This is purely a British film steeped in nostalgia for the short-lived British glam rock movement that spawned the likes of David Bowie, T. Rex (“Bang a Gong“), and Sweet (“Little Willie“), and to a lesser extent — at least for U.S. audiences — Mud (“Tiger Feet“), Slade (“Cum on Feel the Noise“), and Suzi Quatro (of the recent document retrospective, Suzi Q).

Like any Beatles flick or British Invasion film romp starring the likes of Cliff Richard and the Shadows (1966’s Finders Keepers), Herman’s Hermits (1966’s Hold On!), and Freddie and the Dreamers (1967’s The Cookoo Patrol), a rock band on tour finds itself in hijinks — with rock ‘n’ roll under attack by the establishment and a rock ‘n’ roll club in danger of being closed down.

To that end: In a “future” set in late 1970s, the establishment has banned rock ‘n roll from television. So a young rocker (British television acting mainstay Peter Denyer) leads the charge against the ban by organizing the biggest rock groups in England to perform at a benefit concert.

Of course, David Bowie, Marc Bolan (of T. Rex), Sweet, Slade, and Suzi Quatro will have none of this amateur cinematic foolishness, so we have to settle for the lesser “stars” of the glam era with the likes of Mud and the Glitter Band (Gary Glitter’s backing band, out on their own), along with the Rubettes — and guest appearances by Peter Noone of Herman’s Hermits (trying to eek a living in a post-British Invasion world) and Midge Ure (later of Ultra Vox) with his glam band, Slick.

This is the type of film with nary a plot, the “action” consists of the old slap stick standby of a food fight in a roadside diner, and lots — and LOTS — of musical numbers padding out the film for its whopping one hour fifty minute running time. The cast is rounded out by members of, get this, the prestigious Royal Shakespeare Company — and beware the bushy mutton chops and sharply-cut side burns — and of the outdated vaudevillian comedy groans presented by British comedians Freddie Jones and Max Wall (insert sad trombone “wah-wah-wah” sfx here.)

However, if you want to trip down the ’70s glam rock memory lane of your youth, or you if want to first educate yourself on the era with a glam primer, there’s not another film quite like this glittery mess of a train wreck of a film.

To say I love this movie is an understatement.

Overseas readers can stream this via Amazon Prime U.K., but we found you a free, three part upload on You Tube HERE, HERE, and HERE. Ha! It’s infectious! I got Sam the Bossman to watch: here’s his take. Yes, it depends which print you watched and where, back when: this came out in 1975 and 1976. Glam, of course, was out by 1976, and punk was on the rise. . . .

About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies.

As with Clint Eastwood’s 2014 film adaptation of the 2005 Tony Award-winning Broadway musical Jersey Boys chronicling the career of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, I equally anticipated this rock bio concerned with British record producer Joe Meek. Sadly, as with Jersey Boys, I was left empty. Granted, the production designs of both films (as with Tom’s Hanks’s love letter to ’60s one-hit wonder pop-rock ditties, That Thing You Do!) are fantastic. However, the films underneath the period accurate sets and costumes are derivative raison d’être—despite their quality, one viewing is enough. And, for U.S. audiences, the thick British accents and harsh, Royal Shakespearean moments of actor-emoting can be a bit much to handle. Yes, this is purely meant for U.K. audiences, you yank rocker.

Joe Meek was an electronics-tinkering child prodigy who developed such sound engineering innovations as multi-tracking, overdubbing, sampling and reverb (with addition kudos to guitar and recording innovator Les Paul), and was the original trailblazer in viewing the recording studio itself as “a music instrument”—an instrument Meek skillfully mastered, regardless of his being tone deaf and lacking any playing or composition skills, into “Telstar,” the 1962 worldwide #1 instrumental hit by his assembled studio band, the Tornados.

Sadly, Meek was a tortured genius who suffered from bouts of depression and paranoia that led to fits of rage fueled by his closeted homosexuality (a punishable crime in the U.K. at the time) and his addiction to amphetamines and barbiturates (to fuel his maniacal quest for perfection). As result—even with the financial backing of ex-military officer and business entrepreneur Major Wilfred Alonzo Banks (Kevin Spacey nailing the demeanor and accent of an acidic, cultured British gentleman; but opinions on his performance vary)—Meek was never able to get out of his electrical hodgepodge of a studio on a cramped, second floor flat over a luggage store (and yes, he utilized the loo for recordings).

So acidic his personality, no labels, producers, or managers of note wanted to work with him; Meek was forced out of his business concerns with the U.K.’s pre-Beatles superstar, Billy Fury, (that the Tornados backed; by 1964, it was over for both artists); when Meek received offers to record bands from the likes of the burgeoning manager Brian Epstein, Meek dismissed the Beatles as “awful”; when fan Phil Spector reached out to work with him, Meek accused the “Wall of Sound” creator of plagiarism; Meek also turned away David Bowie and Rod Stewart (and told Rod’s then band, the Moontrekkers, to fire him); he also gave up developing a career for a Welsh lad by the name of Tom Jones—who soon became a star (“It’s Unusual,” “What’s New Pussycat,” “She’s a Lady”) after leaving Meek’s stable.

Outside of his own ego and arrogance, why did Meek turn away those future superstars: for love—the bleach blonde bassist of the Tornados, Heinz (Burt), in particular, with whom he became obsessed in transforming him into a solo artist that would crush the likes Billy Fury and Gene Vincent (who Meek admired-despised).

Sadly, in the end, Meek crushed himself.

When a copyright infringement lawsuit over “Telstar” held up 3 million pounds in royalties and his business partnership with the Major soured as result, Meek was drowning in debt. And because of his arrest for a homosexual-public toilet encounter, he was under suspicion in the 1967 Tattingstone Suitcase Murder.

Meek snapped.

He murdered his rent-griping landlady and turned the shotgun (that he used to threaten musicians into submission in the studio) on himself at the age of 37.

And now for the music trivia: The Tornados backbeat was handled by the portly Clem Cattini (portrayed by U.K. comedian James Cordon; of those annoying, faux-German dubbed coffee machine commercials and his NBC-TV late night gab fest). When it comes to drummers, no other (studio) drummer has appeared on more #1 chart-topping singles (42 in all) . . . and he was almost a member of the New Yardbirds. During his Joe Meek days, Cattini shared the studio/stages with a young Ritchie Blackmore (later of Deep Purple), along with Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones who, at the time, were backing several Meek protégés (Screaming Lord Such in particular; a precursor to the likes of Alice Cooper). When the Yardbirds fell apart, with Page obligated to fulfill touring contracts, the first call he made to reform the band was to Cattini. Telling the story years later, he didn’t think much of the offer and failed to call Page back. He also turned down Paul McCartney’s request to join Wings. After he was sacked/quit the Tornados, Meek replaced Cattini in the studio with future Jimi Hendrix skinsmeister, Mitch Mitchell. Catttini published his memoirs, My Life, Through The Eye of A Tornado, in July 2019.

You can stream this as a VOD on Amazon Prime, Vudu, and You Tube Movies, but we found you a freebie rip on You Tube to enjoy. If you’d prefer a more straight ahead telling of Meek’s life, then check out British sound engineer Beth McGowan’s hour-long TV documentary, The Strange Story of Joe Meek (1991), on her You Tube page.

About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies.

Ah . . . the ’90s . . . the era of the cheesy erotic thrillers inspired by the likes of Lawrence Kasdan’s far superior Body Heat (1981). And for every Paul Verhoeven noir-giallo Basic Instinct (1992) blockbuster . . . there was the great Willem Dafoe struggling to salvage Madonna in Body of Evidence (1992) . . . then there’s David Caruso bombing hard with William Friedkin’s Jade (1995). And let’s not forget Joe Eszterhas and Paul Verhoeven’s abysmal reteaming with Showgirls (1995). (Did you know there were sequels to both, Basic Instinct and Showgirls? True story. Sadly.)

And then there’s Roger Corman’s take on the genre: Saturday Night Special.

And while Corman was never one to let a set or a special effects shot go to waste (see all of his ’80s Star Wars/Alien knock offs as examples*), he never let a script go to waste either. So he made the same movie . . . three times.

First, in 1991, the script was made as Kiss Me a Killer. If you’re a fan of Robert Beltran (Commander Chakotay on Star Trek: Voyager, Paul Bartel’s Eating Raoul, or 1984’s Night of the Comet), you’ll probably want to seek that one out concerning soft-core sexual hijinks in an L.A salsa club. Then Corman took the script and placed it into an Urban Cowboy-styled honky tonk as Saturday Night Special. Then, to capitalize on the media frenzy over Showgirls, he re-tweaked the script inside a Los Angeles strip club as 1996’s The Showgirl Murders. The upside to Saturday Night Special and The Showgirls Murders: both star Quentin Tarantino’s “favorite B actress,” Maria Ford. And of those two films, the one you want to watch is, you guess it, Saturday Night Special.

Yeah, but what does this all have to do with “Rock n’ Roll Week” at B&S About Movies? Well, this Corman noir stars country rocker Billy Burnette of Fleetwood Mac (formerly with Mick Fleeetwood’s side band, The Zoo; Burnette replaced Linsday Buckingham) in his acting debut . . . along with a cameo by Mick Fleetwood himself (remember when Mick showed up alongside Dweezil Zappa in The Running Man?).

Burnette is Travis, a ne’er-do-well drifter-cum-musician who gets a gig as the house musician at a local, dusty town honky tonky. And in typical film noir fashion, along comes Darlene (Maria Ford), the local femme fatale, who seduces Travis to kill her abusive, bar owner husband. Boobs, brawls, dead bodies, and to be honest, crappy country songs by Burnette, ensues. (Keep your eyes open for requisite low-budget screen heavy Duane Whitaker from Pulp Fiction, The Devil’s Rejects, Halloween II ’09 in an early role.)

Double Indemity or Sorry, Wrong Number, this ain’t. Hell, it ain’t even Jade. Or Showgirls. But if you’re a rock n’ roll film dog, like myself and Samuel, then there’s something here for you to watch. (A few of the other classic ’40s to ’60s film noirs we’ve reviewed are A Double Life, Black Angel, Fairwell, My Lovely, My Name is Julia Ross, The Possessed, and So Dark the Night — if you’re interested in the deeper roots that birthed Saturday Night Special. Some of the recent neo-noirs we’ve reviewed include Don Okolo’s recent Eric Roberts starrer Lone Star Deception, along with the early ’90s radio romps Dead Air, Night Rhythms, and Power 98.)

In lieu of bogging this review with Billy Burnette career trivia, his Wikipedia page will give you all you need to know . . . and You Tube will give you all you need to hear. However, in short: Aerosmith fans know the music of Billy’s dad Dorsey and his Uncle Johnny from The Rock ‘n’ Roll Trio with their cover of “Train Kept-a Rollin’“; Billy had his own early ’80s new wave hit with a cover of his dad’s ’50s hit, “Honey Hush” (but you probably know that one better for its kick ass cover by Foghat). Oh, and Billy’s cousin, Rocky Burnette (son of Johnny), had his own 1980 U.S Top 10 hit with “Tired of Toein’ The Line.”

Anyway, back to the movie . . . we all know how the uploads come and go on You Tube. So we’re giving you three links to choose from to watch Saturday Night Special HERE, HERE, and HERE. Sadly, there are no VHS rips of Kiss Me a Killer or The Showgirl Murders online, but we found the trailers for each of them HERE and HERE.

* Be sure to check out our “Ten Movies that Ripped Off Alien” and “A Whole Bunch of Alien Rip Offs at Once” featurettes. Astute Cormanites will be able to pick out his films with ease.

About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies.

One’s enjoyment of this movie hinges on your knowledge of and enjoyment of the music of Britain’s Status Quo, along with your retroism for the Beatles’ movies A Hard Day’s Night or, more accurately, Help! — you know, the one where the band’s on the run (sorry) when Ringo becomes of the target of a religious cult that covets his gaudy ruby ring.

With that being said, this movie isn’t intended for U.S. audiences who came to know the boogie-rock purveyors for their 1968 psychedelic-influenced hit “Pictures of Matchstick Men“; this movie is meant for the U.K. audiences — an audience that helped Status Quo outrank the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, and Queen by placing 61 of the band’s singles in the U.K. Top 40, with 22 of those singles reaching the Top 10 — more than any other U.K. band.

So, in commemoration of their upcoming 30th studio album, Bela Quo!, the band shot this movie in four weeks on a three million dollar shoestring while on vacation in Fiji — along with a corresponding double soundtrack album.

The story is a simple one: Francis Rossi and Rick Parfitt of Status Quo, playing themselves, while on tour with Status Quo on the Pacific Island country of Fiji, become involved in mafia intrique after witnessing a murder. The fact that SNL’s Jon Lovitz (of the later Almost Sharkproof) serves as Rossi and Parfitt’s co-star tells you this film wears its self-deprecating humor on its sleeves — and Rossi and Parfitt play the “aging rock stars” quite well.

Also known as Guitars, Guns and Paradise in other overseas markets (the band has a rabid fan base throughout Europe, Australia and the Pacific Rim counties), the Quo’s lone film isn’t a blockbuster and it’s certainly not an Oscar winner. But it’s a fun film with plenty of action, comedy, and great music by the kings of boogie rock (honorable mentions to Savoy Brown and Foghat, of course).

If you get a chance, do check out a few of my personal .mp3 player favorites from their early ’70’s catalog, such as “Caroline,” “Down Down,” “Down the Dust Pipe,” and “Paper Plane.” Yeah, when it came to down n’ dirty jeans n’ t-shirt (and leather vests) rock ‘n’ roll, Status Quo was the shite and a bag ‘o chips. You can get all the Status Quo you need, and more, over at their official You Tube page.

Now, if only Uriah Heep would make a movie . . . or how’s about Phil Mogg and UFO thwarting a Bond-like madman from stealing a cache of missiles to start WWIII (hey, it worked for Cliff Richard and the Shadows)?

You have a couple of online choices to watch. Overseas readers can watch Bula Quo! on Rakuten TV. In the U.S. you can watch it on Amazon Prime and in the U.K. on Amazon Prime U.K.

About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies.