty Lyle Alzado holding a jackhammer with the tagline, “3,000 volts couldn’t kill him… it just gave him a buzz!” is freaking awesome.)  I mean, I’m a man of principles, after all.  Flash forward thirty-three years later to me stumbling upon Destroyer on Tubi.  Right then and there I figured it was high-time I finally checked it out.

As it turns out, I should probably get a frame for that poster ASAP because this movie is a lot of fun.

There were a rash of prison/electric chair themed horror movies in the ‘80s.  In addition to Destroyer, we had Prison, Shocker, and The Horror Show.  This one is a little different than those films as it revolves around a film crew shooting a horror movie in a prison, so there’s a Return to Horror High kind of thing going on too. 

The film in production, Death House Dolls, is directed by none other than Anthony Perkins (!) and written by Clayton Rohner, whose girlfriend (Deborah Foreman) is the stunt double for the bitchy leading lady (Lannie Garrett).  The prison they’re filming in has a sordid history.  Months earlier, a psychotic serial killer (Alzado) was executed in the electric chair.  Before long, the wild-eyed Alzado is stalking the corridors of the prison looking to make mincemeat out of the film crew.

The colorful cast ensures Destroyer’s place among the best Electric Chair Killer movies of all time.  Perkins is a lot of fun as the exasperated director.  He’s particularly memorable when he’s butting heads with Garrett and saying things like, “Cecil B. De-fuckin’-Mille!”  Foreman and Rohner have a lot of chemistry (which is natural seeing how were also in April Fool’s Day together).  What makes their scenes work is that they feel like a genuine couple, complete with their own offbeat quirks, which prevents them from seemingly like just another pair of potential victims who are sleepwalking through another horror movie.  (I especially liked the fact that they pretty much have matching pompadour hairdos.)  Alzado makes for a fine villain as he does the crazed psycho thing fairly well.  The scene where he goes to town on a cop with the jackhammer is pretty great.  It’s a shame he passed away so early because he really shows great potential in this movie.

The cast helps keep Destroyer afloat, even when it starts to drag during the stalk n’ slash finale.  These scenes contain about a 50/50 mix of action and horror, and I have to believe that director Robert Kirk (in his only feature length directing effort) would’ve been wise to keep the car crashes and stunt work to a minimum as the horror-centric sequences are a lot more successful and atmospheric.  Some of the editing is a bit awkward in this stretch of the picture too.  With some tighter pacing in the third act, it would’ve made for a crackling good eighty-four-minute movie, but it nevertheless remains an entertaining one at ninety-four. 

Besides, any movie that gives you the joy of seeing Norman Bates directing a shower scene is worthy in my book.

AKA:  Shadow of Death.  AKA:  The Edison Effect.

LISTEN TO MITCH ON THE DIRECT TO VIDEO CONNOISSEUR PODCAST!

Once again, I was asked by Matt from the DTVC Podcast to be a guest on his show.  On this episode, we discussed a subject very near and dear to my heart:  Andy Sidaris and Julie Strain.  If you love their films as much as I do, give it a listen!  I had a blast talking about their movies and I hope you have as much fun listening to it as I did talking about it: DTVC Podcast 82 Dallas Connection (talkshoe.com)

C.B. HUSTLERS (1976) **

C.B. Hustlers is a sexploitation comedy that was cashing in on the trucker craze of the ‘70s.  It starts with a rash of scenes of truck stop hookers seducing truckers by saying pick-up lines like, “Can I check your dipstick?” before getting it on in the cab of their rig while mediocre country and western songs play on the soundtrack.  All of this is just fine and dandy until the various subplots get in the way of the fun.  Meanwhile, the cops (or “Smokeys”) are trying to catch them in the act and bust them, which leads to some underwhelming chase scenes and shenanigans.

The drawn-out, pointless scenes where not a whole lot happens are the big problem.  In particular, there’s one scene where a guy takes a long walk while a slow, ‘70s folk song plays that goes nowhere.  In fact, it seems like the only reason it was there was to pad things out to a releasable running time.  The bumbling reporter plotline is excruciating too, and the repetitive banjo and steel guitar music on the soundtrack will probably put you to sleep. 

Your fondness for the era and subject matter may influence your enjoyment of the film itself.  If you can’t get enough scenes of characters using unending trucker lingo, then this will be right up your alley.  However, whenever the plot isn’t focusing on the truck stop hookers luring their trucker tricks, it runs out of gas. 

Thank God Uschi Digard plays one of the titular hustlers, or this could’ve really been a chore to get through.  She gets all the best scenes.  My favorite one happens when she straddles a john, and the camera shows us his POV.  Let’s just say the view is heavenly. 

Director Stu Segall (who mostly worked in porn) also made the classic Drive-In Massacre the same year.  His porn background often shows as the softcore scenes are the only thing in the movie worth a damn.  If only there had been a stronger plot to keep the sex scenes strung together.  If that was the case, C.B. Hustlers could’ve really put the petal to the metal, good buddy.

AKA:  Secrets of Lady Truckers.

HELL FEST (2018) ***

A group of teenage friends go to an elaborate walk-through haunted house theme park called “Hell Fest” just before Halloween.  While making their way through the various themed portions of the park, they are stalked by a killer in a scary mask (it looks like the Aztec Mummy).  Naturally, they assume he’s one of the “scare actors” whose job it is to scare the paying guests.  The friends soon get more than they bargained for when he really starts picking them off one by one.

Hell Fest is significantly better than the similarly themed Haunt (which came out the year before) as both movies feature near-identical premises.  The difference is that here, it’s a killer quietly making his way around a theme park to stalk his victims instead of inside a self-contained haunted house that is ran by psychos.  Another difference is that the heroine in this one only goes to the haunted house to meet a boy whereas in Haunt, she was going to the haunted house to forget her stalker ex. 

Both films feature a scene where the heroine watches as the killer murders a random person in front of her, but she shrugs it off, thinking it was all part of the act.  (The scene in this one is less showy, but more effective.)  They also owe a small debt to Tobe Hooper’s The Funhouse, in which teens stayed after hours in an amusement park and were slayed by a deformed killer.  Neither movie is able to attain the fever pitch that Hooper brought to the material.  However, Hell Fest has a lot more fun with the premise than Haunt did, and even contains flashes of that old school ‘80s slasher movie magic. 

The body count is small, but the deaths are memorable.  The scene where the killer uses a strongman’s hammer to smash a dude’s head in and still manages to ring the bell is pretty funny.  (He should’ve at least won a kewpie doll for that.)  There’s also a pretty gnarly hypodermic needle kill that will make people who are sensitive to eye trauma squirm in their seat. 

So, if you’re trying to decide between Hell Fest and Haunt, there is no comparison.  Hell Fest is the clear winner.  It moves at a steady clip, has a couple of effective sequences, and features a cast of (mostly) likeable characters.  Haunt, on the other hand, isn’t even worth the price of admission.

AKA:  Horror Park.

BECOMING BOND (2017) **

George Lazenby is a fascinating pop culture footnote.  He was plucked from obscurity to replace Sean Connery in the James Bond series, quickly garnering a reputation for being difficult, stubborn, and independent.  He then passed on an opportunity of a lifetime to continue to portray the role in future installments.  Somebody could’ve made a terrific documentary on the subject.  Unfortunately, director Josh (Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar) Greenbaum isn’t that filmmaker.

It starts out well enough with George front and center telling us the story of his life.  As his tale unfolds, we hear his narration over recreations of his various life-shaping events.  Almost out of the gate, the movie falters.  It’s not that the recreations (which are mostly there for comedic effect) are bad (although they aren’t exactly “good”).  It’s just that they pale in comparison to the man himself.  When we see Lazenby speak, there’s always a touch of regret, embarrassment, or fondness for whatever subject he’s going on about.  There is none of that during the flashback sequences, which mostly play out like a cross between Unsolved Mysteries and Drunk History.  We can sort of buy the illusion when the characters are played by unknowns, but that goes out the window once recognizable faces such as Jeff Garlin, former Bond girl Jane Seymour, and Dana Carvey (who “plays” Johnny Carson, but merely trots out his old standby impression again) enter the mix in the third act.

Some of Greenbaum’s story decisions are baffling at best and embarrassing at worst.  Lazenby's lengthy diatribes about his early sexual conquests take up almost as much screen time as his quest to land the role of Bond, which is strange.  Heck, Greenbaum spends as much time on Lazenby’s bouts of diarrhea as he does on filming the iconic gun barrel scene.

Also, I think it would’ve been nice to see some of Lazenby’s life AFTER Bond.  I know, I know, it’s called “Becoming” Bond, but I would’ve liked to have heard him talk about all the Kung Fu movies and action quickies he made in the ‘70s and ‘80s.  Maybe they’re saving that for the sequel.

I can’t really review a movie for what it SHOULD have been.  However, I can tell you that Greenbaum could’ve made a decent film using either approach.  Having the two storytelling devices in the same movie (they occasionally overlap, which is kind of annoying) doesn’t quite work.  It’s a shame too because George deserves better. 

If another filmmaker wants to give George’s story a go, they have all the time in the world to do it.