TUBI-WEEN HANGOVER: STRIP CLUB MASSACRE (2017) **

Megan (Alicia Watson) loses her job and catches her boyfriend fucking her roommate, all on the same day.  With nowhere left to go, she goes to stay with her best friend whose husband works at a strip club.  He gets her a job there as a waitress, and before long she’s butting heads with a psycho stripper named Jazz (Misty Mundae).  It’s only a matter of time before Megan learns that Jazz, who aided by her loyal kill-crazy stripper cronies, has a nasty habit of killing anyone who gets in her way. 

At one-hundred-and-one minutes, Strip Club Massacre suffers from a lot of padding (including an overlong opening credits sequence).  Heck, it takes a half-hour before we even get to the strip club.  Till then, you have to hear all about Watson’s financial and romantic woes.  In fact, it seems like more screen time is devoted to her personal problems than it is Misty and company… you know… massacring people.  (The third act revelation about her past is kind of in poor taste too.)

Things take a turn down the homestretch when the film switches gears and becomes a mash-up of Thelma and Louise and a rape ‘n revenge flick.  Even though the kills are decent during this section of the flick (brick bashing, throat stabbing, castration, coke straw through the nose, and a crowbar gets shoved into a very uncomfortable place), it all feels a bit rushed.  If the editing was tighter in the first two acts and a little looser during the third, it might’ve worked. 

Misty is unfortunately saddled with a bad wig, but there is one scene where she sports a John Holmes tee-shirt, so there’s that.  At least she looks like she’s having fun while chewing the scenery.  I’m glad she’s getting work outside the Alternative Cinema fold, but ultimately, Strip Club Massacre sorely lacks the pizzazz those features had. 

AKA:  Night Club Massacre.

TUBI-WEEN HANGOVER: THE SPANISH CHAINSAW MASSACRE (2017) **

A rock band called “The Metal Cocks”, who have a pregnant lead singer (who sports a hairy bush), go on the road to play a gig.  Naturally, their van breaks down on the way to the show.  The stranded musicians are almost immediately taken in by the weird locals who at first seem hospitable, if a little eccentric.  However, it isn’t long before they reveal themselves to be cannibals who want to dismember, kill, and eat the band. 

Despite the title, it’s really nothing like The Texas Chain Saw Massacre.  In fact, it’s more like a Spanish version of Two-Thousand Maniacs with a sub-Troma budget.  Or maybe a gory tribute to Jess Franco’s Killer Barbys since it features a rock band with a female lead singer.  Whatever way you want to view it, it still comes up short.

The film relies heavily on grossout humor, although none of it is actually funny.  It’s just gross for the sake of being gross.  There are scenes of guys jacking off, lots of shit and fart humor, and even a Lambada joke.  The gore includes a bloody bludgeoning, a weird scene where a clown puts a Spider-Man mask on a guy and beats him to death in front of happy children, one guy gets his dick bitten off, and a gut-eating contest.  The scene where a little girl performs an impromptu C-Section by ripping the pregnant woman’s baby out of her stomach with her bare hands may have been objectionable if it hadn’t been done so crudely.  

Oh, and no one uses a chainsaw until the last fifteen minutes. 

As an over-the-top gore and grossout show, I guess it’ll do.  I mean, if you want to see a guy shit in another guy’s face, you might enjoy it.   It’s just that it never succeeds in doing anything besides grossing you out.  If that’s what you came for, you may dig it.

THE MARVELS (2023) ***

While investigating a wormhole in space, Monica Rambeau (Teyonah Parris) gets shocked by whatever cosmic energy is in that sucker.  Since she, Captain Marvel (Brie Larson), and Ms. Marvel (Iman Vellani) all have light-related superpowers, it causes them to switch places with one another every time they use their abilities.  They must then come together and learn to work as a team to defeat a hammer-wielding lady (Zawe Ashton) whose bangle bracelet (which is similar to the one Ms. Marvel wears) gives her the power to teleport through space. 

The Marvels is a breezy, lean, and most of all, fun romp that doesn’t take itself too seriously.  Most of these superhero movies bend over backwards to be dark and gloomy.  This one is refreshingly goofy, with a tone that’s closer to the last couple of Thor sequels. 

The power-switching gimmick is kind of neat.  It forces the heroines to work together and learn how to coordinate their abilities (not to mention figure out who’s gonna end up where afterwards).  It’s sort of like a mixture of teleportation and tag-team wrestling, and the results are entertainingly goofy. 

One major debit is the lack of a strong villain.  Ashton just sort of swings her hammer around a lot, and her revenge scheme is barely memorable.  It also doesn’t help that her character doesn’t have much of a personality.  

That said, there’s some fun silliness to be had here.  I liked the detour to a planet where the alien language is music, which turns every conversation into a musical number.  You won’t find Bollywood dance numbers in a Batman movie, that’s for sure.  There’s also a brief, but fun animated segment, and some cool use of split screen too. 

The highlight though is Goose the cat.  He stole the show in the first Captain Marvel, and he does so again here.  The best sequence of the movie almost plays like a homage to the “Trouble with Tribbles” episode of Star Trek that only gets more outrageous as it goes along, ending with a hilarious needle drop, which is the perfect icing on the cake.  I know the film was a dud at the box office, but I’d see a Goose spin-off in a heartbeat.

Also, say what you want about The Marvels, but it’s relatively short for the genre.  It’s not perfect, but thankfully, it’s missing a lot of the bloat that drags these things down.  It also boasts solid performances by the three leads, all of whom have plenty of chemistry together.  While Samuel L. Jackson could probably do these movies in his sleep by now, it’s always nice to see him showing up once again as Nick Fury. 

Marvel Cinematic Universe Scorecard: 

Spider-Man:  No Way Home:  ****

Avengers:  Age of Ultron:  ****

The Incredible Hulk:  ****

Iron Man:  ****

Thor:  Ragnarok:  ****

Avengers:  Endgame:  ****

Ant-Man and the Wasp:  ****

Spider-Man:  Homecoming:  ****

Iron Man 3:  ****

Captain America:  Civil War:  *** ½

Ant-Man:  *** ½

Guardians of the Galaxy:  *** ½

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2:  *** ½ 

Avengers:  Infinity War:  *** ½

Black Panther:  *** ½ 

The Avengers:  ***

Captain America:  The First Avenger:  ***

Captain America:  The Winter Soldier:  ***

Thor:  Love and Thunder:  ***

Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness:  ***

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings:  ***

Captain Marvel:  ***

Spider-Man:  Far from Home:  ***

Thor:  ***

The Marvels:  ***

Thor:  The Dark World:  ***

Iron Man 2:  ***

Ant-Man and the Wasp:  Quantumania:  ** ½ 

Doctor Strange:  ** ½ 

Black Widow:  ** ½  

Eternals:  * ½  

TUBI-WEEN HANGOVER: SORORITY PARTY MASSACRE (2012) **

Detective Watts (Thomas Downey) is like two seconds away from being taken off the force for police brutality.  Lucky for him, his Captain’s daughter is missing, so instead of being suspended, he gets assigned to find her.  Seems she was supposed to arrive at her sorority, but she never showed up.  After Watts arrives at the sorority house to investigate, more and more girls are murdered.  It’s then up to him and the dim-witted town sheriff (Ed O’Ross) to apprehend the killer. 

The big problem with Sorority Party Massacre is the tone is all out of whack.  It starts off with a solid opening sequence that copies Scream as a gravelly-voiced killer threatens a sexy co-ed over the phone.  So far, so good.  However, its many attempts at comedy are mostly unsuccessful (there are fart jokes).  It’s not really a spoof of the horror genre, and it’s just too goofy to work as a straight-up slasher.  Ultimately, it never decides if it wants to be a comedy with occasional bloodshed, or a horror flick with occasional laughs. 

Another stumbling block is the film’s over-reliance on flashbacks to propel the plot forward.  The comedic flashbacks of Downey dealing with his anger management issues are especially lame and go on far too long.  There are a lot of montages too, but since many of them revolve around girls wearing bikinis (or sometimes even less), I guess I can give them a Mulligan on that. 

The pacing (not to mention the editing) gets increasingly erratic as the film wears on, and the hefty one-hundred-and-three-minute running time doesn’t do it any favors either.  It’s also a bit of a rip-off that the sisters never have a sorority party per se.  (The girls are just gathered to partake in a scholarship contest.)  The ending is needlessly convoluted too, which also holds it back.  On the upside, it boasts a pretty decent cast, all things considered.  We have Leslie Easterbrook as the sorority den mother, Kevin Sorbo as Downey’s captain, Louis Mandylor as the mayor, Ron Jeremy as a cop, and the late Richard Moll as a creepy boat captain.  The kills aren’t bad either.  There’s death by acid, a bee attack (which occurs offscreen, unfortunately), burning, and a hatchet to the head.  

It’s just a shame that everything else in between the carnage is so overcooked.  The film would’ve been just fine if it concentrated on the sorority babes in the house being menaced by a killer.  Unfortunately, all the subplots and detective bullshit weigh it down. 

TUBI-WEEN HANGOVER: SLIME CITY MASSACRE (2010) ** ½

Twenty-two years after the release of Slime City, writer/director Gregory Lamberson returned with this super-goopy sequel.  It’s bigger in many ways (especially in scope and budget) than its predecessor.  That said, it’s just as uneven as the original, although admittedly, some of the slimy special effects are sporadically amusing. 

After a dirty bomb drops on New York, scavengers Alexa (Jennifer Bihl) and Cory (Kealan Patrick Burke) work their way through the city wasteland.  They meet up with another couple (Debbie Rochon and Lee Perkins) and team up to survive.  While foraging for supplies, they come across a stash of homemade hooch and Himalayan Yogurt.  When they eat and drink the slop, they turn into drippy, oozy, horny slime people. 

Slime City Massacre is hit and miss both in terms of tone and humor.  It honestly didn’t need the constant black and white flashbacks to the cult leader who created the slime-inducing microbrew, and the whole backstory of the killer yogurt was probably more convoluted than it needed to be.  However, it does feature a great scene where Debbie turns into a bathtub full of orange goo and her boyfriend STILL manages to find a way to have a little sexy time with her. 

The cast is ideal for this sort of thing.  Rochon is a lot of fun as one of the mutating slime junkies, and her final form is pretty sweet too.  I also enjoyed seeing Roy Frumkes turning up as a greedy land developer (named “Ronald Crump”).  His appearance here makes sense since these films have always been a homage to Street Trash.  (A bottle of Tenafly Viper makes a cameo.)  Also, it’s hard not to like any movie that features Lloyd Kaufman disintegrating before the opening credits.  While it does take a while to get to the gory bits, when the blood and slime finally start flowing, there’s a great gag where someone gets wine bottles shoved into the eyeballs. 

I can’t say Slime City Massacre was worth the wait, but it’s about on par with Slime City.  In fact, I’d probably watch a third installment if Lamberson ever concludes the trilogy.  Hopefully, he won’t wait another twenty-two years to make another one.

TUBI-WEEN HANGOVER: SERIAL KILLER MASSACRE (1997) ** ½

Serial Killer Massacre is a Shot-on-Video horror movie that sort of plays like a serial killer version of a chick flick.  As camcorder horrors go, it’s better than most.  Then again, if you have a low tolerance for this sort of thing, you probably won’t walk away impressed.  That said, the performances are certainly better than you would typically see in something like this.

A guy in a ski mask runs around kidnapping and killing women.  He also hears voices and is so unhinged that when his therapist tells him, “Have a nice day”, he snaps and strangles her!  Meanwhile, a female serial killer is going around picking up dudes and murdering them.  It’s only a matter of time before their paths cross.  After they unsuccessfully try to kill one another, they figure, it must be love at first fight… err… sight.  But will it be a match made in heaven or a match made in hell?

The murder sequences are kind of hit and miss as the film offers you a mix of the standard stabbings along with some assorted shootings.  One scene blatantly rips off the iconic bathtub scene in I Spit on Your Grave, although it’s not nearly as effective.  Then again, it’s like I always say:  If you’re going to steal from somewhere, steal from the best.  We also get an OK decapitation and a solid scissors-to-the-eyeballs scene.  There’s even some gratuitous T & A in there for good measure, including a comically long scene where a decent looking lady starts sexing up an ugly fella. 

Honestly, there are no real surprises here.  This is one of those movies where what you see is what you get.  However, at fifty-five minutes, it doesn’t waste any time getting down to business, which is always appreciated, especially in the SOV horror genre. 

AKA:  Dying to Meet You.  AKA:  Serial Killers:  A Love Story. 

ALBERT BROOKS: DEFENDING MY LIFE (2023) *** ½

Usually, a red flag goes up when a director makes a documentary about his best friend.  It’s almost a sure bet the film will be a puff piece full of softball questions that won’t really cut to the heart of the subject.  I mean, if a director was making a documentary on a controversial subject that just so happened to be his best friend, it would be one-sided and boring. Then again, when the subject is Albert Brooks and the filmmaker is Rob Reiner, all that kinda goes out the window.  

So, basically what we have here is two friends eating dinner and talking shop, while Brooks takes Reiner on a trip down memory lane.  He talks about his early life, his groundbreaking stand-up career, and his equally entertaining work in the movies.  Because it’s just two friends talking, the conversation is casual, not interrogational.  Like most documentaries, Reiner peppers the film with snippets and clips to illustrate points and highlight Brooks’ career milestones, while occasionally cutting to talking head interviews from fans and contemporaries. 

We see Brooks early in his career via his cutting-edge comedy appearances on TV variety shows to his sets on Johnny Carson to the short films he made for Saturday Night Live.  The big revelation here is that Brooks was initially tapped to be the permanent host of the show, and he was the one who suggested they should have a different host week to week.  (Another cool tidbit is the fact that he and Steven Spielberg, who is among the interviewees, used to cruise Hollywood Boulevard with a home movie camera and do impromptu man on the street interviews for shits and giggles.)  By the time you get to the clips from his films, you’ll be making a mental checklist of Brooks-related bits to YouTube after you’re done with the movie.

One of the most innovative comedic minds of the 20th century, it’s almost unfathomable that Brooks hasn’t had a documentary made about him until now.  It also happens to be one of Reiner’s best films in years and shows that even though he made the immortal This is Spinal Tap all those years ago, he maybe should’ve been making real documentaries all this time. 

Ultimately, Albert Brooks:  Defending My Life acts as a fun, if lightweight, career retrospective.  While it may stop short of being the definitive film on the subject, it’s massively entertaining to see two comedy greats picking each other’s brains for ninety minutes.  It’s certainly in the running for one of the best docs of the year.