Directed by Richard Michaels (Leona Helmsley: The Queen of Mean) and penned by Leigh Chapman, the former actress turned screenwriter who wrote the Chuck Norris cult hit The Octagon, this film is a strange cocktail of industry cynicism and low-budget grit.

The film stars Adam Roarke as Person and Larry Bishop as Brandy. If those names sound familiar, they should; both were staples of the leather-and-chrome biker circuit (Hells Angels on Wheels, The Savage Seven). Here, they play two stuntmen who have finally had enough of the shallow Tinseltown grind. Trading the movie set for the open road, they decide to pivot into the high-stakes world of international narcotics. Joined by Person’s sister Brigitte, played by the ethereal Alexandra Hay (Skidoo), the trio heads south of the border to move weight across Mexico.

There’s no real story to speak of, but it does feature early roles for Penny Marshall and Rob Reiner as the couple the bikers are buying drugs from. Despite being filmed in 1971, it sat on a shelf for three years. When it finally emerged, it felt less like a hard-hitting crime drama and more like a nihilistic, 84-minute sitcom episode where the punchlines are replaced by dust and desperation.

There isn’t a traditional story to cling to. Instead, the film functions as a vibe-heavy road movie. It’s a hazy journey through the desert that feels exactly like the era it was born in—unfiltered, aimless, and slightly hungover. Whether that’s your jam or a total drag depends entirely on how much you value vibe over plot. As they say, your mileage may vary.

Also known as Scream… and Die!, Please! Don’t Go in the Bedroom and Psycho Sex Fiend, this José Ramón Larraz movie has some amazing taglines like “Are You Planning an Affair? We Can Give You 7 Good Reasons Not to Have Your Next Affair at The House That Vanished, And They’re All DEAD!! 1. George 2. Marsha 3. Ted 4. Linda 5. Ronnie 6. Alice 7. Larry” and “Is it too soon to talk about ’72…that time Paul and Valerie fell in love at first sight and began searching for a place to have an affair — and they kept searching until they found…The House That Vanished.” I mean, they did tell us that it was “In the Great HITCHCOCK Tradition!”

Picked up by American-International Pictures in the U.S., trimmed by 15 minutes and given a really similar campaign – actually, it’s the exact same — as The Last House On the Left, this finds Larraz playing with his favorite toys: fashionable women in danger, pervy photographers, houses in the London countryside, sexual menace and murder. He kept going back to this well for a bit before throwing Satanism into the stew and, if anything, increasing the sheer levels of filth in his movies. And we were all the better for it.

Valerie Jennings (Andrea Allan) is one of those gorgeous women continually threatened by nearly every frame of this movie, starting when she and her photographer boyfriend Terry (Alex Leppard) travel to a shuttered hovel of a home deep in the London woods, a place that’s empty save for a room filled with women’s passports. As they hide in a closet when a new couple arrives, they don’t get to enjoy watching them make love; instead, the male dispatches the female with a switchblade. She runs, and Terry does too, but she never finds him, narrowly escaping to the safety of the big city.

She finds Terry’s car and a modeling portfolio with one image of a girl missing. She asks her friends Mike (Lawrence Keane) and Stella (Annabella Wood) what to do next, but they tell her that she and Terry have committed a crime and need not tell the police. Meanwhile, Mike introduces her to Paul (Karl Lanchbury, a Larraz villain in numerous entries), a mask maker who invites her to dinner with his aunt Susanna (Maggie Walker). If you’ve seen enough Larraz movies by now, you know that the aunt and nephew are soon to engage in the act of darkness.

Life starts falling apart, as Terry’s car keeps disappearing and reappearing; Valerie’s roommate Lorna (Judy Matheson) — who also sleeps nude with her pet monkey — is assaulted and killed, an old man with pigeons moves in downstairs and when she heads out of town to meet with Paul again, she realizes that his house is the same abandoned house she’s been in before thanks to the strange taxidermy inside. Seriously, if you go on a date and someone has a lot of taxidermy, please run.

There, she finds the bodies of those missing, and Paul’s aunt appears and demands that he kill Valerie. He responds by stabbing her as our heroine runs outside screaming, directly into the police, while Paul just sits in the void.

Writer Derek Ford also wrote The Legend of Spider Forest, Secret Rites, Corruption (which is not a women’s picture) and Don’t Open Till Christmas, as well as directing I Am a Groupie, Blood Tracks, The Urge to Kill and The Girl from Starship Venus.

Larraz comes from Spain to England to make movies that seem like they’re from Italy that have their origins in Germany and England. If that doesn’t make you look at his movies, then I have no hope for you.

You’ve never seen more! Let us prove it to you when the monsters meet the girls! The nudies meet the nasties! No monster ever had it so good! See Frankenstein do the twist with Miss Hollywood! The gayest girlie spree of all time! Everything’s off when the horror boys meet Granny Good’s girls! The biggest bevy of beauties ever laid before your eyes! For adults only!

Get ready for 62 minutes of sheer wildness as directed by Lee Frost and Wes Bishop. If you wonder, with scumbags — and I say that term with the utmost of respect, admiration and love — like this were at the wheel, how far away was Harry Novak? Oh, he was there. He was there.

Granny Good’s School for Good Girls is really a front for girls to get naked and make booze for Granny Good, who is played by producer Bob Cresse. She also employs a werewolf named Krakow. Yes. A werewolf. And when the girls throw a party, that’s when Dracula and Frankenstein’s Monster show up.

Ann Perry, who plays Sally in this, was originally going to be a nun before she met her first husband, Ron Myers. After starting her career in Cresse’s softcore films, she moved into hardcore and started her own production company, Evolution Enterprises, in the 1970’s, becoming one of the only women to write, direct, and produce her own hardcore movies. She was also the first female president of the Adult Film Association of America (AFAA).

The adult films of 1962 are incredibly odd affairs today, featuring little to no sex and mostly women taking off their clothes and doing things like reading topless. I find them incredibly charming, almost time capsules of a more innocent time, a place where small movies like this could find an audience of raincoaters who found something, anything erotic in what we would now see as just plain silly.

Because of strict censorship laws, these films often featured “nudist colony” logic. People could be naked, but they couldn’t be doing anything. This led to topless reading or a werewolf watching girls dance.

Sadly for Frost and Cresse, the advent of hardcore would put an end to their films. Then again, Frost would go on to produce and direct one of the oddest — and roughest — films of the golden age of adult films, A Climax of Blue Power. He kept working right up until 1995’s direct-to-video softcore thriller Private Obsession. I’d also recommend his mondo films Witchcraft ’70 and Mondo Bizarro. Oh yeah! He also directed The Thing With Two Heads and The Black Gestapo. He also made Love Camp Seven, which features Cresse as the commander of a German prison camp. Wow. I know more about Lee Frost than some members of my family.

You can download this on the Internet Archive. Even better, Nicolas Winding Refn’s ByNWR site has a fully cleaned-up version straight from the director’s archive. Man, I want to sit down and talk to that dude someday.

While many “Euro-horror” films of the 70s feel like fever dreams, Horror Express (originally titled Pánico en el Transiberiano) is a remarkably tight, imaginative, and eerie locked-room mystery. It’s a film where the science is baffling, the religion is terrifying, and the mustache on Christopher Lee is legendary as he played Professor Sir Alexander Saxton — or is that Sir Professor — a British anthropologist taking the Trans-Siberian Express from Shanghai to Moscow. He’s not alone. He has the frozen remains of a caveman he found in Manchuria, which he believes are the missing link. Peter Cushing plays his rival, Dr. Wells, who is also on board.

The creature, however, isn’t just a caveman. It’s a vessel for an ancient, formless extraterrestrial that absorbs memories and knowledge through its victims’ eyes, leaving them with milky-white orbs and smooth brains. As the body count rises, the train becomes a claustrophobic pressure cooker involving a Russian Count and Countess, a mad monk named Pujardov and an alien that eventually decides a zombie uprising is the best way to catch its ride home.

Captain Kazan (Telly Savalas) is able to stop it for some time, but Pujardov believes that the alien is Satan and pledges his soul to it, allowing himself to be possessed. Then, it raises all of the past victims as zombies.

Phillip Yordan supposedly made this movie because he had bought the miniature train from the film Nicholas and Alexandra. Director Eugenio Martín said,  “He came up with the idea of writing a script just so he would be able to use this prop. Now, at that time, Phil was in the habit of buying up loads of short stories to adapt into screenplays, and the story for Horror Express was originally based on a tale written by a little-known American scriptwriter and playwright.”

However, producer Bernard Gordon, who also worked with Martin and Savalas on Pancho Villa, claimed that the train was made for that movie.

Lee and Cushing were the big draw for this movie, but Cushing nearly quit, as this was made during the first holiday season since the loss of his wife, Helen. According to an article by Ted Newsome, “Hollywood Exile: Bernard Gordon, Sci Fi’s Secret Screenwriter,” Lee fixed this by placing Cushing at ease, “talking to his old friend about some of their previous work together; Cushing changed his mind and stayed on.” It’s also said that he suffered from night terrors, so Lee would sleep in the same bed as him.

If you grew up watching this on late-night TV or a $5 bargain-bin VHS, you likely remember it as incredibly dark and muddy. This was less an artistic choice and more a legal hostage situation. Because the U.S. distributor, Scotia International, came up $50,000 short on the budget payment, the original camera negative was impounded in Spain. For decades, American audiences were watching bootleg quality prints struck from the workprint, obscuring the film’s actually quite handsome cinematography.

Of all the great things about this movie, the fact that they can look inside a caveman’s mind and see dinosaurs is the most charming.

Also: As we all know, Phillip Yordan also made the best train movie of all time, Night Train to Terror.

You can watch this on YouTube.

“It’s illegal…it’s immoral…and it’s so damned good!”

In the 1970s—hell, well into the late 80s—my grandfather drove an El Camino. He kept that beast in working condition long after most had been reclaimed by the earth, even if it eventually became more Bondo and black primer than actual Chevrolet steel. He loved that car with a religious fervor, so he’d be thrilled to see Eddie Joe Rodgers (Gil Gerard, TV’s Buck Rogers) tear-assing through the North Carolina backwoods, delivering moonshine in that same iconic silhouette.

In the grease-stained world of old-time bootleggers, Eddie Joe is a dangerous anomaly: a “go-getter.” He’s too fast, too bold, and he’s cutting into the established margins. He’s such a disruption to the local ecosystem that the reigning kingpin, Old Bill (William T. Hicks, the ubiquitous face of the Earl Owensby cinematic universe, which is very much a real thing), decides to break the sacred code of the hills. Instead of a local hit, Bill invites the “big city” mob—led by a young, menacing Danny Aiello—into town to liquidate the competition.

Sure, the sheriff (Mike Allen) would like to do something about it, but seeing how Eddie Joe is sleeping with both Old Bill’s daughter, Jamie Sue (Melody Rogers, who would go on to be Zack Morris’ mom) and his daughter, Ginnie (Erika Fox), does he even want to?

Director Edward Mann had an interesting career. He started as a cartoonist, syndicated for decades, and was a force in the cultural growth of Woodstock. He’d go on to direct and write several movies, including Island of Terror, Cauldron of Blood, The Mutations, Hallucination Generation and Seizure. 

The talent behind the camera is just as eclectic as the cast. Director Edward Mann had a career trajectory that defies logic. He was a syndicated cartoonist for decades and a pivotal figure in the cultural explosion of Woodstock. His filmography reads like a fever dream of cult cinema: Island of Terror, The Mutations, and Hallucination Generation.

Then there’s Gil Gerard, who didn’t just star in this. He co-wrote it. Gerard’s real life was a masterclass in “faking it ’til you make it.” After dropping out of college, he somehow bluffed his way into becoming an industrial chemist and a regional VP. When the firm asked for his Master’s degree, he didn’t confess; he just moved to NYC to drive a taxi and act. This film — which he also co-produced — served as his auteur-style calling card for Hollywood, leading him straight to the 25th Century as Buck Rogers. 

When I was a kid, he and Connie Sellecca were a power couple before she left Gil for John Tesh. 15-year-old me never got over that and also doesn’t understand that she didn’t marry Tesh until five years later, which still doesn’t explain me being irrationally mad at the composer of “Roundball Rock.”

The deputy in this is Worth Keeter, who would go on to make plenty of movies of his own, like Unmasking the Idol, Living Legend: The King of Rock and Roll, Snapdragon, and so many episodes of Power Rangers. Of course, this was made in Shelby, NC, at Earl Owensby Studios.

IMDbs often lazily claims that The Dukes of Hazzard remade this. That’s a total fabrication. While they share the same DNA of fast cars and corrupt lawmen, they are simply two different branches of the hicksploitation tree (they’re likely thinking of Moonrunners).

This is an entirely grittier, weirder beast. It’s at once Gerard making a movie where he writes, acts, sings and romances, while also being a hicksploitation film with authentic regional accents and a story perfect for the drive-ins that it would play at. I mean, how can you not appreciate a movie where a character asks her stuffed bear for romantic advice, only for the scene to veer into some of the most uncomfortable teddy bear intimacy ever committed to celluloid?

You can watch this on The Cave of Forgotten Films.

“If that’s Charles Bronson, ask him if his tallywacker wants some poontang!”

For that line alone, I stayed with this movie.

If you ever wondered what Grease would look like if it were shot in a weekend by people who primarily worked in the adult industry, Patrick Wright’s Hollywood High is your answer. Wright, a man usually cast as “Large Truck Driver #2” in exploitation flicks, takes the director’s chair here to deliver a disjointed, sun-drenched, and largely topless day in the life of the most delinquent students in Tinseltown.

Jan (Susanne Severeid, Don’t Answer the Phone) Candy (Sherry Hardin, Ten Violent Women), Monica (Rae Sperling) and Bebe (Marcy Albrecht) spend most of this movie topless and smoking the stickiest of the icky with Frasier Mendoza, hooking up with the Fenz (Kevin Mead; guess who he’s supposed to be) and Buzz (Joseph Butcher, not far removed from playing the latter side of Bigfoot and Wildboy), hanging out with sex symbol of the past June East (yes, Mae West, but played by Marla Winters), having classes with stereotype teachers like the mincing Mr. Flowers (Hy Pyke, Grandpa from Hack-O-Lantern) and the overly horny Miss Crotch (Kress Hytes) when they’re not being chased by a cop, who they eventually hit with a watermelon and take his pants off, revealing that he’s wearing lingerie.

Turner Classic Movies notes the existence of an unrelated 30-minute television pilot, also debuting in 1977, for a prospective series. It featured Annie Potts and aired as part of NBC’s Comedy Time.  It also spawned an unrelated sequel (Hollywood High 2), proving that there is always a market for teens in trouble as long as the cast remains unencumbered by shirts.

For the film historians hiding among the exploitation fans, there is one genuine highlight: a crisp, 1970s shot of the Cinerama Dome in its prime. It’s a brief moment of architectural dignity in a movie that otherwise features people stealing pants and smoking out of makeshift bongs.

You can watch this on Tubi.

Before the internet made celebrity downfall a 24-hour commodity, there was Kenneth Anger’s Hollywood Babylon. First published in the U.S. in 1965 and promptly banned for a decade, the book was a psychedelic fever dream of Tinseltown’s “true” history. When it finally returned to shelves in 1975, it brought with it the grisly receipts: the mangled wreckage of Jayne Mansfield’s Buick, the tragic stillness of Carole Landis, and the horrific, bisected remains of Elizabeth Short (The Black Dahlia).

Anger, a filmmaker and devotee of Aleister Crowley, viewed Hollywood through an occult lens, popularizing the quote “Every man and every woman is a star.” He traded in urban legends like a currency: Clara Bow and the entire USC football team (including a young John Wayne) or the myth of Mansfield’s decapitation. Most of it was debunked long ago, but as the saying goes: “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”

The book led to a sequel and a 1992 syndicated series hosted by Tony Curtis.

But before that, there was this, an unauthorized film.

Directed by Van Guylder (The Bang Bang Gang and a later sequel, Hollywood Babylon II, taken from the TV show) and written by L.K. Farbella, this plays just as loose with reality as its inspiration. Fatty Arbuckle was exonerated for the death of Virginia Rappe and paid for it with his career. Here, he gets away with assaulting her with a bottle of champagne. Rudolph Valentino inspired gay clubs and had a fondness for butch women. Erich von Stroheim got off watching women get whipped. And yes, Clara Bow wears out those Trojans. The football players, if not the rubbers, because they all went in bareback.

Yes, Olive Thomas killed herself, but she died in a hospital instead of a hotel room. Wallace Reid was probably addicted to drugs before this movie claims that he was. Charlie Chaplin slept with Lita Grey when she was 15, but did he have other women give him fellatio while she watched, so that he could train her to never have actual sex with him again? And why does no one look like the actors they’re supposed to be, and while this mentions nearly everyone, it gets shy about William Randolph Hearst?

Yet for fans of 70s exploitation, the cast is a who’s who of the era’s “it” girls. Uschi Digard—the queen of the Super-Vixens—is present, which for many viewers is the only endorsement needed. You also get Jane Ailyson (The Godson and A Clock Work Blue taking the whip and Suzanne Fields (Dale Ardor from  Flesh Gordon) lighting up a party scene.

That narration — listen to this prose: “This was Hollywood, once considered a suburb of sprawling Los Angeles – destined, perhaps doomed, to become its very heart. In 1916, however, it was just a junction of dirt roads and a scattering of orange groves. If there was sin, it was not to be seen. Scandalous sin that is, for what was going on at the studio on Sunset Boulevard was merely play-acting, a Babylonian orgy involving hundreds, nay thousands of actors and extras, portraying the doom of Belshazzar. This passion play, D.W. Griffith’s most ambitious epic, was titled “Intolerance,” and it set the tone for Tinseltown… something to live up to, something to live down. The shadow of Babylon had fallen over Hollywood. Scandal was waiting just out of camera range.”

There is a masterpiece to be made from Anger’s book, a surrealist, high-budget exploration of the dark energy beneath the palm trees. Ideally, Anger himself would have directed it. Instead, we have this: a rare specimen of a movie that contains all the ingredients for a riotous time: scandal, nudity, and historical blasphemy.

Yet somehow manages to be a bit of a slog. It is a “Babylonian orgy” that feels more like a long afternoon at a dusty swap meet.

If you’re looking for the exact moment the “Summer of Love” curdled into a ditch of despair, look no further than this output from the husband-and-wife filmmaking duo Beverly and Fred Sebastian. The same pair that gave us the swampy vengeance of ’Gator Bait and the heavy-metal slasher Rocktober Blood decided to take a stab at social relevance and, in typical Sebastian fashion, they used a rusted scalpel.

The film stars Misty Rowe (the bubbly blonde icon from Hee-Haw) as Maggie, a small-town girl who discovers she’s pregnant and decides that running away is her only prenatal plan. She quickly trades her rural innocence for the asphalt jungle, falling in with a group of hippies who are less about peace and love and more about crime.

What are they living for? To finance a school bus and live their nomadic dream.

How are they gonna do it? By seducing and robbing truck drivers.

For the first half, it plays like a lighthearted road movie with lots of flashing panties to secure rides and the kind of carefree hitchhiking montages that make you forget the era was actually crawling with serial killers. But then, at the switch of a reel, the vibes are assaulted by a gruesome, back-alley abortion scene. It’s a jarring, visceral sequence that feels like it belongs in a completely different film, designed to shock the audience out of their seats (or backseat, if they’re still watching). By the final act, our fun hippy family has gone the way of Manson, as the social consciousness remembers that it’s in an exploitation film.

Somewhere in here, there was a good movie, but the Sebastians aren’t the people to make it. I mean, they try to make a message movie while all we want are frolicking moments of stealing cash from truckers and making it on the road.

I guess in a way, this is a very realistic film about the seventies.

You can watch this on Tubi.

PS: Thanks to Alan for noticing I had the wrong poster art.

“Did you mean to review Amos Sefer’s The Hitchhiker which is known as An American Hippie in Israel? Either the photo for the review for The Hitchhikers is wrong or you reviewed the wrong film. You have no credibility. Bad enough you plagiarizer copy from everywhere with click bait visual vengeance buy now posts. Now images that dont go with the film.”

Thanks!

Wes Craven’s second full-length film — if we don’t include the porn film The Fireworks Woman that he directed as Abe Snake — is a trip through the Nevada desert that he wrote, produced and directed. You can see it as straight-forward narrative or you can choose to see it as a parable on how man will always be inhuman to other men.

The Carter family really gets it in this one. After being targeted by a family of cannibal savages in the Nevada desert, the family’s leader Big Bob is crucified to a tree, the daughter Brenda is raped, numerous members are shot and stabbed and also killed, one of the family dogs is killed and even the baby is threatened with being a meal.

But they retaliate with just as much inhumanity as they battle back against the desert clan of Papa Jupiter, Pluto (Michael Berryman!) and Jupiter. Even the second family dog joins in and takes out his rage on the mutant clan.

The idea of an irradiated gang in the desert is intriguing and was inspired by the Sawney Bean clan in 1600’s Scotland, which claimed the lives of nearly 1,000 people.

Additionally, Craven was inspired by The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and ended up making a film that — in my opinion — lives in its shadow. Interestingly enough, the films share product design from Robert Burns, as well as some of the exact same animal parts that decorate the homes of each film’s cannibal lairs.

There’s a sequel, a remake and a sequel to that as well. In the late 1980’s, Craven even debated a third movie that was to be set in space, while his 1995 film produced for HBO, Mind Ripper, was originally intended as the third film in the series.

Cugini Carnali translates as First Cousins, but this movie was also titled The Visitor, Hot and Bothered, La Prima, Loving Cousins, and High School Girl.

This is the story of Nico d’Altamura (Alredo Pea, who was also in two other commedia sexy all’italiana, the Dagmar Lassander-starring Classe Mista and the Edwige Fenech movie The School Teacher), who is a shy sixteen-year-old who falls in love with his city-born cousin Sonia (Susan Player, Invasion of the Bee Girls, Malibu Beach).

This comes from director Sergio Martino, who you may know better from his early 70s master class on making giallo — Your Vice Is a Locked Room, and Only I Have the Key, All the Colors of the Dark, Torso, The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh, The Case of the Scorpion’s Tail — or his sexy bedroom movies with Edwige Fenech.

Nico comes from a more provincial family than Sonia, and while his parents are strict, they have their secrets. His father is sleeping with the family maid (Rosalba Neri, Lady Frankenstein) and also waiting for their uncle to die, but he keeps alive either out of spite or to keep sleeping with prostitutes. When Sonia comes to town, she causes a scandal by wearing miniskirts to church and sunbathing nude, but let’s face it, Nico has no idea what he’s in for.

Martino was a genre hopper. The year after this movie, he made two poliziotteschi (Gambling City and Silent Action), a giallo (The Suspicious Death of a Minor), and Sex With a Smile, which features Barbara Bouchet, Fenech, and Marty Feldman. This may not be his best movie, but it’s not his worst.