On the long list of worst movies ever made, Werewolves on Wheels features insufferably boisterous biker shitbags being insufferably boisterous biker shitbags for about an hour and ten minutes, with maybe fifteen minutes left over to watch a Satanic ceremony where the shitbag bikers are mercifully drugged and therefor not acting like shitbags. Apparently, the cast was made up of actual shitbag bikers who were given free reign to just be shitbag bikers, not that they had much of a script to work with. The last six or so minutes features them growling in lycanthropian make-up in claustrophobic, rapid-cut close-ups that are difficult to decipher, but it cannot be overstated how insultingly obnoxious everything that comes before the finale is. It is as if co-writer/director Michel Levesque knew some Hell's Angels members, they stole some film stock, saw Easy Rider and maybe a Paul Naschy movie while intoxicated, and just decided to hit the road and make up the resulting hogwash as they went along. At one point, one of the shitbag bikers figures that being an evil cult member is like shooting fish in a barrel and starts chanting "Oobla-doobla bride of Satan" while chasing a giggling lady around a campfire. Such a scene encapsulates this wretched pile of feces accordingly.
BLOOD STALKERS
(1976)
Dir - Robert W. Morgan
Overall: MEH
The only directorial effort from Robert W. Morgan, Blood Stalkers is typically snail-paced and forgettable regional exploitation junk. It eventually teases at having some kind of Sasquatch monster on the lose, but it does this forty-eight minutes in, which means that everyone who comes across such a snooze-fest can easily skip those first forty-eight minutes, (if not the entire movie). We spend all that time going through the motions with two couples who decide to vacation in a remote cabin in the woods which one of them has inherited. The local hillbillies are rude to them, they warn them to go back where they came from, they do not heed such stock advice, and we come to learn that our main protagonist was a Vietnam vet who suffers from PTSD. To be fair, the performances are not terrible and Morgan's script seems to think that it is necessary to flesh-out our four characters more than one would expect, giving this an intentional slow boil vibe and not one that was merely the result of not enough money to afford wall-to-wall Big Foot creature mayhem. This is a generous assumption to make though yet in any event, the last act ventures into the surreal with gospel church footage and music playing over unrelated scenes, the plot stops cold as Jerry Albert tries in vain to get help, and the primitive gore effects finally emerge.
(1976)
Dir - Robert W. Morgan
Overall: MEH
The only directorial effort from Robert W. Morgan, Blood Stalkers is typically snail-paced and forgettable regional exploitation junk. It eventually teases at having some kind of Sasquatch monster on the lose, but it does this forty-eight minutes in, which means that everyone who comes across such a snooze-fest can easily skip those first forty-eight minutes, (if not the entire movie). We spend all that time going through the motions with two couples who decide to vacation in a remote cabin in the woods which one of them has inherited. The local hillbillies are rude to them, they warn them to go back where they came from, they do not heed such stock advice, and we come to learn that our main protagonist was a Vietnam vet who suffers from PTSD. To be fair, the performances are not terrible and Morgan's script seems to think that it is necessary to flesh-out our four characters more than one would expect, giving this an intentional slow boil vibe and not one that was merely the result of not enough money to afford wall-to-wall Big Foot creature mayhem. This is a generous assumption to make though yet in any event, the last act ventures into the surreal with gospel church footage and music playing over unrelated scenes, the plot stops cold as Jerry Albert tries in vain to get help, and the primitive gore effects finally emerge.
A poor man's Carrie of sorts, The Spell was the February 20th, 1977 edition to NBC's "The Big Event" Movie of the Week. The script by Brian Taggert was allegedly tossed around before Brian De Palma's famed Stephen King adaptation hit the cinemas, with this arriving only three months later on the small screen. There are differences of course which come down to the details. Here, Susan Myer's high-schooler is barely at all pudgier than her classmates who ridicule her right in front of teachers that do absolutely nothing to stop it, but instead of having a wackadoo Bible-quoting monster for a mother, she is a rich kid who is close with her mom and annoyed with her sister, dad, and everyone else in the world. Telekinesis set pieces are few and far between as the film is primarily occupied with exploring the uninteresting dynamics between Myer's teachers, family, and her parent's also wealthy friends. There is also a paranormal investigator who tries to crack the code and Lelia Goldoni, Lee Grant, and a fourteen year-old Helen Hunt are all on board, taking the assignment more seriously than it deserves. On top of being sluggish and uneventful, Myers makes a less-than-sympathetic antagonist by being temperamental, bratty, and unreasonable. This is no doubt intentional since her character is only a teenager after all, but outside of a goofy murder midway through and an also goofy plot twist to close things out, this is less than memorable stuff.
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