4 Shots From 4 Films: Special Jess Franco Edition

Posted on October 16, 2017 by Lisa Marie Bowman

4 Shots From 4 Films is just what it says it is, 4 shots from 4 of our favorite films. As opposed to the reviews and recaps that we usually post, 4 Shots From 4 Films is all about letting the visuals do the talking.

This October, I am going to be using our 4 Shots From 4 Films feature to pay tribute to some of my favorite horror directors, in alphabetical order! That’s right, we’re going from Argento to Zombie in one month!

Today’s filmmaker: the legendarily prolific Jess Franco!

4 Shots From 4 Films

The Awful Dr. Orloff (1962, dir by Jess Franco)

Female Vampire (1973, dir by Jess Franco)

Oasis of the Zombies (1982, dir by Jess Franco)

Faceless (1988, dir by Jess Franco)

4 Shots From 4 Jess Franco Films: Count Dracula, Vampyros Lesbos, She Killed in Ecstasy, Female Vampire

Posted on October 28, 2015 by Lisa Marie Bowman

4 Shots From 4 Films

Count Dracula (1970, directed by Jess Franco)

Vampyros Lesbos (1971, directed by Jess Franco)

She Killed in Ecstasy (1971, directed by Jess Franco)

Female Vampire (1973, dir by Jess Franco)

The TSL’s Daily Horror Grindhouse: Faceless (dir by Jess Franco)

Posted on October 25, 2015 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Whenever it comes time to review a film like 1988’s Faceless, movie bloggers like me are faced with a very important question. Which name should we use for this film’s prolific director? The director was born Jesus Franco Manera and, for a very small handful of his 200+ film, he’s actually credited by his full name. However, for the majority of his films, he dropped the Manera. Sometimes, he is credited as Jesus Franco and then other times, the director’s credit reads Jesse Franco or just simply Jess Franco.

Myself, I usually prefer to go with “Jess Franco,” because it just seems to go with his “never give up” style of filmmaking. At the same time, it seems rather appropriate that Franco is known by more than one name because he was a director with a many different personas, occasionally a serious artist, occasionally a subversive prankster, and sometimes a director-for-hire. Franco was a lover of jazz and his films often had a similarly improvised feel. Sometimes, the results were, to put it lightly, not very memorable. But, for every Oasis of the Zombies, there was always a chance that Franco would give the world a film like Female Vampire. The imdb credits Franco with directing 203 films before his death in 2013 but it’s generally agreed that he probably directed a lot more. A lot of his films may not have worked but the ones that did are memorable enough to justify searching for them.

Faceless is Franco’s take on Eyes Without A Face, as well as being something of a descendant of his first film, The Awful Dr. Orloff. All three of these films deal with a doctor trying to repair a loved one’s disfigured face. In Faceless, the doctor is Dr. Flammad (Helmut Berger), a wealthy and decadent Paris-based plastic surgeon. One night, while out with his sister Ingird (Christiane Jean) and his nurse and lover Nathalie (Brigitte Lahaie, the former pornographic actress who appeared in several of Jean Rollin’s best films, including the brilliant Night of the Hunted), Dr. Flammad is confronted by a former patient. Flammad botched her operation so the patient tries to get back at him by tossing acid in his face. However, Ingrid shoves Flammad out of the way and ends up getting splashed by the acid instead.

Now disfigured, Ingrid spends her time hidden away in Flammad’s clinic and wearing a mask. Flammad and Nathalie start to kidnap models and actresses, searching for a perfect face. Flammad’s plan is to perform a face transplant, giving Ingrid a new and beautiful face.

Needless to say, a face transplant is not a simple thing to do. In order to get some advice, they go to the mysterious Dr. Orloff (Howard Vernon) and Orloff directs them to a Nazi war criminal named Dr. Moser (Anton Diffring). Now, if you’re not familiar with Franco’s work, the scene with Dr. Orloff will probably seem like pointless filler. However, if you are a Francophile, you will feel incredibly relieved to see Howard Vernon suddenly pop up. When it comes Franco’s films, a Howard Vernon cameo is usually a good sign.

Flammad’s search for the perfect face is complicated by the fact that his assistant, the moronic Gordon (Gerard Zalcberg), keeps accidentally killing and otherwise damaging all of the prospects. As the bodies continue to pile up, Nathalie even points out that there’s “too many dead bodies” in the clinic.

(Of course, Nathalie isn’t doing much to solve that problem. When the film got to the moment where Nathalie plunged a syringe into one troublesome patient’s eye, I ended up watching the movie between my fingers.)

Eventually, Nathalie kidnaps a coke-addicted model named Barbara (Caroline Munro). Flammad thinks that Barbara might finally be the perfect face that they’ve been looking for but there’s a problem. (Actually, two problems if you count Gordon…) Barbara’s father (Telly Savalas) is a wealthy industrialist and he wants his daughter back. He hires an American private investigator, Sam Morgan (Chris Mitchum, looking a lot like his father Robert), to track her down.

Actually, it’s not that much of a problem. It quickly turns out that Sam is kind of an idiot. Plus, since he’s American, nobody in Paris wants to help him. A Paris police inspector orders him to go home, yells at him for always chewing gum, and then adds, “You are not Bogart!”

And things only get stranger from there…

Faceless is one of Franco’s better films, a mix of over-the-top glamour (Faceless was filmed in Paris, after all) and grindhouse sleaze. Though there is a definite storyline, the film still feels like an extended improvisation, with characters and plot points coming out of nowhere and then disappearing just as quickly. If we’re going to be totally honest, the film is kind of a mess but it’s a glorious and stylish mess, one that is never less than watchable.

One of the great tragedies of American politics is that Chris Mitchum has twice been defeated when he ran for a seat in the U.S. House of Representatives (though he did come close to winning in 2014). Not only would it be great to have Robert Mitchum’s son as a member of Congress but it would be even better to know that our laws were being written, in part, by the star of Faceless. Unfortunately, Chris is sitting out the 2016 election. Hopefully, he’ll reconsider and file for at least one office.

Run, Chris, run!

Christopher Lee, R.I.P.

Posted on June 12, 2015 by Lisa Marie Bowman

The picture above is Christopher Lee in the 1998 film Jinnah. In this epic biopic, Lee played Muhammad Ali Jinniah, the founder of modern Pakistan. Up until yesterday, I had never heard of Jinnah but, after news of Lee’s death broke, Jinnah was frequently cited as being Lee’s personal favorite of his many roles and films.

Consider that. Christopher Lee began his film career in the 1940s and he worked steadily up until his death. He played Dracula. He played The Man with the Golden Gun. Christopher Lee appeared, with his future best friend Peter Cushing, in Laurence Olivier’s Oscar-winning Hamlet. He played Seurat in John Huston’s Moulin Rouge. He appeared in both The Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit trilogies. He appeared in several films for Tim Burton. He even had a small role in Martin Scorsese’s Hugo. He appeared in two Star Wars prequels. He appeared in the original Wicker Man (and reportedly considered it to be his favorite of his many horror films). He appeared in Oscar winners and box office hits. And, out of all that, Christopher Lee’s personal favorite was Jinnah, a film that most people have never heard about.

Unless, of course, you live in Pakistan. When I did a google search on Christopher Lee, I came across several Pakistani news sources that announced: “Christopher Lee, star of Jinnah, has died.”

And really, that somehow seems appropriate. Christopher Lee was the epitome of an international film star. He worked for Hammer in the UK. He worked with Jess Franco in Spain and Mario Bava in Italy. He appeared in several movies in the United States. And, in Pakistan, he played Jinnah. And I haven’t seen Jinnah but I imagine he was probably as great in that role as he was in every other role that I saw him play. Over the course of his long career, Christopher Lee appeared in many good films but he also appeared in his share of bad ones. But Christopher Lee was always great.

It really is hard to know where to begin with Christopher Lee. Though his death was announced on Thursday, I haven’t gotten around to writing this tribute until Friday. Admittedly, when I first heard that Lee had passed away, I was on a romantic mini-vacation and had promised myself that I would avoid, as much as possible, getting online for two days. But, even more than for those personal reasons, I hesitated because I just did not know where to start when it came to talking about Christopher Lee. He was one of those figures who overwhelmed by his very existence.

We all know that Christopher Lee was a great and iconic actor. And I imagine that a lot of our readers know that Lee had a wonderfully idiosyncratic musical career, releasing his first heavy metal album when he was in his 80s. Did you know that Lee also served heroically during World War II and, after the war ended, helped to track down fleeing Nazi war criminals? Did you know that it has been speculated that Lee may have served as one of the role models for James Bond? (Ian Fleming was a cousin of Lee’s and even tried to convince Lee to play Dr. No in the first Bond film.) Christopher Lee lived an amazing life, both on and off the screen.

But, whenever one reads about Christopher Lee and his career or watches an interview with the man, the thing that always comes across is that, for someone who played so many evil characters, Christopher Lee appeared to be one the nicest men that you could ever hope to meet. Somehow, it was never a shock to learn that his best friend was his frequent screen nemesis, Peter Cushing.

Christopher Lee is one of those great actors who we assumed would always be here. The world of cinema will be a sadder world without him.

Legends together

Here is a list of Christopher Lee films that we’ve reviewed here on the Shattered Lens. Admittedly, not all of these reviews focus on Lee but they do provide a hint of the man’s versatility:

Sir Christopher Lee was 93 years old and he lived those 9 decades in the best way possible. As long as there are film lovers, he will never be forgotten.

Embracing the Melodrama Part II #34: Nightmares Come At Night (dir by Jess Franco)

Posted on April 21, 2015 by Lisa Marie Bowman

For the past two weeks, I’ve been in the process of reviewing 126 cinematic melodramas. Embracing the Melodrama Part Two started in 1927 with a look at Sunrise and now, 33 reviews later, we’ve finally reached the 70s. And what else can I say about that other than to exclaim, “Yay!”

Seriously, a lot of good films were released in the 1970s.

We begin the 70s by taking a look at a film from the iconic and (to some people) infamous Spanish director Jess Franco. Over the course of 54 years, director Jesus Franco Manera was credited with directing 203 films. In all probability, the workaholic Franco directed a lot more than he’s been credited with. As I wrote about Franco in my previous review of Female Vampire: “Among critics, Franco is usually either dismissed as a total hack (and/or pervert) or embraced as the living embodiment of the auteur theory. Though no one’s quite sure how many films Franco has directed, Franco himself has estimated that he’s directed more than 200 films and, for the most part, he has financed and distributed them all on his own. Franco has worked in every genre from thriller to comedy to hardcore pornography, but he is probably best known for directing low-budget, occasionally atmospheric erotic horror films.”

Now, I have to admit that I feel a little guilty about using a paragraph from an old review in a new review. (And, as you may have noticed, I reviewed Female Vampire before Franco passed away in 2013.) But, then again, it feels somewhat appropriate because Franco was famous for and unapologetic about taking bits and pieces of old and unfinished films and inserting them into new films. That’s certainly the case with his 1970 film Nightmares Come At Night.

Nightmares Come At Night opens with Anna (Diana Lorys) living in an atmospheric mansion with her lover, Cynthia (Colette Giacobine). Anna is haunted by frequent nightmares where she sees herself killing strange men with a spear. Cynthia arranges for Anna to talk to an enigmatic doctor (Paul Muller). Anna tells the doctor about how she was once a famous erotic dancer until she met Cynthia. At this point, we get several lengthy flashbacks of Anna dancing in an oddly desolate club, all of which adds to the film’s ennui-drenched atmosphere.

Talking to the doctor doesn’t do Anna much good and she continues to have her nightmares except now the nightmares also seem to feature men giving lengthy monologues. It soon becomes obvious that the neurotic Anna is being held as a virtual prisoner in the house by the dominating Cynthia.

(It’s a bit like a Lifetime movie, except everyone’s naked for 85% of the film’s running time.)

Meanwhile, we occasionally get shots of two people staring out of an unrelated window. Eventually, we realize that they’re supposed to be Cynthia’s neighbors. One of them is played by Franco’s frequent muse, Soledad Miranda. (Miranda would tragically die in an automobile accident in 1970.) Anyone who is familiar with Franco’s work will immediately notice that Miranda’s look in Nightmares was later duplicated by Lina Romay in Female Vampire. The neighbors are obsessed with Anna. As the film progresses, we discover that, when not looking out the window, they spend most of their time lying on a filthy mattress. At one point, the camera zooms in for a close-up of the graffiti that’s been written on the wall over the mattress.

LIFE IS ALL SHIT, it reads.

To a certain extent, it’s pointless to say that Nightmares Come At Night is a disjointed film because almost all of Franco’s films were disjointed. That’s actually what gave even the weakest of his films an odd and memorably dreamlike feel. But Nightmares Come At Night is even more disjointed than usual. That’s because Nightmares Come At Night was made out of a mix of footage shot for other films. The scenes with Soledad Miranda were for an earlier, unfinished film. Those scenes were combined with the footage of Anna, Cynthia, and the doctor. The end result is a film that doesn’t necessarily much sense but you still have to admire Franco’s refusal to let any footage go to waste.

Ultimately, as with so many Franco films, Nightmares Come At Night is less about plot and all about atmosphere. This is a film that is full of ennui and existential decadence. It’s not one of Franco’s best films but, much like last year’s underrated California Scheming, it’s a bit of a minor existential classic when taken on its own terms.

(Please note: the trailer below is mildly NSFW. Watch at your own risk.)

Ten Trailers From Jess Franco

Posted on April 2, 2013 by Lisa Marie Bowman

I was saddened to learn of the passing of Jess Franco. Franco directed at least 199 films and, while he was never a favorite of the critics, he was a favorite for those of us who appreciated his unique aesthetic and improvisational style of filmmaking. Franco made a few good films and a lot of a bad films but even his worse films were usually more interesting than the usual films churned out by more “respectable” filmmakers. In a time when every director is claiming to be an independent artist, Franco truly was.

Trailers for Franco’s films often showed up in my Lisa Marie’s Favorite Grindhouse and Exploitation Film Trailers series. Here’s ten of them.

1) Female Vampire

2) The Awful Dr. Orloff

3) Faceless

4) Venus In Furs

5) Necromonicon (a.k.a. Succubus)

6) Kiss Me Monster

7) Eugenie: Story of Her Journey Into Perversion

8) Vampyros Lesbos

9) The Castle of Fu Manchu

10) 99 Women

Jesus Franco Manera, R.I.P.

The Daily Grindhouse (Horror Edition): Female Vampire (dir. by Jess Franco)

Posted on October 26, 2012 by Lisa Marie Bowman

My wonderful and loyal readers, I fear that I have failed you. How is it, with my love of both grindhouse and Eurosleaze cinema, that I have yet to review a Jess Franco film on the site? Halloween seems to be the perfect time to correct that oversight by taking a look at Franco’s infamous 1973 horror film, Female Vampire.

To truly “appreciate” a film like Female Vampire, it helps to know a little something about Jess Franco. Working under a variety of pseudonyms, Spanish-born Jesus Franco Manera has been making films for over 60 years. Among critics, Franco is usually either dismissed as a total hack (and/or pervert) or embraced as the living embodiment of the auteur theory. Though no one’s quite sure how many films Franco has directed, Franco himself has estimated that he’s directed more than 200 films and, for the most part, he has financed and distributed them all on his own. Franco has worked in every genre from thriller to comedy to hardcore pornography, but he is probably best known for directing low-budget, occasionally atmospheric erotic horror films like Female Vampire.

The opening of Female Vampire pretty much epitomizes everything that people love and hate about Jess Franco as a director. The film begins with a series of ominous shots of a misty forrest. The forest feels both beautiful and desolate at the same time and Franco’s camera lingers over the fog, building up an atmosphere of both mystery and melancholy. Suddenly, we see one lone figure walking through the forest. Irina (played by frequent Franco star Lina Romay) emerges from the fog, naked except for a cape and a belt. The camera follows Irina as she walks through the mist. When Irina stops and faces the audience, the camera zooms in to a close-up of her face and her body. While Franco’s aim here is obviously to cater t0 the sexual fantasies of his predominately male audience, it’s still a remarkably strong scene because Romay faces the camera with such confidence that her nudity feels less like exploitation and more like empowerment. (Romay was, like me, a self-described exhibitionist.) Once Franco’s camera zooms away from Irina, she then starts to confidently approach the camera (and the audience as well). She gets closer and closer to the camera until finally … she accidentally bumps her head on the lens.

That, for lack of a better example, totally sums the aesthetic of Jess Franco. When you watch a Franco film, you’re left with the impression that Franco simply turned on the camera and recorded whatever happened to happen in front of it. Occasionally, he managed to capture something unique and dramatic and just as often, he filmed someone bumping into the equipment or staring straight at the camera. Whether he liked the spontaneity that came from an unexpected mistake or he just didn’t have enough money in his budget to do a second take, Franco would more often than not include these mistakes in his final film.

As for the rest of Female Vampire, it’s eventually established that. along with being a vampire, Irina is a countess and also a mute. (At one point, we do hear her inner thoughts, a monologue in which she tells us, “I earnestly wish an end would come to this bloody race I am forced to run.”) Several different cuts of Female Vampire have been released over the years and depending on which version you see, Irina either has to either regularly drink blood or drink semen in order to survive. (“It was as if his potency was sucked out of him,” as the coroner puts it.)

While Irina spends all of her time wandering around a depressing resort town and seducing various victims, a poet (Jack Taylor) searches for her. This poet — who spends a lot of time staring off into the distance and delivering inner monologues about walking down this road we call life — is determined that he and Irina are meant to be together.

There are many different version of Female Vampire currently in circulation. For instance, a heavily-edited version was released in the U.S. as The Bare-Breasted Countess. While Franco’s director’s cut lasts close to two hours, there are other versions that barely clock in at 70 minutes. There’s a hard-core version, a soft-core version, and even a version that features close to no sex at all. The version I saw was the DVD released by Image Entertainment. That version is reportedly close to Franco’s original.

As is typical for a Franco film, not much happens in Female Vampire and what does happen doesn’t make much sense. But, oddly enough, that actually worked in the film’s favor. By ignoring things like plot and logic and by focusing on the film’s visuals, Franco made a film that literally feels like a dream. Every scene is filled with an atmosphere of pure ennui and, when coupled with charisma of Lina Romay and Jack Taylor, the end result is a film that’s strangely compelling.

Oh my God! 6 More Chilling Classics: The Cold, Dr. Tarr’s Torture Dungeon, The Legend of Big Foot, Oasis of the Zombies, Slashed Dreams, and Track of the Moon Beast

Posted on May 26, 2012 by Lisa Marie Bowman

It’s a lonely Saturday here at the TSL Bunker. Leonard Wilson is at a theater in the city, watching Chernobyl Diaries. My sister, the Dazzling Erin, has abandoned me to go shopping for ingredients so she can make something later tonight for our family’s annual memorial day get together tomorrow and our cat, Doc, is too busy sleeping at the foot of my bed to pay much attention to me Probably even as I sit here typing this, Leon the Duke is watching season 3 of Lost and how I envy him! The Trash Film Guru has escaped to the grindhouse. Necromoonyeti is discovering new music, Pantsukudasai is undoubtedly meeting with his enigmatic anime connection, Semtex Skittle is playing Diablo Something-Or-Another, and SenorGeekus is off spreading the gospel of Jack Kirby. Even Arleigh is off somewhere else, watching a war movie no doubt.

Yes, I’ve been left here alone in my section of the Bunker, which I’ve decorated by utilizing a combination of Catholic iconography, Hello Kitty, and pink wallpaper. I should be working on getting caught up because I am running behind on meeting my quota for the month. However, instead of writing about what’s currently playing in a theater near you, I find myself once again distracted by my continuing mission to watch and review every single film included in Mill Creek’s 50 Chilling Classics Boxset. Fortunately, I’m happiest when I have a mission. Here are reviews of 6 more of the Chilling Classics that I’ve sat through.

The Cold (dir by Bill Rebane)

First released in 1984, The Cold is yet another odd little morality tale from Wisconsin-based filmmaker Bill Rebane. Three mysterious millionaires invite nine people (and just try to keep them all straight) to a secluded mansion that looks suspiciously like an EconoLodge. The nine guests are informed that if they spend a few nights at the “mansion” and face their greatest fears, they’ll win a million dollars. Of course, everyone agrees to do that but how could they have imagined that their fears would include a giant spider that shows up in soup bowl, a shark that shows up in a swimming pool (Agck! That would be my fear right there), rats, and people who wander around hallways while wearing white sheets. Of course, it all ends with a twist that you’ve already guessed and then the film introduces another twist that you’ve already guessed.

This is the third Rebane film that I’ve come across in the Chilling Classic Boxset (the previous two being The Alpha Incident and The Demons of Ludlow). Rebane is one of those odd directors whose uneven films are genuinely inept and yet occasionally show a flash of equally genuine imagination. The Cold is a complete and total mess that features bad acting (after 5 minutes, I’d had enough of the slow-witted girl with the bad Southern accent), bad dialogue (“You can’t come in here. I’m nude.” “Don’t worry, I’ve had a vasectomy”), and a truly incoherent style of editing. Rebane punctuates the action by including random snatches of old timey music and boy did that get irritating fast. And yet, once you start watching, it’s impossible to look away. You simply have to watch to convince yourself that what you’re seeing isn’t just a dream. Plus, the film includes not only an endless disco sequence but a narrator who admits that he can’t really follow the story either.

Dr. Tarr’s Torture Dungeon (dir by Juan Lopez Moctezuma)

This Mexican film from 1972 is based on an Edgar Allan Poe short story and, despite the poor picture quality that we’ve come to expect from anything put out by Mill Creek, it is one of the most visually interesting films to be found in the Chilling Classics boxset. A newspaper reporter visits a sanitarium in order to investigate the revolutionary form of therapy practiced by Dr. Maillard (Claudio Brook). As Maillard explains (and sh0ws), the inmates are essentially allowed to roam freely through the asylum and live under whatever delusions make them happiest. However, it quickly becomes obvious that Dr. Maillard is insane himself and his asylum is part of a bigger plot to rule the world. The plot makes little sense and it quickly becomes pretty clear that it’s not meant too. Director Juan Louis Moctezuma was a collaborator of the famed surrealist Alejandro Jadorowsky and it quickly becomes obvious that he’s more interested in putting as many odd and surreal images on-screen as possible and, on that level, he succeeds. For whatever the film’s narrative failings, it’s fascinating to just sit and look at some of the images that appear on-screen. Claudio Brook gives a wonderfully over-the-top performance that perfectly compliments the film’s visuals.

The Legend of Big Foot (dir by Harry Winer)

In this documentary from 1976, a wildlife expert named Ivan Marx rambles on and on about Big Foot while unrelated stock footage plays out on-screen. It’s just as exciting as it sounds. Seriously, I try to make it a point to stick with any film I start watching, no matter how boring it may turn out to be, but the Legend of Big Foot severely tested my patience. Some of the animals in the stock footage are cute, though. Regardless of what he may be discussing at any particular moment during the film, Marx delivers his narration in the most dramatic way possible and that provides a few laughs as well.

Oasis of the Zombies (dir. by Jess Franco)

In this 1981 Eurocine film, a group of unlikable people come across a lost Nazi treasure in the middle of the African desert. Unfortunately for them, the Nazis are still there, standing guard. Of course, the Nazis have now all been transformed into zombies! As far as Nazi zombie films are concerned, Oasis of the Zombies isn’t as scary as Shock Waves and it’s not as much fun as Zombie Lake. What it is, however, is a Jess Franco film which means that the film features actors in tacky outfits, poorly dubbed dialogue, a zoom lens that just won’t quit, and a few oddly surreal (and occasionally nightmarish) visuals. This is really a pretty shoddy film but it’s enjoyable if you’re a fan of Franco’s “unique” style of filmmaking.

Slashed Dreams (dir. by James Polaskof)

This film was originally released in 1974, under the title Sunburst. It was obviously not meant to be a horror film (though it was clearly meant to appeal to the exploitation market) but instead, it was a painfully sincere, annoyingly naive, and, ultimately, rather offensive attempt to make an important statement about the need to drop out of society and “do your own thing.” However, Robert Englund shows up for the film’s final 10 minutes so, at some point in the 80s, Sunburst was re-released, retitled, and resold as a horror film.

Anyway, this 74 minute film is about two perky and attractive college students (Peter Hooten and Katharine Baumann, both of whom give good performances) who decided to go visit their first Michael who has dropped out of society and is currently living in a cabin out in the middle of the woods. The majority of the film is an endless montage of scenes of Hooten and Baumann hiking through the wilderness while a singer named Roberta Van Dere warbles away on the soundtrack, singing some of the most annoyingly 70s folk songs ever written. I’m sad to say that I got one of them, Animals Are Clumsy Too, stuck in my head. Once they finally reach the cabin, they discover that Michael is off wandering about. They decide to wait around for Michael to show up which leads to them being spotted by two inbred hicks who proceed to rape Baumann before running off. The next morning, Michael shows up and hey, he’s Robert Englund! Michael hears what has happened and, instead of going to the police or, at the very least, getting Baumann to a hospital, he tells her that she just needs to “push the demons out” and get on with living. Which, by the way, is complete bullshit. It’s one thing to discover strength you previously didn’t realize you had as the result of something terrible, it’s another thing to seriously expect a woman to shrug it off after a day or two or to consider rape to be a character-building exercise as this film seems to. Say what you will about I Spit On Your Grave, at least that film understood that rape is an unforgivable violation and more than just a bad thing that might happen in the woods. I swear, just when I think that I can’t hate the late 60s and early 70s anymore than I already do, I see a film like this.

Track of the Moon Beast (dir. by Dick Ashe)

When it comes to bad movies from the 70s, I prefer the likes of 1976’s Track of the Moonbeast to Sunburst/Slashed Dreams. This films takes place in New Mexico and tells the story of Paul (Chase Cordel), a slow-talking mineralogist who gets a chunk of moon rock lodged into his brain. As a result, he turns into a gigantic lizard and goes around killing people. His only hope appears to be his old friend, the stoic Profession Johnny Longbow (Gregorio Sala) who knows all sorts of indian lore. He also knows how to make stew and early on in the film, he gives a world-weary monologue about what ingredients he puts in his stew. (Onions, mostly). Anyway, this is an awful, awful film that’s full of bad acting, bad special effects, and dumb dialogue. It’s also a lot of fun and it features the guy pictured below singing a song called California Lady that got stuck in my head almost as quickly as Animals Are Clumsy Too. I loved Track of the Moon Beast.

So, out of these six, I would definitely recommend Track of the Moon Beast and Dr. Tarr’s Torture Dungeon. The Cold and Oasis of the Zombies should be watched only by people who are already familiar with the work of Bill Rebane and Jess Franco. Legend of Big Foot might be amusing if you’re intoxicated and Slashed Dreams is the one to definitely avoid.

6 Trailers for Cinco De Mayo

Posted on May 5, 2012 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Hola and happy Cinco De Mayo! I’m not sure if Cinco De Mayo is as big a deal up north as it is down here in the Southwest but today is going to be one of the few Saturdays that I don’t go to the movies. Instead, I will be observing this day with friends, family (I am a fourth Spanish), and cerveza. But first, here’s the latest edition of Lisa Marie’s Favorite Grindhouse and Exploitation Trailers…

(Be warned: Some of these trailers are a tad bit more explicit than some of the other trailers that I’ve featured as a part of this series. Watch with caution.)

1) Tombs of the Blind Dead (1971)

This is one of the first of the great Spanish horror films.

2) Return of the Evil Dead (1973)

The Blind Dead returned in this gory and violent sequel. One of my prize possessions is my Blind Dead box set, which was released (in the shape of a coffin, no less) by Blue Underground.

3) Vampyros Lesbos (1971)

This is the German trailer for Vampyros Lesbos, directed by the infamous Jess Franco. Just try to guess what this film is about…

4) Oasis of the Living Dead (1981)

In a career that has spanned over 500 films, Jess Franco has dealt with not only lesbian vampires but zombies as well…

5) Night of the Bloody Apes (1969)

From Rene Cardona comes this surprisingly bloody films about what happens when an ape’s heart is transplanted into a normal human being. Fortunately, there’s a wrestler around to save the day…

6) The Werewolf Vs. The Vampire Woman (1970)

Finally, let’s end things with a Paul Naschy film, shall we?

Six Trailers of the Supermoon

Posted on March 20, 2011 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Picture of supermoon taken by Erin Nicole Bowman

Apparently, as I sit here in my underwear and glasses, the Earth is about as close to the moon as it will ever get. Because of that, the moon is huge out in the night sky. Or at least that’s what I’m hearing. It looks pretty normal to me but anyway, this is being referred to as being “Supermoon.” I’m not sure why. If I stood less than an inch from your face, would that suddenly make me Super Lisa?

But anyway, this weekend’s slightly intoxicated edition of Lisa Marie’s Favorite Grindhouse and Exploitation Trailers is dedicated to Supermoon.

1) Werewolves on Wheels (1971)

Of course, a gigantic full moon would bring a werewolf film with it. This is one of the thousand or so biker films to come out in the late 60s and early 70s. These films were interesting mostly from the point of view of how they mixed other genres with the biker conventions. Werewolves on Wheels did it with lycanthrophy.

2) Werewolf of Washington (1973)

Actually, since it’s a supermoon, we better include two werewolf-themed trailers. This is for the Werewolf of Washington, starring Dean Stockwell. For some reason, I’ve actually got several copies of this on DVD (I think this is one of those films that somehow found its way into the public domain) but I’ve yet to actually sit down and watch it. I think my hesitation has to do with the fact that it appears to be a political satire and it was made in the 70s. That sounds like a combination for boredom, to be honest.

3) Psych-Out (1968)

Before Dean Stockwell could become a werewolf, he had to serve as Jack Nicholson’s hippie guru in Richard Rush’s Psych-Out.

4) The Shooting (1967)

But before Jack Nicholson could become a hippie, he was a sinister gunman in Monte Hellman’s existential grindhouse western, The Shooting. The Shooting, which co-stars Warren Oates and Millie Perkins, is an unacknowledged classic and a movie that I’m going to have to review one of these days. Perkins, by the way, was married to none other than Dean Stockwell.

5) Cockfighter (1974)

And then, 7 years later, Hellman, Oates, and Perkins reunited to make an odd little film called Cockfighter. This is another film I have to review though I also have to say that, as a former country girl who has actually seen a few cockfights, cockfighting is right up there with dogfighting as far as sickening sadism is concerned.*

6) Macon County Line (1974)

And, of course, while some people in the south were going to cockfights, others were apparently getting killed by redneck lawmen in films like the ’74 classic, Macon County Line.

In honor of Supermoon, I’m going to include two extra trailers. Seriously, don’t ever doubt that Lisa loves you.

7) The Education of Sonny Carson (1974)

While rural audiences (probably made up of people I’m distantly related to) spent 1974 cheering police brutality and animal cruelty, urban grindhouse audiences were enjoying films like this one.

8 ) Bloody Moon (1981/2)

Finally, since we’re under a supermoon, here’s the trailer for Jesus Franco’s infamous (and frequently banned) slasher Bloody Moon. I haven’t seen Bloody Moon (copies aren’t that easy to find) but seriously, the involvement of Jesus Franco tells me all I probably need to know.**