Movies

Cool Cinema Trash: Of Love and Desire (1963)

Nov 6, 2014 | Cool Cinema Trash, Movies

If you are an adult in every sense of the word, you will probably understand about Katherine and Paul – and why there were so many men in her life!

Part South of the border travelogue and part overheated melodrama, Of Love and Desire (1963) is a sherbet colored confection that will leave any bad movie aficionado salivating like a kid in a candy store.

What it’s all about: Shortly after arriving in sunny Acapulco, engineer Steve Corey (played by swarthy Steve Cochran) is whisked away to the home of wealthy mining magnate Paul Beckmann (Curt Jurgens). Steve feels a bit out of his element, for when he arrives, a swanky cocktail party is in full swing. A mariachi band (that doesn’t play mariachi music) winds through the crowds of finely attired guests. “I’m not exactly dressed for a party,” Steve apologizes to Paul’s sister Katherine (Merle Oberon).

“I’ll never understand why you men are never happy unless you’re all dressed alike,” she quips. In her tailored gown and upswept hairdo, Oberon looks like a matronly Holly Golightly.

Steve and Katherine flirt over conversation, drinks and dancing. Paul pointedly reminds his sister to behave herself. As the party begins to wind down, a contractor working on the same project as Steve tells him that Katherine may be just the girl Steve needs to forget about a recent broken engagement. “All you have to do is touch that dame and she goes off like a firecracker.”

As they stroll across the grounds of her brother’s home, Katherine comments on the beautiful night, despite the fact that the scene was obviously shot during the day. She asks Steve to accompany her to her nearby hacienda. While on their walk, Katherine reveals that Paul is her half-brother, a plot point that will prove important later on.

An unassuming street side door leads to Katherine’s secret garden. A heavenly choir “oohs” and “ahhs” as the camera pans across her verdant courtyard. After chatting about long-ago childhood games, Katherine offers Steve a nightcap. The proximity of Steve’s potent brand of masculinity sets her on edge and she accidentally drops his drink.

Up until this point, Of Love and Desire has been a colorful, if not unremarkable, melodrama. It’s when Katherine finally reveals her tortured desire for male companionship that the film kicks into high camp overdrive. A simple kiss goodnight unleashes Katherine’s inner wildcat. She pants and clutches at Steve, clawing at his shirt, leaving him momentarily stunned by her sudden passion.

“Did I give in too fast for you? Didn’t I play the game right? Just what do you need to make you feel like I’m a conquest? I should have pretended longer, but just how much longer… one hour… two?” she cries.

One second she’s literally begging for it, the next she’s shedding overwrought tears of shame. Katherine’s obvious schizophrenic sex addiction would send any sane man running for the hills, so what does Steve do? He takes her in his arms, lowers her down onto the couch and kisses her.

Church bells ring while the sun also rises. Steve awakens in Katherine’s bed, but finds her outside enjoying a morning swim. “I wish I were as young as you make me feel,” she coos. It has to be said that for a woman of fifty-two, Oberon cuts a rather fine figure in her two-piece swimming ensemble.

She asks him to join her in the azure waters of her garden pool. Steve goes to change in the poolside bungalow and finds several pairs of men’s swim trunks, all of which have been presumably left behind by Katherine’s previous lovers.

Paul interrupts their swim. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what is going on when Steve’s bags are brought over by a valet. “He spent the night,” she heatedly confesses to Paul, “Katherine Beckmann with a total stranger!”

Later, after Steve has inspected the mining project, Katherine brings him a picnic lunch. “I’ve known you less than a day and I’ve made a fool of myself twice… am I doing it again?” She then makes an awkward genie comment, “Rub me right and make a wish.” Once again, Katherine’s mild stalking tendencies would send most men running. Steve finds it quaint.

Together they fly away on a Mexican holiday. They make love in the shadows of an Aztec pyramid and splash along the picturesque coast. One afternoon, while playfully tumbling around on the bed, the inevitable happens. She calls Steve by the wrong name. Oops. Talk about a mood breaker.

At an open air Mercado, she tells Steve, “I want to be different for you, young and exciting, so that you’ll never get tired of me.” Impulsively she has a local barber cut off her long tresses. “Now you can run your fingers through my hair anytime you want.” This isn’t necessarily true since her shorter, more sensible cut is just as severely styled and lacquered as her previous up ‘do.

Back from vacation, Steve admits that he loves her despite her past, “I fell in love with you anyway.” He asks her to marry him in a line obviously added in post-production. It’s a rather silly attempt to add some respectability to their whirlwind affair. It’s especially ridiculous since it has been made abundantly clear that there is nothing respectable about Katherine’s voracious appetite for the opposite sex. They kiss as the sun sets, church bells chime and the swallows return to Capistrano.

When Katherine tells Paul of her happiness, her brother reacts with a startling severity, “I’ve had to tolerate your sorted little affairs, I will not put up with this any longer. You are not to see this man again, I forbid it.” He quickly apologizes for his harsh words and they share a moment remembering times past. Though Paul’s fervent recollections about Katherine’s youthful beauty seem a bit odd.

Paul knows the only way to get his sister to forget one man, is to present her with another. While yachting with friends, Katherine is shocked to find that former paramour Gus Cole (John Agar) has been invited along. After a few drinks, the cad makes his move, “What’s the difference Katherine? It’s just another pair of pants. I wanna press the button and watch you melt.” She tries to resist, but the rape turns to romance as she tearfully submits to her own prurient desires.

Come morning, she shamefully realizes the betrayal she has committed against the man she loves and slits her wrists. Steve comes aboard to join the party and finds Katherine on the floor of her cabin.

Once Katherine is safe and convalescing, Paul explains that his sister’s neuroses are due in part to a love she lost long ago, “She goes from one to the other searching for a lost passion.”

As Steve prepares to leave, Katherine comes to say good-bye, “No excuse. If I had one, I’d give it to you as a going away present.” She then proceeds to tell the sad tale of her first love. She was saving herself for her wedding day. “I was a virgin. To me it meant so much. We wanted to be married, but Paul wouldn’t hear of it.”

All of her pain, guilt and regret are wrapped up into a tidy psychological package that serves to explain her trampy behavior. This girl clearly has some issues. Once again, Steve is presented with the option of a graceful exit, but does he take it?

“Katherine, I think you’ve served your time in hell. You come with me.”

“I’m an awful risk,” she warns, before hurrying back to her hacienda to pack. “I’m going away with Mr. Corey,” she joyfully tells her housekeeper. But when she sees the bandages on her wrists, an overwrought musical cue tells us that she’s changed her mind. “How could I have been such a fool?”

She has to get away from it all. As she packs, she angrily confronts her controlling brother, “You showed me what I am. I never want to see you again Paul!”

It’s now that Paul chooses to lay all his cards on the table. “Always torturing me with your affairs, throwing them in my face. Alone, always alone, because I can’t have what I really want.” This revelation could’ve been shocking and dramatic, if it weren’t for the lighting instrument that bobs in and out of frame.

After her brother’s incestuous declaration of love, Katherine flees the house in disgust. In a blind panic she runs, but everywhere she turns there are men. Men, MEN, MEN!

Through the streets and into a hotel lobby she runs until she becomes trapped in a revolving door. “Let me free!” she cries as the sequence builds to its loopy climax. Back out on the street she has nowhere to turn. There are men, men everywhere! Steve, who was on his way to pick her up, spots her and rescues her from her own hysterical theatrics. “I love you so much. Take me away from here.”

Even after this latest demonstration of Katherine’s instability, Steve still wants her. Is he a saint or simply a glutton for punishment?

As they take one last stroll through the garden, they notice that a portrait in Katherine’s likeness is missing from the living room mantle. “Poor Paul,” Katherine muses as she walks away with the man of her dreams. Forget about psychoanalysis and twelve step programs, true love and a respectable marriage are all this middle-aged neurotic sex-addict needs.

In conclusion: Of Love and Desire came towards the end of Merle Oberon’s long career. Since it isn’t every day that any actress of her years gets to play a sex kitten, Oberon tackles the role of Katherine with gusto. Women of a certain age being presented as still desirable was a radical concept for 1963. With the sexual revolution and the women’s movement just around the corner, it would have been interesting to see a story about a mature modern woman who fully embraces her own sexuality.

Instead, Of Love and Desire is an old-fashioned soap opera with a morality firmly entrenched in the 1950’s. Sex before marriage is bad. End of story. The resulting guilt and shame this causes for the film’s herione is what makes Of Love and Desire such a melodramatic treat for fans of cool cinema trash.

Of Love and Desire occasionally runs on cable TV. Sadly, it is not currently available on DVD.

Cool Cinema Trash: Pieces (1982)

Oct 29, 2014 | Cool Cinema Trash, Movies

You don’t have to go to Texas for a chainsaw massacre!

There’s a murderous psychopath loose on campus and it’s up to real life husband and wife Christopher George and Lynda Day George to solve the crime. Something tells me that there’s going to be a lot of dead co-eds before all is said and done.

What it’s all about: Pieces (1982) opens with a prologue set 1942 Boston, though it’s unlike any Boston you’ve ever seen before. The majority of the film was shot in Madrid. A young mother walks in on her son putting together the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. She’s disgusted to find that the completed puzzle is of a naked woman. She ransacks his room looking for filth, but doesn’t get very far. Sonny boy hacks her to death with an axe. Though there’s lots of blood and gore, the axe never hits the actress, it just kind of bounces off her head.

Forty years later, Jr. is all grown up and obviously a little off kilter. He lovingly obsesses over mementos of that violent day, once again piecing together the blood stained picture puzzle.

A perky co-ed on a skateboard crashes through an over-sized mirror. Who is this girl and what has her mishap got to with the story? Who knows. She’s never referred to again. That’s the kind of movie were dealing with.

A young woman stretches out on the campus lawn trying to study when a mysterious groundskeeper starts up his chainsaw. She continues her reading, but soon looses her head at the hands of the maniac.

“Have you heard the latest?” one student asks, passing a joint to his friend, “They’ve just installed a waterbed in the training room.” This seemingly random tidbit is the only explanation we get for a major set-piece later on in the movie.

Detectives Bracken (Christopher George) and Holden (Frank Brana) meet with the Dean of the university (Edmund Purdom) to discuss the case of the headless co-ed. The Dean is all business and pawns the detectives off on anatomy professor Brown (Jack Taylor). Prof. Brown seems quite interested in the detectives’ theories, “You mean it might be one of the boys?”

“Who knows at this stage,” Holden quips, “We’re just out buying clothes without labels and trying them on for size.” Hmmm. Equating a murder investigation with shopping… it’s certainly an interesting analogy.

The killer, who skulks through the library in classic first person slasher-movie P.O.V., sees a pretty blonde pass a note to Kendall (Ian Sera), big man on campus. They plan to meet later that night at the pool. The killer later watches from the shadows as she slowly undresses then dives in for a quick swim. Using a pool net, he reels her in, fires up his chainsaw and harvests the necessary pieces he needs for his demented project.

Kendall discovers the body and the police arrive to find brutish campus handyman Willard (Paul L. Smith). After a minor scuffle, Willard is taken into custody. Bracken calls prof. Brown to the crime scene and asks for his educated opinion. “Well, I’m not a pathologist,” he insists while getting his fingerprints all over the murder weapon, “but even a layman could see it was done with this. I’d say it’s elementary.”

The Dean gets his knickers in a twist when he hears the detectives’ plan. “You want to place two of your policewomen on my staff to spy on everybody? That’s asking a lot.”

“There have been two murders now. That maniac is gonna kill again. This may be the only way we have of catching him.”

Speaking of…the killer watches a late night dance class, following one girl who leaves the studio to find the john. After a seemingly endless traipse down stairwells and through corridors, she runs into a friend. She’s safe for the time being.

After nearly thirty minutes of screen time, the real star of the picture finally appears. “Is this job dangerous?” Mary Riggs (Lynda Day George) asks. When Bracken tells her yes, she just about jumps for joy, “Good, I’ll do it. I’m bored to tears with this place.” Desk duty is no place for a former tennis pro turned police detective. Mary will go undercover as the university tennis coach. Since the dept. seems to be short on undercover cops, Kendall the campus Casanova will help her with the case.

Mary’s first assignment is an exhibition match with a female student. In the DVD extras we learn that the actresses had ever picked up a racquet before in their lives, a fact that is painfully obvious when watching the scene. The Dean congratulates Mary on a great game and hopes that, “This whole wretched business will be resolved with a minimum of fuss.” Sylvia Costa (Isabel Luque), a local reporter, begins asking questions. “Nothing has been happening I assure you. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Way to play it cool Dean. That kind of emphatic denial isn’t suspicious at all.

Meanwhile, the killer continues to play with his puzzle. To help keep the killers identity a secret, the actor wears gloves throughout the movie. Awkward, oversized gloves. In a shot that goes on and on and on, the killer fumbles with the jigsaw pieces, continually trying to jam them into place.

He makes a return visit to the dance studio where a leggy beauty rehearses all alone. She finishes up and goes to the elevator where she is surprised to find someone she knows. Her companion turns out to be the killer. He steps into the elevator and whips out his chainsaw. Her screams are heard across campus and Kendall rushes to her aide. All he finds is a bloody corpse. Bracken arrives on the scene to find the entire cast lined up as if they were in an Agatha Christie whodunit.

There are more shrieks in the night, only this time the screams come from a girl on the receiving end of Kendall’s considerable sexual prowess. He gives the audience a bit of full frontal when he goes to his bedroom window and spots Mary down below, snooping around.

The killer, his chainsaw at the ready, watches Mary. A man in a tracksuit jogs by. Suddenly she is attacked by a ninja. Yes… a ninja. She defends herself by kicking him where it counts. Kendall rides up on his dirt bike, “Hey, it’s my kung fu professor.” The Bruce Lee wannabe trots off, blaming the attack on bad chop suey.

Reporter Sylvia Costa explores the dark, deserted campus. She finds her way into the room with the aforementioned waterbed where the killer traps her. He stabs her repeatedly, water and blood gushing artistically in slow-motion geysers.

The next day, a female student finishes her tennis workout and hits the showers. The killer comes after her in the locker room, chainsaw buzzing. She tries to flee but her only route of escape has been blocked. She hides in a bathroom stall, so terrified that she wets her pants. Mary and Kendall arrive at the tennis courts but are unable to hear the girl’s screams because someone is blasting a marching band tune over the school’s P.A. system. The incongruous choice of music plays throughout the scene of gore and mayhem.

The killer slices trough the stall door and makes quick work of dicing up the tennis player. Mary and Kendall find Willard nearby acting suspicious, but then again, when is he not acting suspicious? It’s his sole reason for being in the movie. After the annoying music is finally turned off, they find the bloody remains of the recent locker room massacre.

Lynda Day George’s performance in this scene is pure bad movie nirvana. Pieces is worth watching for this single moment alone. “While we were out here fumbling with that music,” she emotes, “That lousy bastard was in there killing her. Bastard! BASTARD… BASTARD!!!”

The continuous campus violence sets everyone on edge. Det. Holden has been diligently sifting through files for clues, but Bracken needs answers now. “We don’t have anymore time. Take some uppers or something. Get me a lead. Anything!” Kendall, everyone’s favorite Jr. detective is assigned to help Holden.

That night, Mary pays the Dean a visit. He is unusually solicitous. The reason behind his gracious demeanor is quickly revealed. While mixing up some Sanka, in what may be the ugliest kitchen ever captured on film, the Dean drugs Mary’s coffee.

Kendall finds a clue. Holden checks the facts. After a single thirty second phone call, the case is solved. “The Dean is the one. Apparently his mother was chopped up when he was a kid. It must have affected his mind.”

In the sitting room of the Dean’s apartment, Mary begins to feel the strange effects of the drug. The detectives and Kendall arrive on the scene to find Mary in a near catatonic state. Unable to speak, she can’t tell them that the Dean is hiding behind the drapes. He pounces on an unsuspecting Kendall. They struggle. Just when the Dean is about to get the upper hand, Bracken shoots him dead.

The jigsaw puzzle is found and the police have their man. Case solved. After a job well done, Det. Holden casually leans against a bookshelf. Like a wall in a haunted house, the bookcase pivots open to reveal the Dean’s pieced together Frankenstein bride. The lifeless corpse topples onto a traumatized Kendall.

In a movie jam-packed with WTF moments, there’s still one last shock that tops them all. As the police close up the crime scene, Kendall stops to pick up his jacket. Suddenly, the hand of the corpse bride reaches up, grabs Kendall by the crotch and rips his privates off.

Seriously… WTF!?!

In conclusion: Fascinated by cinema at a young age, Juan Piquer Simon worked in publicity before getting the chance to direct his own films. Working primarily in Spain, Simon has written and produced nearly all of his movies, genre fare like Supersonic Man (1978), Mystery on Monster Island (1981), The Pod People (1983) and Slugs (1988). In all honesty, most of these aren’t very good, but there is a certain hackneyed charm present in all his films.

The film’s producers selected the American members of the Pieces cast. Simon hired Ian Sera, Frank Brana and Jack Taylor, all of whom he’d worked with before. The Asian actor who played the unexpected kung fu professor was working on a film of one of the producers when he visited the Pieces set. Deciding to take advantage of the actor’s fighting expertise, Simon came up with the karate sequence on the spot. The rest, as they say, is history.

Christopher George and Lynda Day George met the set of The Gentle Rain (1966) and were married not long after completing work on the John Wayne western Chisum (1970). They worked together throughout the decade in television movies like House on Greenapple Road (1970), Mayday at 40,000 Feet (1976) and Cruise Into Terror (1978). Their final big screen appearance together was in 1983’s Mortuary. Christopher George died of a heart attack in November of that year. With the exception of a few TV guest spots, Lynda retired from acting after her husband’s death.

The Pieces DVD from Grindhouse Releasing is a cult movie lovers dream come true. The first disc contains the remastered film in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. Certain scenes appear a little grainy, but this is due to the movie’s low-budget origins, otherwise the picture is flawless. Audio options include the English version with stock music cues, the Spanish subtitled version with the original music score and a newly recorded 5.1 live track titled ‘The Vine Theatre Experience’ in which you can enjoy the movie along with the appreciative audience at a screening of Pieces at the Vine Theatre in Hollywood. Special features include the trailer and the original Spanish opening sequence. The second disc includes two in-depth interviews (each approx. an hour) with Juan Piquer Simon and Paul L. Smith. In lieu of a commentary track, these interviews more than satisfy any questions about the making of the film. There are the requisite photo galleries including the featurette ‘Juan Piquer’s Still Show’ in which the director shares with the viewer some of his Pieces memorabilia, including the original nudie puzzle prop. An Easter egg in the galleries menu reveal more footage from the ‘Still Show’ in which Simon goes over the old topless casting photos and reveals his dislike of the Baldwin brothers (it makes sense when you watch it). Filmographies and previews of other Grindhouse Releasing titles (14 in all) are also included.

Creatively gruesome chainsaw murders, surprise ninja attacks and the awesome acting talents of Lynda Day George (“Bastard!”) make Pieces must see viewing for aficionados of cool cinema trash.

Cool Cinema Trash: The Devil Within Her (1975)

Oct 22, 2014 | Cool Cinema Trash, Movies

What it’s all about: As a sweaty Joan Collins writhes and moans during a particularly difficult childbirth, doctor Donald Pleasence comments to a nurse that, “This one doesn’t want to be born.” When you have Donald Pleasence for an obstetrician, you know you’re in big trouble. The Devil Within Her (1975, also know as I Don’t Want to Be Born) is a wonderfully wacky mish-mash of ideas liberally borrowed from other, more successful horror movies like Rosemary’s Baby (1968) and The Exorcist (1973).

When proud father Gino Carlesi (Ralph Bates) visits his wife Lucy (a pre-Dynasty Joan Collins) in the hospital, he finds her with bloody scratches on her cheek courtesy of their newborn son. “Maybe she was cuddling it too tightly,” Dr. Finch (Pleasence) explains, “Even at this age, babies have an extraordinary instinct for survival.” The uneasy couple brings their son home and they are greeted by efficient housekeeper Mrs. Hyde.

Gino’s has a sister who is, in fact, a sister. A nun that is. Sister Albana (Eileen Atkins) has come all the way from Italy for a visit. Gino greets his sister with a welcoming cascade of Italian endearments. “We are only going to speak English.” She insists. English, that is, with really bad Italian accents. Why talented British born actors like Bates and Atkins are forced to adopt such crazy accents is anybody’s guess. This is just one of he many instances where The Devil Within Her sabotages itself with odd production choices and absurd plot devices. Really, would an Old World Italian Catholic nun (with a bad accent) be any better suited for an exorcism than a Sister from the UK?

Lucy is paid a visit by glamorous pal Mandy, played by an oddly dubbed Caroline Munro, whose crazy cockney accent would sound right at home in a dinner theatre production of My Fair Lady. An unearthly ruckus from upstairs interrupts their girl talk. They find that the nursery has practically been demolished. Baby Nicholas lies quietly in his crib, a dolls decapitated head in his little arms. “He frightens me,” Lucy admits, “He’s been like that since he was born.”

In flashback we learn that Lucy used to be a nightclub dancer. With hilariously detailed narration, she recounts the beginnings of her woes. Her specialty was a number where she danced with a dwarf named Hercules. One night in her dressing room, her pint-sized dance partner pays her a visit. “I felt awkward,” she tells Mandy, “but I didn’t want to upset him, I knew how sensitive he was. I felt his hand on my neck. I tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. Maybe for an instant I was fascinated. It felt unreal.”

She rejects him and he is humiliated. As Lucy leaves the club, Hercules shouts his curse, “You will have a baby…a monster, an evil monster conceived inside your womb. As big as I am small and possessed by the devil himself!” It’s not weird, or scary, or creepy. It’s just one of the many moments in this supernatural thriller that elicit giggles instead of terrified screams.

When Sister Albana comes to visit the baby, she witnesses a violent feeding. “He spat at me!” Lucy cries, “He hates me!” In Albana’s presence, baby Nicholas shrieks and when placed in the arms of a priest at his christening, he goes into convulsions.

After employing the help of a full-time nurse, Gino and Lucy go out for a romantic evening. When they get home, they find the nurse was nearly drowned while giving the baby his bath. A little hand pulled her head into the bathwater. As Lucy puts the child to bed, it’s not the baby’s face that she sees, but the evil visage of Hercules!

While sharing a cup of tea with her friend, Lucy frets over her newborn, “How can I tell the doctor I think the baby is possessed by a devil?” Dr. Finch suggests some genetic tests to help determine what’s wrong with the baby. While the nurse is taking Nicholas for a stroll in the park, a tiny hand pushes her into the lake.

Albana discusses the problem child with her brother, “Lucy believes he is possessed…by the day-vil.” Unsure whether Lucy is imagining things or if something truly is wrong, she asks Gino, “When did you last pray?” Their whispered prayers elicit tortured screams from the baby upstairs.

The next day, Lucy steps out while the beleagured Mrs. Hyde finds a dead mouse in her cup of tea. Sister Albana consults with Dr. Finch in a laughably philosophical discussion of religion, science, and the supernatural. The doctor takes her theory of possession in stride and agrees to hospitalize the baby for observation while Gino takes Lucy on holiday.

Lucy goes to see her old employer. Tommy, the slimy strip club owner is played by John Steiner, who was also a memorable villain in the Italian films Yor, The Hunter From the Future (1983) and Sinbad of the Seven Seas (1989). While auditioning a group of forgettable dancers for his topless revue, Tommy invites Lucy to rejoin the troupe. “I was lousy most of the time.” she admits. It’s valid assessment considering the fact that she never stripped in her old act. The scene injects some hardcore T&A into what has so far been a PG state of affairs.

She explains that he might be the daddy of her devil child, “Just ’cause you’ve got some freaky offspring you wanna pin it on me. What’d you expect me to do, fire Hercules and put your kid in my show?” In a moment that foreshadows her future employment on Dynasty, she calls him a bastard and dramatically slaps him. This piques Tommy’s interest, “I wanna see this spooky baby of yours.”

At the apartment, when Tommy leans in close to see if there is a family resemblance, baby Nicholas gives him a bloody nose. This amuses Lucy and, for the first time, looks at her child with affection. That is, until the face of Hercules appears in the crib.

Gino comes home from the office with all the makings for a romantic evening with his wife. They finish off the night by making love in a scene filled with soft-core close-ups and saxophone accompaniment. When Gino checks on the baby and finds the nursery empty and the window open, he goes outside to investigate some eerie giggling. When he looks up into some braches, a noose slips around his neck and he is soon dangling from a tree. His body is disposed of in the storage cubicle underneath the patio.

Lucy searches London for her missing husband but cannot find Gino anywhere. That night the doctor pays a visit to check on the troublesome child and it’s frenzied mother. “I’m frightened to be in the same house with him,” Lucy admits. After giving her a sedative, Dr. Finch hears that same creepy laugh and goes to investigate. In the backyard he is decapitated with several whacks from a garden shovel.

In a doped up haze, Lucy stumbles through the house. Her nightmare becomes all too real when she is attacked by the possessive spirit of Hercules. “I’m your mother, you can’ hurt me!” she cries as she barricades her bedroom door against her child’s murderous attack. “I know why you hate me. You didn’t want to be born!” Lucy pleads, but it is no use and she is stabbed trough the heart.

In a final showdown, Albana confronts the devil child. Reading from an ancient text, she begins the exorcism while the infant screams and the crib shakes. Baby Nicholas tears at her vestments, but with crucifix in hand, she carries on. On the other side of London, Hercules doubles over in agony while performing onstage with the girls at the nightclub.

The child leaps from the crib as the nursery shakes. Repeating the sacred Latin text, Albana touches the cross to the baby’s forehead. Hercules stumbles and falters while the showgirls continue to dance around him. Apparently the show must go on, even if you’re a stripper. When Sister Albana is finished, Nicholas gurgles and coos like a happy baby while Hercules, that diminutive practitioner of black magic, drops dead in front of a stunned audience.

In conclusion: When you’re dealing with a murderous, possessed infant, there’s a very fine line between a story that is terrifying and a story that is terribly silly. The cast seems to be trying their best, but their efforts are wasted in the type of movie where a grown man is punched in the nose by a baby. If The Devil Within Her had a Z-grade budget and second rate actors it would have been an amusing piece of genre junk. What makes it truly exceptional is the fact that this appears to be a serious attempt at a suspenseful horror film.

Aside from its unintentional laughs, The Devil Within Her leaves many questions unanswered. Why does Joan Collins remain clothed during her strip routine only to (briefly) appear nude in a love scene later on? The beautiful Caroline Munro is best known for her shapely figure. Why cast her (in a part that’s inconsequential at best) if you’re not going to exploit those assets? Where exactly did Hercules get his powers? Is he evil or just a bitter little man? Is he the devil? Why did he die after the exorcism? How does a nun (who is a research scientist) know how to perform exorcisms?

With demonic dwarfs, possessed infants and some of the ugliest (but groovy) production design of the 1970’s, Joan Collins might feel that The Devil Within Her is better left forgotten. Fans of Cool Cinema Trash will consider it unforgettable.

Cool Cinema Trash: The Brainiac (1962)

Oct 15, 2014 | Cool Cinema Trash, Movies

For the uninitiated, The Brainiac (El Baron Del Terror, 1962) may seem less like a south of the border cinematic oddity and more like a trip into a surreal parallel universe. It’s audaciously silly and undeniably weird, but what else would you expect from the country that gave the world the Los Luchadores (Mexican wrestling) subgenre. The Brainiac doesn’t include the heroic exploits of popular cinematic wrestling star El Santo, but then again, it doesn’t need him. The Brainiac is outrageous enough all on its own.

What it’s all about: The fun begins in 1661 as Baron Vitelius d’Estera (Abel Salazar) stands before a masked tribunal for crimes against the people of Mexico. The grand inquisitor reads from an incredibly long list of kinky misdeeds perpetrated by the Baron, who seems mildly amused by the proceedings. He is sentenced to burn at the stake for his crimes.

The townsfolk gather in the field to watch as justice is harshly dealt. A burning miniature in the camera’s foreground is meant to give the impression of a burning pyre, though it’s obvious that the flames come nowhere near the actor playing the Baron. Though the scene is supposed to take place outside, the indoor set is amusingly sparse and about as convincing as the sets festooned with cardboard gravestones in Ed Wood’s Plan 9 From Outer Space (1959).

As a comet flies overhead (an effect achieved using an “animated” out of focus photograph), the Baron calls out to the men who have condemned him. “I shall return to your world within 300 years when that comet completes its cycle and is once again in these latitudes. When that happens, I will take my revenge upon you. I will kill each and every one of your descendants and I shall expunge your foul lineage from this earth!”

Fast forward to 1961 where Ronny and Vicky (Ruben Rojo and Rosa Maria Gallardo) visit professor Millan (Luis Aragon) at his mountaintop observatory. After the professor gives an exhaustive explanation, we learn that the Baron’s comet will be cruising past earth that very evening. Vicky scans the sky with the observatory’s telescope and soon discovers the same shoddy special effect we saw earlier crawling across the heavens. “What a splendid spectacle!” the professor cries.

Meanwhile, a curious driver spots the comet (literally a sparkler in the sky) and pulls to the side of the road just as a giant paper maché rock clumsily falls to earth. As he approaches the iceberg-shaped structure, it dissolves, revealing a hideous space alien. With its hawk-like nose and scraggly hair, the Brainiac is easily one of the most inventive and amusing monsters to ever grace the screen. The pulsating rubber mask and suction cup-tipped hands only add to its low-budget charms. The monster attacks the hapless driver with its elongated forked tongue and swaps clothes with him, its ghastly visage transforming into that of Baron Vitelius!

Ronny and Vicky, investigating the falling star, encounter the Baron on the side of the road. Several long awkward moments pass (as if the actors were waiting for the director to call “action”) before the trio introduce themselves. The youngsters eventually go off comet hunting while the Baron proceeds to a nearby bar where he meets a pretty lady. A flashing stage light is used to represent the Baron’s irresistible gaze. A flurry of bongo drums erupt on the soundtrack as he transforms into the Brainiac and uses his forked tongue to suck out her brains.

The dead bodies end up at the local morgue. “A most astounding thing has occurred in these cases,” the medical examiner explains to a pair of detectives, “The cephalic matter was sucked out through these small openings.”

“A maniac with a lot of knowledge is a threat,” one of the investigators deadpans as they theorize that the deaths may somehow be linked to a recent bank robbery.

The Baron pays a visit to the national archive where, in the basement catacombs, the remains of the grand inquisitors are interred. Later, while strolling in front of a gas station, he encounters a working gal whose brains are just too yummy to pass up. Cue that crazy bongo beat as he transforms and goes on the attack.

Meanwhile, the professor can’t understand how the comet they were tracking could’ve simply vanished from the sky. “We’ve been working for two weeks,” Ronny points out, “and you’re exhausted.” Vicky brings in the mail, which includes an invitation from Baron Vitelius. A party at the Baron’s chi-chi mansion will be the perfect way to unwind.

That evening, the Baron gives the evil eye to each of his distinguished guests as his butler announces their arrival. They are all the descendants of the men who persecuted him 300 years earlier. To assure that the audience fully understands the correlation between the present day guests and their long-ago relatives, the faces of their forefathers are superimposed over their modern day counterparts as each person arrives. This cinematic technique works fine for the male actors since they play both the grand inquisitors and their descendants, but when poor Vicky enters, her face amusingly morphs into that of her unattractive male ancestor.

After attending to Ronny and Vicky, the Baron excuses himself. Sequestered from the prying eyes of his guests, the Baron unlocks a large cabinet to reveal an ornate goblet filled with brains! He daintily uses a silver spoon to eat his fill before returning to the party. The detectives working on the drained brain murders are also on hand to protect the high society guests and their valuables from thieves. The evening ends pleasantly and without incident.

So far, the Brainiac’s victims have been randomly selected. Now it’s time for the Baron Vitelius to truly exact his revenge. The first on his list is a historian (actor/director German Robles). While pouring over some historical texts, they come across the Baron’s own history and he confirms that he is indeed the same man mentioned in the history books. Paralyzed by the Baron’s flashing gaze, the history professor can only watch as his lovely daughter succumbs to the brain-hungry fiend. The professor is also sucked dry before his house is set ablaze.

“These people here were burned,” the detective later says, overstating the obvious. “Only that doesn’t fool me. It’s clear that that madman extracted their brains as well.”

Next, the Baron visits a steel tycoon (director/actor Rene Cardona Sr.) and his wife. The Baron goes on the attack while being shown the man’s laboratory/foundry. The tycoon watches helplessly as Baron Vitelius makes out with his wife, then transforms and devours her. Using his otherworldly influence, he forces the tycoon to step into his own furnace.

Over breakfast, Vicky and Ronny read about the recent deaths in the morning papers. Since the victims were all guests of the Baron, Ronny can’t help but think that, “No matter how hard I fight it, I’m still convinced this Baron Vitelius is a bad omen.”

The detectives also suspect the Baron, but he easily sidesteps their questions. The next person on his list of vengeance is a newlywed bride. When the Baron enters her honeymoon suite, she calls out to her husband, but the bridegroom has already fallen victim to the Baron’s insatiable lust for revenge. Inexplicably (perhaps to break up the monotony of all that sucking) the unlucky groom was hung upside down in the shower and drowned. The bride faints at the sight of the Brainiac and becomes his next meal.

The detectives finally put two and two together when they visit the catacombs, comparing the names there with their current list of victims.

Vicky and Ronny are the next to die!

At his estate, the Baron lures Vicky into a room alone under the pretense of giving her some jewelry. Out of nowhere he declares, “I long to love you and adore you above all, I swear it. But there is no way now. My hate is much stronger than my love, like a matter no one can control.” Ronny discovers the secret brain stash and does battle with the transformed Baron. He isn’t much help and poor Vicky falls into the monsters clutches.

The detectives, who’ve inexplicably arrived barring flame-throwers, proceed to roast the Brainiac alive. The Baron’s plot has been foiled. The smoky, charred remains of the beast turn back into Vitelius before finally dissolving into the Baron’s skeletal remains.

In conclusion: Audiences have K. Gordon Murray to thank for bringing The Brainiac to American movie houses and TV screens in the mid 60’s. The Florida-based producer repackaged and dubbed Mexican product for the U.S. market and became particularly well known for the kid’s matinee titles and horror movies he distributed. Murray rarely copyrighted these films and, after their initial runs in theatres and television, most of them faded into obscurity.

In the public domain for years, The Brainiac was once only available on bargain bin VHS and DVD. Thankfully, Casa Negra Entertainment has released an exquisite version of the film that is sure to please any cult movie fan. The full frame print used for this DVD release is as near perfect as you can get with a film of this vintage. The picture is crisp and you have the choice of the classically campy English dub or the original Spanish language track with optional English subtitles. A text essay details the history of the production and it’s place in the Mexican horror genre. Other features include an interactive press kit, a U.S. radio spot, cast biographies and a small still gallery. There is also a feature length commentary by Kirb Pheeler, a fanboy who watches The Brainiac with all the glee of a devoted fan. While commenting on the more absurd aspects of the film, Pheeler also manages to impart a lot of information detailing the film’s background as well as the various behind-the-scenes players, including actor/producer/director Abel Salazar.

The Brainiac is a blissfully weird and wild ride through the surreal world of Mexican horror movies. Take this cinematic trip south of the border. You won’t be disappointed.

Cool Cinema Trash: Bloody Pit of Horror (1965)

Oct 8, 2014 | Cool Cinema Trash, Movies

He was a homicidal maniac who lived to kill!

The star of Bloody Pit of Horror (1965), Mickey Hargitay, is probably best remembered as the former Mr. Jayne Mansfield. Like many musclemen of the era, Hargitay found a certain degree of fame starring in European costume pictures, most of them made in Italy. Oddly enough, despite his impressive physique, Hargitay played Hercules only once opposite his bombshell wife in The Loves of Hercules (1960).

You know you’re in for a special treat when a movie starts with a quote by the Marquis De Sade. “My vengeance needs blood!” (Insert maniacal laugh here) Part Italian horror film, part muscleman movie, Bloody Pit of Horror (1965) is a uniquely strange cinematic hybrid.

What it’s all about: The movie begins with a flashback of a red-hooded criminal being led to his death. Helpful narration explains that the aptly named Crimson Executioner “…took life not from any sense of justice, but from hatred and self gratification.” As the prisoner is being strapped into one of his own torture devices he loudly proclaims, “I’ll return and be avenged!”

The iron maiden looks like it was constructed for a grade school play. The coffin shaped prop is clearly made of painted plywood and its deadly spikes are unmistakably rubber that look anything but sharp. Still, when they close the door he screams in agony and the camera pans down to reveal blood oozing out the bottom.

A clock ticks away the years as our narrator chimes in with this helpful piece of voice-over, “Your castle will stand throughout the centuries as a reminder of the barbarism and cruelty committed within its walls.”

Flash forward to a photographer and his models arriving outside the castle doors. The abandoned castle looks to be the perfect spot to shoot their pulp fiction book covers.
Kinojo, the exotic one, has an eerie premonition, “There’s something evil about this castle. I’m sure of it.”

Her boyfriend Perry dismisses her female intuition, “You Hawaiians are far too impressionable.”

As the gang begins to explore, they find that the castle isn’t abandoned after all. The reclusive Travis Anderson (Hargitay) is the master of the house. He orders them to leave, but reconsiders when he sees the photographers prim assistant Edith. They can finish their work, but must go in the morning.

While Edith helps the girls get ready, Perry and Raoul go off on their own to explore the dungeon. After being frightened by a bat (made of rubber and suspended on a string) Perry disturbs the final resting place of the Crimson Executioner unleashing his shadowy spirit.

In a comedic montage, Dermot the photographer tries to get some work done by posing the uncooperative girls in various states of peril. A girl being stabbed, a girl being strangled, a girl en pointe ballerina-style in a cat mask (don’t ask).

While the group sets up for the next shot, Raoul coaxes Suzy downstairs into a dark and cozy corner of the dungeon. Suzy limply protests when he starts to get fresh. “Let me alone Raoul, I’m scared.”

In all horror movies (even Italian ones) sex equals death. The reincarnated Crimson Executioner soon makes his appearance. Raoul does his best to defend his lady love but his back is quickly broken when the Executioner traps him in a half-nelson/death grip. Since he resembles a Mexican wrestler in his red tights and cowl the wrestling move seems apropos. Suzy is next. She cowers in the corner, helpless, as the Crimson killer moves menacingly closer, and closer, and closer…

In another part of the castle a new shot is being set up. As a model in the photo, Perry lays down on an antique torture device. Suddenly the pendulum swings and he is sliced to death. “The rope was badly worn.” Max the crass book publisher attests, “We overlooked that I’m afraid.”

After the terrible accident the girls want to leave, but Max is only concerned with getting the job done.

“I’ll double your salary.”

“My life’s worth more than that.”

“Triple it.”

“Okay, it’s a deal.”

As luck would have it the castle has a dark room. When Dermot develops the photo taken during the accident, it reveals a mysterious figure in the background. A man in a mask and hood. When Travis sees the photo he takes our group on a walking tour of the castle and explains the history of the Crimson Executioner. “…for centuries he was entombed there in the dungeon and only a seal has protected mankind from his supernatural powers. If the shadow in the photograph is the Crimson Executioner I fear anything might happen. I had to tell you.” What a considerate host.

When Rick and Dermot find Suzy’s pierced corpse inside the iron maiden, Rick (with his background as a former journalist) assess the situation. “At this point there’s only one explanation… deliberate murder.”

While Rick rounds up the models, Dermot goes for help. He doesn’t get very far. With an arrow through the neck, Dermot lays slumped over the steering wheel of his sports car, driving in an endless circle in the castle driveway.

As Rick and Edith search for the other girls she reveals that she was once engaged to Travis. “He used to be a muscleman in costume films. He’s always been a little strange.” After hearing Kinojo’s cries for help, they discover her trapped in the “spider room”. The scene that follows is possibly the weirdest in the movie, and that’s saying a lot.

Poor Kinojo has been suspended from a giant spider’s web and the room is criss-crossed with steel cables attached to cross-bows, making it impossible to reach her.

“Don’t you see? It’s a diabolical trap!” If that wasn’t bad enough, a bizarre spider creature, with poison in its claws, threatens her life. One thing the movie doesn’t make clear is whether this bug is supposed to be an actual spider, or some kind of mechanical menace. At any rate, it probably isn’t supposed to look like a lumpy piece of paper-mache that any third grader could have built. It looks that silly. Rick makes an attempt to save her by shimmying underneath the wires, but he is too late.

Edith is then captured and taken to Travis’ chambers. It is here that he reveals his true nature. Travis is a narcissistic sadist. “Mankind is made up of inferior creatures who would have corrupted the harmony of my perfect body.” While delivering a lengthy monologue on the virtues of his physique, Hargitay massages oil across his torso and dons his Crimson Executioner drag. Using a secret passage (don’t all good haunted castles have them?) Travis makes his way down to his private torture chamber where the fun really begins.

Now completely immersed in the persona of the Crimson Executioner Travis begins a gleeful orgy of agony by tormenting Max and the girls with a series of painful medieval devices. Boiling oil, Chinese water torture, the rack, Travis is having a fabulous time with his toys. So much fun that he’s practically to the point of orgasm. Hargitay plays it to the hilt.

We reach the climax (of the movie) when Rick arrives to save Edith. For a wimpy guy in a cardigan, Rick surprisingly holds his own against the Executioner. But it looks to be a classic case of brains over brawn when Travis is out-smarted and impaled on one of his own torture devices.

At deaths door he bemoans his fate, “My pure body has been contaminated…the body of the Crimson Executioner!”

Rick takes Edith in his arms as she pleads, “Please take me away from this castle. It was a nightmare.”

In a contemplative mood, Rick answers, “I won’t write any more horror stories. The man that said life was stranger than fiction made no mistake.”

No stranger than this movie Rick.

In conclusion: A budget version of this title is available on DVD but the special edition from Something Weird Video will be of most interest to collectors. Filled with great extras, the disc includes a remastered widescreen print and trailer, “Never before so much paralyzing terror as in this hair-raising orgy of sadism!”

Included is a clip from Primitive Love (1964), a crazy comedy starring Jayne and Mickey, and a clip from Cover Girl Slaughter. There’s also a gallery of exploitation movie art. Included on the disc are some deleted scenes, though they might be more accurately described as extended scenes. Moments that show the girls exploring the castle, getting ready, posing during the photo shoot, that kind of thing. Although the movie is unrated and the back cover warns of graphic violence and nudity, there is in fact no nudity (the girls are scantily clad, not naked) and the violence is nothing more extreme than would receive a modern R rating.

Bloody Pit of Horror is sometimes kinky, at times weird but always hilarious. An homage to bodybuilding and masochism that shouldn’t be missed.

Cool Cinema Trash: Yeti the Giant of the 20th Century (1977)

Oct 1, 2014 | Cool Cinema Trash, Movies

So big, so strong, but so gentle. You will learn to love Yeti!

In the mid-seventies, movie producer and marketing genius Dino De Laurentiis convinced nearly everyone on the planet that they just had to see his big-budget King Kong (1976) remake. Suddenly, big apes were a very hot commodity. To cash in on all the publicity, several other producers (from several other countries) made their own versions of the classic tale.

The Italian-made Yeti: The Giant of the 20th Century (1977) starts off promisingly with a sweeping orchestral score (“inspired” by Carmina Burana) and impressive footage of glacial ice crashing into the sea. But it quickly becomes apparent that this is just another wonderfully cheesy Kong rip-off.

What it’s all about: A well meaning Professor (John Stacy) is asked by the “over nourished, over weight, Daddy Warbucks” type industrialist Morgan Hunnicut (Eddie Faye) to head a “humane expedition” to study the Yeti, who was discovered frozen in ice and floating off the coast of Newfoundland.

“An avalanche probably caught him while he was sleeping on the ice millions of years ago,” the Professor theorizes, “Then perhaps an earthquake caused the ice to break up and fall into the Arctic Ocean.”

In a perfect example of Bad Movie Logic, Hunnicut lays claim to the Yeti and boasts, “That monster is gonna be the new Hunnicut Enterprises trademark!” Apparently, consumers won’t be able to resist a prehistoric beast schilling for a multi-national corporation.

Hunnicut’s grandchildren, Jane (Phoenix Grant) and Herbie (Jim Sullivan) are also present during “Operation Yeti”. The oddly androgynous Herbie (whose only friend is his dog Indio) has been mute since a plane crash killed the children’s parents.

Once enough of the ice has been melted with flamethrowers, the Yeti is loaded into a specially constructed Plexiglas container that looks like a British phone booth. In a procedure similar to mothers who give birth in those special Jacuzzi tubs, the Yeti is airlifted via a helicopter (an effect achieved with a model chopper carrying a Yeti doll) to 10,000 feet where he’ll comfortably thaw at an altitude similar to his Himalayan home.

“The Yeti is part of nature,” the Professor pontificates, “Only she should give him life if she so chooses.” The Yeti (Mimmo Crao) bears a striking resemblance to the Bigfoot that guest starred on the popular television show The Six-Million Dollar Man. The only difference being that the Yeti has an impressively styled bouffant hairdo. When the one-million-year-old giant awakens in the twentieth century, he gives a shrieking war cry that shakes the model helicopter. When they land at base camp, the Yeti (not too surprisingly) breaks free and wreaks havoc among the scientists and paparazzi.

Yeti rescues Jane and Herbie from the panicking masses and carries them away. While in the Yeti’s hairy paw, Jane places her hand on his chest to steady herself. Yeti apparently likes her sensitive touch because his giant nipple gets hard! Yeti sets up house in the Canadian wilderness and brings his new friends some freshly caught seafood.

Herbie’s pet collie does Lassie proud and goes to fetch the Professor. When help arrives, they find the Yeti using the skeleton of the fish he’s just eaten to comb Jane’s hair. With his keen eye for behavioral science, the Professor tells Jane, “He’s adopted you as his family. He’s mistaken Herbie for his son and maybe you for his wife.” Yikes!

Cliff (Tony Kendall) the ruggedly sun-tanned Hunnicut representative crudely articulates what everyone must be thinking, “She might have some duties to perform if she stays overnight.” Double yikes!

When Jane uses a giant can of generic hairspray to tend the Yeti’s wounds, he makes wistful goo-goo eyes at her. “Yea-tee, come,” She commands and Yeti follows his friends back to base camp. Though the Yeti has only just been revived, an aggressive publicity campaign has already swept the country. Hunnicut has diversified into every conceivable industry. At a gas station, drivers are encouraged to, “Put a Yeti in your tank and you’ll have giant power!” At a mall kids clamor for merchandise, including cheeky t-shirts that read: “Kiss Me Yeti”. Meanwhile, a consortium of Hunnicut’s rivals elects the double-dealing Cliff as their new boss.

The Yeti is loaded into his repaired cage and flown over Niagara Falls on his way to Toronto where he is greeted by a parade. The “Yetians” sing a disco version of his theme song. “He is sooo big, the man of snow,” they warble, “But he won’t harm you, the Yeee-tiii.”

Yeti makes his Toronto debut atop a Hunnicut Hotel where flash photography predictably irritates him. Mayhem ensues and the fleeing crowd sweeps Jane into a glass observation elevator. Hilariously, Yeti grabs the elevator cables and begins to yank them up and down like a yo-yo. When the floor of the damaged elevator gives way, Jane is left dangling thirty-two stories above street level. To save his beloved, the Yeti climbs down the outside of the building and grabs her in the nick of time.

With a miniature Jane in his hand, the Yeti strolls through downtown. Despite being several stories tall and kind of hard to miss, Jane and the Yeti evade the local police and hide in a warehouse. Hunnicut sends the Professor to look after the ailing Yeti, whose life is threatened by two goons on Cliff’s payroll.

“If the Yeti doesn’t get oxygen within the next ten minutes he’ll die!” The Professor ends up paying for this diagnosis with his life. As the Yeti helplessly watches, the henchmen beat the Professor to death. Once the Yeti is revived with a fresh tank of oxygen, he goes after the two goons. One falls while trying to escape the monster’s wrath. Yeti’s oversized foot traps the other, but he isn’t squished. Instead, Yeti strangles him between his giant hairy toes!

When Hunnicut is informed of the Professor’s death, it’s hard to tell whether he’s overcome with grief or just constipated. At the warehouse, Herbie is caught eavesdropping on Cliff’s diabolical scheming. They hold him at gunpoint (unless the kid is really good at charades, who is he going to tell?) confirming Jane’s suspicion that there’s been foul pay concerning her gigantic friend. Indio, the faithful Collie, is stabbed by one of Cliff’s henchmen while trying to protect the children.

“I know what a worm you are now!” Jane shouts at Cliff as she smacks him one. He smacks her right back and is in the process of chocking her to death when Yeti smashes through the warehouse wall and comes to her rescue. Cliff makes a fast getaway with Herbie as his hostage. The scene suddenly switches to day as Cliff and his cohorts race up a mountain road. Yeti tosses a tree on one car, a boulder on another, and is waiting at the top of the hill when the car with Herbie arrives. The two remaining goons are so frightened that they run away and proceed to fall off a cliff!

Once the Yeti safely retrieves Herbie, he goes after Cliff, who tries to run him down with a construction crane. Yeti flips the vehicle (actually, it’s the Tonka truck equivalent) and stomps on his nemesis.

Before the authorities shoot the Yeti, Jane soothes the savage beast with her own brand of Yeti-speak. “Boy…Girl…thank you, but please go away. This world is not for you. Go back to the wilderness, to the mountains, where life is like you knew it.”

Unbelievably, Yeti seems to have comprehended every word. “Good-bye Yea-tee,” Jane calls, as the police chief gives her a funny look… he can’t seem to believe it either. With a single tear running down his cheek, a sadder but wiser Yeti returns to the great frozen North, accompanied once again by that groovy theme song.

But it ain’t over yet.

Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, we hear the heroic bark of Indio. Man’s best friend is reunited with his master in an unintentionally hilarious moment. The boy and his dog run toward each other in slow motion as if they’re in some kind of oddball lovers montage. It certainly brings new meaning to the term “animal lover”. Triple yikes!

In Conclusion: Considering the number of effect shots in Yeti: The Giant of the 20th Century, it seems that the producers were fully invested in making a serious fantasy/adventure film. All the blue screen process work couldn’t have been cheap and shows that a lot more thought went into making Yeti than some of the other low-budget Kong movies out at the same time.

That being said, all that time and effort didn’t necessarily make the effects any less cheesy, and that’s a good thing if you’re a lover of Cool Cinema Trash. While some of the blue screen work is fine, most shots look pretty shoddy. In one scene, Herbie’s blue coat magically changes color. Since his blue jacket would appear invisible against the blue screen backing, his jacket is replaced with a tan one. Once the special effect is complete, his jacket returns to blue.

A full-size Yeti was also constructed for use in certain location shoots. It looks just as ridiculous as the towering robot Kong De Laurentiis made for his movie but, in both cases, they only appear briefly in each film.

DVD copies of Yeti are difficult, but not impossible to find. This kooky take on the “giant monkey on the loose” genre can occasionally be found on auction websites and online specialty shops that deal in hard-to-find and obscure cult movies.