Category Archives: Movie reviews

WEIRD WEDNESDAY: Pets (1973)

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When you see a poster featuring young women in dog collars and chains, you are braced for a sleazy, depraved descent into S&M nightmare territory. But Raphael Nussbaum’s Pets is a far more bizarre beast. It is a fragmented, episodic odyssey of a young runaway that feels less like a cohesive narrative and more like a fever dream of mid-70s exploitation cinema.

Based on a series of one-act stage plays by Richard Reich, the film follows the perpetually charming Candice Rialson (Candy Stripe Nurses, Summer School Teachers, Chatterbox) as Bonnie, a naive runaway whose presence acts as a catalyst for the ruin of everyone she encounters. The film is structured in three distinct, tonal-shifting acts:

  • Act I: Grimy Sun-Drenched LA: Bonnie falls in with a bad girl named Pat (Teri Guzman). They attempt to rob a wealthy man on the beach. This segment captures that specific, palpable 1970s Los Angeles desperation before ending in a botched escape.

  • Act II: Counterculture Muse: Bonnie becomes the muse and lover of an eccentric artist, Geraldine Mills (Joan Blackman). This act shifts into a heady, late-60s artsy vibe, which is violently punctured by a senseless, jarring home invasion. In a bizarre twist of logic, Bonnie opts to keep the intruder in her room for intimate purposes, forcing a jealous, desperate Geraldine to commit murder, sending Bonnie fleeing once again.

  • Act III: The Menagerie: Finally, the film delivers the “pets” promised by the marketing. Bonnie is ensnared by Vincent Stackman (Ed Bishop), a wealthy, whip-wielding sadist. This act feels like an entirely different film stapled onto the back of the first two—a claustrophobic dive into the actual depravity hinted at by the promotional art. Stackman treats women as literal pets, housing them in his mansion alongside actual canines.

Pets is an odd duck. It has a legit theater background, which gives the dialogue an occasionally stilted quality. It’s not quite a horror movie, not quite a drama and it’s arguably too slow for some. Not for me. I loved the sheer weirdness of it all and how firmly Rialson keeps everything held together. 

Mike Cartel, who played Rialson’s brother, assisted Nussbaum when it came down to casting the lead. He acted in twenty video-taped G-rated romantic scenes with other actreses before Rialson got the role.

Warning: A dog gets thrown to its doom.

You can watch this on Tubi.

JUNESPLOITATION: Bubble Bath (1979)

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DAY 2. Cartoons!

Hungarian director György Kovásznai’s Bubble Bath (also known as Habfürdő) is a wildly idiosyncratic, deeply personal and totally irresistible animated musical that feels like it shouldn’t exist, yet I’m so incredibly glad it does.

Zsolt (voiced by Kornél Gelley, sung by Albert Antalffy) is a walking ball of neuroses. He looks like a stoned hippie alleycat or an Eastern European Frank Zappa stuffed into a rented tux. He’s supposed to be getting married, but instead, he panics and bursts into the apartment of Anikó (voiced by Vera Venzcel, sung by Kati Bontovits), the best friend of his fiancée. She’s a medical student who looks like a curvier, leggier, post-modern Betty Boop. What follows isn’t a high-stakes adventure, but a hyper-stylized, claustrophobic bottle episode of romantic indecision. They are two people deeply unsure of their attraction to each other, terrified of the choices they’ve made, and completely paralyzed by what the future holds.

To describe Bubble Bath’s visual style is to sound like a lunatic. Kovásznai mashes up 1920s Art Deco elegance, 1960s psychedelia and late 1970s decadence. The animation is incredibly restless and endlessly creative. Characters morph, dissolve and vibrate with nervous energy.  The backgrounds shift with the characters’ psychological states. It’s a musical where the songs don’t just advance the plot; they deconstruct the characters’ psyches in real-time.

The main inspiration for the film struck György Kovásznai when he realized most animated movies focused on bringing fantasy worlds to life with realistic animation. Reflecting on the popularity of 1970s science fiction, fantasy, disaster and adventure films, he decided that these genres actually worked better in live-action. He argued that because children are exposed to animation from a young age, they inherently know cartoons aren’t real, making any attempt at realism pointless.

Instead of making a Disney-style fantasy film, as most animation of the tiome did, he wondered if the medium was mature enough to tell real-world stories. Kovásznai wanted to create complex, authentic human characters grappling with deep personal and societal issues.

Sadly, this went down as the biggest flop in Hungarian animation history. Theatrical screenings were chaotic; angry adults and crying children routinely stormed out of theaters, prompting some cinemas to quietly swap the film for a different movie just to keep audiences in their seats.

Kovásznai was reportedly devastated by the overwhelming backlash from critics, audiences and the box office alike. However, the reception wasn’t entirely hostile. A few contemporary reviews praised the project. For instance, critic and art historian István Kristóf Nagy claimed he couldn’t find a single fault in the film, confidently predicting it would find a massive audience.

In the wake of the disaster, technical director Jenő Koltai published a lengthy essay in Pannónia Studio’s magazine analyzing the failure. He concluded that the general public was simply unready for an animated movie that tackles realistic urban themes. After its disastrous release, the film was largely forgotten until the 2000s, which sparked a massive resurgence of interest in Kovásznai’s broader body of work. Because of this profound cultural shift, the film is now officially categorized in Hungary as a nemzedéki közérzetfilm—a “generational mood film.“

Tragically, this was Kovásznai’s only feature film. A painter, philosopher and animator who refused to conform to Western or Soviet commercial standards, he passed away from leukemia in 1983 at the age of 49, leaving behind a legacy of short films and this lone, sparkling anomaly.

Thankfully, the National Film Institute in Hungary has beautifully restored the film, and the cinematic saints over at Deaf Crocodile have given it its first-ever official U.S. release. You can watch it on Tubi.

JUNESPLOITATION: Wedlock (1991)

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Day 1. ‘90s Action!

Also known as Deadlock when released on VHS, this made-for-HBO movie stars Rutger Hauer as Frank Warren. He’s an electronics wizard and a master jewel thief who thinks he’s got it made after orchestrating a massive diamond heist. His crew consists of his gorgeous fiancée, Noelle (Joan Chen), and his long-time buddy, Sam (James Remar). But there is no honor among thieves. The moment the diamonds are safely stashed away, Sam and Noelle turn on Frank and leave him for the cops. Frank gets pinched, but he keeps his mouth shut about where the diamonds are hidden.

Cut to Camp Holliday, an experimental future prison that makes your standard maximum-security joint look like a country club. Run by the deliciously sadistic Warden Holliday (Stephen Tobolowsky, who seems to be having the time of his life), there are no iron bars or barbed wire fences here. Instead, the facility relies on the Wedlock system: every inmate is fitted with a bulky, electronic collar containing a proximity-fused explosive charge. Every collar is secretly linked to another random prisoner. If you move more than 100 yards away from your unknown partner, or if anyone tries to tamper with the hardware, BOOM—both of your heads get blown clean off your shoulders.

Naturally, Warden Holliday tries to torture the location of the diamonds out of Frank (using a sensory deprivation tank, which is for relaxation, not interrogation) but Frank isn’t talking. Things get complicated in the yard when Frank’s collar starts chirping, leading him to discover that his explosive soulmate is Tracy Riggs (Mimi Rogers), a woman claiming she was completely framed. One afternoon, when Frank fights a fellow inmate named Emerald (Basil Wallace) to the death, Tracy takes the ambulance he’s in and makes a run for it.

Sam and Noelle are working with the Warden to get the diamonds while Frank and Tracy are on the run. They hate each other’s guts, they’ve got the cops and a pair of heavily armed betrayers on their tails, and they have to stay within a football field’s distance of one another at all times or face instant decapitation.

What follows is an awesome mix of roadside tension, an underground collar-removal operation gone wrong (resulting in Noelle icing Sam) and a final showdown with the Warden himself, who has been tracking the duo via helicopter. Frank proves he’s the smarter criminal, tricking the Warden into wearing a collar and tossing the linked match into the departing chopper. Distance limit breached, chopper goes kaboom, and Frank and Tracy ride off into the sunset with a bag full of diamonds to live happily ever after.

Yes, in a 1990s action movie, there’s not much of a line between love and hate.

Wedlock is pure, unadulterated cinematic comfort food. Lewis Teague, as always, brings genuine studio-level competence to a B-movie premise, keeping the action moving fast enough that you don’t have time to question the prison logic. The chemistry between Hauer and Rogers works surprisingly well, turning the film into a twisted, high-stakes romantic comedy masquerading as a dystopian action flick. Tobolowsky steals every single scene he’s in as the Warden, playing him not as an imposing brute, but as a petty, bureaucratic psychopath. 

Hauer has weird hair, strange fashion choices and seems barely awake at some points. There are also some weird plot points, like how everyone in prison gets named after a color, can go to Magic Hour and sleep with anyone they want, and in the meantime, work on electronics. And while Frank is out for revenge, Noelle is just out to ruin the wedding of the ex who set her up.

Writer Broderick Miller recycled this same idea for another cable movie, Deadlocked: Escape from Zone 14, where Esai Morales is breaking out Nia Peeples. 

Shout out to Vern, who points out. that despite this being set in the future, there’s a movie theater showing a double of Graffiti Bridge with the Seagal movie Marked for Death. That’s amazing. Basil Wallace was also in the movie, playing Screwface and his twin brother. And oh yeah, Camp Holiday Prison is totally the command center from Power Rangers. Really — it’s the House of the Book on the American Jewish University’s Brandeis-Bardin Campus in Simi Valley, CA.

No other movie has Rutger Hauer and Mimi Rogers wearing traditional African clothing.

You can watch this on Tubi.

CULTPIX MONTH: The Erotic Adventures of Zorro (1972)

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After Disney made their movies and before Robert Rodriguez turned the masked swordsman into a high-budget nineties blockbuster franchise, as well as decades after Tyrone Power slashed his way through Old California, the grindhouse circuit decided Johnston McCulley’s legendary hero needed way fewer rules, way more nudity and a healthy dose of European co-production madness.

Enter The Erotic Adventures of Zorro, an incredibly bizarre, softcore sex-comedy-meets-swashbuckler hybrid directed by David F. Friedman alongside co-director Robert Freeman. Though the Italian poster credits William Russel, make no mistake: this thing is pure American grindhouse royalty disguised as an Euro-sleaze import.

Don Diego de la Vega (Douglas Frey, who you might know from The Erotic Adventures of Robin Hood—talking about finding your niche and staying with it) returns home from Spain only to find Los Angeles under the thumb of the tyrannical Commandante Esteban (John Lawrence). Diego plays the usual effeminate, weak-willed dandy by day to throw off suspicion, but by night, he slips on the black mask, grabs his rapier and rides out to defend the helpless, liberate the peasants, and… get absolutely everybody in Alta California out of their clothes.

Frey is actually a surprisingly good Zorro when he’s allowed to fight, handling the swordplay with a lot more athletic grace than you’d expect from a film aimed squarely at the raincoat crowd. The movie borrows heavily from the classic 1940 Mark of Zorro structure, including a final duel between Zorro and the villain that has genuine kinetic energy.

But because this was released in 1972 to fill independent drive-ins and urban grindhouses, the action is constantly interrupted by bedroom farces, broad slapstick and a jaunty, whistle-heavy score that sounds like it was lifted from a lost Italian sex comedy. Whenever Zorro isn’t carving a “Z” into a wall, he’s helping the local señoritas liberate themselves from their corsets or dealing with an array of colorful characters like Luis, his mute servant who uses a puppet to communicate.

It’s as fun as a classical Hollywood swashbuckler colliding head-on with the total creative lawlessness of the 1970s adult film boom can be. I mean, it’s shot on the sets of Duel in the Sun and Bob Cresse playing one of the bad guys, Sgt. Felipio Latio! Plus, it was shot by Ferd Sebastian, who would later make Gator Bait.

Actresses in the cast include Jacqueline Giroux from Drive-In Massacre; Lynn Harris (Bust Out, Blood Sabbath); Starlyn Simone (Video Vixens); Becky Sharpe (The Boob Tube) and Kathy Hilton, who appears in another erotic take on classic movies, The Amorous Adventures of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza.

Also: The makers of Zorro the Gay Blade owe this movie well, just about everything.

You can watch this on Cultpix.

CULTPIX MONTH: Aroused (1966)

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New York City in the mid-1960s is a gritty, gray, neon-lit concrete jungle and someone is making it a lot emptier. A brutal serial killer is stalking the rain-slicked streets of Manhattan, specifically targeting sex workers. Enter Detective Innes (Steve Hollister), a world-weary cop who looks like he’s fueled entirely by stale coffee and cheap cigarettes. He’s assigned to the case, diving headfirst into the city’s seedy underbelly to catch the psycho before the body count rises.

Meanwhile, we follow Mandy (Janine Lenon, who is great in this, but it’s her only acting role), a woman caught up in the life who becomes our emotional anchor. As Innes tracks the clues, the film shifts between a hardboiled police procedural and a voyeuristic, psychological look into the mind of a twisted killer with deep-seated mommy issues. It all builds to a tense, shadowy climax in a dingy apartment that feels entirely too close for comfort.

If you stumbled upon Aroused expecting a standard, sleazy exploitation flick based on the title alone, you’re in for a massive surprise. This is a fascinating missing link in American independent cinema. It’s a bridge that connects the classic film noir of the 1940s and 50s with the grimy, proto-slasher, and American giallo films of the 70s.

Director Anton Holden (Teenage Tramp) captures 1960s Manhattan with a documentary-like realism. There’s no Hollywood glamor here. The streets look cold, the apartments look cramped, and you can practically smell the exhaust fumes and cloying perfume. The black-and-white cinematography by Dejan Georgevitich is gorgeous, utilizing sharp contrasts, deep shadows, and tight framing that make the city feel like a claustrophobic trap.

While budget constraints are evident in some of the pacing and looping audio, the film elevates itself through sheer atmosphere. The jazz score keeps things moving with a restless, anxious energy. It’s a bleak, cynical, yet strangely artistic piece of grindhouse history that deserves a lot more respect than its title implies.

While director Holden worked in the sound department on many movies and TV shows, co-writer Richard B. Shull went on to have a massive career as a character actor. You’ve probably seen him in similar but higher-budget Klute, as well as Splash and Housesitter. 

The killer even has mannequin heads all over his apartment, a full decade before Maniac.

You can watch this on Cultpix.

CULTPIX MONTH: Dr. Cyclops (1940)

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If you love The Incredible Shrinking Man or Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, you need to pay your respects to the granddaddy of them all. Directed by Ernest B. Schoedsack, the same absolute legend who gave us King Kong, this movie is a landmark for a massive reason: it is the very first American horror film shot in glorious, full three-strip Technicolor.

Before this, we had two-color freakouts like Doctor X and Mystery of the Wax Museum, but Dr. Cyclops brings the vivid, saturated, comic-book-pulp look right into your eyeballs.

We head deep into the Peruvian jungle, where Albert Dekker plays Dr. Alexander Thorkel, a bald, nearsighted mad scientist rocking some seriously thick glasses (hence the “Cyclops” nickname). Thorkel has discovered a rich uranium ore deposit and figured out a way to use cosmic radiation to shrink living things. Why? Because he wants to shrink all of humanity to reduce our carbon footprint! Is he really the hero?

Because his eyesight is shot, he invites a team of American biologists down to Peru just to look at a microscope slide for him. They point out some iron crystal contamination. He says, “Cool, thanks, now get out,” and tries to pack them home. Naturally, the biologists are pissed that they traveled thousands of miles to be the Geek Squad for a five-minute tech support gig, so they camp out to spy on him. Big mistake. Thorkel lures them into his radiation chamber and zaps ’em down to a mere twelve inches tall!

What follows is a wild jungle-survival game where our tiny heroes have to fight off giant house cats, hide in specimen boxes and plot to murder their giant tormentor by smashing his glasses and rigging his own shotgun against him.

Variety hated it at the time, calling it dull, but honestly? They missed the fun. It’s got that beautiful, dreamlike, pale Technicolor look that makes it feel like an ancient fairy tale come to life. It’s so gorgeous! Plus, looking back with 21st-century eyes, the movie is weirdly prophetic. Thorkel is mining uranium to power a weapon of mass alteration, and with his shaved head and thick glasses, he accidentally predated the wartime imagery of the era. 

You can watch it on Cultpix.

CULTPIX MONTH: Criminally Insane (1975)

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Filmed in San Francisco for what looks like the cost of a couple of cases of cheap beer and a trip to the butcher shop and clocking in at just over an hour, Nick Imllard’s Criminally Insane is the opposite of its alt title, Crazy Fat Ethel. It’s lean, mean and ready to pounce.

Meet Ethel Janowski (Priscilla Alden). She’s just been released from an asylum into the care of her long-suffering grandmother. The doctors think Ethel is cured. The doctors are wrong.

Ethel doesn’t want to reintegrate into society; she just wants to eat. Constant, non-stop, uninterrupted consumption. Soft-boiled eggs, whole loaves of bread, chocolate syrup straight from the bottle — if it fits on a plate, Ethel is shoving it down her throat.

The conflict arises when Grandma, concerned for both Ethel’s health and her own mounting grocery bills, decides to put a padlock on the refrigerator door. Big mistake. Huge. You don’t get between Ethel and her snacks. What follows is a slow-motion, butcher-knife-wielding rampage where Grandma (Jane Lambert), a local delivery boy and anyone else who dares step into the kitchen gets brutally, systematically eliminated.

Ethel isn’t just killing people; she’s hiding the bodies in the bedrooms, leading to a house full of flies, stench and the absolute peak of mid-70s drive-in atmosphere. With her heavy breathing, intense glares, and total commitment to the bit, Priscilla Alden created an unforgettable slasher icon before the slasher genre even had its official rules written. She doesn’t need a hockey mask or a dream world. She just needs a sharp object and an empty stomach.

This movie is ugly, poorly lit and has a music score that sounds like someone dropping a synthesizer down a flight of stairs. In short — I love it. Plus, you get George “Buck” Flower as a detective, blood with no wounds and the material that Millard would recycle into the sequel and the films Cemetery Sisters, Death Nurse and Death Nurse 2. 

You can watch this on Cultpix.

WEIRD WEDNESDAY: Penitentiary (1979)

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Every now and then, you run into a movie that doesn’t just want to tell you a story. It wants to grab you by the balls, kick your dick in the dirt and make you watch every single second of grit, sweat and survival it can muster.

Jamaa Fanaka didn’t just make a prison film with Penitentiary. He made an independent powerhouse that feels like a cross between an exploitation masterpiece, a Rocky-style sports melodrama and a hyper-real slice of late-70s street life.

If you’re looking for high-art subtlety, look elsewhere. But if you want pure, unfiltered cinematic adrenaline? Step right up to the cellblock.

Leon Isaac Kennedy stars as Martel “Too Sweet” Gordone, a hitchhiker who finds himself in the wrong place at the worst possible time. After getting mixed up in a diner brawl that ends in a fatality, Too Sweet gets railroaded by the system and thrown into the state pen.

Now, we’ve all seen prison flicks. But Fanaka, who shot large portions of this at the Lincoln Heights Jail in L.A., infuses the scenery with an exhausting, authentic claustrophobia. Too Sweet isn’t a hardened criminal. He’s just a guy who likes sugar in his coffee and wants to keep his head down. But the prison ecosystem doesn’t let anyone just exist.

Enter Half Dead, played with terrifying, scenery-chewing brilliance by Badja Djola. Half Dead is the cellblock kingpin, a mountain of a man who decides Too Sweet is his next target. The first third of this movie is an escalating, tension-filled nightmare as Too Sweet realizes he has exactly two options: submit or fight back with everything he has.

When the inevitable explosion happens, it’s brutal. Too Sweet stands his ground, uses his fists and catches the eye of the prison’s boxing coach, Ernie (Floyd Chatman). From there, the movie shifts gears into an underground boxing tournament where the ultimate prize isn’t just a trophy. It’s an early parole.

What elevates Penitentiary above standard grindhouse fare is Fanaka’s direction. As a graduate of the UCLA Film School (and part of the L.A. Rebellion movement), he doesn’t just shoot violence for the sake of a cheap thrill. He treats the boxing matches like gladiatorial theater. The camera gets right in the middle of the sweat, the flying spit and the thud of leather against ribs. Kennedy puts everything he has into the performance, looking genuinely exhausted and driven by pure survival instinct. The fight scenes took three days to film with no stunt doubles. Kennedy broke two of his ribs and lost two teeth.

It’s got that raw, independent edge where the budget might be low, but the ambition is scraping the ceiling. The soundtrack bumps with a gritty, funk-laden soul that keeps the energy moving even when the plot takes a breather to look at the institutional corruption keeping these men caged.

Somehow, the sequels are even better.

You can watch this on Tubi.

WEIRD WEDNESDAY: Parents (1989)

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Directed by Bob Balaban (yes, the guy from Christopher Guest comedies) and written by Christopher Hawthorne. Parents finds the Laemle family — Nick (Randy Quaid), Lily (Mary Beth Hurt) and Michael (Bryan Madorsky) moving into the California suburbs. Between seeing his parents making love and watching his father do an autopsy, Michael is a bit screwed up. His dreams are horrible and he believes his parents are cannibals. But what if he’s right?

But what can you do when your parents want to feed you the meat of your guidance counselor, Millie Dew (Sandy Dennis)?

The film’s most unsettling quality is its visual obsession with food. Director Bob Balaban utilized macro photography and heightened sound design to make the sound of a knife hitting a plate or the sight of a pot roast look like a crime scene. To make the mystery meat look particularly unappetizing and gelatinous, the production used a mix of brisket, food coloring and heavy amounts of glaze.

Siskel and Ebert disagreed on this; a big surprise was that Gene loved it and Roger didn’t. However, Ken Russell compared it to Blue Velvet and claimed that it was better than Lynch’s movie.

While Randy Quaid has certainly moved into legitimately weird territory in real life over the last decade, his performance in Parents is often cited by critics as a masterclass in repressed 1950s aggression. He isn’t playing crazy. He’s playing a man who is desperately trying to appear normal, which is much scarier.

You can watch this on Tubi.

WEIRD WEDNESDAY: Paranoia (1969)

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Umberto Lenzi, come on down! We’re eager for you to shock us, titillate us, and perhaps even thrill us a bit. Oh, and you’ve brought Carroll Baker with you! Please, show us the tale you’ve crafted!

Released in Italy as Orgasmo, it was one of the first X-rated movies in the U.S., and the ads definitely played it up, especially because it featured Baker. She had left America as a single mother with two children, and her prospects in Hollywood weren’t great. In Italy, despite making movies that she said “What they think is wonderful is not what we might,” she found a career. Later, she would admit that it showed her an entirely different world and brought her back to feeling alive again.

What’s confusing is that Lenzi’s next movie was released as Paranoia in Italy and A Quiet Place to Kill in America.

I love this interview that she did with Tank Magazine, answering if she ever did any avant-garde projects: “Some of the films in Europe, of course, but a lot of them I haven’t even seen. The one I’m curious about is called Baba Yaga; it was a really far-out, wild, cartoonish sort of thing. I play the title character, a 1,500-year-old witch, and all my sisters were witches, too. I didn’t have to be completely naked, but in every Italian film, there was a scene where you had to show your breasts. Usually, I was talking on the telephone or reading a book. One day, they announced a nude scene – I couldn’t believe it. But the make-up artist and hairdresser were already there, dying the other girls’ pubic hair to match the hair on their heads.”

Baker plays Kathryn West, a glamorous American widow who retreats to a palatial Italian villa just weeks after her wealthy husband’s passing. She is the picture of fragile elegance, drowning in luxury and boredom until a handsome drifter named Peter (Lou Castel) breaks down at her gates.

The villa’s isolation quickly turns from a sanctuary into a playground for predators. Peter moves in, followed shortly by his sister, Eva (Colette Descombes). The dynamic is electric and immediately suspicious. As the siblings weave a web of sexual manipulation, the truth emerges: they aren’t related, and Kathryn isn’t their host—she’s their mark.

The film descends into a harrowing depiction of gaslighting, which is a term that gets used a lot these days. Trust me. This movie has real gaslighting. Peter and Eva keep Kathryn in a drug-induced stupor, fueling her with pills and booze while playing a haunting, discordant song on a loop to shatter her psyche. It is a proto-slasher psychological thriller where the weapon isn’t a knife, but the systematic erosion of a woman’s reality. But don’t worry. In the world of Lenzi, every sin eventually demands a receipt.

Caroll Baker started off as a Hollywood sex symbol before retreating to Europe, where she’d make Baba Yaga, So Sweet… So Perverse and The Sweet Body of Deborah, amongst others. Eventually, she’d move back to America and become a mature actress. As for Lenzi, he’d go on to make Eaten Alive, Cannibal Ferox, Nightmare City and more.

If you appreciate melodramatic twists, layered narratives, and visually striking sex scenes, then it’s time to indulge in this film.