Review #1,375: 'Phase IV' (1974)

Graphic designer Saul Bass was best known for his work with movie title sequences and posters, working with the likes of Otto Preminger, Alfred Hitchcock and Martin Scorsese over a career spanning more than four decades. When he was offered the chance to direct a film himself, he jumped at the opportunity. The poster for his directorial debut, Phase IV, boasted of "ravenous invaders controlled by a terror out in space... commanded to annihilate the world!" At first glance, it would seem this is your basic B-movie fare about killer ants taking over the world, but Bass set his ambitions much higher, with Walon Green and Ed Spiegel's Oscar-winning documentary The Hellstrom Chronicle a huge inspiration for the project. The result is a strange mixture of Hellstrom and 2001: A Space Odyssey, and is as engrossing as it is frustrating.

After an unexplained cosmic event, scientists have started noticing strange behaviour within the insect kingdom, with a rapid decline in ant predators such as spiders and birds, and huge monolithic towers popping up everywhere in desert regions. There has been heavy ant activity in Arizona, and their sheer numbers and aggression have resulted in the evacuation of whole towns. Scientists Ernest D. Hubbs (Nigel Davenport) and James Lesko (Michael Murphy) are sent to the area to study the insects' behaviour, erecting a huge dome in the desert to conduct their experiments. They have different plans to tackle the ants, with Hubbs seeking a way to eradicate them completely, and Lesko developing methods of communication to try and understand their motivation. A chemical spray takes many ant casualties, and it soon turns to war. However, the humans get more than they bargained for when the super-intelligent creatures come up with ways to fight back, including building structures capable of deflecting sunlight onto the dome to slowly cook their enemies alive. 

The premise is silly enough to warrant the film a place in the bargain bin, but Bass and writer Mayo Simon (Futureworld) take the subject matter seriously, hoping to capture the imagination of a 70's audience hungry for new ideas within science-fiction. A lot of time is spent with the ants in extreme close-up, and these scenes are some of the film's most hypnotic. We watch their strange behaviour in incredible detail, as they plan, evolve, and mourn. One moment sees a soldier line up the dead bodies of its comrades in what appears to be some kind of funeral procession. Things become more formulaic when the action returns to Hubbs and Lesko, with the introduction of an unnecessary romantic sub-plot involving Lesko and Kendra (Lynne Frederick) - the latter the only survivor of a family taken out by the scientists' chemical distribution - occasionally grinding the story to a halt. These niggles aside, Phase IV is a sprawling visual feast designed for the thinking man, leaving many unanswered questions which shroud the film in mystery. How have the ants evolved so quickly, and what's their beef with humanity? We don't get to know, but it's pretty scary to ponder. Studio tampering saw the film cut and the ending changed, which soured Bass to the extent that he would never make another feature. It's a damn shame, as there was real promise here. 

Directed by: Saul Bass

Starring: Nigel Davenport, Michael Murphy, Lynne Frederick, Alan Gifford

Country: UK/USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,342: 'Hearts and Minds' (1974)

Although Western involvement in the Vietnam War ultimately drew to a close over 40 years ago, the spectre of the bloody, brutal and still divisive conflict still looms over the U.S. and the country's current involvement in foreign affairs. The title of Peter Davis' highly affecting documentary is taken from a quote by then-President Lyndon B. Johnson: "the ultimate victory will depend on the hearts and minds of the people who actually live out there." The film opens with archive footage of this speech, and proceeds to show a country eventually devastated by napalm, Agent Orange and an assortment of other weapons designed to inflict maximum damage. The people became an afterthought in the quest to distinguish the 'Commie threat'. Hearts and Minds is blatant propaganda, but its raw power is undeniable.

The film had a difficult road to winning the Best Documentary prize at the 1974 Academy Awards, namely due to Columbia Pictures withdrawing their desire to distribute the feature after one of the interviewees, former National Security Advisor Walt Rostow, claimed that his participation had been misrepresented and his words taken out of context. The producers eventually purchased back the rights to the film, and ran it for just one week in theatres (the minimum time required to be eligible for awards season). It's legacy understandably invites mixed responses, with many criticising the one-sidedness of the film's views, the clever film-making techniques, and the lack of context given to those who may defend U.S. involvement in Vietnam, or be actively in favour of it. This is particularly noticeable when documenting former POW George Coker's return to his home country, where his vocal disdain for the Vietnamese race is documented without taking into account the terrible treatment he no doubt suffered at their hands.

Davis clearly has an agenda, and uses propaganda tools to make his point. The most powerful of which is the rather sickening view of General William Westmoreland that life on the Orient is cheap, while images of a grieving wife attempting to throw herself onto her dead husband's coffin are juxtaposed with the interview. Soldiers who went into the war with a hatred for the enemy they didn't know soon lost their hunger and started to question their involvement, especially after seeing many of their comrades lose their lives and the grisly effects their chemical weapons were inflicting on innocent children. Hearts and Minds succeeds in capturing the turning point in the war for the people at home in the U.S., when attitudes started to shift as it became clear their government didn't have a clue how to win it and the pro-peace movement erupted across the country. The archive images pack incredible power, and the interviews with veterans are undeniably moving, especially when the camera reveals the lasting effects the conflict has had on them. This is documentary film-making at its most complex and admittedly biased, but regardless of your opinion going into the picture, it will certainly leave you questioning events and wondering if any lessons have been learnt.


Directed by: Peter Davis
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,264: 'The Streetfighter's Last Revenge' (1974)

In Tony Scott's True Romance, from a screenplay by Quentin Tarantino, Christian Slater's Clare Worley takes his date to the movies to see Sonny Chiba's Streetfighter trilogy. When he is questioned about Chiba's questionable 'heroics', Worley responds that, "he ain't so much a good guy as he is just a bad motherfucker." A long-time fan, Tarantino hits the nail on the head here (he would go on to cast his idol in the Kill Bill films). While Bruce Lee was wowing the world with the speed and agility of the martial arts, Sonny Chiba was demonstrating its brutal, more unforgiving side. In The Streetfighter's Last Revenge, Chiba's anti-hero Takuma Tsurugi is at his most sadistic. He may have punched a guy's eyeballs out of his head in the previous instalment, but here he calmly burns a thug alive in an incinerator.

Much of the appeal of Chiba's movies lies with his sneering approach to the ancient arts, where he is far more comfortable sadistically beating a bad guy to a bloody pulp than he is with finding inner peace. This trilogy-closer has upped his mean streak, and made things a hell of a long weirder. The Streetfighter was excellent, Return of the Streetfighter was passable, and The Streetfighter's Last Revenge comes across as a bunch of scenes discarded from the previous movies for being too bonkers. Not only is Tsurugi a near-unstoppable punch, kick and throw machine, but he now dons Mission: Impossible-esque face masks to disguise his identity, and at one point bears vampire fangs for unexplained reasons. There's also a villain even James Bond would chuckle at: A mafia hitman who dresses like a mariachi with a giant sombrero and shoots invisible laser beams out of his hands.

The plot itself is incredibly simple. Tsurugi is hired to rescue Go Owada (Akira Shioji) from a police riot in exchange for a hefty payment. When he goes to collect his loot, he is handed a bag of cut-up newspaper and is attacked by the Owada family's men. Furious, he decides to take revenge on the gangsters. There's also a stolen tape and a master foe in Kunagami (Koji Wada). Noticeably less violent than the previous entries, this third feature shares more in common with a spy film than the martial arts genre. As a result, it's less fun, and only manages to pique the interest when at its most idiosyncratic and just plain daft. It's also nice to see exploitation icon Reiko Ike in a supporting role as Chiba's wannabe sidekick. But ultimately, Last Revenge stutters through a threadbare story, failing to deliver the sort of gory chopsocky that made the original so wonderful. Clearly the weakest of the trilogy.


Directed by: Shigehiro Ozawa
Starring: Sonny Chiba, Reiko Ike, Etsuko Shiomi, Yutaka Nakamura
Country: Japan

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,229: 'Lady Snowblood: Love Song of Vengeance' (1974)

Based on the manga comic by Kazuo Koike, 1973's Lady Snowblood is a simplistic rape-revenge thriller, pitting one woman with a mastery of swordsmanship against a hoard of faceless and disposable foes standing in her way. Opening with snow falling on darkness, Toshiya Fujita's film is also incredibly beautiful, offering a variety of strikingly colourful images, more often than not spattered with blood red. Stills from the movie could be framed and hung on your wall, but the main joy to be had is with its narrative simplicity and thrilling swordplay. The sight of Meiko Kaji slicing down one baddie after the next combined with her thirst for revenge propelled Lady Snowblood to exploitation royalty.

The sequel came the very next year, and like most successes in which the hero achieves their goal and nicely wraps up the story, the only option going forward is to broaden the scope and give the protagonist a new mission. This approach is rarely successful, and Lady Snowblood: Love Song of Vengeance struggles to recapture the magic of its predecessor. With Snowblood a wanted woman, she is mercilessly pursued by the police until she eventually throws down her sword to prevent further bloodshed. Sentence to death, she is saved from the noose by Seishiro Kikui (Shin Kishida), the head of the Secret Police, and given the task of infiltrating anarchist Ransui (Juzo Itami) to locate a document that will convince the people to rise up against the government. When her allegiances change, the deadly assassin finds herself on the run again, and soon out for further revenge.

The fight choreography is once again startling, with buckets of blood spurting from the unlikeliest of places. If anything, it improves on the first and certainly delivers more of it, with an early beach massacre and a climactic battle on a row of steps being the standout set-pieces. It moves at a fast pace, and offers historical context in snippets of black-and-white news footage (although some, if not all, were made for the film) and narration. Yet this also means that we're hit with a rather convoluted plot involving many characters, each with their own personal turmoil and ambitions. This takes away the sense of personal fury of the first film, with Kaji given few lines and little to do other than fight when called upon. She does shine when given the chance however, and hardcore fans of the genre will no doubt lap the balletic carnage.


Directed by: Toshiya Fujita
Starring: Meiko Kaji, Jûzô Itami, Kazuko Yoshiyuki, Yoshio Harada, Shin Kishida
Country: Japan

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,149: 'The Godfather Part II' (1974)

Of all the wonderful things that can be said about Francis Ford Coppola's American masterpiece The Godfather (1972), above all else the film is a masterclass in storytelling. It's essentially a classic, romantic story of family, loyalty and the passage of time, undercut with a dark, violent portrayal of what it takes to achieve the American dream. It told a detailed, complex, and often confusing story featuring a large ensemble of characters, but this only matched the complexity of what Coppola was trying to achieve. The director, adapting Mario Puzo's novel, famously had a torrid time at the hands of the producers, namely Robert Evans. Yet when the resulting three-hour epic became a box-office and award-season smash, Coppola would be given free reign if he was to helm a follow-up.

The resulting three hour twenty minute sequel was the director grabbing his chance to have complete control and pouring all of his artistry into it. This wasn't to be another classical Hollywood tale, but one of corruption, greed and pure evil. I first saw The Godfather Part II around 20 years ago at the age of 12 when I was first allowed to start watching movies for grown-ups. Watching it now, having seen it a handful of times in between, it's a completely different movie to the one I remember. I remembered it as an ambitious gangster movie with quite shocking violence, chocked full of great performances by actors who are now giants in their field. What I see now is a sequel truly like no other. A movie that is somehow optimistic and pessimistic in equal measures; one that sees its lead lose his soul while his father gains his; and quite possibly one of the saddest movies ever made.

At first, Part II mirrors the narrative of its predecessor, beginning with a grand wedding as the Don (now Al Pacino's Michael Corleone) makes his underlings sweat as they wait to greet the head of the 'family'. While the previous wedding was a joyous, boisterous occasion, this one is noticeably different. Of the family that remains - John Cazale's weak-willed Fredo; Talia Shire's gold-digging Connie - only the mother seems to be the same. The band doesn't even know any Italian songs. While Michael may have attempted to continue his father's legacy when he took over, the changing, capitalist world has driven him inward, isolating himself from everybody around him and drifting away from the Sicilian values of his father. He was once a proud war veteran with a bright future, but now he is solemn and aggressive, and becomes even more so when a hit on his home almost kills him and his wife Kay (Diane Keaton).

His close brush with death only fuels his paranoia, and he must navigate perilous waters as he moves into business in Cuba with one his father's business associates Hyman Roth (Lee Strasberg), who also happens to be backing a couple of brothers moving into Corleone capo Frankie Pentangeli's (Michael V. Gazzo) territory. Michael suspects a betrayer within his own ranks, suspecting everyone including his own family. It almost seems like a deliberately confusing plot to take in alongside Michael's descent into pure evil, and it may all be too overwhelming had Coppola not chosen to juxtapose this story with one of optimism and nostalgia; that of the young Vito Corleone's escape from a mafia boss in Sicily and his eventual arrival in America. There is infinitely more colour and hope in these moments, and while these scenes may gloss over Vito's own violent journey, it seems like Coppola is making a point about where he feels his country was heading. Of course, these flashbacks are made even more welcome by the astonishing performance from a young Robert De Niro.

The Godfather Part II currently sits in between The Godfather and The Dark Knight as #3 on IMDb's Top 250 list, and while I have little faith in the accuracy of a list that relies so heavily on popularity, it must be one of the most difficult and uncompromising movies in there. I'm actually pleasantly surprised that so many people love it, given the lack of flashy moments of violence the genre is so popular for. It's an experiment that could have gone so horribly wrong, and one that certainly wouldn't have been made outside of the innovative 1970s. Yet Coppola gets everything spectacularly right, from the inspirational casting of the Oscar-nominated Gazzo and Strasberg, to the chilling penultimate scene which sees James Caan's Sonny briefly return. In that final moment we realise that Michael has always been alone, destined to carve his own path, while forever gazing into the past to ponder what could have been.


Directed by: Francis Ford Coppola
Starring: Al Pacino, Robert De Niro, Robert Duvall, Diane Keaton, John Cazale, Lee Strasberg, Michael V. Gazzo, Talia Shire
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,135: 'Willie Dynamite' (1974)

As all fans of exploitation cinema will know, there were many, many blaxploitation movies released during the 1970s after Melvin van Peebles left an incredibly impression on black audiences with Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song in 1971. While many are rather enjoyable in a comical way, few works of blaxploitation were actually any good. Tony Award-nominated Broadway director Gilbert Moses' Willie Dynamite is incredibly under-seen, but is one of the genre's most impressive works, shunning the usual hyper-stylised, lightly comic beats in favour of something more serious and dramatic, while also touching on themes such as black identity, racism and police corruption.

New York pimp Willie Dynamite (Roscoe Orman) has built himself a mini-empire, training his girls to work like a production line to maximise profits and keep his many customers happy. While his clothes are utterly outlandish (there are some of most ridiculous outfits ever seen in the genre here), Willie ain't no lovable scamp like Super Fly (1972), but a real piece of shit; he regularly threatens his girls with violence, underpays them, and fails to offer any help when they get themselves arrested. When he's late to turn up to court for his most recent arrival Pashen (Joyce Walker), prostitute-turned-social worker Cora (Diana Sands) takes a particular interest, and becomes intent on rescuing Willie's girls and ending his reign of terror.

For a genre normally so rich in exploitative traits, Willie Dynamite contains no nudity and little violence, earning its adult rating instead for language and drug use. The lack of sex and action scenes leaves plenty of room for drama and character building, and Willie's journey to discovering his place in society and ultimately redeeming himself is all the more engrossing for it. Anyone familiar with Sesame Street will be left shocked at the sight of Orman wearing some of the most garish costumes ever committed to celluloid and trying to keep his bitches in check, and it's a very convincing performance. But it is in fact Diana Sands, who sadly died shortly after filming, who steals the film as the force of nature with a gentle side. Ripe for re-discovery, there's much more to Willie Dynamite than I would have ever expected. Now, bring me some scratch.


Directed by: Gilbert Moses
Starring: Roscoe Orman, Diana Sands, Thalmus Rasulala, Joyce Walker, Albert Hall
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #822: 'Rabid Dogs' (1974)

Although his best-known work lies within the horror and giallo genre (leading to the nickname 'maestro of the macabre'), one of Mario Bava's finest works, Rabid Dogs, rests firmly in the poliziotteschi, or Eurocrime, sub-genre. Shelved for decades after the death of the film's main investor, it resurfaced in 1998 and was eventually re-edited and re-scored by Bava's son Lamberto (director of the sub-standard Demons (1985) and Demons 2 (1986)), and re-titled as the vastly inferior version Kidnapped. Bava's original vision remains the best, and it's a shame he didn't get to dabble more in the genre before his retirement, as Rabid Dogs is a thrilling exercise in tension.

Starting with a robbery of an armoured truck that leads to the fatal stabbing of one innocent, three criminals escape by car after one of their own is shot dead by police. They arrive at an underground car park, where they stab a woman to death and take her friend Maria (Lea Lander) as hostage. On foot, they hijack a car stopped at a red light driven by the middle-aged Riccardo (Riccardo Cucciolla), and urge him to get them out of the city as fast and possible. The problem is that the police have set up road blocks and have every available officer searching for the gang. Riccardo also has his ailing infant son with him and the gang caught him on his way to take the child to the hospital.

Some of Bava's familiar touches are here, such as the black gloves and the stylistic flair, but Rabid Dogs has more in common with Sam Peckinpah's Straw Dogs (1971) that any of his own work. Throughout it's 90-plus minute running time, the film is relentlessly tense, exploding occasionally with acts of graphic violence and sexual threats. The most level-headed of the gang, Dottore (Maurice Poli), tries to keep his men in line, but Bisturi (Don Backy) and Thirty-Two (the enormous cult favourite George Eastman) have rape and violence on their mind, making Maria's life in the back seat a living hell. Backy and Eastman are both excellent in their roles. Although the climactic twist seems a little contrived, I didn't see it coming, and Rabid Dogs is certainly one of Bava's best, and most under-appreciated, works. Just don't see Kidnapped first.


Directed by: Mario Bava
Starring: Riccardo Cucciolla, Maurice Poli, Lea Lander, George Eastman, Don Backy
Country: Italy

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #716: 'Phantom of the Paradise' (1974)

For those who are familiar with the great work Brian De Palma did throughout the 1970's and 80's, his bright, energetic glam-rock opera Phantom of the Paradise may seem like something of an oddity. It's a spin on The Phantom of the Opera, with elements of Faust and The Picture of Dorian Gray, told within the context of the music business, who De Palma and scorer/star Paul Williams obviously hold some level of disdain for. While this may differ tonally and perhaps thematically to De Palma's more popular works, Phantom embodies the mixture of flair and homage that De Palma perfected, which many label him a rip-off merchant for (though I strongly disagree).

Sad-sack composer Winslow (William Finley) is overheard playing his Faustian opera by the powerful and mysterious music producer Swan (Williams). Swan is on the cusp of opening his new theatre The Paradise, and feels Winslow's music is perfect for his vision of nostalgia and kitsch. Winslow offers his work to Swan, but is never called or paid for his contribution. Seeking answers, he arrives at Swan Records to see an endless line of women, including Phoenix (Jessica Harper), auditioning to be a backing singer and singing his songs. He is thrown out, framed for drug possession and sentenced to life in prison. But Winslow escapes and, after being mutilated by a record press, seeks vengeance on Swan.

For all it's visual pizazz, where Phantom lacks is within the casting. Finley, who had worked with De Palma the year before in Sisters and who sadly died in 2012, struggles to make his character empathetic. Williams, while certainly looking the part, lacks the presence to convince that he would be able to wield such a control on his underlings. Harper, while cute as a button, lacks the charisma to really justify Wimslow's obsession over her. The only actor to really impress is Gerrit Graham as glam-rock God Beef, who behind the scenes is a fussy little queen. Beef is no doubt Paul Williams' stab at all those self-important diva's he unavoidably came into contact with during his time as a musician.

But with a bright and bouncy film such as this, the acting plays second fiddle to the visuals and the music. While the music may not be catchy in the same way as Phantom's close relation The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975), in context they contemplate De Palma's camera. All of De Palma's visual ticks are there - crane shots, long takes, split-screen - and it even throws in a homage to Psycho (1960), only with a plunger. It makes for quite an exhausting experience, but you only really need to hold your breath and dive in, and it's really quite easy to fall in love with it. It was unfairly panned by critics and ignored by movie-goers on it's release, but with De Palma's early films getting positive re-evaluation with various Blu-Ray releases, Phantom is finally getting the praise it deserves.


Directed by: Brian De Palma
Starring: William Finley, Paul Williams, Jessica Harper, Gerrit Graham
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #677: 'Vampyres' (1974)

One of the most popular exploitation sub-genre's in the 1970's was the lesbian vampire flick. It was hinted at as far back as the 1930's, using Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu's novel Carmilla as their primary influence, but not fully embraced until the late 1960's by Hammer Studios. As censorship wavered and the grindhouse circuit was born, films became more exploitative and the European low-budget film industry became flooded with movies by film-makers like Jess Franco. Spanish director Jose Ramon Larraz's UK-set Vampyres is one of the most fondly remembered. But, as those familiar with grindhouse movies will be fully aware, that doesn't mean it's particularly good.

In an old mansion isolated in the woods, lesbian vampire couple Fran (Marianne Morris) and Miriam (Anulka Dziubinska) stalk the surrounding area in search of men to prey upon. They take the men back to their mansion, kill and feed on them, and then leave their bodies by the side of the road in their crashed car. A young couple, John (Brian Deacon) and Harriet (Sally Faulkner), park their camper on the mansion grounds. Harriet notices strange behaviour from the vampire couple and witnesses the physical deterioration of Ted (Murray Brown), a young man taken in by Fran.

Shot at Oakley Court, location of many a Hammer horror and Dr. Frank N. Furter's castle in The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975), Vampyres has that lush British old-school horror feel about it. The problem is, it feels like a fifty-minute film stretched out into ninety minutes, full of endless walks, curious glances, inane conversations and dull erotic scenes. When the horror does come, it doesn't hold back on the blood, featuring a couple of quite unsettling scenes of violence. It just takes so long to get there that it hardly feels worth the wait.

There is also a gaping plot-hole in Fran and Miriam's approach of staging the murders as car accidents, which becomes ridiculous after we see Fran stab a victim in the back. They wait for their victims by hitch-hiking in broad daylight, and are even seen doing so by Harriet as the couple approach the castle. Just how long would it take for the police to put two and two together as the bodies quickly pile up? However, it's surprisingly well-acted, especially by the seductive Marianne Morris, whose scenes are all the more erotic when she keeps her clothes on, and the cinematography, reminiscent of Hammer, is lovely.


Directed by: José Ramón Larraz
Starring: Marianne Morris, Anulka Dziubinska, Murray Brown, Brian Deacon, Sally Faulkner
Country: UK

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #643: 'Foxy Brown' (1974)

After the huge success of Coffy (1973), American International Pictures wanted more blaxploitation, namely in the form of Pam Grier's sexy, female empowered ass-kicker. Coffy made Grier an overnight star, but not wanting to make a sequel after seeing a few sequels of other franchises fail at the box-office, they hastily re-wrote the script for Burn, Coffy, Burn!, and created Foxy Brown. They kept writer and director Jack Hill, and made a film about basically the same character. Yet Coffy and Foxy Brown are arguably as popular and as iconic as each other - Foxy maybe even more so - and this is mainly due to Foxy Brown being a pretty decent film, despite familiar plotting and genre tropes.

When her boyfriend is gunned down by a bunch of gangsters, Foxy Brown goes undercover to infiltrate a prostitute ring posing as a modelling agency. Her dead-beat brother Link (the amazing Antonio Fargas) tells Foxy that the group - led by strange and kinky couple Steve (Peter Brown) and Miss Katherine (Kathryn Loder) - are the people responsible. Violence, drugs and explosions soon follow as Foxy pursues her thirst for vengeance, and helps fellow black woman Claudia (Juanita Brown) to escape a life on the game,

It's a revenge premise seen a thousand times before, but Foxy Brown is often a blast. Grindhouse trailers often dazzle and confuse us with endless action scenes and violence promising a wonderful experience, only to submit us to 90 torturous minutes of amatuerish crap. Yet Foxy Brown certainly delivers on its promises. It's noticeably more violent than other blaxploitation films, with Jack Hill's wit surprisingly shining through moments of forced heroin addiction and pickled cock. But it's Pam Grier that steals the movie, pulling guns out of her 'afro and simply being 'a whooooole lotta woman!' (as recognised by her own brother) throughout, displaying the charisma that would make her a 70's icon. It doesn't break any boundaries, even by action standards, and there are certain plot holes you have to try and ignore (what does Foxy Brown actually do?), but it's 95 minutes of solid exploitation fare.


Directed by: Jack Hill
Starring: Pam Grier, Antonio Fargas, Peter Brown, Kathryn Loder, Sid Haig
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #591: 'Edvard Munch' (1974)

Since the mid-1950's the films of Peter Watkins have utilised a mix of documentary and fiction techniques to question these forms of media construct. From the historical portrayals of real, or imagined "realities" (Colluden (1964), The War Game (1965)), to science fiction dystopian visions of political systems (The Gladiators (1969), Punishment Park (1971)), Watkins has placed his cinematic eye within dramatised verite settings, refusing to conform to fiction narrative structures and the normative styles of documentary cinema. In Watkins' anachronistic cinema the characters (whether fictional or historical figures) are photographed as if the action is actually happening, and he breaks conventions further by interviewing characters, filming them in the talking head format, which eliminates the fourth wall in fiction cinema and television, and involves the viewer with the formal realities of detail. Watkins states on his website (pwatkins.mnsi.net) that Edvard Munch is his most personal film. It is certainly his most emotionally engaging, one that is not necessarily as political or prescient as previous films, but perfectly captures the emotional turmoil and strain that goes into the creative process, and particularly the ways in which events in an artists life effects the evolution of form and style.

The eponymous Munch's (played, like all here by amateur actor Geir Westby) life and career is dealt with in the usual Watkins style, focusing largely on the period between 1884 and 1894, a period in which his painting developed into what would become Expressionism. It shows a young man struggling with shyness and emotional immaturity, one that when confronted with rejection from Fru Heiberg (Gro Fraas), a married woman who has affairs with bohemian types (the film constantly reminds us of the historical realities of women in 19th century Norway, who require men to live), Munch becomes jealous and possessive. The film juxtaposes these emotional moments of anguish and the tragedies of Munch family fatalities that struck the young throughout his early life, with the development of Munch's painting style. Watkins shows throughout the actual painting process. Beginning with the breathtaking picture The Sick Child, Watkins shows the anger and psychological torment that went into it. The ways in which Munch attacked to painting with knives or the non-bristle end of the brush, which created a startlingly bleak image, devoid of unnecessary details.

Of course, as with anything different within an artistic medium, Munch's stripped down aesthetic was not met with praise initially, and Watkins shows the various vitriolic reactions from the art establishment and critics, both through over-heard conversations in gallery spaces, and the filmed interviews with detractors. During these moments, Munch can be seen skulking on the periphery, further exacerbating his deteriorating psychology, but this imbalance and possible fastidiousness influences his further subversion of the classical painting style - and one that would lead to German Expressionism. Periodically the narrator will place historical facts against the period portrayed, and the film is certainly as much about history (sometimes in relation to contemporary politics), as it is about an artist.

The bohemian group that Munch spent time with, headed by anarchist Hans Jaeger, would openly discuss political and social issues. Even women would be part of this group, and along with the formal discussion, the "film crew" interview various female exponents, discussing feminism and the role of the female within society. Placed within this historical context, the present (at least in 1974 when the film was released) was in what appeared to be a new sexual revolution, and the feminist movement was a media convention, but in 19th century Europe, these women see what they are able to achieve living within the constraints of a male dominated society. Whereas prostitution (in the '70's it was pornography) is socially seen as immoral and degrading, these female thinkers see it as motivating, a process of female empowerment. In Edvard Munch the women are self-contained, they are individual and have power over their own lives. But this is not exclusively inclusive of female characters, it is also a film (through its documentary style) that includes the audience.

Munch is the best use that I have seen of Watkins' idiosyncratic documentary style, because it is an emotional exploration, as well as a political one. The emotional aspects are embellished by the characters acknowledgement of the viewer. Throughout the film the characters look directly into the camera, addressing the audience with a glance, at times to question their own actions (should we do this?), or by including the audience in the emotional events that are occurring, you always feel included, even when those moments are incredibly voyeuristic. I at times even felt that I should not be privy to this, such was the effect of this connecting barrier. Like much of Watkins' work (and himself as a figure), Edvard Munch has been marginalised. Watkins' criticism of mass media has clearly left him out of main stream publication, and his work (whilst now gaining distribution and serious praise) is difficult to see commercially. Originally made for a Norwegian/Swedish television co-production, the film lost distribution due to the studios refusal to play it. The film did received an international release in a shortened version, but the 221 minute version is now accessible. It sounds exhausting, but the majesty and emotional connection the film presents makes it a beguiling and moving experience, and it is easily the most in depth exploration of the artistic process.


Directed by: Peter Watkins
Starring: Geir Westby, Gro Fraas, Kerstii Allum
Country: Sweden/Norway

Rating: *****

Marc Ivamy

Review #466: 'Truck Turner' (1974)

Blaxploitation films are so frequently ridiculed and parodied (much of it with reason) these days, that it's easy to forget that some of them were actually pretty good. Shaft (1971) paved the way for the sub-genre with its strutting bad-ass lead who's a sex-machine to all the chicks, and Isaac Hayes' Oscar-winning score (for what he will forever be best remembered for). Hayes himself steps into the lead role here as ex-American football star and bail bondsman Mac 'Truck' Turner, who according to Yaphet Kotto's bad-guy pimp Blue, is "like a bulldog with eyes up his ass!", and displays some surprisingly charismatic qualities that makes it quite a shame he didn't appear in more.

Greasy lawyer Fogarty (the great Dick Miller) employs bounty-hunters 'Truck' Turner and his partner Jerry (Alan Weeks - with the best grin in cinema) to track down a low-down pusher and pimp named Gator (Paul Harris). After an extended chase scene, Turner and Jerry manage to kill Gator, much to the dismay of Gator's lady Dorinda (Nichelle Nichols - Uhura!). Dorinda rounds up the big pimps and offers her valuable collection of whores in exchange for Turner's head, a deal in which Blue accepts. Wanting to settle down with his girlfriend Annie (Annazette Chase), Turner finds his life turned upside when Blue employs a gang of hired killers.

Beginning almost as a buddy-comedy, the witty script and some genuine chemistry serve up some amusing early scenes, showing off Hayes' natural screen presence. But this turns into pure police procedural blaxploitation as the main plot kicks in, with jive-talk, pimps in some of the most delightfully ludicrous dress I've ever seen, car-chases, slow-motion shoot-outs, cocaine, hookers, and of course a tragically neglected soundtrack from Hayes himself. The action scenes are surprisingly good, and Corman protege Jonathan Kaplan (director of fellow Grindhouse Project feature Night Call Nurses (1972) - review #443) makes sure he includes as much slow-motion men falling off rooftops and gushing fake blood as possible. Bloody good fun, and probably better than Shaft.


Directed by: Jonathan Kaplan
Starring: Isaac Hayes, Yaphet Kotto, Alan Weeks, Annazette Chase, Nichelle Nichols, Dick Miller
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #423: 'Flavia the Heretic' (1974)

One of the more notorious films to come out of the 'nunsploitation' sub-genre, Flavia the Heretic is certainly a curious oddity, obeying the traditions of the genre with titillation and torture, while at the same time producing moments of art, exploring themes such as feminism, religion and sex. It tells the story of a 14-century nun, Flavia Gaetani (Florinda Bolkan), who after being placed into the church by her overbearing father, embarks on a journey through a world dominated by men. She witnesses one of her fellow nuns being brutally tortured after losing her way during a visit from the 'tarantula sect', sees rape at the hands of powerful men, and is even captured and whipped by her own father.

After the Moslems invade, Flavia falls in love with one of their leaders Ahmed (Anthony Higgins) and the two start a love affair. Returning to her convent, Flavia, with a band of Moslem warriors behind her, wreaks revenge on all those who have wronged her and succumbs to an orgy of sex and violence. It is here, within the last forty minutes where the film certainly ignites the interest. The juxtaposition of sexual violence (which includes male rape and sex with swords) with the violence is quite disturbing in the same way as Pasolini's Salo (1975) was, but came out the year before. Pasolini's controversial movie is by far a better film, but Flavia did surprise me with its world cinema attitude and scenes of almost avant-garde strangeness (a naked woman crawls inside a hanging animal carcass as the violence explodes around her).

Although I would say it is unfair to label this as simply 'exploitation', the film does succumb to the Grindhouse audiences desire for cheap thrills. The endless array of 1970's flesh does become tiresome in the first half, where the events that are supposed to be developing Flavia's feelings of injustice come across as nothing more as an excuse to get more tits on the screen. This causes the majority of the first film to be extremely slow-moving and often quite tiresome. Yet overall, when you peel back the layers of exploitation, there is an interesting movie beneath that does a lot with its apparent small budget, just as long as you can stomach scenes of sexual mutilation and human skinning.


Directed by: Gianfranco Mingozzi
Starring: Florinda Bolkan, María Casares, Claudio Cassinelli, Anthony Higgins
Country: Italy/France

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #314: 'Deranged' (1974)

The world had been introduced to the concept of the serial killer in the late 19th century, most famously with Jack the Ripper, and the lesser known H. H. Holmes. However, in the late 1950's the world was introduced to something wholly different. In a small town in Wisconsin, authorities were alerted to a thoroughly macabre scene, in Ed Gein's run-down farmhouse. To begin with the body of store owner Bernice Warden was hung upside down, headless, and gutted like a slaughtered animal. However, this was only the beginning, as police searched the house, body parts were found, fashioned into furniture and other such objects. Gein was not classed as a serial killer, as he only killed 2, however, he also had an obsession with exhuming bodies from graves. For the horror genre, this one incident was to totally revolutionised it, changing the horror from the uncanny to the very ordinary. Gein's crimes influenced, most notably, Psycho (1960), The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974), and Silence of the Lambs (1991).

Deranged takes a more direct influence from the story, and only changes the names of the characters and place. The film begins with the death of Ezra Cobb's (Roberts Blossom) over-bearing, God-fearing mother (Cosette Lee). Having been dominated by his mother, Ezra is practically a child, and knows nothing of the world. After exhuming his mother, the process of decomposition is gradually relieved as Ezra collects other bodies to both patch her up and keep them company. This inevitably leads to murder.

The film is narrated by a mock reporter, who addresses the audience through both voice-over and orating directly to the camera. This device is clearly in place to give the narrative some sense of realism, and therefore realistic gravitas. Blossoms performance as Cobb is funny, disturbing, and something exudes pathos (strangely). For it's exploitation limitations, the film is actually quite good. It is not overly gratuitous and has some dramatic tension. This kind of story and type of criminal is relatively commonplace, we are kind of desensitised to this specific kind of morbid scenario. And for my money, this film is far, far superior to the very disappointing Tartan release of Ed Gein (2000), which felt more like the horror equivalent of a sci-fi channel movie of the week.


Directed by: Jeff Gillen, Alan Ormsby
Starring: Roberts Blossom, Cosette Lee, Leslie Carlson
Country: Canada/USA

Rating: ***

Marc Ivamy

Review #298: 'Deadly Weapons' (1974)

Directed by Doris Wishman, who started her career in the business of "Nudie Cuties" and nudist camp films, such as Nude on the Moon (1961) and Diary of a Nudist (also 1961). These were innocuous attempts at getting tits and ass on the screen, in the shape of the nudist camp. She did eventually move into the sexploitation genre, and made two films with the Polish-born exotic dancer, Chesty Morgan (credited on this first collaboration as Zsa Zsa). They consequently made another, released the same year, Double Agent 73. Now, what Chesty Morgan inevitably offers, is incredibly oversized (yet very much real) bosom. In fact, many of the moments in this film are spent simply gazing at the unattractively massive mamories, as Chesty holds them, moves them, and generally turns them into a very visual form of baking preparation!

This aside, the film does have a semblance of a story. Crystal (Morgan), has had a promise from her partner, Larry (Richard Towers), of marriage. Unfortunately he is mixing with some unsavoury business elements. Headed by an unknown, unseen boss, two thugs, Tony (played by Harry Reems, legend of Deep Throat (1972) fame), and Nick (Saul Meth), are ordered to kill Larry as he holds some valuable information. As Crystal discovers who killed Larry, she decides to find the killers and get revenge. After becoming a stripper (cue various random scenes of boob movements), she kills Tony and Nick using her weapons of choice - her tits of course!

Now obviously this film had an overall spectacle that would have pulled some people in, and this is of course the circus-sideshow that is Chesty Morgan, and her repulsively humongous bazookas. This novelty is pretty much all the film has. It does attempt a poor twist ending, but this feels more like an episode of Ironside (1967 - 1975), or any other crime/mystery television shows of the time. And apart from the sex and nudity, the entire film could have been a plot for TV. The is one bizarre scene which humoured me. Chesty looks out of a window in deep thought, the camera pans down to gaze at her tits, the image of a memory of a swimming pool scene with Larry is superimposed on them. It's almost as if these memories are in fact those of her tits!


Directed by: Doris Wishman
Starring: Chesty Morgan, Harry Reems, Richard Towers
Country: USA

Rating: **

Marc Ivamy

Review #227: 'Axe' (1974)

It's quite often difficult to ascertain the reasons that many of the films on the video nasties list are there. We all just assume that they are there due to graphic violence, and explicit gore. We also largely assume that they are mostly, intrinsically rubbish. Whilst I have not seen all of the films on the list, the handful that I have, are varying in quality. It's always a surprise when the film is interesting, or has some kind of purpose, or layering of meaning. Axe, or the more ethereal original title, Lisa, Lisa, is one of the ones that at once, looks cheaply made (some sequences had the strange mise-en-scene of a H G Lewis movie), but also has an idea - simplistic but well thought-out - that gives the film a subtle gravitas.

The first part of the film follows three criminals, Steele (Jack Canon), Lomax (Ray Green), and the moral voice to the violence, Billy (played by the writer/director Frederick R. Friedel). On the journey with these characters, we are introduced to their brand of criminal activity. In a convenience store, Steele and Lomax mock and taunt the female clerk, throwing fruit at her, then forcing her to take off her blouse, humiliating her before going further. This shows overtly the misogynistic attitude of the main two. Billy, as throughout the film, is the person against the murdering, and acts as the moral arbiter to the horrific acts.

After this the trio drive up to a large house that is occupied by Lisa (Leslie Lee), who looks after her completely paralysed grandfather. Lisa is a strange, seemingly internal character, who is forced to take the criminals in for the night, and feed them etc. After one Lomax attempts to rape her, she takes it upon herself to kill him, then proceeds to act this out to the rest of the criminals.

There are some very effective scenes, and some that are genuinely disturbing. The first killing of Lomax, Lisa takes a razor blade to the back of his neck. After he has clearly lost consciousness, she continues to saw at the neck. It's making me wince writing about it. So there are some very effective kills, and this is partly where I see the reason for it's contentiousness for the DPP. But I think fundamentally the reasons for the banning was more to do with the contempt for women. This is something that even the BBFC has many issues with.

In conclusion, the film is disturbing at times, and it's moral fibre a little on the side of misogyny. However, the film is quite interesting, and certainly has more going for it in narrative terms than much of the video nasties on offer.


Directed by: Frederick R. Friedel
Starring: Leslie Lee, Jack Canon, Ray Green, Frederick R. Friedel
Country: USA

Rating: **

Marc Ivamy

Review #222: 'Return of the Street Fighter' (1974)

In this sequel to The Streetfighter (1974), released the same year, it's much more of the same for bad-ass martial-artist-for-hire Tsurugi (Sonny Chiba), only much less plot. Of what there is, the film focuses on a fake charity organisation used to embezzle money for the mob and see good folks out of their hard-earned money. Tsurugi is still pissed at the mob from the first film, so he doesn't take too kindly to this revelation. The mob sends waves of bad guys after him, and he kicks their arses. Also returning is Masashi Ishibashi as the presumed-dead Tateki, only minus a throat and plus an artificial voice-box.

I must admit I remember very little of this film apart from a lot of thoroughly enjoyable action sequences in which Chiba is never under any threat. I thought this was because I'd drank quite a lot of brandy, but it is because the film genuinely contains little else. Saying that, I still enjoyed the 70 minutes of carnage. It doesn't come near to the original, in which Tsurugi is much more despicable character, but I suppose they were aiming at a wider audience with this sequel. Which is probably why the gore factor, something that was so loveable about the first film, is noticeably toned down. It still has a scene where Tsurugi knocks someone's eyes out with a blow to the back of the head, so not all is lost. An easy 70 minutes, and mixes very well with spirits.


Directed by: Shigehiro Ozawa
Starring: Sonny Chiba, Yôko Ichiji, Masashi Ishibashi
Country: Japan

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie