THE TERROR OF ROME AGAINST THE SON OF HERCULES (1964) ** ½

This was part of the “Sons of Hercules” series that played on TV in the ‘60s.  Avco Embassy Pictures imported a bunch of Italian musclemen movies for distribution, many of which featured the character of Maciste.  Since most American viewers had no idea who that was, he was rechristened the Son of Hercules.  These films were also given a cool “Sons of Hercules” theme song too as sort of a half-assed linking device, but they were all unrelated. 

For The Terror of Rome Against the Son of Hercules, Maciste has been renamed Poseidon, but he’s not the god you remember from high school mythology class.  Poseidon (Mark Forest) is a tough gladiator who has the favor of the tyrannical Caesar.  He falls in love with a pretty Christian chick and when Caesar threatens to execute her people, Poseidon steps in to defy the emperor. 

The Terror of Rome Against the Son of Hercules may not be the greatest toga tale in the world (it’s much more down to Earth than your average real-deal Hercules picture), but it’s certainly watchable for fans of the genre.  I liked that they kept coming up with excuses for Poseidon to get thrown back into the arena, so the fight scenes were at the very least plentiful.  Along the way, Poseidon is forced to compete in gladiator pit duels, a blindfolded knife fight, and in one scene, he even battles a gorilla!  Once he earns his freedom, he’s able to lead prison escapes and join warriors into battle against the evil Caesar.  Heck, he even gets to break some prison bars, lift heavy gates, and hurl giant stones at his enemies, just like his old man.  

It might’ve been nice if Hercules… er… Maciste… er… Poseidon had a villain worthy of the title.  Instead of the Terror of Rome, the bad guy is just an effeminate, overweight tyrant.  Not exactly terrifying if you ask me. 

All this is fun up to a point.  As a casual fan of the genre, I was mostly entertained.  It probably won’t be enough to make a believer out of non-fans of Italian muscleman cinema, but it was definitely one of the better Sons of Hercules films I’ve seen. 

AKA:  Maciste, Gladiator of Sparta.

THE FOURTH VICTIM (1971) ** ½

Scotland Yard investigates the mysterious death of Michael Craig’s wife.  Since this was the third wife Craig has lost in a row (and received a big insurance check from each one), the police are naturally suspicious and charge him with murder.  Shortly after Craig is acquitted on all charges, he meets the free-spirited Carroll Baker, who sweeps him off his feet.  After a whirlwind courtship, they are married, but Carroll quickly reveals she’s not exactly what she seems. 

Directed by Eugenio (Horror Express) Martin, The Fourth Victim is an intriguing and sporadically entertaining thriller.  Most of the suspense comes from whether Craig is actually a modern-day Bluebeard, or if he’s just cursed by bad luck.  The script is rather twisty and if you do find your attention waning, just hang in there as there’s another plot twist just around the corner. 

The set-up does drag its feet a bit.  I know they had to build up Craig’s predicament, but the film does take a while to find its footing.  Luckily, once the winning Baker shows up, she gives the movie a shot in the arm.  Too bad she disappears on and off again almost as quickly.  Craig is an okay leading man, even if he is a bit stiff and dull at times.  Marina (The Red Queen Kills Seven Times) Malfatti makes a memorable impression though as a sexy escaped mental patient who figures into the final act. 

I’ve seen The Fourth Victim listed as a giallo in some places, but that’s not really the case.  If you’re looking for stylish murder sequences, you’ll probably be disappointed as there’s a rather small body count.  In fact, you have to wait until the movie is almost over before anyone gets stabbed to death.  Honestly, it almost plays like a TV Movie of the Week from the ‘70s as the breadcrumbs of the various plot twists are parceled out so evenly that you could almost insert commercial breaks after they are revealed.  Sure, it could’ve used a bit more blood or skin, but overall, this is a decent little thriller that should appease fans of Baker. 

AKA:  The Fourth Mrs. Anderson.  AKA:  Death at the Deep End of the Swimming Pool.

SWEATER GIRLS (1978) **

Sweater Girls is a prudish teenage sex comedy directed by Don (The Forest) Jones.  Like many teenage sex comedies of the era, it’s set in the ‘50s.  However, ‘50s nostalgia can only carry you so far.  You’ve got to have a few laughs, or at least some skin in there to justify its existence.  As it turns out, those hoping for the latter will be sorely disappointed as this hews closer to American Graffiti than Porky’s.  There is a smattering of T and A, but while it’s probably enough to meet the qualifications of the genre, it won’t be enough to appease fans of the genre itself.  

A group of teenage girls are getting tired of their horndog boyfriends always trying to make it with them at the drive-in.  To get back at the boys, the form the “Sweater Girls Club”, and make a virtuous pact to “save it” for marriage.  The guys get wind of their secret meeting and set out to crash the party and rescue the gals from their virtue. 

As sex comedies go, Sweater Girls is rather tame, and it’s not exactly laugh out loud funny either.  If anything, it’s more of a hangout movie as the scenes of the clueless boyfriends playing basketball, getting drunk, and drag racing kind of ramble on and go around in circles.  In fact, it seems like the guys get just as much, if not more, screen time than the ladies in the cast, which is especially perplexing since the film is called Sweater Girls and not Drunken Teenage Guys.  (Their run-ins with a clueless cop who keeps confiscating all their beer get old real fast.)

The portions of the film that do concentrate on the gals pledging to keep their chastity aren’t exactly anything to write home about either.  The scenes of their house party are much too demure, even when the guys finally show up, chase them around and drag them fully clothed into bathtubs.  Overall, Sweater Girls is just too buttoned up to be much fun. 

DARK ANGEL: THE ASCENT (1994) ***

Veronica (Angela Featherstone) is a sexy demon who grows tired of torturing and mutilating lost souls.  Eventually, the restless Veronica escapes from Hell and comes to Earth (nude) where she is promptly hit by a car.  In the hospital, her doctor (Daniel Markel) becomes smitten with Veronica, and he invites her to live with him.  Soon, Veronica uses her dark powers to punish purse snatchers and racist cops before setting out to take down the corrupt mayor. 

Written by Matthew (Freeway) Bright and directed by Linda (Inside Out) Hassani, Dark Angel:  The Ascent is one of the more ambitious projects from Charles Band’s Full Moon Features.  The brief glimpses of Hell are well realized, given the film’s low budget, and the scene where Featherstone roams around her new surroundings nude is kind of dreamy too.  After Veronica comes to Earth, things settle down a little bit.  It’s here where the film begins to feel like a prototype of a knockoff superhero movie as she uses her occult gifts to become a vigilante who prowls the city at night with her trusty dog, Hellraiser.  (The scenes where she drives people crazy by showing them glimpses of Hell are similar to the “Penance Stare” from Ghost Rider.)  The ending is a bit anticlimactic, although it’s nothing that derails the fun.  The location work is good for a laugh too as the streets of Romania look nothing like the good old US of A. 

Featherstone is really good in this, so much so that her performance is basically the whole show.  Sure, there are some gory bits like spine removing, throat slashing, and heart ripping, but her engaging deadpan and dead sexy demeanor makes it worth a look.  I especially liked the part where she takes her clueless doctor boyfriend on a date to a porno theater (shades of Taxi Driver).  Naturally, she gets all the best lines too.  My favorite was when a drunk chick started hitting on the doctor and she says, “She wanted to mingle her fluids with yours!”

AKA:  Dark Angel.

MOTHER GOOSE A GO-GO (1966) * ½

You can tell former Disney star Tommy Kirk was really trying to shed his image when he starred in this oddity.  First off, he’s billed as “Tom Kirk”.  Second, he sings the title track (which has to be heard to be believed).  Finally, the fact that much of the humor revolves around sex (or the lack thereof), which is something you definitely wouldn’t see in one of his Disney films (although it’s all quite tame).  More interestingly is the fact that the closeted Kirk is trying really hard to project a hetero image and not exactly succeeding.  (Although that’s probably difficult to do in a movie about a man who can’t consummate his marriage.)

Another odd thing about Mother Goose a Go-Go is the fact that it’s the only movie written and directed by Jack H. Harris, a man mostly known for producing and/or “presenting” sci-fi classics like The Blob, Schlock, and Dark Star.  Harris obviously had a keen eye for talent and his own unique sense of showmanship.  However, as painfully evidenced here, he clearly was not an auteur. 

Kirk marries Anne (The Magic Sword) Helm.  On their wedding night, he slips into a catatonic state when she reads from a book of nursery rhymes.  He goes to see a sexy shrink (Danica D’hondt) who gives him psychedelics to find the root of the problem.  Meanwhile, Anne goes and cries on the shoulder of suave concierge Jacques (The Hypnotic Eye) Bergerac while the doc tries to make time with Tommy. 

The comedy shit is painfully unfunny and involves fast motion segments, random dinosaur footage (this is a Jack H. Harris movie after all), gratuitous freeze-frames, and an irritating detective character who keeps popping up at inopportune times.  The storybook recreations (Little Red Riding hood, Snow White, and Goldilocks and the Three Bears) resemble a bad high school play.  (Well, D’hondt’s Goldilocks get-up looks like something out of a nudist movie, but you get the idea.)  You know it’s a dumb movie because nobody ever brings up the fact that Mother Goose told nursery rhymes like Peter, Peter Pumpkin Eater, Jack Be Nimble, and shit like that, whereas the stories that set Kirk off are more in the vein of the Brothers Grimm.  So, it really should’ve been called Brothers Grimm a Go-Go.  Argh. 

I did like the part where Kirk shouts, “I have all the warmth and charm of the Blob!”  (Yes, you can definitely tell Harris wrote this.)

I enjoy bad movies more than most people.  I will say this is definitely one of the strangest bad movies I have seen in some time.  I mean who the Hell was this made for?  Only Jack H. Harris knows for sure. 

Bottom Line:  It’s not “good” in any way, shape, or form, but it’s certainly recommended for bad movie fans who think they’ve seen it all. 

AKA:  Unkissed Bride.

SHAOLIN DRUNKEN MONK (1981) ***

Shaolin Drunken Monk begins with Gordon Lui practicing Kung Fu in front of a waterfall, and more movies should start with Gordon Lui practicing Kung Fu in front of a waterfall, if you ask me.  Anyway, Gordon is a badass who has kidnapped a warlord’s daughter.  Nobody knows his name, so they just call him “The Bald-Headed Man”, which first of all, is rude as Hell.  I for one won’t sit still for any follicle shaming.  So, I say, go get ‘em, Gordon!  Meanwhile, a one-armed guy is running around killing people too. 

Things start off like gangbusters, but the pacing starts to drag once the longwinded flashback that explains everyone’s motivations takes over the narrative.  I’m not saying this stretch of the film is necessarily bad.  It’s just that it lacks the fun of the nonstop scenes of Lui kicking ass.  The tragic out-of-left-field ending doesn’t quite stick the landing, either.  At least the running time is a tight seventy-five minutes. 

Even when the story stalls, there are still plenty of amusing bits to keep you entertained, like when Gordon’s teacher gets him drunk in order to practice drunken Kung Fu or when he uses his martial arts prowess to do the dishes.  The many training montages are also amusing thanks to Lui’s unorthodox fighting methods.  Other highlights include Lui doing battle with a guy who throws a razor-sharp boomerang, the one-armed guy fighting off a bunch of dudes in a restaurant, and a nutty scene where Lui uses a method of karate than can only be described as “Effeminate Fu” to flummox his opponent. 

Gordon also does a badass move where he jumps high in the air, gets into the lotus sitting position in midair, and then lands on the bad guy.  Imagine if Super Mario was a yoga instructor, and that will give you an idea of the level of awesomeness we’re talking about here. All in all, Shaolin Drunken Monk is a fun time.  Any fan of Lui worth their salt ought to check it out. 

AKA:  The 36th Chamber:  The Final Encounter.  AKA:  Kung Fu Warrior.  AKA:  The Drunken Monk.

DETOUR (1999) * ½

Jeff Fahey and James Russo are thieves who are double crossed by sleazy Gary Busey in this dull crime thriller.  Jeff decides to lay low back in his hometown till the heat cools off.  He soon learns his mom died and if he wants a piece of the will, he’s got to make a go at being a dairy farmer.  Naturally, it’s only a matter of time before the gangsters come looking for the loot. 

Directed by Joey Travolta, Detour has a great cast including Michael Madsen, Tim Thomerson, and even Evan Rachel Wood in an early role.  Despite the copious amount of talent involved, it still winds up being a perplexing dud.  I think it would be easy (or just plain lazy) to put the blame on Joey Travolta because… well… he’s Joey Travolta.  However, he’s really not a bad director, as anyone who’s ever seen Hard Vice can attest. 

The big problem is with the screenplay by Raymond Martino and William Stroum, who also wrote To the Limit, the Anna Nicole Smith actioner that also co-starred Travolta.  The screenplay really twiddles its thumbs in the second act.  It’s here where Fahey reconnects with the family and friends he left behind while taking ownership of the family farm.  This is like some shit you’d see on the Great American Family Channel at 2 PM on a Tuesday while waiting in the doctor’s office.  The gratuitous farming montage is especially hard to take, as is the excessive parade footage.  The soundtrack is pretty intrusive too as it goes from hard rock to fake Tom Petty to knock-off Lilith Fair shit, seemingly on a dime.  Things do heat up in the finale when there are shootouts and explosions aplenty, but it’s all wrapped up so abruptly and conveniently that it’ll make your head spin in disbelief. 

The most disappointing thing about Detour is how it manages to waste its cast.  Fahey scowls and cusses, but his character arc is flimsy and predictable.  Madsen isn’t given much to do but act grumpy.  The same can be said for Russo, who’s pretty used to these thankless tough guy roles.  At least Busey seems to be having fun as the crooked money man, although he’s killed off too early to make much of an impression.  Joey was also able to get his sister Ellen to do a cameo.  (I guess John didn’t return his phone calls though.)

AKA:  Roadblock.  AKA:  Too Hard to Die.