(1974)
Dir - Michael Findlay
Overall: WOOF
Z-grade smut peddler Michael Findlay directing a Bigfoot movie? Shriek of the Mutilated, (Scream of the Snowbeast, Mutilated), was the last "real" film that Findlay would make before his untimely death via helicopter crash three years later, his estranged wife and long-time collaborator Roberta Findlay serving as cinematographer here. On that note, the camerawork leaves everything to be desired as all of the monster murders are done in rapid-cut, claustrophobic close-ups that are impossible to decipher. We get few glimpses of the Yeti anyway because of course, and also because of course, it looks ridiculous and about as frightening as a mall Easter Bunny. In fact a mall Easter Bunny is far more frightening. The story takes an idiotic twist in its closing moments once it is revealed that there is no Abominable Snowman conducting murders at all but instead just some rich assholes who lure college kids out into the wilderness to eat them as part of some kind of vague pagan ritual. Equally boring and obnoxious, the instantly forgettable characters prattle on and on with each other and one of the actors decides that she has to scream all of her dialog once her character is upset. Some viewers may laugh at the absurdity of the plot twist if they can stay with the movie that long, but this still ends up being as wretchedly bad and unwatchable as anything else that Findlay ever unleashed on the masses.
(1976)
Dir - Burt Brinckerhoff
Overall: MEH
A silly killer canine movie that takes itself seriously, Dogs suffers from predictable ailments, namely that the characters are uninteresting, the plot spends a predominant amount of time with them prattling on with each other, and even in groups, dogs are not the most frightening of beasts. The first act is dedicated to David McCallum's crotchety university scientist slowly figuring out what the audience already knows before they even press "play", then its the usual Jaws nonsense of the people in an authority position poo-pooing the threat because well, how else are we gonna get to the ninety-minute mark? Then more talking, more arguing, people panicking and acting like idiots, and eventually some rampaging pooch scenes that are shot in a dark and claustrophobic manner that makes them more annoyingly indecipherable than intense. This was the second and last theatrically released movie from director Burt Brinckerhoff who worked steadily in television for over two decades, but the guy can only do so much with O'Brian Tomalin's ho-hum script. It is never a good sign when the threatening howls of the four-legged critters heard off screen are considerably more frightening than when they attack on screen, but at least an attempt was made there to provide some ominous atmosphere. Plus the dogs maul a woman to death in a shower so again, silly stuff.
(1977)
Dir - Greydon Clark
Overall: MEH
While its title is accurate enough, Satan's Cheerleaders represents a missed opportunity of dopey occult high-jinks. This was the first horror movie that screenwriter Greydon Clark was also behind the lens on, but he has a clumsy way of delivering his material to say the least. This is a comedy on paper and all parties involved seem to understand the assignment, but it is more awkward than funny to watch a bunch of teenage girls speaking in sexual innuendo as their clueless cheer teacher just smiles like a ditz at everyone, even when a fat janitor proclaims that he is going to rape them after crashing his truck and bringing them to a satanic alter in broad daylight. Every set piece plays out in such a butterfingerd manner where the things that are happening are sleazy and weird, yet the people on screen are acting like they are in an entirely different set of circumstances. The fact that John Carradine, Yvonne De Carlo, and John Ireland needed the money enough to appear is even more confusing and even as the third act switches gears by trying to be more diabolical, the presentation remains just as aloof. As a dated trainwreck, the film has some unintentional charm, but its head-scratching ineptitude cannot be denied.
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