(1981)
Dir - Armand Weston
Overall: MEHThe final film to be directed by Armand Weston, (at least in a credited capacity), also doubles as his first to not fall into the pornographic category, 1981's Southern Gothic haunted house yarn The Nesting, (Phobia, Massacre Mansion). Two primary issues undue what is otherwise just a run of the mill genre offering. One is the bloated running time which stagnates regularly and leaves too much room for sloppy editing, mild incoherence, and set pieces that fail to come off as creepy as they should. This brings us to the other problem in the fact that the film regularly becomes unintentionally funny. Robin Groves in the lead, a bed/wheelchair-ridden John Carradine in a bit part, and David Tabor as an odious scumbag each chew the scenery in their attempts at intensity and it is hit and miss where the supernatural moments are concerned as dated special effects get in the way. The production is several steps above D-grade schlock though and cinematographer João Fernandes, (also from the adult industry), does a better job with the visual atmosphere than Weston does in trying to get from point A to point B. A fifty-eight year-old Gloria Graham shows up at the very end in a revealing outfit as well, so that is something.
(1987)
Dir - Alan Stewart
Overall: WOOF
A regional horror Western with bare minimum production values, uncharasmatic actors, and one hellova boring story line, Ghost Riders steers shy of being embarrassing, but is still textbook forgettable. Filmed at the Texas Safari Ranch om Clifton, Texas, any poor saps who saw the cover art and thought that a B-movie hoot with skeleton cowboys was in store from them probably all wrote the producers an angry letter. In fact this barely belongs in any horror conversation whatsoever, despite the fact that the plot technically involves supernatural gunslingers who just so happen to look like regular ole actors in clean clothes and cowboy hats. There is no ghoulish atmosphere at any time unless you count a couple of closeups of spiders and bugs in broad daylight. Also, the finale involves a revolver disappearing and a reverberated voice over about the bad guy's souls never resting. Director Alan Stewart only made two movies and it is understandable why as his sense of pacing revolves around shooting a couple of actors walk around to no music and exchange banal dialog with each other, a structure that is particularly torturous during the first half. The film is far too lazy to have any accidental hilarity and instead belongs in obscurity where it shall hopefully forever remain.
(1988)
Dir - Laurence Jacobs/Mark Stock
Overall: WOOFA misguided, alarmingly annoying genre spoof and the lone, (thank the heavens), film from directors Laurence Jacobs and Mark Stock, Midnight Movie Massacre, (Attack from Mars), is essentially what a 1950s drive-in cheapie homage would be like if the most obnoxious kids in your fifth grade class made it. On paper, Jacobs and Stock are going for something ambitious with the script from Roger Branit, John Chadwell, and David Houston which is two different movies happening at once. One story line involves an eccentric and painfully unfunny group of movie patrons sitting in a movie theater which is inter-cut with the secondary story line of the actual film that they are watching; an Ed Wood-style science-fiction serial called Space Patrol. Having any interest in either narrative let alone the brain capacity to follow things later on as space aliens show up in the theater setting to eat everyone, (until the token fat lady in the audience is hungry enough to eat them that is), is a fool's errand. From top to bottom, every aspect is wretchedly handled from the moronic plot, to the painful performances, to the inane dialog, to the purposely lazy production values, to the sanity-challenging pacing, to each and every attempt at juvenile humor simply making you want to jump out into traffic to spare yourself from enduring one second more of it.
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