LEATHER AND LACE (198?) ****

Black Magic and the Pussycats are an all-girl, all-nude band that performs while a sexy brunette (presumably named “Black Magic”, but there’s no credits or hardly any information available about this fascinating relic anywhere online) performs stripteases.  (Actually, the band are mostly for show as they are clearly miming the different songs that are heard on the soundtrack.)  Then, they back a nude ballet number with a guy prancing around naked and women running around and wrapping him up with ribbon.  Next, they play “O Pretty Woman” (well, Roy Orbison does) while Black Magic (I’ll just call her that for the sake of argument) lip synchs and takes her clothes off (she also lip synchs to Donna Summer’s “Bad Girls”). 

Next up is a film segment about a motorcycle rider who spies on a scantily clad girl playing a flute in the woods.  Then, it’s back to Black Magic lip synching to Nick Gilder’s “Hot Child in the City”.  Afterwards, she performs more numbers including a cover of “Black Magic”, “Hot Stuff”, and a reprise of “Bad Girls” (on top of a scaffolding with back-up dancers). 

Then, it’s back to the lovers in the forest who get it in while smooth jazz plays in the background (but not before he performs some nude gymnastics).  Black Magic soon returns to perform the dirty novelty country songs “Dolly Parton’s Tits” and “I’ve Seen Public Hair (a parody of “I’ve Been Everywhere”).  Next is a Bobby and Cissy type of number, if Cissy was Asian and wore a see-thru nightie, that is. 

Finally, we get to our leather portion of the show and was it ever worth the wait!  Our leading lady comes out dressed like a dominatrix in leather crotchless chaps wielding a whip and dancing proactively to a few instrumental numbers.  Meanwhile, we cut back to our lovebirds in the forest where the gal watches her man perform more gymnastic feats before making love by the fire.  Then, three gals perform a nude tap dance routine… and… well… that’s it!

Leather and Lace is a jaw dropping time capsule.  I love this kind of dated fusion of rock n’ roll and T & A.  I admire the purity of the concept as it’s nothing but music and nudity.  There’s no attempt to make sense out of any of it.  It just happens.  We probably didn’t need the scenes with all the swinging dicks (sometimes quite literally), but I guess you’ve got to have something in there for the ladies too.

I don’t know much about Black Magic and the Pussycats, but they have one-upped the band The Ladybirds from The Wild Wild World of Jayne Mansfield.  Whereas The Ladybirds played topless, these girls rock out totally in the buff.  Now, it’s debatable if the Pussycats actually play their instruments, but when they look this hot, who cares? 

I caught this oddity on The Roku Channel, The B-Zone.  The movie (if you want to call it that) doesn’t have an IMDb page.  There’s very little information about it on the internet (aside from a few short clips that are on a porn site that will probably give me a hundred viruses if I click on it).  In fact, The B-Zone may be the only place you can see it in its entirety.  If you aren’t already in the know, The B-Zone is the greatest streaming channel around.  It plays tons of vintage ‘80s erotica like this.  From Playboy Channel specials to celebrity workout videos, it’s got a bevy of wonderful oddities.  If you like old-timey smut like me, you should add it to your Roku player and see what you’re missing. 

MONDO FREUDO (1966) ** ½

Mondo Freudo is director Lee Frost’s rip-off of Mondo Cane.  Like its follow-up, Mondo Bizarro, it takes the hidden camera approach, catching unscripted moments as they happen.  Most of it, of course, has all been staged for your amusement, although the segments themselves are hit and miss at best. 

The hidden camera spies on a couple making love on the beach at night, teenagers cruising up and down Hollywood Boulevard, slave trading in Tijuana, and a Japanese club that specializes in S & M floor shows.  The most interesting segment is on strip clubs that skirt past local obscenity laws to show nudity, like the totally nude underground club in London, and the club for “junior executives” and the topless Watusi bar, both in San Francisco.  Meanwhile, lesbian prostitutes are interviewed in London, an artist performs nude body painting, and prostitutes work the streets in New York.  (The familiar voice of the producer, Bob Creese is heard as the john in this scene.)  My favorite sequence is the final piece on German mud wrestlers.  (Patrons of the bar sitting ringside are given ponchos so they don’t get muddy!)

Mondo Freudo is noticeably less racy and tamer than its sequel Mondo Bizarro.  (Frost even takes to using footage from his previous film, Hollywood’s World of Flesh for padding.)  I give him credit for trying to make some of this seem believable, but that sort of takes away from the fun.  It’s sort of telling that the most memorable sequence is the most phony-baloney.  Of course, I’m talking about the scene involving a witch holding a black mass.  The fact that other segments feel like they could possibly happen makes this stretch seem even more fantastic.  Frost, who directed everything from biker pictures (Chrome and Hot Leather) to Blaxploitation (The Black Gestapo) to straight-up porn (A Climax of Blue Power), found a much better (and consistent) tone for Mondo Bizarro, which I think is overall the better of the two.  The surf rock theme song is excellent though. 

MONDO BIZARRO (1966) ***

Four years after they made the incredible horror-themed nudie-cutie, House on Bare Mountain, director Lee Frost and star Bob Cresse collaborated on a one-two punch of Mondo movies.  Mondo Bizarro was the second film of the pair.  It follows a “hidden camera” format that allows the audience to peer into places like a lingerie shop in Chicago where we spy on women in dressing rooms, a voodoo ritual in the Bahamas (the ceremony is fake but the animals that are sacrificed are very real), and massage parlors in Japan while a solemn narrator intones wisdom like, “The cadaver is infinity!” 

Most of this is as phony as a three-dollar bill (the way the filmmakers try to preserve the subject’s “anonymity” via negative scratches over faces, license plates, and pubic regions was a nice touch though) and some bits are more amusing than others.  Interestingly enough, the sequences that feel the least staged are the most effective, like the behind the scenes look at the inner workings of Frederick’s of Hollywood.  Compare that to the silly scene of the restaurant that serves broken glass for the patrons to eat.  It’s painfully obvious it’s fake from the start and goes on much too long.  The sequence about a Nazi sex play almost seems like a warm-up for Frost’s Love Camp 7 too. 

The prolonged scene set in LA works best.  It mixes in everything from male hustling to the obscenely overpriced art scene to Vietnam protests.  It’s then ironic that for a Mondo movie about oddities across the globe, the filmmakers find their most interesting subjects in their own backyard. 

Like any Mondo movie, it’s bound to be uneven.  There are some queasy moments (like when the guy jabs a needle through his cheek and forearm) and scenes that feel more like padding than anything.  (The extended preparations for the Lebanese “slave auction” eat up precious screen time near the end of the film.)  However, while the overall quality of the individual segments varies, the film itself is consistently entertaining throughout.  If you’re a Mondo movie fan, you’re sure to enjoy this one. 

SURF NAZIS MUST DIE (1987) ***

Very few movies with amazing titles can actually live up to their promise.  Even certified classics like The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies somehow fall short.  Troma’s entire brand seems to be built around impossibly cool sounding movies that never match the title’s hype.  In fact, Troma seems to spend more time coming up with a title than they do making the film.  Because of that, it’s a small miracle that Surf Nazis Must Die manages to be a minor classic. 

After a major earthquake in California, surf punks now rule the beaches.  The Surf Nazis led by (who else?) Adolf (Barry Brennan) takes control of the gangs and terrorize tourists.  When Adolf kills a jogger named Leroy (Robert Harden), his Mama (Gail Neely) goes out for justice. 

Surf Nazis Must Die has a unique and strange vibe.  The tone may be out of whack, but that just means you’re never quite sure what’s going to happen next.  Director and co-writer Peter George wisely makes the Nazis a legitimate threat, and while they are outrageous and colorful, they are still extremely dangerous.  The scenes with them building their empire have a very artsy look.  Some scenes even have sort of a Michael Mann influenced feel to them. 

The scenes with Mama on the other hand are much more over the top and feel more like a typical Troma movie.  Neely is very good and is equally fun to watch as either as a pistol packing mama on a death wish or as a comedic foil.  Bobbie (Mausoleum) Bresee is also funny as the mom of one of the surf punks.  It’s also cool seeing Haunted Garage’s Dukey Flyswatter as Mengale, one of the slimy Surf Nazis.  Mr. Deadly Prey himself, Ted Prior, also pops up in a bit role as a surfer. 

The pacing is about as uneven as the tone.  Even though it’s only eighty-two minutes, it feels much longer.  However, whenever the film hits the sweet spot between arty action and down and dirty Troma flick, Surf Nazis Must Die is a hoot. 

THE HOUSE THAT BURNS AT NIGHT (1985) ***

Rene Cardona Jr.’s The House That Burns at Night is in the running for best opening credits sequence of all time.  Before we even get to see the title of the movie there have already been two stripteases.  If you think that’s awesome, get a load of this:  A junkie stripper (Sonia Infante) stabs a pimp in the groin before the screenwriters have been listed on screen.  And I’m not talking like a short stabbing scene that leaves everything to your imagination.  I mean like full on arterial spray of penis plasma gushing in slow motion.  But wait, there’s more.  Then two paramedics take turns banging her in the back of their speeding ambulance (complete with high five when they swap places).  The ambulance, it should be noted, drives right past a sign that says (I shit you not) “VAG TRANSPORT”! while an EMT is getting some OPP.  Now, I know this is a Spanish language film, so the pun may have been unintentional, but it was downright hysterical to me. 

What I’m getting at here is we are granted seven minutes of pure cinema right off the bat courtesy of Mexican movie maestro Rene Cardona Jr. 

Infante (who also produced this sucker) stars as Alazana, the stripper on the run who settles into a swanky South of the Border brothel to lay low.  Seeing an opportunity, she gets the decrepit madam Esperia (Carmen Montejo) hooked on dope and tries to steal the old bag’s boyfriend Eleazar (Salvador Pineda).  Alazana soon engages in a power struggle with the two lovers for control of the house of ill repute. 

There’s no shortage of female flesh on display here as we see the sex workers stripping, turning tricks, taking bubble baths, getting into water fights and being allergic to clothing in general.  The brothel set itself has a lot of personality as it is almost like a mash up of Wild West saloon, Chinese restaurant, and disco.  The Altmanesque way Cardona captures the action is reminiscent of a Tinto Brass movie as the camera kind of wanders around looking for people who are getting it on.  The film also has a surprising amount of queer content as there are several gay and trans sex workers who ply their trade in the brothel. 

While the film is consistently involving throughout, it really can’t live up to its epic first reel.  The love triangle plot line begins to spin its wheels by the time the third act rolls around.  Cardona does pepper some great bits of cinematic gymnastics (like when he intercuts Pineda blowing away a cop in slow motion a la Sam Peckinpah with shots of Infante entertaining a client) in with the scads of skin, which is more than enough to prevent doldrums from setting in.  The strangely existential ending is really something too. 

The reason to see this though is for Infante.  She’s plenty hot and has several great nude scenes as well.  Whenever she’s on screen, The House That Burns at Night sizzles. 

S.O.S. OPERATION BIKINI (1967) **

Julio Aleman stars as secret agent Alex Dinamo.  When we first see him, he’s fighting bad guys who are smuggling drugs inside of bananas!  He’s out to stop S.O.S., the “Secret Organizational Service”, a crime syndicate run by Madame Bristol (Sonia Furio) who uses her fashion empire as a front for her arms dealing operations.  She holds a bikini convention in a luxurious hotel and Dinamo decides to check it out.  When one of the bikini models is murdered, Dinamo sets out to bring Bristol down. 

Although Aleman is a bit weak in the lead, the ladies in the cast make this otherwise uneven spy caper watchable.  Furio is a solid villainess and even gets to sing a nightclub number in a skimpy evening gown.  (There’s another musical number by a rock combo, but it’s hard to hear the music from the horribly canned-in crowd noise.)  Sonia Infante is also quite the looker as Dinamo’s sexy girlfriend.  We also have Batwoman herself, Maura Monti and Isla (Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia) Vega in the mix as S.O.S. agents. 

Like most ‘60s spy flicks, there are plenty of gadgets to go around.  There’s a lighter that’s also a camera and cigarette cases, books, cameras, pens, and even high heels that double as guns.  Despite that, Dinamo still takes to pressing an old-fashioned stethoscope against a wall to listen to the bad guys in one scene.  The fight scenes aren’t bad either as they are full of Judo tosses and karate chops.  The highlight is the karate catfight between Monti and Infante. 

All the ingredients are there (including a swinging ‘60s score) and the film has a sense of humor, which is appreciated, but for whatever reason, director Rene Cardona, Jr. isn’t quite able to bring all the elements together.  The biggest issue with S.O.S. Operation Bikini is the fact that too much of the movie revolves around Dinamo hanging around the resort.  Even the weakest spy pictures can get by from showcasing exotic locales, but the film rarely ventures outside the hotel once the plot kicks in.  And when it does, most of the time the action still takes place on the grounds of the resort.  (There are a couple of rooftop chases.)  Cardona lets the camera linger on the one exploding car in the flick for so long that you have to wonder if that’s where the entire budget went.  We also get a From Russia with Love-inspired boat chase that serves as the finale.  Even this comes up a day late and a dollar (or I guess in this case, peso) short. 

Another sign of the measly budget:  In one scene I thought I saw a henchman lurking behind a lamp.  Turns out it was just a crew member!  Also, while there are a fair number of hot women in bikinis for our hero to ogle, there’s not as many as you might expect, given the title.  However, if you enjoy your espionage en Espanol, then you may dig it. 

Cardona and Aleman returned two years later with a sequel, Danger Girls. 

FINAL DESTINATION: BLOODLINES (2025) ***

Final Destination:  Bloodlines is a solid entry in the durable horror franchise.  As far as sixth entries in horror franchises go, it’s pretty darn good.  As far as sixth entries that were made fourteen years after the fifth one, it’s a minor miracle that it’s any good at all. 

A college student named Stefani (Kaitlyn Santa Juana) is plagued by bad dreams involving her grandmother, who narrowly avoided death as a young woman.  After Nana croaks, her curse is passed down to the family and it doesn’t take long for her descendants to start buying the farm in disgusting ways.  It’s then up to Stefani to find a way to reverse the curse. 

If there is a problem with this one, it’s that it’s way too long and has too much plot.  (Okay, that’s two problems.)  The scenes of the dysfunctional family trying to protect one another just doesn’t have the same effect as the other movies which relied on friends and/or total strangers coming together to defeat “Death”.  If it’s one thing that we really don’t need in a Final Destination movie, it’s a plot.  And if it’s anything that we don’t need in one of these things is a running time that flirts with two hours.  Other than that, I liked it just fine. 

The important thing is that the kills are there.  We get at least three or four quality death scenes here, which is about the best you can hope for.  There’s a fun bit involving a lawn mower and another in which someone inadvertently winds up in a garbage truck.  The highlight is a hilarious sequence where someone meets a gruesome end inside an MRI machine.  The opening accident scene, set in the ‘50s atop a Space Needle-style restaurant, is a lot of fun too.  There’s even a callback to one of the series’ most iconic deaths, which I’m sure fans will enjoy. 

It was also good to see Tony Todd in one of his last film appearances.  He’s been a mainstay in the series, and the film was able to give him a nice little send-off.  Too bad the rest of the cast (aside from Richard Harmon as the foulmouthed tattoo artist) is bland and unmemorable.