They Call Me Macho Woman (1991)

Seeing the chintzy, but charming, cardboard city skyline accompanied by the words “A Troma Team Release” is something that can send paroxysms of anxiety through even the stoutest film lover’s heart.  Troma built their brand from the ground up, and they did it through the most blatant of hustling.  Lloyd Kaufman is a man who knows the value of getting something for nothing.  If Roger Corman is lauded for stretching every dollar he ever spent on his films, then Kaufman can pinch a penny into a piece of copper wire for his, and should be equally applauded.  I admire Kaufman’s particular brand of hucksterism.  He sells every film he puts out like it was “The Citizen Kane Of” whichever genre.  I’m quite certain he has no illusions about the level of quality in the movies he produces.  They are what they are, they are made (usually) with some heart, and they are typically exploitative as all hell.  Yes, the humor is normally not above the level of a twelve-year-old trying to light a fart.  Yes, the effects would make Ed Wood wince.  Yes, the acting lacks the subtlety of, well, it lacks subtlety entirely.  These are the things that attract their fans.  

Troma has also released films they had no role in producing, and this is where the nervousness about seeing their logo at the start of a movie arises.  For example, they were involved in the re-release of Dario Argento’s The Stendhal Syndrome as well as the distribution of Joel M Reed’s Bloodsucking Freaks.  While one could argue the merits of either of these films, one would have to agree that they are almost nothing like the stuff that Troma actually produces and distributes (although Bloodsucking Freaks comes close).  In other words, when you see the Troma logo, you know you’re in for a crap shoot.  This brings us to Sean P Donahue’s They Call Me Macho Woman (aka Savage Instinct), a movie Troma co-produced.  If the lack of resemblance between the woman on the box cover art and the film’s star (Debra Sweaney) doesn’t tell you you’ve entered Tromaville, nothing will (and maybe they’re both Sweaney, but I’ll be damned if they don’t look worlds apart to my eye).  And like the majority of Troma’s output, your mileage will most definitely vary in terms of enjoyment, depending on your threshold for uncut schlock.

Widow Susan Morris (Sweaney) and her realtor Cecil (Lory-Michael Ringuette) are en route to see an out-of-the-way property for Susan to purchase.  A chance auto mishap puts Susan in the crosshairs of Mongo (Brian Oldfield) and his kookie gang of drug dealers.  Now, she’ll have to man up if she wants to survive.

They Call Me Macho Woman (by the way, no one in the film ever calls Susan “Macho Woman”) falls into the category of movies that tell us, quite clearly, that, no matter where you go, trouble will find you.  Susan wants to get out of the city and fulfill the dream she and her husband had of moving to some place quiet and peaceful before a drunk driving accident took his life.  Solitude, however, is an impossibility.  The menace of city life expands to the countryside.  If it isn’t rapey, drug-addled thugs in the urban jungle, it’s rapey, moonshine-addled/inbred hicks in the woods (or, alternately, rapey, shitkicker cops).  In exploitation cinema, true peace is elusive, but it can be earned through violence.  The protagonist is broken down only to be built back up (by their own ingenuity) into a figure more frightening than those who threaten him/her.  To be at the top of the heap, to win the right to live as they want, they must sink to the level of savagery with which they are opposed.  And then top it.  Susan is handy from the start.  When their car gets a flat tire, Cecil proves worthless.  It’s Susan who has the know-how to change it, having been schooled by her brothers.  Eventually, she kits herself out with all manner of makeshift weaponry (while also taking the time to polish her mini-axes to a mirrorlike sheen; fashion and function).  Every situation in which Susan finds herself, she has to dig deeper and deeper into her primal core.  She has a cat fight with a predatory lesbian that ends with Susan tackling her opponent off a hay loft.  She seduces one of her attackers (I mean, he was going to rape her anyway, but still…) and impales his head on a nail.  She stabs a gang member in the ear with a stick (leading to a rather funny running joke for the rest of the film).  By the end of the movie, Susan can not only kill another human being, but she can do so brutally.  The question becomes, has Susan gained her freedom or lost her humanity?  Are the two the same?

Every person in this film is a shithead.  Mongo (who looks like a larger version of Nick Cassavetes) growls at everyone, and he isn’t above allowing his gang members to die in order to keep more of their illicit gains for himself.  He also kills people with a spiked bit of fetish headgear instead of, oh, say, shooting them.  With the exceptions of Mongo, Cecil, and Mr. Wilson (J. Brown), there is not a man or woman who doesn’t attempt to sexually assault Susan.  This even stretches to a trio of guys who could have been her saviors.  She flags down a car and is picked up by Geno (Paul Roder) and his mates.  They quickly pull off to the side to get some, cackling, drinking beer, and basically being assholes.  Things don’t go well for them.  Hand in hand with this omnipresent shitheadedness is the fact that every character says whatever is on their mind every moment of the film (typically consisting of calling their associates “idiots,” etcetera).  None of them has either ever heard the mantra that silence is golden, or they simply never paid it any mind (but mostly, let’s just blame Donahue, who is also the screenwriter).  This might not have been quite so bad if they didn’t all speak and relate on the level of eighth graders (one could imagine them trading spitballs with ease).  This is illustrated and/or compounded by the constant use of the term “bitch.”  In fact, its usage is so prevalent, you could easily make a drinking game out of it.  And that’s the territory in which They Call Me Macho Woman exists.  It is tiresome in its drudging repetitiveness.  It is not well-written, shot, or acted.  It is not even especially satisfying in its resolution.  Nonetheless, it is a singular cinematic experience that distinguishes itself by its insistence on trying to be as generic as possible.  A sort of failing upward, I suppose.

MVT:  The premise is solid enough.  That’s why it’s so well-worn.

Make or Break:  The fate of Geno and his crew is nicely executed.

Score:  6.5/10

Surf Nazis Must Die (1987)

Directed by: Peter George
Run time: 87 minutes

Troma films always manages to deliver the strangest movies. Some of their movies are down right weird, some are stupid, many are insanely gross, but all of them are strange. Surf Nazis Must Die is a shinning example of how strange a Troma film can be. It's full of over the top violence, a strange plot, an entertaining protagonist, and cheesy effects.

The opening credits also provide the info dump for the movie.  Somewhere California,  has been hit with an apocalyptic earthquake. The result of which is that the police are unable to to deal with the surfer gangs that are now terrorizing the city. The earthquake also destroyed Mama Washington's home. She will be the hero of this movie. Finally, because it's an apocalyptic setting there of course there have to be Nazis. In this case, Nazis that surf and have plans to rule the beach for a thousand years.

The story splits into two plots. The first plot shows Mama Washington life after losing her home to the earthquake. She has been placed into a nursing home and is getting a long well with the other residents. Though it is never made clear why she is sent to a nursing home in the first place. Also, later in the film she shows that she able to take care or herself. In fact her and Charles Bronson could have easily cleaned up old Detroit from the Robocop movie (the original not the remake). The other plot shows how Adolf, Eva, Hook, Brutus, Mengele, and the rest of the Surf Nazis spend their time until the third act. A lot of stealing from people, improvising weapons for their surf boards, and surfing.

Also the Surf Nazis are trying to unite all the other surf gangs under their control. The Surf Nazis invite the other gangs to join the Surf Nazis. To their credit, the other gangs see how delusional and idiotic the surf Nazis are and do not take them up on their offer. This will go badly for the other gangs later.

Both plots collide when Leroy, Mama Washington's son, is out for a run by the beach and runs into the Surf Nazis. Being dickhead nazis they kill Leroy and unleash the wrath of Mama Washington. So she heads off the local pawn shop and gets everything she needs to wage war against gangs. A high caliber semi automatic hand gun and some grenades.

Mama Washington then lets the Surf Nazis think that the other gangs are out to get them. This leads to the Nazis killing off the other gangs and they make it easier for Mama Washington to kill them. Which she does very quickly and violently. With all the gangs dead and vengeance being satisfied, there is nothing more for Mama Washington to do but to ride off laughing in to the sunset.




This movie can't make up it's mind what kind of a movie it wants to be. It wants to be gang crime film in the worst way but it keeps pushing the post apocalyptic theme without having an apocalypse. It is hard to get into the gang part of the movie because the movie assumes that the gang that rules the beach rules the city. It has some well shot surf scenes and when the movie sticks with a theme it does it well but as a whole the movie is an entertaining mess.

If you are bored or you want a starting point to explore the madness that is Troma films this movie is a good starting point.

MVT: The surfing footage is rather impressive.

Make or Break: The tone of this film will take you out of the film a lot. It will be doing it's wacky surf gang that is nazi themed and out of no where will cut to the gang be proper criminals. Then jump to angry woman out for revenge and then to slice of life America circa 1980's.

Score: 5.125 out of 10

Fortress of Amerikkka (1989)

In the rustic, woodsy town of Troma City, California, a war is being waged between a corrupt political machine (personified by racist sheriff Tom “Tex” Bodine, played by David Crane) and an evil corporate syndicate (personified by Colonel Denton, played by William J Kulzer and the mercenaries of the Fortress of Amerikkka guerilla group).  After shooting and blowing up a young couple who just wanted to do “The Beaver Call” (and other people, to be fair, who may or may not have wanted to do the same), nobody still seems to grasp what’s going on up in the hills.  Into this strife struts ex-con John Whitecloud (Gene Lebrock) who is burning for revenge against the sheriff but instead winds up doing just about everything else but taking it, including re-hooking up with his ex-girlfriend Jennifer (Kellee Bradley).  Meanwhile, characters are dying and boning all over the place.

When a film begins with voiceover narration explaining that “this is a story about you and me,” and then goes on to detail the greatness of America and touting the plight of the little man, you really need to consider if the filmmakers are earnest or not about their story.  Eric Louzil’s Fortress of Amerikkka (aka Fortress of Amerikkka: The Mercenaries) is just such a film.  Bearing in mind that this is a Troma production, the possibility for a humorous approach is high, yet I never got any indication that the filmmakers were joking about their subject; this despite the film being over the top in a great many ways.  Having fun with it, yes, but speeches like those in the voiceover are completely outside the tone of the rest of the film.  Later in the movie, we’ll get something similar between two completely insignificant (despite the amount of time spent on them, though the larger part of that time is strictly to showcase Kascha’s gigantic, fake breasts) characters.  Actual dialogue between the two consists of howlers like, “People like us are the backbone of America,” and “We have freedom in this country.  But with that freedom comes a responsibility of doing what’s right.”  This is during a scene set immediately after they have escaped from the mercenaries (I’ll leave out the full context of all of this so you can witness it for yourself).  As the film wraps up, our narrator returns to enlighten us with, “In America, one little guy can stand up to the evil that wants to destroy our Bill of Rights.”  The commentary in lines like these overplays the filmmakers’ hand, and it’s delivered so straight-faced, you can’t help but laugh, particularly because none of the rest of the film backs lines like these up in the slightest (unless it’s so slyly subversive as to elude all detection).      

That the rest of the movie is a mess composed of some enjoyable bits is perplexing.  The premise is simple.  Theoretically, there should be no way to fuck it up.  Nevertheless, Louzil and company manage to lose the thread at every turn.  Disregarding lapses in logic like the fact that John wouldn’t be allowed to purchase firearms because of his criminal record, or that Jennifer would likely have been killed for what she witnessed, or that no one raises an eyebrow at the myriad cars blowing up out in the forest multiple times a day and connects this to Fortress of Amerikkka, the script seems to intentionally veer away from tying its multiple plotlines together.  John claims that he craves vengeance for the death of his brother, but does absolutely nothing to forward this agenda.  He just visits his brother’s grave (inside Bronson Caves, no less) and whines a lot.  The sheriff and his police department suggest that they know that there are war games going on up in the hills, but don’t connect the dots to all the people being killed (some even turning up with “Fortress of Amerikkka” carved into their flesh).  There is a bar brawl that stands out as being even more superfluous than normal cinematic bar brawls, which are, by definition, superfluous.  The only reason anything gets resolved is because the film eventually has to end.

But the mercenaries themselves take the cake.  Colonel Denton is a zealot who believes that he and his army have been ordained by God to “serve freedom and peace.”  He has a trespasser torn apart between a tree and a moving car rather than simply putting a bullet in his head, just because.  He believes that, “winning is everything, and losing is defeat!”  Furthermore, there is no purpose to what the mercs do.  If we believe the opening narration, they are in service of an “evil corporate syndicate,” but all they do is tool around the woods, shooting people and blowing up cars.  Are they terrorizing the area because some company wants the property?  Are they claiming this section of land as their own in some half-assed secessionist plot?  Who fucking knows?  There are odd interludes at the mercenaries’ camp which include spouting pseudo-spiritual horseshit, getting laid, a cat fight to the death, getting laid, killing soldiers who don’t want to be in the gang (and it is a gang) anymore, and getting laid.  There are lines about adhering to some type of code, but the majority of these guys don’t give a shit, and the other half are just plain psychotic (one in particular, a female skinhead who heavily resembles Lori Petty and loves caressing her rifle, stands out as being the most clearly insane, so you kind of have to wonder how she got recruited at all; maybe that’s the point?).  And it all revolves around animal instincts, especially sex.  There are very few scenes in Fortress of Amerikkka without naked breasts in it, and oddly enough, this is one of the few things that actually fits into the film.

For all of its stupidity, its piss poor line readings, its apparent intent to be as incoherent as possible, its inappropriate (what sounded to me like) library music track, its non-narrative (in the sense that things happen, but they have little or nothing to do with each another) approach to its story, I found myself liking this film.  Every scene that doesn’t have naked female breasts in it has action in it, and despite everything, the picture is fast paced.  What ultimately holds it all together (if that expression is even suitable for this movie) is its success at what it does well.  This boils down to boobs, bullets and blowing shit up.  Regardless of whether or not this movie is supposed to be taken seriously (maybe the insanity of the film is mean to reflect the insanity of the world as Louzil sees it?  It’s a theory, I suppose), I don’t think it’s possible to do so in the slightest, and I’m okay with this.  Fortress of Amerikkka is certainly a memorable experience, and it isn’t painful enough to make you regret watching it.

MVT:  The action scenes in the film are plentiful, and they are also well-handled, by and large.

Make or Break:  The opening scene gives you everything this film is about while simultaneously being both gratifying and nonsensical.  Not that those concepts are mutually exclusive.

Score:  6.5/10

Actium Maximus: War of the Alien Dinosaurs (2005)

Directed by: Mark Hicks
Runtime: 76 minutes

I respect how much effort goes into a movie like Actium Maximus. I have never made a movie but I understand that there is a lot of work to get an idea or dream made into a movie. It is a shame that Actium Maximus comes out as a unwatchable mess.

To make sense of this movie I had to watch it three times. The first time watching it I fell asleep, the second time I managed to watch all of it but my notes had nothing to do with the movie, and the third time I turned watching into a drinking game and passed out after twenty minutes. So this review is not going to be up to the usual lazy quality I dedicate to my reviews.

The movie opens with the amazing Lloyd Kaufman. He spends five minutes claiming that event involving thousands of Buddhist robes on display in a park is really just a high end green screen effect. This is the last entertainment that will be seen for the rest of this movie.

Then the movie proper starts and this is where the movie stops making sense. As far as I can tell most of the movie takes place on the colony planet Actium Maximus. This planet is ruled by a box cyborg robot thing emperor who is addicted to expensive drugs and likes betting on alien monsters that look vaguely dinosaurish killing one another. The so-called plot splits into two parts, the a plot deals with life on Actium Maximus and the plot by religious zealots trying to kill the box robot cyborg thing ruler. The b plot deals with monster keeper going to another planet to find some extremely dangerous alien monster thing.

The rest of the movie is dinosaur alien puppets killing each other or spectators in a running of the alien things segment. Lots of recycled footage and horrible green screen shots. Barely understandable dialog and subtitles showing up at random. A soundtrack that requires a music degree to determine when or if it stops being repetitive. And an overwhelming sense that no one on this film knows what this movie is about. 

And that is the movie. I tried to give this thing a chance. In fact I gave it two and half chances and it just kept getting worse on every viewing. With that said on to the rating.

MVT: Lloyd Kaufman, this man is a national treasure and the only one providing entertainment on this movie.

Make or Break: Break, the whole damn movie after the Lloyd Kaufman.

Score: 0.01 out of 10