Rabid Dogs (1974): Neck Stabbings, 12" Penises, and Bava Worship

Salutations, friends! Once again, the Duke of DVD returns to shine a light into the dingy room that is your collective lives. I see you there, huddled like a forsaken mass in the corner of your kitchen, the light reflecting off the Twinkie wrappers you clutch to your lumpy chest as if they were so many Krugerrans. I take a step into the room, my velvet slipper pushing aside the abused carcass of an opossum. You jerk as I gently pat you on the arm, pushing yourself further into the corner with your near-useless legs. Fear not! I whisper quietly into your ear, which is more scar tissue than useful appendage, calming your racing, massive heart. Soon you are blubbering, grateful for the blessings I bring you.

Today’s blessing comes in the form of a generous dollop of candied Bava. That’s right! The Duke has the Bava Goods™, that crystal spike of MAD wonder, injected straight into your disfigured arm like a silver lance of Happy. Release yourself to the MADness once again, and lie in sublime repose upon the cushioned lounge that is Mario Bava and his genius. As you should all know by now, the Duke and Vicar both worship all that is Bava, and we would be remiss if we didn’t include in our pantheon of MAD films Bava’s lost masterpiece: Rabid Dogs, a film that languished in a filthy lawyer’s desk drawer for decades before finally seeing the light of day.

What treasures could it hold? Just how Rabid are these Dogs? How many sweaty, horny Italian males can be crammed into 96 minutes of film?

Let’s find out, shall we?

Our film opens with a group of four sleazy gentlemen pulling off a heist, which quickly escalates into violence, as a few of the men are quick to murder at the slightest provocation. It seems the group of thieves found out when payroll arrival day was at a local business, and set up a quick heist to relieve the business of its funds. Grabbing the suitcase full of cash, one of the thieves stabs the case-carrier in the stomach. Before they can escape, the police show up and start shooting. As the thieves are driving away, a crack shot on the police squad shoots one of the robbers in the back of the head through the rear window of the car, and another cop shoots a hole in the gas tank.

"Of all the times to take a nap!"

The pursuit is on! The thieves quickly realize that their gas is running out, so they drive into a multi-storied parking garage. The police are in hot pursuit, however, and quickly catch up to the punks. The crooks, now cornered, grab the nearest hostages they can: two women, who are enjoying their day out shopping. A standoff quickly ensues, but ends just as quickly when one of the robbers murders one of the women by stabbing her in the neck! The cops, fearing the other woman will be murdered, finally back off, giving enough time and room for the thieves to make their escape.

They quickly realize that the car they are in is known by the cops, so as soon as they can they find another. This one just happens to be driven by the next person they see at a stop light. Jumping into his car, waving their guns, they force the woman hostage in with them. The man is Riccardo (played fantastically by Riccardo Cucciolla), who plays it cool because he has to: it seems the backseat contains his sick son, who appears to be around the age of 10 (we only ever see his face, as he’s wrapped in blankets the entire film). Riccardo explains he was on the way to the hospital.

Sorry dude, just because you stole some money doesn't make you any less gay.

It’s time we meet our criminals! First up, is the cool-as-ice Doc (Maurice Poli). He’s as smooth as he is tan, and hardly ever breaks a sweat (figuratively, for he, along with everyone else, sweats like a very sweaty thing throughout the entire film). He’s the obvious brains of the unit, and pretty much divides his time between coming up with what to do next and keeping the other two miscreants under control. This brings us to Blade (Don Backy), a bushy-topped, impulsive, twitchy man who gets high on the criminal life. He is, however, a controlled tornado next to the brash 32, who puts the “rabid” in “Rabid Dogs.” That’s right folks, his nickname is 32, as in centimeters, as in he’s hung like a mule (which thankfully Bava keeps off-camera; I don’t need the Vicar weeping openly in front of me again). 32 is much the focus of Rabid Dogs, and for good reason. Played by George Eastman (aka Luigi Montefiori, aka Gabriele Duma), this guy deserves all the praise he can be given and then some.

Very quickly, Riccardo explains to these men that he’s trying to take his sick son to the hospital, and that he wants no part with what’s going on. Doc explains he has no options, and that Riccardo, the boy, and the woman will all be free to go once the men make good their escape from the cops. This proves to be a shallow promise, however, as Doc never exactly explains how long he thinks this will take (note: they’ve already successfully ditched the police). So, with orders to drive on back-country roads in order to avoid attention, Riccardo takes off, the woman Maria (Lea Lander) in between him and Doc, and with Blades and 32 in the backseat, the young boy wrapped in a blanket between them. Got that? Don't make me break out the whiteboard.

Emergency tracheotomy, Italian-style

To say that Blade and 32 are amoral would be an understatement. They are barely restrained Mad-men, sweating and laughing uncontrollably. Bava’s camera confines us to the car for almost the entire film, creating a claustrophobic environment where we’re a silent passenger. We see the characters sweltering in the hot summer sun, almost always in EXTREME CLOSE-UP. Blade and 32 behave like caged animals in heat next to the cool calm of Doc and Riccardo and the wide-eyed panic of Maria. Very quickly, Maria becomes the focus of 32, an Italian poon-hound if there ever was one. His huge frame, barely fitting into the side of the backseat he occupies, is in constant motion, fidgeting and jerking, at times reaching over the seat to try and fondle Maria, at others pulling his pants down for no reason other than to terrify with his massive appendage. We’re all along for the ride, and what a ride it is!

As Bava has pointed out before in his films, greed gets you no where. We soon learn, via the probing questions of Riccardo, that the men didn’t steal that much money; certainly not enough to warrant the multiple murders that resulted. Not only that, but the money is slowly but surely used up on the get-away journey. First Riccardo (either accidentally or on purpose, we aren’t sure) rear-ends another driver in front of him during a traffic bottleneck caused by road construction. Doc, knowing they can’t very well kill everyone around them, instead pays the motorist off, using some of the money. In another scene, a farmer extorts money out of them due to some damaged grapes. In yet another, they have to pay exorbitant fees to get gas into their car’s tank. Coupled with this is the constant headache of keeping to back roads and dealing with Maria, who is always either pleading to be let free or trying to escape.

"And then, you must give us all a good spanking!"

One escape attempt leads to a foul scene at an empty farmhouse. Maria asks to be let out in order to use the restroom, and bolts as soon as she can, running to a nearby farm. Blade and 32 chase after her. I was assuming a rape scene was incoming here, but instead we get something that, while not as contemptible, is still pretty heinous: Blade and 32 force Maria to urinate on herself while standing, as they watch and laugh. (The mighty Bava influenced by upstart Wes Craven's Last House on the Left (1972)? Apparently so!) Degraded, Maria can do nothing but slump listlessly as the two men force her back to the car, this time putting her in the backseat.

This proves unhealthy for 32, whose lust overwhelms any need to remain inconspicuous while on the lam. He begins to try and rape Maria, in flagrante de Pinto. Doc tries to calm him down and gets choked by 32 for the effort, though he's released before suffering any real damage. The Doc pacified, 32 continues the rape attempt, causing passing motorists to yell and shake their fists. The car enters a tunnel, and Doc seizes the moment and shoots 32 in the neck! However, 32 is so big and crazed, this doesn’t kill him, it merely paralyzes him. Blade doesn’t like this, but realizes it needed to be done.

I think we all know the answer to that question.

The car finally runs low on gas, forcing the crew to stop at a station. After badgering the attendant, who is on break, to fill the tank up, they are just about to leave when a woman happens by. It seems her car has broken down and she needs a ride to a mechanic. She basically forces her way into the car, chatting non-stop. At first she attempts to open 32’s door, who is slumped against it with a towel over his head. She assumes he’s sleeping and instead sits up front with Maria and Riccardo, the Doc moving to the rear seat. The woman will not stop talking and singing along with the radio, which ultimately proves her undoing when Blade rams his switchblade into her throat. (Hey, the dude just likes stabbing throats, ok?).

Noticing a theme with ol' 32 here?

Realizing now that they have two dead or dying bodies in the car, the crew pulls over near a ravine. Blade and Doc unceremoniously fling the hitchhiking lady’s body over the side, and then haul 32’s hulking frame down a path before finally placing him near the crumpled body of the lady. Blade ends 32’s suffering with a bullet to the brain, and also relieves him of his watch. After some more driving, the Doc, Maria, Riccardo, Blade, and the boy finally arrive at the destination that Doc has been leading them to, albeit in a very convoluted fashion: a stashed car! Seems the Doc was smart enough to stash a car miles away from anywhere in an abandoned barn, just in case. Smart dude, that Doc.

"Pop Rocks and Coke... how could I have been so stupid?!"

Blade grabs Maria and starts dragging her over to the new car, as Doc holds a gun on Riccardo, ordering him to take the boy over. As Riccardo is leaning in to pick up the blanket-wrapped boy, we see Doc's not the only one who can plan ahead--Riccardo has somehow managed to secret away a small caliber pistol by hiding it in the boy’s blanket! Riccardo stands up and fires directly into Doc’s chest, who slumps immediately to the ground. Blade doesn’t move fast enough with the sub-machine-gun he’s wielding and gets shot by Riccardo, who then notices Doc trying to rise and plugs him again, mercilessly. As Blade lies on the ground, one hand holding his machine-gun, the other holding the money bag, Maria runs across from the new car to the old one, her hopeful face beaming at Riccardo.

Riccardo had to be very careful: he knew that a mere glimpse at George Eastman's exposed chest hair was enough to shatter the heterosexuality of even the sweatiest Italian stud.

The hope, it fades, with a quickness! Blade uses his last once of life-force to machine-gun Maria in the back, and she crumples dead instantly at a shocked Riccardo’s feet. Bava gives us a wide, spectacular view of the carnage as Riccardo stands alone, triumphant, pistol still at the ready as he cradles the young boy. Riccardo scurries over and puts his young ward in the new getaway car. He pauses to think a minute, and heads back to Doc’s corpse, bends down, and rips the wallet from Doc’s back pocket. Riccardo then walks over to Blade and jerks the money bag free of his clutches. Riccardo’s the man! He drives away, free and clear.

*** Friends, Bava has one more twist in store for us. If you’ve made it this far, and are thinking to yourself, furrowing your brow in a vain attempt to form a coherent thought, that perhaps you would like to watch this movie for yourself, then I encourage you to avoid the next paragraph. You have been warned, spoilers ahoy! ***

We see Riccardo pull up at a gas station, and head to a nearby phone booth. He drops a coin in, and connects to a frantic lady, who, as it turns out, is the young, quilt-wrapped boy’s mother! It seems Riccardo, instead of on his way to a hospital with his sick son, is a kidnapper himself!! The kidnapper has been kidnapped, or rather he was. Ooohh, the delicious irony! Bava, you are the king, sir! My turgid member salutes you! Riccardo tells the mother he wants 2 million lira or some such, which is roughly enough to buy a moldy sandwich nowadays. He hangs up, walks back to the car, and opens the trunk, revealing the sickened boy. Fin.

Quilt, tablecloth, drapery, or lady's dress: YOU make the call!

Friends, I am impressed by this movie. Blown away, even. It plays just like a modern thriller, and would have been eons ahead of its time, had it been released when it was originally made. However, thereby hangs a tale: the original producer of Rabid Dogs, Roberto Loyola, was killed during the production of the film, and the Italian court seized his entire estate, including the only print of the movie. It stayed this way for 23 fucking years until finally being released by the courts. Bava had long since gone to his infernal reward, so he never got to see one of his greatest masterpieces released.

Bava’s son, Lamberto, decided to rework the film along with producer Alfredo Leone. They shot a new ending, reworked some key scenes, and released the movie as Kidnapped. Spoiler: it pretty much sucks. I have no idea what they were thinking! The original is far superior, and certainly more visceral and tight. One other interesting bit of trivia: the budget for Rabid Dogs was so tight, Bava had to fire cinematographer Emilio Varriano and take over that role himself, just to have enough money to finish the film.

Every Vicar-thrown croquet party always ends the same.

I really wish Bava had lived long enough to see his original masterwork released. I honestly believe it would have been a success. In the end, we should all be glad that the original print still exists at all. It is a brutal, unforgiving film that features Bava’s trademark eye for quality and ability to get amazingly MAD performances out of his actors. Needless to say, this one gets a stellar 3+ Thumps Up from yours truly. I encourage everyone to track down a copy and give it a go. You shall not be disappointed!

And whoever frees the switchblade from this hooker's throat, will henceforth be King of All Italy!

MORE MADNESS...

Summary only...

El Caminante (1979): or, The Devil Walks Out

My friends, The Duke and I have been in mourning for quite some time now. As longtime readers are doubtless aware, Spanish horror icon and world-class creative force of nature Paul Naschy, nee Jacinto Molina, passed away in November of last year from pancreatic cancer. Paul was and continues to be the patron saint of Mad Mad Mad Mad Movies, the impetus of the project itself and the subject of its very first review. Over the course of our explorations into the wild and the woolly of world cinema, Naschy has always been the giant upon whose shoulders we planted our feet--the cream in our coffee, the wind beneath our wings, the everlasting inspiration for all we do and say.

In the months since Naschy's death, I've continued to watch and enjoy his movies, but have felt strangely unequal to the task of writing about them. They have still brought me the kind of joy rarely matched by any other filmmaker's oeuvre, but when it came to putting fingers to keyboard or pen to paper to sing their praises, my muse would invariably flee. Perhaps the wound was still too raw, the joy too tinged with bittersweet nostalgia and the dark sour void of our loss. The King is dead--how can I, his unworthy knight, sally forth again into this newly silent realm?

But then, a voice called out to me from across the vastness of time, if not indeed from beyond the very grave. It spoke words of comfort, of encouragement, of the importance of the yet-unaccomplished quest. It was Naschy's voice, of course, speaking from the awe-inspiring monument of one of his greatest works. The magnum opus? 1973's El Caminante, aka The Traveler.

"YES I WOULD THANK YOU VERY MUCH."

We open in Medieval Europe--Flanders, perhaps?--to find bearded, rag-clad traveler Leonardo (Naschy) walking a dusty path. He happens upon another traveler--a formerly rich gambler now down on his luck--who offers to share his wine and food in exchange for company. He tips Leonardo of a farm about fifteen miles away, where the kind farmer and his lovely wife opened their doors to him and gave him the bounty they now enjoy. However, when the gambler expresses doubts about Leonardo's account of his own military service, the Traveler repays the insult by blinding his benefactor with ash and then stabbing him in the throat! Helping himself to the remains of the dead man's food and gold, Leonardo sets off again. "The world is so beautiful," he says to himself, cryptically. "I shall enjoy it!"

For the rest of the movie we follow Leonardo on his travels, witnessing his various adventures. It's a tale in the classic picaresque form, as our Traveler is a rascal and a rogue, living by his wits, and not above theft, rape, and outright murder in pursuit of a more comfortable fortune. A philosopher as well as an anti-hero, Leonardo is prone to pronouncements like, "Man is the only true evil being of Creation," and "Religion, qualms, conscience...that's all loser's tripe!" As time and time again his precepts are proven true, the film hints that our Traveler may indeed be much more than he seems...

After his initial murder, Leonardo's next encounter is with a farmer tending his crops--and by "tending" I mean "fertilizing them with his own fundament!" As the squatting horticulturist sits helpless mid-loaf, Leonardo ransacks his melon patch, then casts a large stone with deadly accuracy, nearly bashing the old man's brains in and sending him sprawling backward into his own filth-pile! It's the first medieval-style scatological slapstick we see in the film, and it certainly will not be the last.

It's all in the delivery.

A bit later Leonardo meets a blind scholar and his young serving boy Tomás (David Rocha, who would work with Naschy again in Night of the Werewolf [1981]). Undetected by the old man, Leonardo listens as the scholar preaches frugality, using this lesson as an excuse to short the kid on rations and abuse him when he complains. When the scholar sends Tomás for water, Leo calls the boy over and sends him back with a cup full of steaming Naschy piss! The old man takes a stiff snort and sputters curses, whereupon Leo nearly drowns him in the river before making off with his money, his food, and his serving boy.

Together, Leo and Tomás head to the farmhouse where the gambler got his money, and there meet the farmer and his wife Inés (the lovely Silvia Aguilar, whose later Naschy credits include Human Beasts [1980], Night of the Werewolf [1981], and the disastrous comedy flop Madrid al desnudo [1979]). The farmer is as kind as his reputation, and leaves Leo to chop firewood while he meekly tends the fields of his master. Inés, who has a maimed leg due to an accident, has little else wrong with her, but apparently the farmer's been falling behind in his husbandry, IYKWIM. Leo sneers after his host, "You benighted peasant--your wife is in heat and yearning! You shouldn't leave her alone with me!" Which is of course true of any character Naschy plays, but in this case particularly so.

Naschy's left hand finds its mark

It doesn't take long for Leo to work his woo on the woman, using charming words and a blasphemous ballad to get her thinking of him as more than the hired help. She resists his initial advances, but Naschy seals the deal by graphically making out with her leg wound, working his tongue over the scar tissue like it was Wonka's Lickable Wallpaper! Soon Inés is riding the Great White Horse. "Oh, my goodness!" she gasps. "The pleasure! I've never felt anything like this before! It's like...like I'm being possessed by the Devil!" Oh rrrreaallly....?

Once he's taken her to the heights (depths?) of pleasure, Leo demands payment for his stud services in the form of all the cash in the house. When Inés claims poverty and prays to the Apostles to deliver her, things turn ugly. "The Apostles were not on your mind when we were fornicating last night!" he reminds her, and threatens violence unless she coughs up the loot. Disappointed in the paltry haul, Leo further hints, "A shabby loot. If you only knew by whom you were had!" Not one to leave without making his mark, Leo finishes by carving an upside-down cross on Inés's backside!

It's symbolic, of course.

Back on the road and through another series of adventures, more and more we're given to believe that Leonardo is not a simple traveler as he claims, but something much more powerful and sinister. On the road to Court to earn even greater riches, Leo and Tomás first rob a moneylender and his wife in an entertaining comic scene. (Naschy pretends to be an "idiot," and clearly has a great time going nearly full-retard, pulling the lady's hair, stroking her breasts, and finally pissing on her shoes! The offense doesn't stop the woman noticing the size of his "rod" however.)

What, no one told you about the Naschy Boob-Touching Rider™?

That dirty deed done, they next seek shelter with Doña Aurora, a widowed aristocrat whose daughter is on the verge of death. Leonardo says he will save the girl with his healing arts, but only if Mom will have sex with him in exchange. Desperate, the lady agrees, and in the morning her little tot is looking the picture of health. However, after Naschy takes his booty (which is to say, HER booty) and leaves, the child quickly falls ill again and succumbs. As if her sudden bereavement and loss of honor isn't enough, Aurora soon finds she's pregnant with Leo's child! And what rough beast is this?

"Come to Naschy."

The remainder of the journey takes a downward turn for Leo. After killing a Lothario and taking his place with his married mistress (and therafter marking her cuckolded husband with another asswards St. Peter's Cross), Leo and Tomás are themselves robbed and left to start over again. Luckily they are able to waylay a couple of priests who stop to help them, proving once again that in horror movies, Good Samaritans are suckers. Disguised as men of the cloth they enter a convent for shelter, where Leo quickly seduces the Mother Superior, Elvira (Blanca Estrada of The Ghost Galleon, aka Blind Dead 3). He also exposes a horny orchard boy as the sexual "demon" who's been haunting the nuns, and is nearly killed by the boy for his trouble! Thereafter our pair find themselves at a brothel--which is the best place to go if no nunneries are available, clearly--and go to work for the Madame as bouncers. Of course they get their pick of the staff as payment, leading to a fast-motion montage that lacks only Yakkety Sax to be a Benny Hill moment!

I really don't think I can add anything to the glory of this picture.

At last it seems that Leonardo's wickedness has caught up with him when he and the Madame agree to sell Tomás's favors to a powerful gay nobleman. After all, Leo reasons, "no arsehole on earth is worth 100 ducats...but then, no friendship is worth 100 ducats either!" The deal goes down, and Leo robs the matron of her cut and then heads out on the road alone. Tomás has learned his teacher's ruthless lessons well, however, and with his new lover's support sets out in pursuit. They catch up to Leonardo, who is beaten, berated, and finally crucified in a ruined abbey for the striking climactic scene. Hanging helpless across from a stone Jesus, Leonardo offers his own Calgary speech: "Good Lord!" he cries out, "How could You give Your life for these pigs? I don't understand! I don't understand!"

Wow. Just wow.

End spoilers coming, if you care by this point:

The film comes around to end pretty much where it began, with Leo crippled and limping on the road, cooking his meal while another traveler comes up beside him. Leo offers him food and drink, anything to assuage his unbearable loneliness. To pass the time, Leonardo tells a fascinating tale.

"Let me tell you an old legend. A tale about the Devil. Once upon a time, the Devil was getting bored in Hell. And so, transformed into a mortal, he chose to visit Earth. He accepted all the weaknesses that came with living in the flesh. He could get sick, or even die. He rarely used his powers, for he thought things would be easy. He started off poor, so that he could move up through mischief and evilness. What human could stand up to him? After all, he was the Devil.

"The Devil went through every felony. He fornicated, killed, cheated, stole...and eventually became rich. He was having fun. He was happy. He begat a son, and he loved. But then his luck began to change. He was swindled, mocked, robbed and ravaged. Love made him lose his power. He ended up in misery. And the poor Devil found out that men were more wicked than himself."

"Haven't you guessed?"

Paul Naschy seldom gets the praise I think he deserves as an actor, though I admit upfront my bias in this regard. However, in El Caminante he gives a tour de force performance that anyone should be able to appreciate. His sneer of cold command, the malevolent intelligence in every gaze, the world-weary but still bemused manner of his philosophical lessons--it's a study in Evil with a capital "E" that surpasses even his portrayal of Alaric de Marnac, in my opinion. In fact, as I said to the Duke of DVD after our viewing: "You know how we always wished Paul and Coffin Joe had made a movie together? Well, Leonardo IS Paul's Coffin Joe!" And if you don't know what high praise that is...well, I don't know what to tell you.

The movie also seems a very personal work from Naschy, who also wrote and directed. (According to the indispensable Mark of Naschy website and the man himself in his autobiography, Paul counted this one of his best films, and possibly his personal favorite.) In addition to the black comedy and bemused if bleak view of humanity the story offers, Naschy also waxes serious when Leonardo sends Tomás visions of the future in a dream. These take the form of stock footage from World War II concentration camps and presumably the Spanish Civil War, both extremely formative influences on Paul's personal development. The grainy black and white images of bombs dropping, mass graves, and marching soldiers are in stark contrast to the sumptuous color cinematography by Alejandro Ulloa in the rest of the film, and cast an intentional pall on the film's comic elements that is as jarring as it is effective.

St. Paul

I first became aware of this movie while reading Naschy's excellent autobiography, Memoirs of a Wolfman. (Order a copy now, and damn the cost!). Never released to English-speaking audiences, El Caminante has been criminally unseen on this side of the pond, at least by the tragically monolingual. Fortunately, thanks to the wonders of the Internet, fans have taken up the gauntlet and subtitled the previously unsubtitled film--to those involved in this labor of love, my heartfelt and eternal thanks, because this movie, from my point of view, is just about perfect. Well-made, wonderfully acted, full of the fantastique elements and gorgeous Eurobabe nudity we know and love from Naschy, and so very, very much more...really, this one has it all.

For now these bootlegs are all that's available for English speakers to my knowledge, which is a shame--this movie needs to be seen by a much, much wider audience, especially now that Paul's contribution to world horror cinema is better appreciated. Still, if you're a fan of Naschy or 70s fantastique in general, you NEED to track down a copy, by hook or by crook. Really, it's just that good.

I remember the night that I learned Paul Naschy had died, I felt I needed to watch one of his films to mark his passing. I chose Blue Eyes of the Broken Doll (ably and entertainingly reviewed here by Empress Kate of Love Train for the Tenebrous Empire). I was worried that my sadness at his death would color my enjoyment of the film, that I'd never be able to get through it without wallowing in the loss. However, once the movie began and the story sucked me in, the sadness disappeared, leaving only that contagious, chest-filling joy that has always been Naschy's peculiar gift. He keeps on giving, even now--reasons to smile, reasons to thrill, reasons to keep on singing his praises. He's still with me--with us--and I can never thank him enough.

All the Thumbs, ever.

I miss you, Paul.

Thanks to you, my friend.

Some more great images from El Caminante (1979):

Paul, seconds before making a daring run down the heart of the All Blacks' defense.

Harsh, but fair.


"Don't hate me because I'm beautiful."

I don't know much about art, but I know what I like.

There is no comparison.

A fellow of infinite chest.

Can't be too 'sploited.

"...OF COCK."

"There, fixed it."

IYKWIM!

That's the spirit.

Infernal Majesty

MORE MADNESS...

Summary only...

The Pink Angels (1971): or, The Beautiful Freaks

Every now and then I almost forget just how different the world of 70s filmmaking was from the world we now live in. Especially with so many recent films striving to emulate the look and feel of movies from the "grindhouse" era, it's easy for someone who watches a lot of these films to succumb to the fallacy that these stories are just older, worse-looking, sometimes even slightly quaint versions of the movies littering our multiplexes in the present day. Perhaps this isn't true of some of the grittier horror or most insane sci-fi of the 70s, but when it's a screwball road movie or a fluffy little comedy, it's easy to imagine that the movie, even if not inhabiting the same neighborhood as the gag-a-minute taste-free comedies that the Farrelly Brothers or even National Lampoon make their livings on, it nonetheless lives in the same filmic zip-code, just a few decades down the block.

Then something like Larry G. Brown's 1971 biker "comedy" Pink Angels finds its way into my DVD player, and I'm suddenly reminded that not only are we not on the same street, we might very well be on different planets.

For literally 98% of its 81 minute running time, Pink Angels plays like a zany spoof of the biker movie subgenre, whose formula had already been set in stone by such classics as The Wild Ones and Easy Rider. The 70s are littered with imitations and re-imaginings of those movies--some featuring girl gangs, some undead ne'er-do-wells, some even freakin' werewolves--so it makes sense that some enterprising soul would plumb the comedic depths of such a popular and lucrative type of movie. Hell, the poster even features madcap art in the style of Mad Magazine, possibly by one of Mad's famous artists. (I can't tell for sure--my expertise and google-fu fail me here, and there seems to be a dearth of information on the internets about this flick.) And it's funny--not often in the laugh-out-loud way, but at least in the smirk-and-mild-chuckle way.

But then--at least for this viewer--that last 2% takes SUCH a hard left-hand turn, it threw me COMPLETELY off-balance and made me question whether I and the filmmaker were laughing at the same things, and if so, whether that says something very unflattering about me as a person. I DEFINITELY wasn't in Kansas anymore.

I've been lucky lately in my ongoing quest to watch movies with hilariously overblown songs over the opening credits, and Pink Angels is no exception. After an enigmatic but soon-to-be-explained opening scene, we get a patriotic travelin' song that sounds like it was performed by Don McLean's less talented but much more earnest and taking-himself-seriously brother. "I see America, she's just around the bend! The Star-Spangled Banner...just lookin' for a friend!" It's striving SO hard to be inspiring and moving, you kind of have to go along with it and be inspired and moved...TO LAUGHTER.

As the song plays, a group of bikers gather in a field of gigantic concrete culverts, rallying around a flag and getting ready to start their picaresque journey. Each biker seems rougher and more intimidatingly attired than the last--we're talking rebel flag patches, skulls and crossbones, and even some prominently displayed swastikas for good measure--until finally the group of six clamber onto their 3 bikes and sidecars and hit the highway, leading to more travelin' tunes and some already by this time cliched shots of the wild men on the road.

"Hotsy-totsy, I'm a Nazi!"

True to formula, the bikers soon pick up a lonesome hitchhiker, who is obviously intimidated by their virile and threatening masculinity. With the naive hitchhiker hanging on for dear life, the gang rolls into an A&W cafe and intimidates the staff into giving them mass quantities of cheeseburgers, hot dogs, and root beer. The boys talk gruffly about their mean machines for a while, until there's an argument between two of them that looks like it'll turn ugly--when suddenly a FOOD FIGHT breaks out! It only takes a few flying frankfurters and some girly screams from the combatants as they spray suggestive jets of mustard and ketchup on one another before the hitchhiker tumbles to what's going on:

"Jesus Christ!" he yells. "You're all FAGGOTS!"

Yes, there you have our set-up, ladies and gents. This is a rough, tough biker gang, made up entirely of homosexuals and cross-dressers! After the hitcher runs away (in considerably more terror than you suspect he would have had the guys JUST been white supremacists or Nazis), the homo-bros shrug it off and get back on the road to more groovin' 70s tunes, but now with a knowing wink to an audience that's in on the joke.

And actually, as spoof premises go, it's not that bad. Consider the gang's first formulaic encounter with the podunk fuzz in one of the small towns they rumble through. The cops come out of their car with more firepower than Rambo, after radio-ing to HQ an inflated number of "long-haired freaks" they've pulled over. Brandishing a shotgun in the most phallic way imaginable, one cop asks the leader Mike (John Alderman) why they're headed down the coast.

Cop: "What are you gonna do in LA?"
Mike: "BALL."
Cop: "What?"
Mike: "A BALL."
Cop: "What kind of a ball?"
Mike (in Clint Eastwood "Make My Day" inflection): "A COTILLION. A LADIES' cotillion. You understand?"

"I know what you're thinking: did he have three canisters of lipstick, or only two?"

The cops have to release them when their licenses come up clean, but the basic modus operandi is now set--the boys travel across country on their way to a drag show in L.A., in which their beauty boy Ronnie (Maurice Warfield, the only black guy in the gang) is set to compete wearing a gown designed by the extremely fey, wiry little troublemaker of the group, Henri (the hilarious Robert Biheller)--presumably their tough-guy biker outfits are a disguise designed to keep the squares off their backs. Along the way they have various adventures according to the standard biker movie formula, only with the twist that they're all "cupcakes."

Also along for the ride: portly, fake-bearded muscle Arnold (Bruce Kimball), who nonetheless has perfect diction and a giant vocabulary; Arnold's lover Eddie (Henry Olek), a poet sporting John Lennon glasses and a terrible Liverpudlian accent, and David (Tom Basham), the best-looking guy in the group who is always putting off the advances of the opposite sex, often unsuccessfully. (A scene where he tells of having to satisfy the desires of a female benefactor in order to get new spark plugs for his bike is fairly amusing and typical.)

Running parallel to this narrative thread are the adventures of The General (George T. Marshall), a crazy militia man with a Patton complex who spends his days listening to what we'd now call ultra-conservative talk radio, preaching about the un-American evils of "freaks" and "long-haired bastards!" (Marshall looks exactly like an American version of Graham Chapman's General in the Monty Python "Precision Drilling" sketch, and seemingly not for nothing--like Chapman's character, the general is unknowingly surrounded by flaming gays.) The General has some men guarding his compound--obviously a suburban home--and a longsuffering secretary named Hildegard (Karen Bouchard) with one of the most amazing 70s water-buffalo hairdos it's been my pleasure to witness.

The Flying Nun 2: Out of the Habit

The scenes with the General are entirely random (him listening to his biker-hating broadcasts, planning what to do should the Commies attack his compound, having Hildegard time him while he comically takes apart and reassembles his pistol blindfolded), and his story line doesn't cross paths with the Pink Angels' until the very, very end.

As I said before, the jokes here are more smirk-inducing than gut-busting, but I still found myself pleasantly entertained by all the broadly comedic shenanigans the boys get up to. It helps that all the actors have good-natured, "Isn't this a gas?" charisma to spare, particularly Alderman and Basham; and Biheller's over-the-top flaming fashion designer turn is funny because it completely lacks any of the mean-spirited ridicule that so often ruins such characterizations. Everybody's having a good time and nobody's hating, so it works--or so it seems, at least.

Something interesting about Pink Angels is the way that large sections of the film seem to be entirely ad-libbed, or if not, at least Brown was willing to let the cameras roll and catch all the flubs and recoveries his actors put out there. Several scenes with obvious non-actors are rather strange and interesting to me too, usually when the boys are vamping it up in a grocery, a dress shop, or a shoe store. Brown even takes a few seconds in the grocery store to interview a bystander about what she's seen, with obviously unscripted results. Not exactly gonzo, but still, I was digging it.

David entertains his comrades with the tale of The One That Got Away.

The boys' adventures along the road are hit and miss, but the ones that hit work well enough to keep you going. Standouts include an encounter with a group of well-aged call girls at one roadside attraction, Arnold and Eddie's amazing exchange with a gum-chewing topless waitress at their LA hotel (I don't know *where* she was holding all the drugs she offers them) that contains one of the most stupidly hilarious foley inserts I've heard in a while, and a scene near the end where all the guys shed their biker skins and slip into something more comfortable and comical for a night on the town.

But the movie's best episode is the most narratively significant as well: again taking a page from the Biker Movie 101 playbook, Brown has his effeminate bikers meet up with a rival biker gang, who despite the tell-tale signs (a picnic table with candelabras and full formal place settings at their camp, for instance) have NO IDEA that the Pink Angels are gayer than your average leather-clad bikers. The Rival Gang leader (Michael Pataki) is a real hoot, the sort of guy who'll look at a lineup of call girls and pick the senior citizen hooker just for kicks--exactly the kind of grizzly, truculent bastard you'd want leading your gang, despite his unfashionable sock cap. But children of the 70s will be most interested in the fact that his right-hand man is none other than a very young, extremely buff Dan "Grizzly Adams" Haggerty! I guess you could say this was the beginning of his fascination with "bears," IYKWIM...

"As he growed up, that little drag queen became the best friend Adams ever had...and together, they became a LEGEND!"

Things start out sociably enough when the two gangs come together, but they go south quickly when, after an evening of hard partying, the rivals awaken to find the Pink Angels gone and themselves in garish whore makeup with ribbons in their hair! Not at all down with homoerotic humor, the Rival Gang Leader vows that when he catches up with them again, "I'll KILL those bananas!"

Well, the rival gang does catch up with "those cupcakes!" again late in the movie, but the expected gang fight doesn't happen, exactly. Completely fooled by the boys' drag disguises--which is part of the joke, as only David could really pass, and then only if you were cross-eyed and retarded--they all saddle up and head to a party somewhere else; though due to bad directions, they somehow end up at the compound of The General, whose existence by this point most viewers will nearly have forgotten. Again, the fascist soldier and his minions are played for broad yuks, as when the gatekeeper reports the approach of the bikers via a rotary telephone secreted inside the General's mailbox!

The General is also fooled by the Angels' get-up, leading to a funny exchange between him and Henri, and then a reveal that shocks the General into even greater lunacy. Staring with crazy-eyes at the now de-wigged biker in an evening dress, the General recalls via voice-over a threat he made earlier in the movie, now given a new context: "I'd love to get my hands on some of those long-haired freaks!" The General smiles, smacks his riding crop into his hand, then breaks the fourth wall and stares straight at the camera, almost but not quite winking...

"And now for something completely different!"

I hesitate to go too far into the realm of hyperbole here, but I was honestly shocked, startled, and more than a little disturbed at the direction the movie takes here, literally in the last 2 minutes. I thought I knew what kind of movie I was watching--I was familiar with its conventions, I had an idea what to expect, I even felt I could picture the very next scene after the General's smile. My ending was consistent with the lighthearted, easy-going humor of the whole thing, completely cliched, the kind of denouement that would not be out of place on a Saturday night sketch show. But hey, that's the way the whole movie had been up to that point, minus some off-putting, leathery nudity and a little drug use. My ending fit in perfectly with my idea of the film.

Suffice to say, my punchline was NOT the punchline that the filmmakers went with here. This movie is available as part of the BCI/Eclipse "Drive-In Cult Classics Vol. 3" set, and as a result I'm not going to spoil it with a detailed description of the Big Joke here. I will say, though, that it nearly knocked me over, and made me wonder, had I known the way *this* joke turned out when I first started watching the flick, whether I would have been able to watch the previous 79 minutes in the same way. Somehow, I don't think so. In the same way that the sweetness of the first half hour of Audition is altered irrevocably by everything that comes after, I'm thinking the first 98% of Pink Angels could not be experienced the same way twice. At least not for me.

It could very well be that I'm overstating things here. I may be the one person on the planet who would react this way to a silly, slight movie from the 70s and its beyond-tasteless-in-hindsight final gag. After all, part of the wonder of 70s trash cinema is its gleeful pre-PC, anything-goes and damn-the-offended attitude. But every viewer has his buttons, and I guess Pink Angels managed to lull me into a very unguarded place before taking the hammer to mine.

"You know how to whistle, don't you, Duke? You just put your lips together...and blow."

Your mileage will definitely vary, but I'm going to go ahead and give Pink Angels a 2 Thumb, see-it-at-least-once rating. It's mildly amusing, engaging enough to keep you checking in until the end, and then that final shot--well, watch it and then tell me whether I'm getting too old and touchy. There are definitely worse ways you could spend your 81 minutes, and really, I want to know.

MORE MADNESS...

Summary only...

The Strange Vengeance of Rosalie (1972): or, Rosalie Loves Company

People are always asking Stephen King where he gets his ideas, and while he has several stock answers, my favorite is probably the one I've seen reproduced the most--when he pulls out this old chestnut, the buttzillion-selling author smiles sheepishly and says, "I think it's because I have the heart of a young boy...I keep it in a jar on my desk." Hahaha! Oh, Steve, you make the evisceration of children for inspiration sound like such a lark!

Still, taking the first part of that answer at face value, I wonder if that young boy whose heart Mr. King possesses might have ever gone to a drive-in with his parents to see 1972's The Strange Vengeance of Rosalie (aka Rosalie and the Strange Vengeance, aka Someone to Watch Over Me). Because seeing hapless jewelry salesman Virgil (Ken Howard) strapped to an old-fashioned iron bed after childish, slightly-unhinged Rosalie (Bonnie Bedelia) has broken his leg with the back end of an axe so that he'll be unable to leave her remote homestead, hearing her proclaim her love for him even while he writhes in...well, misery...pleading with her to for god's sake bring him a doctor--well, it all seems just a little bit familiar.

Then again, Virgil isn't a writer. An important point.

We open with Rosalie digging in a dust-strewn, hardscrabble landscape, while chickens cluck in the background and artistic silhouettes of fowl-festooned trees drift by in the foreground. Rosalie is digging a grave for her granddaddy, Bear, and old Indian rancher who was apparently her only family. After rolling his corpse into the grave the young girl shimmies down a rope into a well to retrieve a mysterious bag from behind a loose stone, then climbs back and puts the bag in the dead grandparent's hand. She also buries his rifle with him. Then she walks for hours to the freeway, where she starts hitchhiking and is quickly picked up by Virgil, a salesman on vacation en route to catch a flight to Hawaii. No points for guessing he's not going to make the baggage check. After they're threatened at a truck stop by an ugly and belligerent biker, Virgil agrees to deliver the young lady back to her door.

Rosalie claims to be meeting her Grandaddy at the ranch, a place she's never been but has dreamed about. The viewer's alarm bells sound, but of course Virgil just smiles and goes along. On the way back to the ranch, Rosalie betrays a fascination with the car's tapedeck and cigarette lighter, almost as if she's never seen such things before! She has a thick hillbilly accent and seems none too bright. Virgil takes it all in stride, making no advances since she's meant to be 15 years old. It's one of the few notes of nobility his character sounds, as we shall see.

"It's the swearing, Virgil. It has no nobility."

It's a very The Hills Have Eyes-ish trek back out to the dirt farm; at one point they even pass a dilapidated "Radioactive Warning" sign, though nothing ever comes of this plot-wise (unless we're meant to understand that at least 2 of the 3 cast members are mutants in addition to being inbred hillbillies). When they get there Rosalie begs him to wait while she finds her Granddaddy. She disappears into the gathering dark and Virgil goes after her, poking around the eerily abandoned shack. When he returns to the car he finds both tires deflated, and when he enters the now-open shack, he gets a near-stab to the wrist and a chicken to the face! Stranded, he agrees to stay the night with Rosalie and head back to town in the morning.

The next day Rosalie tries to convince Virgil to stay, asking him pointedly, "You figure I'd make a good wife?" But he is un-enticed by her strange sack dress and weekly bathing habits, and says so. Bad idea--next think you know Rosalie is swinging the the back of an axe at Virgil's tibia, and the pole-axed Samaritan faints from pain. He awakes, Gulliver-esque, strapped to a ratty old bed and being fawned over by his young, somewhat smelly admirer. Misery set-up now complete.

However, instead of begging and cajoling his captor, Virgil responds by getting as nasty and abusive as possible. He spits venom at Rosalie, calling her stupid, cursing her ignorance, threatening her with the police, telling her he wouldn't marry her if she was the last girl on earth--really, considering his helpless position, his attitude is quite shocking. Even threats from Rosalie ("How would you like me to break your arm too?") only improve his outlook for a few moments; it's never long before he's cursing and name-calling and spitting abuse at the girl again. If I'd been Rosalie, I think I would have taken a few more whacks at him, just to teach him some manners.

"Don't beat me wid a rubbah hose!
Don't beat me wid a rubbah hose!"

Later in the movie I started to think that Virgil's anger and venom might stem from a feeling of entitlement--after all, he's the sophisticated city-dweller on his way to Honolulu, and she's the ignorant rube who barely even knows how to operate a can opener. How can SHE do this to HIM? Even later there's a (very) little racial subtext, when the greasy biker from way back at the beginning (his name is Fry, and he has a history with Rosalie and her granddad) shows up and talks about the dangers of going to the police: "A 'breed gets in trouble in this state--it ain't too good." Virgil calls Rosalie an "ignorant half-breed Indian SQUAW!" and a "stupid APE!" several times, driving home that possible feeling of racial superiority. It's an ugly part of Virgil's character, and it's never really redeemed in him.

The rest of the movie can be summed up by the formula "Vigil Attempts escape --> FAIL --> Rosalie professes love/threatens bodily harm --> REPEAT." It's broken up a little by the appearance of Fry, who wants the sack of gold Bear had hidden on his land now that the old man is dead. Rosalie buried it with him of course, and doesn't want to tell Fry anyway, as they have a hate/hate relationship (she bit his finger off once because he was "tickling" her). Once Virgil learns that Rosalie might have a sack of gold somewhere he too becomes interested in her, and peppers his speech with more pleasantries and promises of marriage (though never completely banishing the terms "IGNORANT" and "APE" from his sweet nothings), but to her credit Rosalie is too smart to be taken in by such talk. His inability to deceive the Indian girl enrages Virgil to even further abuse.

In the end Rosalie's apparently genuine love for Virgil makes her betray the gold's secret location to Fry and leave the ranch with him, in order to keep him from hurting Virgil even worse. Once she's gone Virgil proves quite able to drag himself out to the car and get its tires pumped up (even changing a spare on a bum leg!) and finally he escapes the ranch. Once out on the road (to some HILARIOUS traveling music) Virgil sees Rosalie sitting alone and forlorn on the shoulder of the freeway. Inexplicably (perhaps gripped by the guilt of the White Man's Burden?) he goes back to see if he can help her, discovering that she has killed Fry and setting things up for a not-at-all surprising twist ending.

Just another pretty face.

The movie is long--nearly 2 full hours--and there is basically one setting and three characters. Therefore a lot of the time we're just listening to Virgil and Rosalie talk, one-act play style, with no real gore or nudity even to spice things up. It has to be said Bonnie Bedelia (who ought to be a children's book heroine with that name) does a great job as the uneducated, naive, but hardly-helpless Rosalie, imparting her violence and threats with a strange kind of childishness that makes it believable; after all, if you don't think a kid would swing an axe at you sometimes to get her way, you've never been a parent.

Ken Howard as Virgil is somewhat worse--though his insults and outrage can be entertaining at times, he never seems like a real character, and his line readings are often perfunctory. But character actor Anthony Zerbe (of KISS Meets the Phantom of the Park!)really steals the show as Fry, the slimy, cunning, animalistic villain who might be stupid but who's always dangerous. But even with Zerbe and Bedelia doing their best,the movie is at least half-an-hour longer than its plot can support. The twist at the end (which I assume constitutes the titular "strange vengeance") is rather stupid, and not much else happens.

Still, the movie is SO much like Stephen King's Misery in its set-up--and fifteen years before the fact!--that it's worth a look for fans of the author. As for whether the similarities are intentional or not, I can't say--but I can tell you that star Bonnie Bedelia appeared in the orignal Salem's Lot mini-series, as well as the movie version of Needful Things. Coincidence? One has to wonder whether King might be this movie's number one fay-unnn...

So 1.5 thumbs for The Strange Vengeance of Rosalie. You might dig it, you might not. See it or don't. What am I, your mother?


Thanks again to Karswell for the obscurities!

MORE MADNESS...

Summary only...