Point of Terror

A woman cowering in fear. A masked madman brandishing a butcher knife. "Demons long locked in the depths of the mind come out to destroy the weak and believing!" Explore "the outer limits of fear". That's the poster. I don't think I've ever seen a movie so misrepresented by the advertising. Or happier about it. Not another tired, early 70s slasher film by any means, this riot is about a sleazy side-burned lounge singer (Peter Carpenter) picked up by a sleazier female record promoter (Dyanne Thorne) who sees something special in the guy. We can guess what it is, since most of the movie is shot at Carpenter's crotch level. Meanwhile, Thorne's jealous wheelchair-bound husband isn't going to take his wife's infidelity sitting down. Enter Thorne's kittenish daughter Lots of wonderfully bad faux 70s pop songs, over-heated dialogue and teeth-gnashing, and two outlandish murders. Dig it.

Tony Trelos is a club singer at a seaside bar. Wanting more out of his career, he is approached by a woman on a beach who owns a record label with her crippled husband. Tony's involvement and exploits with her are more dangerous than he's aware of, however, as she's guilty of a murder, and capable of another.

The second piece of celluloid sleaze that Peter Carpenter wrote and starred in after the atmospheric (and underrated) "Blood Mania," "Point of Terror" is a significantly less thrilling picture—far more talky and significantly less moody. It also seems to be cribbing elements of "Blood Mania" in a lot of ways, as it follows borderline identical plot arcs that have been minutely tweaked: Man becomes involved with wealthy woman. Woman is unstable and a murderess. Family member enters the picture and complicates matters further. Same formula, different canvas.

The film is peppered with some of the most ridiculously "seventies" musical numbers you'll ever see, and also boasts a significant amount of skin from a buxom Dyanne Thorne and the hunky Carpenter. There is a nice doubled-over twist at the end of the film that is clever but rather cheap, and the general impression I got after it was over was that Carpenter seemed to have wanted to do-over "Blood Mania," but this time invoke as much of Jess Franco's "Succubus" as he could.

All in all, "Point of Terror" is a middling thriller that, while mildly amusing, is more or less a rehash of Carpenter's prior (and better) film. It is, like "Blood Mania," relatively well-shot, but it lacks the performances and moodiness that made the former so watchable. For a piece of grindhouse sleaze, "Point of Terror" is watchable, but it's lacking both in spirit and inventiveness. 5/10.

Point of Terror (1971)

BOMB (out of 4)

I need to admit that I have no idea what this film was about or what it was trying to say but here's the so-called plot. Tony (Peter Carpenter) is a nightclub singer at the Lobster Lounge where he's hoping to catch a break but most of the time he ends up in the beds of older women. Lately Tony has been having grisly nightmares of women being brutally murdered. Soon, one of these older woman (Dyanne Thorne of Ilsa fame) offers him a record contract. Tony, thinking he's going to get popular, starts acting like a star, which upsets the older woman.

Make any sense? I really don't know what the horror elements are doing in this film because it's mostly about Tony and his record contract. The horror elements are mainly shown through the nightmare images but trust me, hearing Tony sing is a lot scarier than anything we see violence wise. I kept watching this movie and expecting it to turn into a horror film but it remained a record contract film with a few doses of mystery, which were just downright boring and hard to follow as well.

The director at least knew to make the women get naked and yes boys, that includes Ilsa herself. Dyanne Thorne might not be the best actress around the block but she's got a lot of what the others don't have, if you get my drift. There's also another silly sex scene on a huge boulder (wouldn't that cause bad scratches to the back?) that the director shows using split screens. The film is bad enough to get a few laughs, especially the look at the bar, which seems to be decorated out of colored tin foil. Point of Terror fails on all other levels but I'd recommend you giving the soundtrack to someone you really hate.

The previous reviewer (weho90069) summed up the this film quite succinctly, but did he stress the title's musical contribution enough? Only by seeing it would you be able to know just how eye-rolling a production number can actually be. A horrendous musical intro kicks off the film as the opening credits roll, with the lead character Tony Trelos aping about on stage in a blazing, red suede suit with waterfall fringe. The 'live' performances go from bad to worse, as we soon see the actor singing to the rafters in his regular venue, The Lobster House (that is, after a quick shag before curtain). It is in this setting we see Andrea shopping him with her eyes, adding him up as he performs seemingly only for her. Andrea's cool, calculating gaze tells us that it's more than stage talent she's wanting to sign.

Lyrically speaking, the theme song "Lifebeats" (which is repeated throughout) is the narrative that clues us in on the inner world of Sir Trelos. It is this song that he cuts for his first record that proves to be too much for his new rep Andrea, as she abruptly halts the recording session with a dash of her hand, barking out a "FROM the TOP!" It was either ending too soon for her, or else she just couldn't sign off on the vocal at that point. Either way, it gives us another chance to hear it some more. The singer does have his moments vocally-speaking, but we all do when we play American Idol Home Edition. The draw for Trelos' fans is obviously not in his throat.

I recommend you watch POT, but better still, really listen--

"Lifebeats turning into Lovebeats... Lovebeats turning into Lifebeats, moving in and taking over me...".

Wow, man.

Like its earlier companion feature "Blood Mania," 1971's "Point of Terror" was plainly a vanity piece for writer-producer-star Peter Carpenter, a Vegas hoofer whose death remained shrouded in mystery for decades, dates as varied as late 1970, late '71, even the late 70s-early 80s, finally confirmed as 1996, resulting from AIDS. As an actor, he displays neither emotion nor charisma, and appears to be miming his three songs, all non hits from (believe it or not) Motown! ("Lifebeats" was actually recorded by The Supremes, minus Diana Ross). Imagine a singer so bad he has nightmares on the beach about his singing, and his apartment looks like his decorator was 'Bela Lugosi!' Another surprising name prominently featured in the opening credits is future Oscar winning editor Verna Fields, who earned her Academy Award for her work on Spielberg's "Jaws" just a few years later. The director is Alex Nicol, who at least had a genuine horror title on his slim resume behind the camera, 1958's "The Screaming Skull" (he had far more credits as an actor). Leslie Simms fondly recalls her working with Peter Carpenter, who may have been a likable fellow off camera, but insisted on playing lowdown sleazeballs in his own films. He juggles three different women in this picture, even flirting with the attractive Miss Simms, yet insists on rushing off to get married even after one girl announces she's pregnant! Dyanne Thorne (whom I first saw in STAR TREK's "A Piece of the Action") had already appeared with Carpenter in 1970's "Love Me Like I Do," here playing the man hungry wife of wheelchair bound record mogul Joel Marston, best remembered by genre buffs for 1957's "The Disembodied," plus his film debut in the 1949 Charlie Chan finale "The Sky Dragon" ("Blood Mania" had featured Jacqueline Dalya, from 1941's "Charlie Chan in Rio"). For all the wildly misleading ads depicting this as a horror film, the only scene that qualifies is Dyanne's bloody murder of Marston's first wife, just a brief flashback. Considering all her misdeeds, her character just isn't as maniacal as she should be, as one reviewer commented, the whole thing remains curiously tame, rather than outrageously lurid (it's never boring however). "Point of Terror," being part of Crown International's television package, debuted on Pittsburgh's Chiller Theater on Feb 26 1977, broadcast twice more over the next 4 years ("Blood Mania" earlier debuted on Nov 27 1976).