Review #654: 'The Astro-Zombies' (1968)

The Astro-Zombies is one of those Z-grade efforts where you can tell the producers had a bunch of props and sets left over from previous productions and wrote a script based around them. Therefore, the film makes absolutely no sense, and ends up throwing everything but the kitchen sink at the audience. We are left with a story involving mad scientist Dr. DeMarco (John Carradine) and his hunchback lab assistant who are attempting to create an army of 'astro zombies', superhuman beings whose actual purpose is sketchy. After one is loosed and goes on a killing spree, the CIA (led by a clearly sozzled Wendell Corey, who died due to his alcoholism shortly after filming) and a spy ring led by the great Tura Satana become interested.

It's easy to label a film 'the worst film ever!', but The Astro Zombies, directed by schlock favourite Ted V. Mikels, truly lives up to its reputation. Carradine, bless him, makes a valiant attempt to make some kind of sense of the plot with some muffled monologues, but I got completely lost in all the drivel. There is the odd moment of camp weirdness such as the wounded astro zombie fleeing with a torch pressed against his head to keep itself alive or a naked exotic dance that serves absolutely no purpose, but it constantly lingers on endless laboratory scenes where literally nothing happens. The zombies themselves are nothing more than a man in a kind of insect/skull/mutant mask, and there's only really one of them. It's a truly painful experience that lacks the amusing moments of Mikels' other 'works' such as The Corpse Grinders (1971) and The Doll Squad (1973), that at least made those films bearable. Truly painful stuff that could benefit from a good thirty minutes shaved off the running time.


Directed by: Ted V. Mikels
Starring: Wendell Corey, John Carradine, Tom Pace, Tura Satana
Country: USA

Rating: *

Tom Gillespie

Review #584: 'The Black Klansman' (1966)

It was a rare occasion in 1960's American cinema that the screen would reflect the social turbulence surrounding the civil rights movement, or the fundamentally tense race relations in particularly in the southern states. The white supremacist organisation, the Ku Klux Klan, was a dominant and violent presence which was largely controlled and operated by the local powers of small towns and cities. Whilst the subject was on the surface of the film adaptation of Harper Lee's Pulitzer prize winning novel, To Kill a Mocking Bird (1962), but the cinema mainstream was hardly representative of social conscience until Stanley Kramer's Guess Who's Coming to Dinner (1967). But a few low budget b-movies in the early '60's did attempt to tackle the subject. Roger Corman's under-seen William Shatner starer, The Intruder (1962), or Carl Lerner's Black Like Me (1964), whilst unsuccessful, at least attempted an intelligent, left-field approach. So it seems almost astounding with hindsight, that Ted V. Mikels, shlock director of later atrocities like The Astro-Zombies (1968) or The Doll Squad (1973), would produce a film that would formulate a narrative that is both sensitive and intelligent about the deep-seated racism within southern state America.

The film opens in the small town of Turnersville, a young, dumb kid walks into an all white diner, upsetting the patrons of the establishment by being the wrong colour. This small act leads to the local faction of the KKK to "retaliate" by shooting the boy then throwing Molotov cocktails at a congregation of a black church. This, along with the burning crucifix, was a reality in these small-minded towns. However, on throwing the fiery bottle at the doorway, the perpetrator witnesses a very young girl being hit directly with the weapon. The father of the girl, travelling musician Jerry Ellsworth (also notably of mixed race - but played by a white actor), heads to the town on hearing the news. Jerry takes himself to a hair salon and transfers himself into a white man (for all intents and purposes). He charms his way into the life of KKK head, and infiltrates the organisation, biding his time to reap revenge on the evil that killed his daughter.

It is of course a ludicrous concept, but the film offers quite emotional and sometimes dramatic scenes. Jerry is also accompanied by a white woman, Andrea (Rima Kutner), who is in love with him and wants a baby with him (something that an alternative title for the film overly focused on, I Crossed the Color Line). This alone would have been a controversial inclusion to the film, but it also balanced this with a more critical commentary on vigilante justice, and mob organisation (particularly on the black group formed in reaction to the attack). The opening scenes where the KKK shoot the young black boy are truly shocking for its time and budget, a scene that resembles the later opening scenes of Mississippi Burning (1989), which are shot quite similarly, staring starkly in the face of the victim. This is not to say that the film is wholly satisfactory, in true Mikels style the film is technically horrific; bad editing, uninspired camera work, the inevitable bad arrangement of scenes and characters. But, at its heart is something quite remarkable. Not revelatory, or even particularly exciting, but nonetheless, the central theme of social segregation is still relevant today (shockingly), and surprisingly some of the acting ain't too bad.


Directed by: Ted V. Mikels
Starring: Richard Gilden, Rima Kutner, Harry Lovejoy
Country: USA

Rating: **

Marc Ivamy

Review #361: 'The Doll Squad' (1973)

The Doll Squad pre-dates the hugely successful television series Charlie's Angels (1976 - 1981), and it's intentions are similar. After a catastrophic space shuttle launch, the clandestine group of government agents, must form to conquer this criminal conspiracy. Sabrina Kincaid (Francine York) is called to gather the scattered doll squad, a group of female agents. Practically all American films and television in the 1970's that involved crime were embroiled in conspiracy, from Starsky and Hutch (1975 - 1979), Police Woman (1974 - 1978) to The Amazing Spider-Man (1977 - 1979), and this film seems to have paved the way. It's certainly true that the producer of Charlie's Angels (Aaron Spelling) did go to the premier of The Doll Squad.

The films production is obviously incredibly low budget. Ted V. Mikels was previously known for the grindhouse cheapie's The Corpse Grinders (1971) and Blood Orgy of the She-Devils (1972), but this film's production values certainly rise above the limitations, and also look a lot better than the horror films. Where the film really fails is in the pace. It struggles through several clunky dialogue scenes, and often uses a piece of funky, disco-esque soundtrack (which is used far too much throughout the film) seemingly to attempt to give a dull scene a bit of pep - such as what appears to be either a fast walk down a long corridor, or a slow walk in a short one.

However, when the action does heighten, and that same piece of music is used appropriately, the film does have its moments of fun. It's always good to see the heavily made-up, statuesque '70's women beating up the weak men, from the women in prison movies, to proto-punk Switchblade Sisters (1975) - and of course their raison-d'etre, seduction. The film also boasts an appearance by Tura Satana, who was electric in Russ Meyer's Faster Pussycat. Kill! Kill! (1965). Whilst the film has it's lagging moments, and tedious dialogue, it doesn't ever really become boring. All the limitations actually function well within the context of the ludicrous scenes, and gives the film humour. A lasting example would be, of course, the technical effects for explosions. Mikels's solution? Superimpose a flare of red over the exploded object, then cutting object out: ridiculous, cheap-as-chips, fucking hilarious!


Directed by: Ted V. Mikels
Starring: Michael Ansara, Francine York, Anthony Eisley
Country: USA

Rating: **

Marc Ivamy

Review #358: 'The Corpse Grinders' (1971)

The Lotus Cat Food company are facing financial ruin, until they discover that by incorporating human flesh into their product, cats go wild and sales go up. But soon, cats go a bit too wild and start murdering and drinking the blood of their owners. When Dr. Howard Glass (Sean Kenney) is attacked, and performs an autopsy on another victim, he starts an investigation into the strange goings-on. Landau (Sanford Mitchell), the big boss at the company, seems to start enjoying the butchery, and employs various heavies to do the dirty deeds. But he finds himself at odds with his co-workers, who disapprove of the murders, and local gravedigger Caleb (Warren Ball), who has yet to be paid for his exploits.

One can only go into a film called The Corpse Grinders with a certain level of expectation, that being extremely low. Yet although the film is almost profoundly terrible, it's really not as bad as I expected. Helmed by exploitation hack Ted V. Mikels (director of the also wonderfully titled and fellow Grindhouse Project members Blood Orgy of the She-Devils (1972) and The Doll Squad (1973)), he at least attempts to put some directorial skill into the film, leaving out usual Grindhouse traits such as long, static, and uneventful shots, and scenes of women dancing to repetitive music. The film is pretty well paced, shifting from Glass' investigations to Landau's increasingly murderous schemes to keep things moderately interesting.

However, I'm saying this is half-decent for a Grindhouse film. As an actual film, it is admittedly bad. The few scenes depicting the cat attacks are laughable (I mean, how can a cat overpower a human being? Just throw the fucker against a wall!), and the gore predictably ropey. The actual 'corpse grinder' machine looks made of cardboard, and poses so many questions about functionality that I'm not going to get into it. I did laugh out loud at the ridiculous made-up sign language that Landau uses (he just seems to shake his hand a lot), so at least there's some fun to be had. As hard as it is to say it, I'm actually looking forward to seeing more of Mikels' films, as he seems to be in the same vein as one of my guilty pleasures, Herschell Gordon Lewis.


Directed by: Ted V. Mikels
Starring: Sean Kenney, Monika Kelly, Sanford Mitchell
Country: USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie