Dick Lowry has worked in made-for-TV movies for some time, working on many projects with Kenny Rogers (The Gambler, The Coward of the County) and connected movies like In the Line of Duty and Jessie Stone, as well as the Project ALF TV movie reunion and Archie: To Riverdale and Back Again.
Based on the Martha Saxton book Jayne Mansfield and the American Fifties, this is — at best — a fictionalized accounting of her life. John Wilson’s book The Official Razzie Movie Guide as one of The 100 Most Enjoyably Bad Movies Ever Made.
Arnold Schwarzenegger — four years before The Terminator — plays Mansfield’s second husband Mickey Hargitay, who is telling a reporter the story of her life. Mansfield is played by Loni Anderson, who is perhaps the worst person — outside of bust line — to play her. She just seems wrong, from how she approaches the role to look. Maybe she identified with Jayne, seeing as how she started as a sex symbol and struggled to get her intelligence across. I’m not really sure, but it just doesn’t work.
Ray Buktenica plays her manager Bob Garrett. Buktenica was best known as Benny Goodwin, the rollerskateing toll-booth working boyfriend of Brenda Morgenstern on Rhoda. Also in the cast are Kathleen Lloyd (who memorbaly is killed by The Car as it flies through her kitched window) as Carol Sue Peters and G. D. Spradlin, who mostly plays cops in movies, as Gerald Conway.
Jayne Marie Mansfield is played by Laura Jacoby, who beyond being in Rad is also Scott Jacoby’s sister. The younger version of the character was played by Deirdre Hoffman, Anderson’s daughter.
If you look close enough, Lewis Arquette — the man whose loins gave the world Rosanna, Patricia, Alexis, Richmond and David — shows up as a publicity man.
There were no fact checkers in 1980. After all, how can you explain a movie that purports to tell the life story of Mansfield report that she was 36 when she died when the truth is that she was 34? Or that Jayne is shown making Las Vegas Hillbillys which is supposed to be a Western, which it is not, much less the fact that it was made two years after she and Mickey were actually divorced, yet they are married here? Shouldn’t that be The Sheriff of Fractured Jaw? And while we’re on the matter of facts, how great is it when Jayne is getting a new convertible sometime in the mid-1950’s, you can clearly see a 1980 Honda Civic roll by?
Much like how Jayne is dying to play the lead in The Jean Harlow Story, Valerie Perraine wanted this role. Surely she would have done better than imitating the worst vocal tics of Mansfield and none of the brains behind the glamour. Also, of all people to narrate this movie, Arnold in 1980 would not be the person I’d pick.
Italian directors used to change their name to Americanized names so that people wouldn’t think their movies were Italian. Matt Cimber? He used the name Matteo Ottaviano when he directed this.
This was Jayne Mansfield’s final filmed starring role, shot by Cimber, her thrid and final husband. It briefly came out in 1966, but was pulled from theaters and re-released a year after she died. The only other film that she technically did after this was a cameo role in A Guide for the Married Man.
Mansfield shines here, despite the darkness of the story, as she plays three roles of three women who may closer than you’d think. It starts with innocence and ends with prostitution, all within one rundown New York City tenement.
I love that this movie begins with a speech from Walter Winchell, packed with hyperbole, as he describes how this is the gift that Jayne left behind for us. Between the Crown International Pictures title card and this soliloquy, I was already in love with this movie before it even began.
Stanley Donen has one hell of a directorial resume: On the Town, Singin’ In the Rain, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Damn Yankees and so many more. Here, he’s working from a 1945 Luther Davis play that was in turn based on the Frederic Wakeman Sr. novel Shore Leave.
Wakeman had worked in advertising until the war and as he healed up in a hospital, he wrote his first novel about a fellow crew member but called him Andy Crewson instead of his true name. Critics tore this movie apart and the studio punished its stars. Actually, it mainly punished Jayne Mansfield.
It’s all about three Navy pilots — Lieutenant McCann (Ray Walston, in his film debut), Mississip (Larry Blyden, a Broadway star who would become a game show host) and Commander Andy Crewson (Grant), who is a master grifter — who are enjoying the spoils of war while trying to adjust to what the world will be afterward.
A ship company owner named Eddie Turnbill (Leif Erickson) wants the men to give speeches to his workers to keep them on the job, but they’re all burnt out, despite the fact that Turnbill offers to set them up for life.
While all the men are on the make, Crewson only has eyes for Turnbill’s fiancee (Suzy Parker, who is in the Twilight Zone episode “Number 12 Looks Just Like You” and married Bradford Dillman later in her life), which makes sense when you see the scene where she removes her nylons. Actually, it’s a wonder anyone can look at any other woman in this film when Mansfield is firing on all cylinders, delivering sly comedy while making her way through nearly every male member of the cast.
Look for Werner Klemperer (Col. Klink from Hogan’s Heroes) as Lieutenant Walter Wallace, Kathleen Freeman (Mother Mary Stigmata!), Harry Carey, Jr. and Frank Nelson, who starred in The Malibu Bikini Shop right before he died.
Siouxie and the Banshees recorded the song “Kiss Them for Me” in 1991, not only referencing the way she said “divoon” but also discussing her heart-shaped swimming pool and the tragic way she died. To wit:
“It’s divoon, oh, it’s serene In the fountain’s pink champagne. Someone carving their devotion In the heart-shaped pool of fame, oh.”
Based on the title, you might be expecting a scathing documentary about child actors and singers. And, in a way, you do. But just not in the way you expected. And that’s what makes this film so amazing.
What we get is a very welcomed reminder of Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story, a 1987, 45-minute documentary-short by Todd Hayes chronicling the last years of ’70s pop singer Karen Carpenter’s life — via Barbie dolls-as-actors, along with artistic footage. (Hayes also made the 1998 Iggy Pop-David Bowie “what if” rocker, Velvet Goldmine.)
Reviewers and thread comments accurately drop the word “disturbing” and “entertaining” when describing this feature film debut by Nicole Brending that chronicles the rise and fall — with dolls and puppets (that affectionately reminds of Gerry and Sylvia Anderson’s Supermarionation ’60s TV series) — of fictional child pop star Junie Spoons (i.e., Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan) in a ’90s VH-1 Behind the Music-styled format.
There’s no way a studio would greenlight a live-action comedy film with this much feminist power — without mucking it up into a groan-inducing rise-and-fall-and-back-again comedy ala Bucky Larson: Born to be a Star or Dickie Roberts: Former Child Star. This one has it all: faux-Britney Spears bubble gum pop, loss of virginity, sex tapes, 24-hour over-and-done-marriages, drugs, booze, a Patty Hearst-styled kidnapping, bank robbery, bankruptcy, and murder.
But there’s more to Dollhouse than just being an animated comedy.
This isn’t a film of chuckles, groans, or guffaws. This is a comedy of intelligence told from the perspective of — not the invasive paparazzi and the media meat grinder to which we are accustomed — but by Junie Spoons herself (voice to perfection by Nicole Brending), as she reveals the hypocrisies of an opportunistic society that preys on the talents and contributions of women.
Powerful stuff that’s worth the streaming price.
Now, we have a rare treat with this review . . .
Between the theme weeks and the new releases coming into B&S About Movies, there’s that occasional review/scheduling snafu when one of the new releases is reviewed twice (ugh, we did it again with Immortal). So, in the spirit of a little ’80s Siskel & Ebert tomfoolery in the B&S About Movies’ offices out in the back wilds of Allegheny County, it seems Sam and I are fighting for aisle seat (and the drink blender).
Who’s the “Siskel” and who’s the “Ebert” in this collaborative review with Sam? Only the movies gods in the analog ethers shall know. . . . (I’m the “Siskel,” dadgummit it!)
Sam’s Take:
Dollhouse is the feature debut of director Nicole Brending. Subtitled The Eradicationof Female Subjectivity from American Popular Culture, she also created all of the dolls, props, and sets, wrote and performed much of the music, and did many of the voices herself.
Fictional child pop star Junie Spoons lost her virginity in a sex tape, had a 24-hour marriage, was kidnapped like Patty Hearst and was even involved in the murder of her mother. While this starts as a Britney-esque tale, it spirals out of control.
Quite honestly, I can see the talent behind this and the ability that it took to create it, but it just went on a bit too long for me. I hate saying that knowing the work that it took to make it. But often, so many of the satirical elements feel too sledgehammer. There’s Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story as a high watermark for films like this. And while moments of it caused fleeting enjoyment, others made me cringe.
Perhaps I’m not the audience for this, so let me say that you may enjoy it much more than me, as R.D did.
Rock Salt Releasing via TriCoast Releasing will begin streaming Dollhouse: The Eradication of Female Subjectivity from American Popular Culture onto various digital platforms (Amazon, inDemand, Fandango, FlixFling, and Vimeo on Demand) on August 11.
Disclaimer: We were sent a screener by the film’s PR company. That has no bearing on our review.
About the Authors: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies. Sam Panico is the curator of B&S About Movies.
We mentioned this feature film screenwriter debut by actress Tori Titmas in passing during our review of the indie time travel fantasy Making Time, in which Titmas stars. We had The Girls of Summer on our longlist for our “Rock ‘n’ Roll Week” of film reviews (ran from Sunday, July 19th, to Saturday, July 25), but even with six reviews a day (over our usual four) across seven days, we still couldn’t fit all of the rock movies we wanted into the schedule. So goes the B&S About Movies’ folly: too many movies and so little time on the calendar. Damn those day jobs and need to sleep.
Now, if you haven’t read our review for Making Time (and you should, it’s a wonderful indie film), then good: you’ll appreciate the B&S About Movies twist on this country music-centric romantic tale. One of the most enjoyable aspects of being a reformed UHF cathode ray tube warrior and VHS-renting savant that now uploads movie reviews into the digital ethers, is recognizing the obscure-to-most-but-stars-in-our-eyes names of actors and directors from that UHF and VHF, and even drive-in past. And in the case of The Girls of Summer, the name of the man in the director’s chair stood out. (No, it can’t be the same guy?)
Now, in reviews on various social media and VOD platforms, the threaders mentioned director John D. Hancock’s work with Robert DeNiro in one of the greatest sports dramas committed to film, Bang the Drum Slowly (1973). Others mention Hancock’s work with Nick Nolte in the memorable cult cable flick, Weeds (1987). But those threaders failed to mention that Hancock made of one of the most unconventional, ambiguous Christmas movies of all time, Prancer(1989) (He killed the reindeer! Well, we think he did?). And when HBO went on the air in the early ’80s, two of Hancock’s movies became cult classics courtesy of their incessant replays due to HBO’s then limited library: the very good, but theatrically-buried Baby Blue Marine (1976; starring Jan-Michael Vincent) and California Dreaming (1979; starring Dennis Christopher). (Both aired alongside Matt Dillon’s debut in the juvenile delinquency drama Over the Edge, Hazel O’Connor’s punk romp Breaking Glass, and the punk-doc Urgh! A Music War. Ah, the HBO days. . . .)
However, before Nolte. Before DeNiro. Before his HBO cult status, Hancock, inspired by George Romero’s success with Night of the Living Dead on the drive-in circuit — along with Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of HillHouse (that became 1963’s The Haunting) — he decided to make his feature film debut with his own drive-in centric horror movie. But instead of just giving us another run-of-the-mill, low-budget monster romp or zombie soiree, he gave us one of the ’70s creepiest (without the gore) drive-in horrors that explores the psychology of a main character that may or may not be stalked by a vampire — 1973’s Let’s Scare Jessica to Death. (You don’t think so? Well, tell it to my childhood-self sitting in the back of the family Ford LTD station wagon. I slept with a quilt around my neck for the next two weeks because of Jessica’s folly. So thanks for the memories, Mr. Hancock.) Then we lost track of John D. Hancock. (It seems Prancer’s unconventional approach to the Christmas spirit was too much for Hollywood to handle.) But no matter. He’s back and we couldn’t be happier. And we have Tori Titmas to thank for bringing one of our favorite directors from our snowy n’ static analog childhood back into our lives.
“Dude, you’re doing it, again.”
“What?”
“Going off the rails with the squeezin’ the Charmin love for old movies and their directors and actors. Just live in “the now” and review the movie already.And please, don’t tie this back into Seinfeld. That’s really getting annoying.”
“Hey, I can’t make any promises. It’s my slice of web and I’ll go off the rails if I want to. . . .“
As we mentioned earlier, country music (actually, it’s more of an Americana-genre vibe) plays a part in this well-scripted, metaphorical tale about Maren Taylor (Tori Titmas), a Michigan-Midwest sod farmer who experiences a metamorphosis as she learns how to adapt to the environments around her.
After her two younger sisters leave home, for college and a big city job in advertising on the west coast, Maren’s left alone to tend to the family’s sod business and care of her clinically depressed, narcotic-abusing father, which was triggered by her musician-mother’s untimely death. The one thing that kept Maren afloat was The Girls of Summer, the local country band in which she serves as drummer and that she put together with her guitarist-singing sister Grace. And now that life preserver is gone.
A chance visit from Luke Thomas (Dr. Lewis Rand on a story-arc of Chicago P.D.), a down-and-out country star trying to claw his way back to the top, to the bar where Maren’s resigned as being her last gig, offers a ray of hope: his band needs a new drummer and he’s impressed by the original songs she wrote for her sister. Once Maren’s father realizes his “loss of color” and her having to be “his parent” is robbing his daughter of her colors, he urges her to follow her dreams and take the gig with Luke’s band (even if it is just a tour of local watering holes, state fairs, and retirement communities). And she finds true love for the first time as result of her writing what turns out to be a sort-of-comeback hit for Luke — in a duet. But she also discovers the hurt of his unrequited love. And she discovers the gift of how the baggage of the past — if not let go — can destroy one’s future. As with the grass she spent her life cultivating, Maren learns she needs to keep looking to the sun. And growing.
If you’re looking for the dramatic bombast of TV’s Nashville or the acting hysterics of A Star Is Born (2018), keep in mind: this a low-budget movie that takes a quiet, under-played delicateness to its musician-on-the-rise story (which, if you haven’t figured it out, isn’t the “point” of the story). Courtesy of Titmas creating an effectively-arced character infused with verve and wide-eyed innocence, and expected, solid direction by John D. Hancock, along with expertly-executed cinematography by Misha Suslov (who, like Hancock, has a long career that stretches back to the hicksploitation romps Smokey and the Judge* and Trucking Buddy McCoy*, along with John Carpenter’s forgotten, big-engine actioner Black Moon Rising**), The Girls of Summer rises over the horizons of many of the similar, low-budget romance flicks airing on the Hallmark Channel.
Yeah, the B&S About Movies staff is pretty happy to see the director of Let’s Scare Jessica to Death and the cinematographer of Trucking Buddy McCoy back together again. So kudos to Tori Titmas for penning a compelling script that inspired them both and brought them together — and back to our (streaming) screens. And shame on us for losing our inner-John D. Hancock and Misha Suslov after Prancer. So it looks like we got some catch-up movie watching to do, as team Hancock-Suslov have four other films on their dual resume that swept under our VCR radar: the Top Gun-centric Steal the Sky (1988; with Ben Cross), the rom-com A Piece of Eden (2000), the horror-thriller Suspended Animation (2001), and the musical-drama The Looking Glass (2015).
Other cult cable TV favorites in the Misha Suslov canons are the teen delinquent drama 3:15 the Moment of Truth (1986; with Adam “My Bodyguard” Baldwin and Deborah “Valley Girl” Foreman) . . . and you know how we are about Eric Roberts (Power 98) around here: Suslov shot the 1986 Roberts-Rosanna Arquette comedy Nobody’s Fool. And, what the . . . he shot a Mark L. Lester movie . . . with Eric Roberts? Yep, 1996’s Public Enemies*ˣ. And does anyone remember the action-horror The Runestone (1991; with Peter Reigert of Animal House)? I do! (As if we don’t have enough movies to watch n’ review around here. Thanks a lot for opening that film canister of worms, Tori!)
Making its VOD premiere on Amazon Prime, The Girls of Summer recently made its free-with-ads stream debut on TubiTv. You can learn more about the film on its official Facebook page and website. And be sure to visit Indie Rights Movies and check out the trailers for their current roster of films, most of which, as with The Girls of Summer, are available on TubiTv.
** We reviewed Black Moon Rising as part of our week-long tribute to the Fast & Furious franchise, which we round-up with our Mill Creek “Savage Cinema” box set of reviews.
*ˣ We reviewed Public Enemies as part of our week-long tribute to the filmography of Mark L. Lester (just plug in “Mark Lester/Mark L. Lester” into the site’s search box and you’ll find cinema gold!).
Disclaimer: We weren’t provided with a screener nor received a review request from the filmmakers. We discovered this film on our own and truly enjoyed the movie.
About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies and publishes on Medium.
Aiden (Baker Chase Powell), a socially-inept thrift store clerk, wants to find true love (“true love” is a girl who likes jigsaw puzzles), but his courage-defying insecurities lead to social media ghosting of any connections he makes on dating apps (and his “agoraphobic-dating” a dumpster-dived mannequin). Also looking for — and fearful of love — is his co-worker, Elaine (Ashley Jones), whose own generosity with advice and to-a-fault kindness crossed with shyness perpetuates her own loneliness. And Aiden’s inability to pick up on another’s social cues makes him oblivious to Elaine’s feelings for him.
Aiden comes to find the courage through Chelsea (Samantha Boscarino), his new, beautiful — an ulterior-motive driven — apartment-across-the-hall neighbor (who digs the puzzle on his coffee table and his “vintage” ’70s-era phone). And she, like Aiden, has a failure adapting to and connecting with others through social (media) norms. And that common — real life and social media — awkwardness sends Aiden and Chelsea into a noirish decline of dangerous infatuation and obsession.
Sigmund Freud just called. Mommy’s womb wants you back; you’re not ready to be around people.
This creepy thriller effectively updates the twisty, black & white tales of Dashiell Hammett and James M. Cain for a digital world. And when the “harmless” Aiden locks his stare on his mannequin and he starts stealing dainties . . . and the friendly Elaine comments, “. . . you think you know people. . . .” Chills (courtesy of the-just-nails-it Powell). You know this isn’t going to end well. And Cassie Keet’s script (written with director Marc Cartwright) of well-crafted herrings and Cartwright’s taste for the (Dario) Argento hits all the noir-giallo cues: when that dainty, red slip hits the Laundromat floor — well, poor Aiden just found Ms. Dietrichson’s “honey of an anklet” (Double Indemnity) and triggered a femme fatale chain-of-events.
Courtesy of Glass Cabin Films
If you’ve hung out with B&S About Movies for a time, then you know how we feel (but we’re nice) about indie films by unknown filmmakers meandering with an unfocused narrative structure towards a patience-trying two-hour mark that’s crying for a 30-minute celluloid sushi in Final Cut Pro. Then there are those films that run extensive end credits to pad their too-short running time to a home-distribution acceptable 80-minutes.
What’s makes this 22-minute fifth short by writer-director Marc Cartwright so refreshing is that you’re left wanting more. And that doesn’t happen often (the recent The Invisible Mother is an example of that “wanting”). You feel denied by not getting that other hour of film with We Die Alone. If there’s ever a short film that deserves expanding into a feature film (Fruit Chan’s cringey masterpiece Dumplings comes to mind), then it’s We Die Alone.
Ashley Jones and Baker Chase Powell/courtesy of Glass Cabin Films
If Baker Chase Powell is familiar, that’s because he co-starred as Steve Dodd in Dolemite Is My Name, Eddie Murphy’s multiple-award winning biopic on ’70s exploitation filmmaker Rudy Ray Moore. Daytime TV fans have watched the Emmy-nominated Ashley Jones on The Young and the Restless and The Bold and the Beautiful; HBO surfers know her from her recurring role as Daphne on True Blood. You’ve recently watch Samantha Boscarino on FOX-TV’s The Resident, but our younger readers will remember her recurring role on Disney Channel’s Good Luck Charlie; Lifetime fans enjoyed her as the lead in 2016’s The Cheerleader Murders (and she’s very good there, and here).
We Die Alone made its premiere at the Oscar-qualifying festivals LA Shorts and The Newport Beach Film Festival. It also picked up award wreaths at the Indie Memphis Film Festival (“Best After Dark Short”), iHorror Film Festival (“Best Director”), Shriekfest (“Best Thriller Short” and “Best Actor” for Baker Chase Powell), Filmquest (“Best Horror Short” and “Best Supporting Actress” for Ashley Jones), Crimson Screen Film Festival (“Best Actor” for Powell), Nightmares Film Fest (Powell, “Best Actor,” natch), and finally, GenreBlast (“Best Short Film”). Most recently, the Deep in the Heart Film Festival in Waco, Texas, granted three award nods to the film: Best Horror/Thriller Short, Best United States Short, and Best Performance for Baker Chase Powell. That festival streams from Waco on September 25 through 27 and October 2 through 4. Tickets are now on sale now at www.deepintheheartff.com.
You’ll be able to stream this multi-award festival winner beginning August 21 through Amazon Prime, with other services to follow. You can stay abreast of those developments with We Die Alone — as well as the other projects of Glass Cabin Films — on You Tube and Facebook and their official website.
Disclaimer: We were provided a screener by the film’s P.R firm. That has no bearing on our review.
About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies and publishes on Medium.
Alex Bourne is a British filmmaker that indie-horror fans and streamers have spent time with before, courtesy of his multi-nominated-winning debut feature film The House of Screaming Death (2017), which served as his homage to the British Gothic Horror anthologies of the ‘60s and ‘70s. His welcomed return to the streaming-verse is this homage to American ‘80s slashers — with a touch of Italian giallo — about a legendary, deranged serial killer known as “Clownface” (British stuntman Philip John Bailey) terrorizing a small town.
As with the past “urban legends” surrounding ‘80s slashers: no one speaks of Clownface, as the deaths and disappearance by his hand are written off as run-of-mill disappearances, disenchanted runaways, and accidents. Yes, the townsfolk scoff at and chase off anyone who comes to town asking questions.
The story starts a year after the abduction of Zoe, with her friend, Jenna, teaming up with Owen, a survivor of a Clownface attack ten years earlier. Both are convinced that, not only is Clownface real, but Zoe is alive and held captive — as Clownface searches for the “perfect flesh” to construct real-life masks to cover his disfigured face.
While Clownface wants to be a British Halloween and is affable in its homages, what it lacks in Carpenter-finesse or Argento-tact is effectively compensated by well-executed in-camera effects (and a very creepy mask) and the cinematography is sharp and solid above the usual horror-streaming norms. So what we end up with is more like Tobe Hooper’s slasher cop-in, The Funhouse, which was a well-done film that’s respected in some quarters, but certainly not revered as an ’80s “slasher classic.”
As with most unknown, new-to-thespin’ actors in these streamers, the acting is a bit strained in spots; they’re not great, but not awful either. But kudos to Bourne for his killer going the Leatherface-route and making his mask from victims, as opposed to just painting on a crazy clown face (like the recent, lot-of-fun Clown Fear) or wearing a crazy-clown Halloween mask (like The Funhouse).
And Clownface brings on the rock ‘n’ roll with the ’80s-esque appropriate song “Video Nasty”* by Lesbian Bed Death as its theme song; the band briefly appears in the film — with one of its members meeting a graphic end courtesy of Clownface. And you know how we dig being turned onto new, indie tuneage via an indie film. Clownface is a worthy streamer, indeed.
Clownface hits streaming platforms on August 18 courtesy of Wild Eye Releasing. *And be sure to join us for our three part series of reviews of the films released during the early 1980’s U.K. video scare “Exploring: Video Nasties.” (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3).
Disclaimer: We were provided a screener by the film’s P.R firm. That has no bearing on our review.
About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook.He also writes for B&S About Moviesand publishes on Medium.
From the Publisher’s Deskwith R.D Francis: We’re sadden to hear that Pete Way, the bassist for UFO, passed away this morning, August 14, at the age of 69. His death was the result of “life threatening injuries” he received in an accident earlier this summer.
Pete Way August 7, 1951 – August 14, 2020
In addition to help found UFO, Way formed his own self-named project, Waysted, and was the bassist for his longtime friends Ozzy Osbourne and Michael Schenker. He also co-founded Fastway, which provided the music for the ulitmate “No False Metal” god, Sammy Curr, in Trick or Treat.
Way left UFO to collaborate with Fast Eddie Clarke of Motörhead; their brief union became known as Fastway, co-founded with Humble Pie (Peter Frampton’s old band) drummer Jerry Shirley. The band quickly fell apart, with Way forming his namesake, Waysted. Fastway carried on with vocalist Dave King and bassist Charlie McCraken, Shirley’s old bandmate from the Irish power trio Taste that was headed by Rory Gallagher.
Fastway’s then three-album output: Fastway (1982), All Fired Up (1984), and Waiting for the Roar (1986) comprised the soundtrack for Trick or Treat.
Spend a few moments this evening to remember Pete Way and stream some UFO, Waysted, and Fastway. Godspeed, Pete. (You guys blew Cheap Trick off the stage in 1980! Three encores!)
Sadly, this isn’t the first rock-flick veteran we lost in these several months. Be sure to remember Nigel Benjamin, who served as the “voice” of the second greatest “No False Metal God” of rock flicks, Billy Eye Harper. You can read our tribute to Nigel with our “Remembrance of Nigel Benjamin” that reflected on his career with Mott, London with Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue, and his work with the Sebastians on Rocktober Blood.
Here’s UFO at their absolute, bass ass peak in 1975. And enjoy this review of Trick or Treat from Sammy P. that originally ran on July 17, 2017, as part of our “No False Metal Movies Week.” Take it away, Samuel!
The director of A Dolphin’s Tale and A Dolphin’s Tale 2, Skippy from Family Ties and one of the stars of A Chorus Line made the most metal film ever. Let that sink in.
I grew up a fat, bespeckled child in a small town with crushing self esteem issues, a love for gore movies and a sarcastic mind that loved the way people treated me when I started dressing all in black. Every single situation that Eddie Weinbauer (Marc Price, the previously mentioned Skippy) endures in this film…I lived it. If a monster Glenn Danzig (Verotika) could take over shop class and kill my tormentors, I would have gladly welcomed such mayhem and menace.
Eddie is a big fan of Sammi Curr, a superstar who went to the same high school Eddie is in, was tormented and bullied the same way Eddie is, became a big star and then died in a mysterious fire. Radio DJ Nuke (Gene “inventor of the devil horns” Simmons, who played a great transgendered bad guy in Never Too Young to Die while wearing his girlfriend Cher’s clothes) gives Eddie the only vinyl copy of Sammi’s satanic masterwork “Songs in the Key of Death.”
Eddie does exactly what I’d do: he listens to the record and falls asleep. He has a crazy dream about the fire that killed Curr and awakens to the album playing backwards, telling him how to gain revenge on the bullies that torment him.
Eddie chickens out though — he doesn’t want to kill the jocks who have made his life so rough. Sammi takes matters into his own hands, creating an electric surge that allows him to escape the record and come back to our reality. Eddie responds by smashing his stereo. Sammi’s response is as fucking perfect as it gets: “No false metal.”
Sammi’s friend Roger gets involved and unwittingly plays a cassette — fucking metal — at the school dance, causing Sammi to leap out of a guitar amp and take the stage. The crowd goes wild before Sammi starts killing audience members, shooting lightning at them and revealing his burned face. Holy shit — I saw this scene at the drive-in this year and the exuberance of hearing Fastaway blasting from car stereos in the fog at 5 AM is an experience I recommend to every single person reading this.
Can Eddie stop Sammi from being played on the radio and attacking everyone that hears it? Of course. It’s an ’80s horror movie. But man — I’m all from more Sammi Curr (sadly, Tony Fields died of AIDS in 1995).
Oh I forgot – Ozzy is a preacher in this that Sammi attacks. It’s a small cameo, just like Gene Simmons’ role, but that doesn’t stop my DVD cover from claiming they starred in this.
If you’re an 80s metal fan (and if not, man, thanks for reading this far), there are so many band logos and posters to spot in this, from the expected like Anthrax and KISS to the out of left field like Raven, Exciter and Savatage. You’ll also be much more likely to not dismiss this film as a piece of shit.
Me? I quote from this film almost every day. “The bait is you. Let the big fish hook themselves. You’re the bait. The bait is you.”
Released in the U.S. as Playgirl After Dark, this was Jayne Mansfield’s first film away from 20th Century Fox after her star started to dim. The studio loaned her out for this British drama, directed by Terence Young (Dr. No, From Russia With Love, Thunderball, The Klansman).
While billed as “an exposé of ‘sexy, sordid Soho, England’s greatest shame,” the film may not appear all that scandalous today. But in 1960, Mansfield’s see-through outfits and sexy music numbers kept the movie out of American theaters until puritanical heads cooled. Playboy came to the rescue of horndogs everywhere — I mean, discriminating gentlemen — and showed several shots of the film to build interest.
Mansfield plays nightclub siren Midnight Franklin, who wants her man Johnny Solo (Leo Genn,Lizard In a Woman’s Skin) out of the business of owning the Pink Flamingo. When an underage dancer named Ponytail (Barbara Windsor, who was in nine Carry On movies) is killed, the cops and the crooks are all over Johnny. One of those underworld types is a very young Christopher Lee.
Jayne Mansfield and Joan Collins in the same movie? My dreams do come true.
Joan is Alice Chicoy, the owner of a restaurant that likes her booze. Her husband Johnny (Rick Jason, The Witch Who Came from the Sea) owns a bus that is falling to pieces. She’s unhappy with life, so she determines that she needs to leave her husband.
Meanwhile, Camille Oakes (Mansfield) is a stripper on her way to Mexico and falling for a salesman (Dan Dailey, who most often worked in musicals).
All of their lives — and others — will come together on that falling apart bus as it makes its way through the California mountains. Dolores Michaels plays a passenger that makes a pass at Johnny in a scene that eclipses the sexiness of the two female leads, but this movie really showcases Mansfield’s ability as any actress.
Actually that scene was so hot — some compared it to Jane Russell’s The Outlaw — that two different versions were shot by director Victor Vicas, who was trying to make a high brow film — this is based on the John Steinbeck novel — but for shredded by critics.
This is kind of, sort of Jayne’s version of Bus Stop, which her rival Marilyn Monroe made a year before. The difference is that 20th Century Fox spent $3 million on Monroe and made her film in color. This was a $1.5 million black and white film that barely made its money back, while Monroe’s film went on to be a major success.
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