(1961)
Dir - Coleman Francis
Overall: WOOF
Z-grade garbage of the most infamous variety, The Beast of Yucca Flats, (Atomic Monster: The Beast of Yucca Flats), gives the Bill Rebane/Herschell Gordon Lewis abomination Monster a Go-Go! a solid run as the worst movie ever made. Hyperbolic "praise" to be sure, but well deserving as anyone who can actually make it through all fifty-four equally confounding and torturous minutes of it can attest to. Allegedly shot for $34,000, (how it cost even a fraction of this amount is anyone's guess), it appears to be made up of unrelated footage of a woman and her kids roaming around the desert, Tor Johnson, (in his penultimate screen performances, poor guy), also roaming around the desert, some people trying to gun him down from a helicopter, and a completely unrelated opening scene of a nude woman getting strangled. No sound was recorded, so what little dialog there is only occurs when the actor's mouths are not showing. Worry not though, since we get copious amounts of narration to pathetically force a plot into the proceedings that has to do with Johnson playing one of those Soviet fellows who flees to the US with military secrets before going mad from radiation. Library-cued music plays uninterrupted throughout, dramatically punctuating random scenes where nothing dramatic is remotely happening, and well, you get the idea. Consider yourself blessed if you ONLY get the idea and never have to actually watch it.
(1962)
Dir - Ned Hockman/Skip Homier
Overall: MEH
The only full-length to be directed by either Ned Hockman or Skip Homier, (the latter uncredited), Stark Fear is a regional thriller shot almost entirely in Oklahoma and allegedly financed by the locals. Though well acted, (particularly by TV regular and minor scream queen Beverly Garland in the lead), it is more of a downtrodden melodrama than anything. Garland's husband is an abusive and neglectful ass, which has psychologically manipulated her to the point where she remains desperately devoted to him despite a nicer guy that she also has aggressive arguments with wanting to marry her. Oh, and she gets raped at one point. Watching roughly ninety minutes of a lady's miserable life is far from a recommended watch, even if she does eventually stand up to her odious spouse after more knock-down disagreements with her best friend. Still, its attempts at being a serious and unflinching look into the hardships faced by women who were still a few years away from the liberation movement picking up steam is at least admirable.
(1969)
Dir - Oliver Drake
Overall: WOOF
Director Oliver Drake had a career spanning four decades where he almost exclusively made Westerns, sans the odd D-rent obscurity The Mummy and the Curse of the Jackals. Set and shot in Las Vegas, it has an asinine enough premise of an archeologist telling his buddies to lock him inside of a tomb with his newly acquired mummy because reasons, only to turn into a werejackal, roam around the streets where no one notices his bestial form, and then fall under the enchanting spell of the now resurrected mummy lady who is not really a mummy but a perfectly preserved actress with a serious tan. Why any of these things happen is hardly important, and the ultra-cheap production can do little with the ridiculous material that it has to work with. The monster costumes are laughable, the acting is also laughable, the cinematographer appears to be intoxicated, the pacing would put even a jacked-up Robin Williams to sleep, and the only thing that the movie provides is some unintended giggles for those who do not turn it off right away. John Carradine shows up as a scientist who acts just like a police detective though, so there is that.
No comments:
Post a Comment