David Paul Cronenberg.

The man who gave ex-pornographic actress Marilyn Chambers a vampiric armpit. The man who made us lifelong fans of Micheal Ironside (John Saxon, Part Deux!) when he exploded his head via psychic brain waves. The man who knew we couldn’t pass up a film where Oliver Reed causes Samantha Eggar to “birth” an asexual dwarf-child. The man who turned James Woods into a human VCR. The man who dared adapt William S. Burroughs. The man who gave us “Brendel-Fly,” James Spader sexually aroused by car crashes, and made us lifelong Jeremy Irons fans by splitting him into twin gynecologists.

There wasn’t a body part, bodily function, brain wave, or hunk of technology Cronenberg didn’t like — and worked into his scripts. And when you take the mad Canadian’s “body horror” oeuvre into consideration, it’s not a wild stretch to realize that, in his spare time, he loved cars, racing bikes, and machinery. In fact, over the years, Cronenberg was — following in the burn marks of Steve McQueen and Paul Newman (and Tom Cruise) — a part time race car driver.

Look at that one-sheet! Now how can you pass up a cast (not in this neck of the Allegheny woods, buddy!) starring William Smith (Grave of the Vampire, Invasion of the Bee Girls), the late John Saxon (see our “Exploring” featurette on John), and Claudia Jennings (Unholy Rollers, Truck Stop Women, ‘Gator Bait, Sisters of Death, The Great Texas Dynamite Chase, Moonshine County Express, and Deathsport — yeah, we love our Claudia ’round ‘ere!).

Directing a screenplay written by Phil Savath (Big Meat Eater and Terminal City Ricochet), Cronenberg quenches his love for the scent of well-weathered leather, hot metal and oil in this tale of veteran drag racer Lonnie “Lucky Man” Johnson (William Smith). Driving for the Fast Company Oil team, Lucky deals with Phil Adamson (John Saxon), the “corrupt” team owner who’s more concerned with sponsor dollars and could care less who drives the car — provided he’s winning.

The always divine Mr. Jennings is the screenwriting androgyny-troped “hot chick with a guy’s name” (e.g., Alexandra = Alex, Charlotte = Charlie, no, not another “Frankie,” please!, etc., here, it’s Samantha = Sammy) playing up the romantic angle. The always-welcomed Nicholas Campbell (who went onto appear in Cronenberg’s The Brood, The Dead Zone, and Naked Lunch) is the ubiquitous protégé, Billy “The Kid” Brooker, who ignites a new sense of competitive spirit in Lucky to take on Adamson’s new hotshot driver, Gary “The Blacksmith” Black (iconic Canadian actor and voice artist Cedric Smith).

While this was filmed a few years earlier — around the time Cronenberg made Shivers (1975) and before he gained notice outside of his native Canada for Rabid (1977) — courtesy of Burt Reynolds’s redneck rally Smokey and the Bandit (be sure to check out our “Top 70 Good Ol’ Boys Film List: 1972 to 1986“) creatin’ a need for that good ol’ southern speed, Fast Company, made its way to receptive Drive-In audiences in 1979. And while Roger Corman’s Deathsport (1978) served as her final casting, this Cronenberg race tale served as Claudia Jennings’s final film; she perished in a car accident a few months after the film’s release.

I was funny car crazy in ’79, with centerfold tear outs of Don “The Snake” Prudhomme and Tom “The Mongoose” McEwen on my walls, right alongside magazine rips of champion motorcrosser Roger De Coster. So I got my dad to take me to see Fast Company at the local-quad Drive-In. So — as with all of my reviews for these “classics” from the bygone days of UHF-TV and VHS-shelved dust bunnies — take my nostalgia into consideration when I say that, when compared against most of the ’60s “Fast and Furious” precursors we reviewed this week, this exhaust thrower is one the better racing flicks from the lost Drive-In era.

Ugh. Another trailer bites the dust. We give up. Search for one on You Tube or your favorite streaming platform.

We found a very clean, four-part upload for the film to enjoy on Daily Motion. You can also get this on a nicely packaged Blue Underground DVD. And be sure to join us for our “Phil Savath Night” as part of our weekly Drive-In Friday featurette.

By the way: When it comes to racing — on all types of tracks — no one does it finer than the folks over at Demaras Racing. Check ’em out and keep it on the redline!

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

Roger Corman loved making deals to get the movies on the screens.

In a deal similar to the one Corman made with Ron Howard years later for Grand Theft Auto, Corman agreed that if John Ireland starred in The Fast and the Furious (1954), the then down-and-out actor could direct the picture. So when Corman decided set designer Daniel Heller (for all of Corman’s Edgar Allan Poe features, especially 1960’s House of Usher and 1961’s The Pit and the Pendulum) was ready for another picture, another deal was struck.

By that point, Heller had a solid relationship with Corman and already directed his first film, the H.P. Lovecraft adaptation Die, Monster, Die! (1965) and the biker flick Devil’s Angels (1967; with John Cassavetes). When Corman conceived the idea of Heller directing a racing flick centered around the European Grand Prix circuit, Heller pulled out his ace-in-the-hole: If Corman would finance Paddy (1970), Heller’s pet project adaptation of Irishman Lee Dunne’s raunchy sex-comedy Good-bye to the Hill, he’d undertake — for a Corman A.I.P production — the ambitious shoot that shot across six countries in less than six weeks.

That’s what’s awesome about Corman: he always took care of those who were loyal and dependable workers.

Then Heller returned the favor to (loves!) Mimsy Farmer.

Farmer transitioned from a career of bit roles on ’60s TV series into the forgotten drive-in fodder that was Hot Rods to Hell (1967; for MGM), Riot on Sunset Strip (1967; for A.I.P), and the aforementioned Devil’s Angels. With her career going nowhere fast, she soon took a job in a Canadian hospital. Then Heller gave her a call to star in The Wild Racers (alongside a young Talia Shire, aka then Coppola, sister of Francis Ford, in her feature film debut; she was another Corman crew member given a shot to live her dream). Farmer jumped at the chance to go to Europe for free and be able to visit her brother in London.

The Wild Racers ended up re-ignited her flagging career — now solely based in Europe — with respected directors Barbet Schroder (best known in the states for the later Barfly and Single White Female) casting her in the drug-drama More (1969) and Eriprando Visconti (of the oft ripped off, 1976 kidnap drama La orca) casting her in his Russian war drama Strogoff (1970). Readers of the B&S About Movies variety infatuated with all things giallo came to know Farmer for her work in Argento’s Four Files on Grey Velvet, along with The Perfume of the Lady in Black and Autopsy.

Yep. There’s nothing like the Corman touch to get careers rolling.

Sadly, the same can’t be said for Fabian (Forte) who was never able to parlay his eleven-song run of Billboard Top 100 hits into a career that rose to the Euro-respect of Mimsy Farmer — or Talia Shire, who made it to the Golden Globes and the Oscars as result of her work in 1976’s Rocky.

True, Fabian was under contract with 20th Century Fox, but he never became “a star,” thanks to the quickly forgotten drek he was cast in, like Hound Dog Man (1959) — which was a virtual rewrite of Fox’s Elvis vehicle, Love Me Tender (1956). And there’s no argument that High Time and North to Alaska are minor entries in the Bing Crosby and John Wayne canons (even my dad, a huge Duke fan, said North to Alaska, sucked). Then Fabian was with Paramount — to co-star with another teen idol, Tommy Sands — in more junk, this time, it was Love in a Goldfish Bowl (1961). Then with Columbia, it was the forgotten beach drama Ride the Wild Surf (1964).

It wasn’t Fabian’s fault. He’s an affable, naturally-skilled actor. It’s that the studios kept casting him in junk. Yeah, sure Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation (1962) with Jimmy Stewart and The Longest Day (1962) with John Wayne and Henry Fonda were well-made box-office hits — but who remembers those films as “classics” all these years later?

By that point, Fabian was down to picking up the occasional guest-star roles in ’60s TV series. Then Roger Corman came-a-callin’ and cast Fabian in his first film for A.I.P., which was the stock car racing drama Fireball 500 (1966) with Corman’s “Beach Party” stars Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello; then they hit the stock car track a second time in Thunder Alley (1967), and wrapped-up their pre-Fast and the Furious “trilogy” with The Wild Racers. Let’s not forget the Fab’s “mature” gangster romp with A Bullet for Pretty Boy (1970) that also failed to connect with audiences.

When Fabian’s seven-film contract with A.I.P. ended — and as with Paul Newman and Steve McQueen (and later, Tom Cruise and Paul Walker) before him — working on Corman’s flicks ignited his love of racing — which ended with a 1978 accident during a Mojave Desert stock car race. After that, critics may say that Fabian floundered, but we love him in Soul Hustler (1976), the trashy-insane Disco Fever, and the cheap-but-loveable slasher Kiss Daddy Goodbye (1981).

I know. I know. Another review where it’s off-the-rails with trivia — and little plot. But seriously: when did any of these forgotten drive-in potboilers have much of a plot in the first place — an wasn’t a ripped from another film in the second place?

Ugh. Another trailer bites the dust.
Well, give this 2022-uploaded clip a spin.
Soundtrack lovers will dig this rip of the ’60s surf-themed title-credits song from the film.

Fabian is Jo Jo Quillico, an American stock car racer who’s career is on the skids (sorry) after causing a fatal accident. So he flees to Europe. There — and in a plot swiped from just about every film noir-cum-mobster movie about a pug boxer — Jo Jo is hired by a racing tycoon to be “take a dive” driver, so as to make the team’s more experienced driver look good. But Jo Jo’s ambitions get the best of him and he proves he’s a better driver that the guy he’s hired to take dives for. (Again: name a boxing movie.) Then, as Sam, B&S Movies’ editor-in-chief would say: “romance ensues amid the asphalt and rubber.”

Joe Dante and Quentin Tarantino have said The Wild Racers is an avante-garde, Antonioni-esque art film with little dialog, lots of voice overs, and a quick series of shots that last no more than twenty seconds. Truth be told, for an A.I.P. flick, this Fabian-starrer is a well-shot film (the best of his three Corman race romps), considering it was shot guerilla-style without permits (thus Corman and Heller stole their own film-stock racing footage, which lends to its arty, documentary vibe). In the end, these fast and furious proceedings hold their own against the bigger studio race car flicks helmed by James Caan (Red Line 7000), James Garner (Grand Prix; 1966), Steve McQueen (1971; Le Mans), and Paul Newman (Winning; 1970). And it’s a hell of lot better than those process-shot stinkers Viva Las Vegas (1964), Spinout (1966), and Speedway (1968) starring Elvis as a singing race car driver.

If Fabian had been given an actual shot to be in an Michelangelo Antonioni film: Could you see Fabian in Antonioni’s Zabriskie Point (1970) or The Passenger (1975)? I can. It’s like the studios used Fabian like a pug actor — to take dives — to make other actors look good.

And he did makes other actors look good because Fabian was a damn good actor himself.

You can watch The Wild Racers on You Tube.

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

From the Editor’s Desk, March 2023: Once again, we were simply crossing off another obscurity from our to-do review list for our “Fast and Furious Week,” itself rife with Smokey and the Bandit ripoffs . . . and now, here we are in 2023 welcoming a restoration-reissue on March 23rd.

Dark Force Entertainment‘s latest “Retro Drive-In #19” features not only Smokey and the Judge, but double features with Alien Thunder, aka Dan Candy’s Law (1973). Smokey comes from an excellent CRI with all-new color correction. You can learn more about this amazing reissue from their Facebook post regarding the release.

Other recent reissues in the Dark Force Entertainment library that we previously reviewed are Forced Entry/The Last Victim, Double Nickels, Blank Generation, and Groupie.

Here’s what we had to say back in August 2020 about the film.

“Okay. Hold on just a minute, you smarmy, know-it-all pseudo movie critic. This is a ’70s hicksploitation Smokey and the Bandit ripoff has nothing to do with The Fast and the Furious and is definitely not a precursor. And, for god’s sake, don’t tie this back into Seinfeld, as that shite is getting on my nerves.”

“Hey, man. Don’t blame me. Blame Mason Heidger and Grant Pichla.”

“Who the frack are they?”

“The actor and director of the just-released indie time travel flick Making Time.”

“Oh, shite. This is another one of those off-the-rails, twisted non sequiturs and tangent-strewn reviews where you squeeze yourself over obscure actors and directors and you lose yourself in a morass of Six-Degrees babbling where you never tell us the plot of the movie.”

“Yeah, this is one of those “better go take a piss movies and make yourself a sandwich” reviews, bro.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you later. And find yourself an editor and a brevity-in-chief, bro.”

So . . . what am I rambling about with this escapee from the film vaults?

Like I said . . . I wrote up a review for Making Time, which stars Tori Titmas, and she wrote and stars in The Girls of Summer. And the director of Tori’s screenwriting debut is John D. Hancock, he of the ’70s drive-in “vampire” classic Let’s Scare Jessica to Death and the most unconventional Christmas movie you’ll ever see, Prancer. And Hancock’s cinematographer on Prancer and The Girls of Summer is . . . Misha Suslov, who lensed the cameras on Truckin’ Buddy McCoy, John Carpenter’s Black Moon Rising, and Mark L. Lester’s Public Enemies. And Suslov also eyepieced this redneck romp starring a cadaverous Rory Calhoun (who starred in Motel Hell that same year) in the Sheriff Buford T. Justice role.

So, you see. This review isn’t my fault. Send your complaints to Tori Titmas for hiring team Hancock-Suslov. For she is the one who unleashed this obscurity from the dust-bunnied, VHS shelves into the digital dustbins of B&S About Movies for you to enjoy. (And, of course, Mason and Grant are complicit in the film canister of worms thou opened.)

Hey, you may not care. But I do. And our Master of the Movie Themed Vodka-based Drinks, Sam, cares (last week’s movie drinks!). And not only do we get to talk about John D. Hancock and pay tribute to Misha Suslov in this review . . . but we can get our freak on over producer-director Harry Hope.

Oh, my Harry Hope! For only you could possibly think melding the waning disco-era with the CB radio-reinvented hicksploitation-era would make for a good movie. But what else would we expect from the man who unleashed the never-should-have-been-finished-or-released Doomsday Machine, you know, that 1971 sci-fi ditty that featured motorcycle helmet-clad astronauts blasting-off in cushy Lazy-Boy recliners? What else would you expect from the man who backed Al Adamson’s T&A romp Sunset Cove and his Jim Kelly-starring karate joint, Death Dimension. (See, there’s never a loss of movie obscurities to review! Sam, pencil them in.)

So, anywhoo . . . back in the days of polyester and mirror balls, ’60s R&B singer Gwen Owens reinvented herself as the front-woman of the Los Angeles-based disco band Hot with Cathy Carson and Juanita Curiel (the “gimmick” was that the band was multi-racial; Owens was African-American, Carson white, and Curiel hispanic) and scored a 1977 U.S Top 40 radio hit with “Angel in Your Arms.” (Learn more about Hot at souldisco.de).

Of course, in the mind of Harry Hope . . . a down-and-out one-hit wonder disco group is perfect fodder for a Harry Hope production. And the best part: this wasn’t intended as a parody of Smokey and the Bandit. (In fact, we think the redneck sheriff and judge buffoonery wasn’t a part of the original “script” and grafted in after-the-fact. “Hey, Smokies and CBs are hot right now, let’s make one of those movies,” decided the ever-mind changing producer.)

After the release of Hot’s self-titled breakthrough debut — and the then novelty of the group’s multi-racial make-up — expectations were high for their sophomore album, If That’s the Way You Want It . . . You Got It (1978). So their management decided a Beatlesesque movie would be a great way to promote the album. And they entrusted the project to Harry Hope. Obviously, no one on the Hot management team or in the Big Tree Records’ offices did their due diligence. Did anyone not see Doomsday Machine?

When first produced, the film was completed as We Can Be Stronger Together, so as to tie into the band’s upcoming third album. When the title of the album was shortened to Stronger Together (1980), so was the film’s title (the album sleeve features film promotional blurbs in its liner notes). And that 1980 album sold less than the second album. So title changes — to distance the film from the flop album — were afoot, with a reimaging as Running Hot and Making It! (which carried over for its VHS shelf live).

But with Smokey and the Bandit igniting its own cottage industry, the girls from Hot — who agreed to a movie tie-in to promote their album — found themselves in a CB-Smokey romp, Smokey and the Judge, to, you know, make you think Jerry Reed is going to show up singing “Eastbound and Down” — instead of a hot pants n’ hip swingin’ disco trio cooing in three-part harmonies. Truth is, for all its ripoffness, the two films that don’t get named-dropped when drive-in and home video aficionados revisit this this discoploitation romp are the two movies it’s really ripping off: the Saturday Night Fever-inspired, disco-musical comedy Thank God It’s Friday (1978) and the Earth, Wind & Fire-starring disco-musical That’s the Way of the World (1975; aka, Shining Star).

And why title the film Making It? Who knows. Perhaps the distributor decided to confuse us into thinking the film was based on David “American Werewolf In London” Naughton’s then pop hit, “Making It” — which was actually featured in Meatballs.

“Okay, Harry. You got us into this mess. How are we going to graft a female disco group into a hicksplotation movie?”

“We’re going to rip off Roger Corman’s old women-in-prison flicks.”

“Are you sure? I mean, we’ve already ripped off so many other films already.”

For reals. Harry even took the kitchen sinks as musicians Gwen Owens and Cathy Carson meet while doing time in a women’s penitentiary and decided to form a singing group. Of course, as is the case with any women-in-prison flick, the girls are innocent, with Cathy set-up to take the fall for a jewel heist gone wrong (in a flashback sequence that looks like stock footage from another movie).

When the duo makes parole, they meet Morris Levy (Darrow Igus from Car Wash, The Fog, and lots of ’80s TV), a managerial bottom feeder who’s going to “make them stars.” And he gets them a talent show gig at an out-of-the-way Urban Cowboy-styled (another film pinched for inspiration) roadhouse in the hick town of Pitts. (The “pitts,” yuk yuk. That’s sum mighty fern movie sypherin’ there, Harry.) Of course, after singing their five songs in the film (i.e., the initial purpose of the film: to promote their music . . . and pad out the film’s short running time), they run afoul of the local Barney Fife-dufus in the form of Sheriff Cutler (Gene Price, an old Jim Nabors sidekick), he the lone minion of the always sex-starved, fatass Judge Maddox (Joe Marmo from Rappin’ and American Drive-In), who has his own honry-machinations for the girls. Car chases and crashes (i.e., the “Fast and (not so) Furious” part), ensues, which, because of all the singing, hardly happens.

Now, you noticed that we didn’t mention Rory Calhoun in that stellar synopsis. That’s because you’ve been theatrical one-sheet duped: Rory-boy isn’t the Sheriff like we’ve been led to believe; he shows up for a cameo as a record executive who judges the contest in Pitts(ville), U.S.A.

Yeah. Use the F’in-word as a prefix to the word “mess” on this one. How much so? Hy Pyke (the creepy bus driver in Lemora, Mayor Daley in Dolemite, and Hack-O-Lantern) shemps-in-comic relief (see Sam Raimi’s films for what “shempin’” means) as the roadhouse’s bartender and a cheesy used car salesman. But you know what? You give me a movie with Rory, Hy, and Darrow, along with “Harry Hope” on the box, and I am renting the movie. You dig? (A dunny to subsequently dump it in.)

And so closes another off-the-rails rant at B&S About Movies, where we coddle the forgotten and obscure films of our drive-in, UHF, and VHS yesteryears — and the latest indie films. And to Misha Suslov: we tip our hats to you. Thanks for the VHS memories.

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

Before Quentin Tarantino*˟ inspired us to run to the movie theatre with anything featuring his name on it — even if he didn’t directed it — there was John Carpenter. For Quentin, the films that took our coin were Natural Born Killers and True Romance. For John Carpenter, we laid the money down for Black Moon Rising and The Eyes of Laura Mars. And the thing about Tarantino and Carpenter: while we love their pens, it’s just not the same without them in the director’s chair. But when you write and direct a blockbuster and you’re churned as Hollywood’s new “flavor of the month,” you easily up-sell those dust bunny-collecting screenplays sitting in the drawer. (Anyone want to read some of my dust bunnies? Yeah, didn’t think so. . . .)

In fact, the Roger Corman-founded New World Pictures made sure Carpenter’s name was front and center in the promotional materials to hook fans of Halloween and Escape from New York*. And toss in Carpenter’s pre-Halloween “modern western” homage Assault on Precinct 13 (1976) that became a cult classic courtesy of its incessant HBO replays in the backwash of EfNY’s success. Did we even care — or knew — that Harley Cokliss, who worked as a second unit director under Irvin Kershner on The Empire Strikes Back and directed New Zealand’s entry in the Max Max road rallies of the ’80s, Battletruck* (1982), directed Black Moon Rising? Nope. Not according to my copies of Starlog and Famous Monsters.

For the Snake Plissken-esque anti-hero of this high-tech crime caper, embodied by Sam Quint, the job was given to the always welcomed and never-not-awesome Tommy Lee Jones, who came into his own as an A-List, major-studio leading man with memorable roles in Jackson County Jail (1976), Rolling Thunder (1977), and Carpenter’s The Eyes of Laura Mars (again; didn’t direct it, natch; the aforementioned Irvin Kershner did). And it’s important to note that, in the same year Black Moon was released, Jones also starred in one of the greatest HBO-exclusive movies of all time, the Canadian-produced Rambo-inversion, The Park Is Mine.

We all know the story behind Escape from New York as it relates to Tommy Lee Jones, right? After blowing the roof off of theatres in 1978 with his Italian Giallo homage (check out our “Exploring: Giallo” featurette) Halloween, Carpenter had the clout to get his long-gestating passion project made (that he tried to get made even before 1976’s Assault on Precinct 13) about a Clint Eastwood-esque anti-hero’s adventures in a futuristic “Wild West” New York. (If Carpenter had gotten it made in the early ’70s during Clint’s “Dirty Harry” days . . . Eastwood going “Charlton Heston” in a post-apoc flick? Damn. I’d see that movie!)

At the time, Carpenter has just worked with Kurt Russell, who starred as “The King of Rock ‘n’ Roll” in the 1979 TV movie, Elvis. Carpenter wanted Russell in the lead. Avco Embassy, who initially wanted the admittedly cool-for-the-role-but-too-old Charles Bronson (sorry, Charlie), dug in their collective heels with Tommy Lee Jones (who would have owned Plissken!). Carpenter won the casting war. And Jones ended up being cast as Carpenter’s Plissken-lite, Sam Quint.

In a June 2016 radio interview with Justin Beahm, Carpenter explained that he wrote Black Moon Rising around the time he made Escape from New York (which is why we “see” Snake in Mr. Quint’s squint) as a “my car is stolen and I’m going to get it back” story. And he added that he had “never seen the final film.” And if it all sounds too familiar, like Corvette Summer (1978) familiar, you know Mark Hamill’s first post-Star Wars movie, itself a “my car is stolen and I’m going to get it back” story — without the sci-fi trappings and F.B.I tomfoolery — it probably is. . . . And if the plot of Black Moon Rising sounds familiar, like The Fast and the Furious (franchise) familiar, then it probably is. . . .

Sam Quint is a reformed thief hired by the Feds to steal a computer disc (what’s that?) that holds incriminating evidence against a corrupt Las Vegas-based corporation. After the theft, Quint’s on the run from Marvin Ringer (Lee Ving of Fear; The Decline of Western Civilization), his psycho-former partner, who wants the disc back. But, alas . . . during the course of the chase, Quint stashes the disc inside The Black Moon, a prototype supercar that exceeds speeds of 300 miles per hour — on tap water. (I know, right: the ol’ water-as-fuel sci-fi trope, again. Hey, Keanu! Hey, Val!) Then steps in master car thief Nina (Linda Hamilton in her first post-The Terminator* role), who steals the oh, so The Wraith (1986) sci-fi wagon for stolen car syndicate mogul Ed Ryland (the so-awesome Robert Vaughn as Proteus IV in Demon Seed, and yes . . . we even sat through Starship Invasions, The Lucifer Complex, Hangar 18, and the terminally goofy Battle Beyond the Stars for our Vaughn fixes). Now Quint has to break into The Ryland Towers (thus, the car-busting-through-the-glass-tower artwork of the theatrical one-sheet), where its offices’ operate Ryland’s “legit” businesses — along with a high-tech and high-volume chop shop in the basement-garage bowels.

Of course, the reason we’re writing about this forgotten entry in the John Carpenter canons — in addition to its “Fast and Furiousness,” and the fact that the fine folks at Kino Lorber reissued the film on Blu-ray (a 2K restoration from the original 35 MM interpositives) last May — is because of the 1980 Wingho Concordia II designed by Bernard Beaujardins and Clyde Kwok used in the film. Since only one was made, it was filmed for exterior stunts. Two cast cast-mold copies were made for stunts and interior shots.

The cinematographer behind Harley Cokliss’s vision of John Carpenter’s script is Russian-born Misha Suslov, who lensed the hicksploitation classics (yes, they are classics in the analog hearts of the B&S crew!) Smokey and the Judge and Truckin’ Buddy McCoy**, along with Mark L. Lester’s Public Enemies (with Eric Roberts!), and the “dark” Christmas romp, Prancer. While we lost our inner Suslov-ness over the years, we were happy to discover Suslov is still keepin’ the eye-in-the-glass with the 2020 country-romance The Girls of Summer.

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

* Be sure to check out our full list of reviews from our “Apoc Month” blowout of post-apocalyptic ditties from the ’70s and ’80s with our two-part “Atomic Dust Bin” round-ups.

** You need more redneck ragin’ hicksploitation? Then check out our homage to the genre with our “The Top 70 Good Ol’ Boys Film List: 1972 to 1986” featurette.

*˟ You can catch up with all of Quentin Tarantino’s films with our “Exploring: The 8 Films of Quentin Tarantino’s Rolling Thunder Pictures” featurette — complete with links to our July 2019 reviews of his films.

Update: We’ve since rolled out a “Cannon Month” of film reviews and took a second look at this film. Type in “Cannon Month” in our search box and you’ll populate all of those reviews.