ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Jennifer Upton is an American (non-werewolf) writer/editor in London. She currently works as a freelance ghostwriter of personal memoirs and writes for several blogs on topics as diverse as film history, punk rock, women’s issues, and international politics. For links to her work, please visit https://www.jennuptonwriter.com or send her a Tweet @Jennxldn

It’s rare for me to expel an audible groan at the end of a movie. 

Especially if it’s a movie starring William Smith released in 1972. 

With The Runaway, I did just that. Not because it’s a terrible movie. Far from it.  

The film is a mixed bag of loathsome events, and ‘70s anti-gay sentiment portrayed by competent filmmakers and skilled actors. 

Ricki (Gilda Texter) is a 17-year-old virgin runaway who leaves her unhappy rural desert home in search of a friend named Roger Jordan in California. A man she barely knows, but whom she trusts because he never tried to hit on her. 

During her first 24 hours of hitchhiking, the precarious reality of her new situation is explained via a folksy ballad played over a montage of Ricki fighting back against a string of guys with sexual assault on the brain. Each time, she fights back, proving herself to be a likable, capable protagonist. 

Enter Frank (William Smith), a lonely, drunk private eye hired to find the runaway heiress to a wealthy family. Frank and Ricki strike up a friendship forged in the shared experience of life’s miseries and adorned with creepy sexual tension despite their age difference of at least 25 years. 

In Venice Beach, California, Ricki meets only one nice person. A traveling musician who helps her score money for phone calls and food. Everyone else wants something from her. After sleeping in an alley, she takes up with up with some hippies who take her to their swinging upstairs pad and dose her with acid, so she moves downstairs into the resident hooker’s pad. 

Prostitute Lorri (played wonderfully by Rita Murray) is a lesbian who falls for Ricki hard. She’s supposed to be predatory (as evidenced by the longing stares), but from the vantage point of 2023, she comes off more lonely than anything else. Perhaps it’s Ricki who leads Lorri on and takes advantage of her hospitality. 

Lorri not only takes Ricki to the beach where the two share a fun day frolicking naked in the seaweed, but she also lets Ricki live with her rent free, buys all the food and cooks all the meals, only to be spurned after they successfully hook up because Ricki is still struggling with the idea that coming out means living a life of always being different. A daunting prospect in 1972. Ricki wants a “nice” life. Whatever the hell that means. 

From here, the movie really ramps up the animosity towards its leading lady. 

In the worst scene of the whole affair, Ricki attempts to hook up with a random guy recommended by one hippy. Even for 1972 this scene is just wrong. There’s no discussion of whether Ricki even finds the guy attractive. It’s just “Hi, come on in, have some coke,” and the dude hops on like a bunny in spring. Of course, it doesn’t work (because that’s not how female arousal works regardless of sexual orientation) and Ricki flees the scene. 

She re-connects with Frank who takes her to the last known address of her friend Roger Jordan. The vaunted man we never get to see but whom Ricki believes will solve all her problems. It turns out Roger never hit on her because he’s gay, too, having stolen the Vicuna sweater of his last lover before peacing out to San Francisco. 

Meanwhile, Lorri is revealed to be the missing heiress, cast in the mold of Warhol superstar Edie Sedgwick whose rebellion stems from an abusive upbringing. We’re told that her father has died and left her a great deal of money, but otherwise her story ends there. Did she ever find love? I’d love to see a sequel focused on this character. 

The next WTF moment occurs when Ricki asks Frank to deflower her. You know… to see if maybe she’ll like sex with a man she trusts. Again, there’s no discussion of whether she fancies him. It’s just assumed that she’ll like it no matter what man she’s with if she can just get past her personal hang-ups. Because of course, it’s all in her head. Sigh. 

Never mind that he’s drunk and old enough to be her father. Frank’s love-making skills are apparently so good that Ricki overcomes her fear of men and is now free to explore a relationship with the nice hippie boy who helped her score food money earlier in the film. Holy shit. 

The final song plays over a long shot of the new couple walking along the beach. “Ohhhh, Ricki…Please let me open your eyes to the magic inside you. You don’t need a disguise. For you’re a woman, Ricki! A full out woman, Ricki!” Holy shit. Again. 

I’m normally not a journalist who scrutinizes old movies through a lens of modern sensibility. I believe every film is of its time and place. That’s the best way to watch The Runaway. The acting and directing are solid. Texter, Murray, and Smith are all given adequate screen time to portray complex characters trying to navigate their way through a cruel, unforgiving world. But, be warned. The overall message is so incredibly outdated that you too might groan during the end credits. 

If you really want to find out, you can watch it in its entirety here: https://youtu.be/yR_D9ss9y5k

EDITOR’S NOTE: Asylum was on the CBS Late Movie on May 29, 1974 and August 20, 1976.

My real job is to write copy for marketing. I’ve been at it for over twenty years, and no matter how many great taglines I see in commercials, nothing moves me more than the copy that has sold my favorite movies. The words that sell Asylum are very special to me:

“Come to the Asylum…to get killed!”

The best lines make you say, “And then?” Or even better, “Why?” Why would I come to the Asylum? Why would I want to get killed? I need to know more. I need to watch this movie.

Asylum is a movie of pedigree. It comes from Amicus, the studio that made portmanteau horror their toast and baked beans. It’s written by Psycho author Robert Bloch, who based the script on several short stories. And it’s directed by Roy Ward Baker, whose films Quatermass and the Pit, The Vampire Lovers and The Vault of Horror belong in every media collection.

You know the narrative structure if you’ve seen an Amicus anthology film. Generally, unrelated people come together, tell their stories and realize that they’re either dead, in hell, or dead and in hell. Then, the narrator points to the camera and says something to the effect of “You’re next!”

Asylum breaks the mold by presenting its tales within a secluded home for the incurably insane. Dr. Martin arrives to interview for a position when he’s met by Dr. Lionel Rutherford, who is in a wheelchair thanks to an attack by inmate Dr. Starr, who was once the head of the place! If Dr. Martin can deduce exactly who Starr is from a series of patients, the job is his.

The first tale, “Frozen Fear,” is a very by-the-numbers EC Comics affair, with butcher paper-wrapped body parts suddenly finding a life of their own.

Yet, “The Weird Tailor” is when Asylum picks up speed and runs toward brilliance. A tailor, on the cusp of losing his shop, accepts a strange job from an even stranger man, played by Peter Cushing. There’s a feeling I get when Peter Wilton Cushing, OBE, appears on screen. It’s a return to childhood, remembering afternoons and late evenings watching endless Hammer movies with no adult cares and that moment of excitement when I recognized him in Star Wars. Here, as a man who has lost his son — Cushing was no stranger to loss, never getting over the death of his wife — he implores the tailor to create a suit for him, one with instructions that must be followed without question. The denouement of this episode still gets me every single time. This is pre-CGI practical magic creating sorcery on celluloid, an utter moment of strange beauty mixed with otherworldly dread.

The ending of “Lucy Comes to Stay” can be defined in the first few moments, but when you have Britt Ekland and Charlotte Rampling on screen together, something so trivial as an easy-to-divine twist is simple to get over.

“Mannikins of Horror” is a masterclass in unexpected twists. Soul transference and eerie toys converge to create a nightmare within the asylum’s four walls. And just when you think you’ve seen it all, the reveal of Dr. Starr will leave even the most seasoned fright fans stunned. Remember – nobody gets out of the Asylum unscathed. The unexpected twists in this tale will keep you guessing and gasping until the very end.

Despite owning thousands of DVDs and Blu-rays, Asylum always finds its way into our home’s player at least once a month. Why? Because it never loses its unique edge. How many films do you know that feature small robots filled with noodle-like guts stabbing doctors with scalpels, while glowing suit-wearing mannequins stalk the screen? And how many manage to combine these frightening moments with an ongoing theme of mankind’s tenuous grasp on sanity and identity? Asylum is a rare gem that accomplishes both, and it’s a film you won’t want to miss.

NOTE: This article originally ran on Horror and Sons.

BONUS: You can listen to the podcast we made about this film!

EDITOR’S NOTE: Whoever Slew Auntie Roo? aired on the CBS Late Movie on October 31, 1973 and March 8 and June 1, 1976.

Following the success of What’s the Matter with Helen?, Curtis Harrington directed this intriguing psycho-biddy film. In it, Mrs. Rosie Forrest (Shelley Winters), the Aunty Roo of the title, is known by the children of a local orphanage as a kindly old lady who throws a huge Christmas party every single year for them. However, the truth is far more sinister. She’s obsessed with her dead daughter Katharine, whose mummified body lies in state in her attic so Aunty Roo can sing lullabies to her every night.

Mark Lester and Chloe Franks from The House That Dripped Blood play Christopher and Katy Coombs, two orphans who find themselves in Roo’s clutches. She believes that Katy might be her daughter, and the story takes a turn that’s reminiscent of the classic Hansel and Gretel tale, adding an intriguing layer to the narrative.

Ralph Richardson plays Mr. Benton, a fake psychic who tries to help Aunty Roo connect to the spirit of her long-departed daughter.

The early 70s are filled with what I call enjoyable junk. This would be one of those films with Winters practically devouring the scenery. It makes an outstanding double bill with the aforementioned What’s the Matter with Helen?, which is the superior of the two films. While Whoever Slew Auntie Roo? shares some thematic and stylistic similarities, it stands out for its more compelling narrative and character development.