Freaks (1932).

The Scoop:
Like the carnival denizens it features, this movie -- the creative pinnacle of director Tod Browning's career -- was reviled and disowned by the system that spawned it.

Browning was an American original, growing up in the circus to become a sideshow huckster. That experience served him well as he made the jump into the wild filmmaking world of the early silent era. He eventually teamed up with makeup master Lon Chaney to make a series of gruesome and perverse classics, such as "The Unholy Three" (1925), "The Unknown" (1927) and "London After Midnight" (1927).

In 1931 he was assigned to direct Bela Lugosi in "Dracula," which became a runaway success, firmly establishing the horror genre in the United States and single-handedly saving Universal from bankruptcy at the height of the Depression. With that success under his belt, Browning was given his choice of projects, so he chose something close to his heart -- a story about the circus side show freaks he spent much of his childhood around. Although it was driven with a promotional campaign that emphasized the stars' deformities (alternate titles included "The Monster Show" and "Nature's Mistakes"), the film is actually a humane exploration of their plight in a world that hates and exploits them just because of the way they were born, and starred real-life sideshow performers.

Harry Earles is the midget Hans, who acts as the informal leader of a close-knit group of freaks and sideshow performers in a traveling circus. When a beautiful trapeze artist (Olga Baclanova) discovers that Hans has an inheritance that has made him absurdly rich, she and her strongman boyfriend (Henry Victor) plot to steal Hans away from his midget fiancée (who is strangely enough played by Daisy Earles, Harry's sister) to get the money. This, of course, draws the ire of the freaks, setting up the classic final scenes.

Despite being somewhat stagey and running short (mostly due to cuts enforced by the studio and the Hays Office), the film maintains a menacing, macabre undertone that can still shock today.

Universal executives kept the project at arm's length and, after their initial release obligations, quickly buried it. It existed as a nearly-forgotten cult film (and was completely banned in the United Kingdom) until its long-overdue revival in the '60s, after Browning's death. Now considered a classic, it effectively ended Browning's career (although his growing alcoholism playing a big hand in that, too.)

Best Line:
"One of us! One of us! We accept you! One of us!"

Side Note:
Although for most of the freaks this was their only movie appearance, Johnny Eck ("The Half-Boy") also appeared in two Tarzan movies and an episode of "The Beverly Hillbillies."

Companion Viewing:
"The Unknown" (1927), "Chained for Life" (1958) and the photographs of Diane Arbus.

Links:
IMDb.
The screenplay.
Trivia quiz.

Take a Look:
Some backstage shenanigans:


"Gobble gobble!":


You can see the entire film starting here:

The Song Remains the Same (1976).

The Scoop:
Led Zeppelin's definitive concert film finds the band at its sprawling, bluesy best. Chronicling the Madison Square Garden stop of its 1973 world tour, Zep offers classic versions of some of their biggest hits, including "Stairway to Heaven," "Whole Lotta Love," "Black Dog" and "Dazed and Confused."

The problem comes with the rest of the film -- the not-very-interesting glimpses of backstage life (these should have been so much better, considering Zep's hard-partying reputation) and music video/fantasy sequences that consist mostly of a jumbled mix of oddities. (But hey, if mystic warriors on horseback, Vikings with broadswords, or mobsters shooting Nazi werewolves are your cup of tea, this might be up your alley.) These sequences, especially the opening scene without musical accompaniment, just drag the film down and leave you with that WTF feeling. Unless, of course, you use the film as it was meant to be used -- a late night stoner timewaster. In that case, I'm sure you won't go home disappointed.

In short, this is a must-see for the music. And if you're into the extraneous mystical shit, that's just icing on the cake.

Best Bit:
Their performance of the title song.

Side Note:
Jimmy Page's fantasy sequence was shot on the shores of Loch Ness in a house formerly owned by Aleister Crowley.

Companion Viewing:
If you want to go the late night stoner route, there's "Heavy Metal" (1981) and "Pink Floyd's The Wall" (1982). Or, if you prefer classic concert films, try the Talking Heads' "Stop Making Sense" (1984) or The Band's "The Last Waltz" (1976).

Links:
IMDb.

Take a Look:
Performing "The Song Remains the Same":


"Stairway to Heaven":

The Blob (1958).

The Scoop:
As screen monsters go, a giant ball of jelly isn't the most terrifying image imaginable, but it works well in this low budget drive-in classic.

In his first starring role, Steve McQueen plays the obligatory misunderstood teen who, along with his girlfriend Jane (Aneta Corsaut), finds a meteorite crash site that unleashes the title creature on their small Pennsylvania town. When the police and parents don't believe their fantastic tale, they round up some other kids and tackle the monster themselves.

While the acting isn't top-notch, the storytelling is economical and the pace is brisk. It's got just about everything you'd want from a '50s-era teenage horror flick -- excitement, a cool monster, kids in souped-up cars, hysteria, and even a nifty little theme song. You can't go wrong!

Best Bit:
The iconic image of the Blob chasing the screaming teenagers out of the movie theater, a classic case of breaking the fourth wall that made this film such a touchstone with its audiences.

Side Note:
The theme song is "The Blob" and is credited to The Five Blobs. That wasn't an actual group, of course, but a phantom group of studio musicians led by Burt Bacharach, who wrote the song.

Companion Viewing:
"Beware! The Blob" (1972) and "Earth vs. the Spider" (1958).

Links:
IMDb.
The Blob Site.
Hollywood Gothique.
Hollywood Teen Movies.
Blobfest 2002.

Take a Look:
The trailer:


Yeah, a gun will help!


The groovy opening theme:

Metapost: Intermission.

Due to a variety of circumstances (mostly illness-related), the Desuko Movie Spot is forced to start its winter break a few days early. Thanks for reading in 2007, and we'll be back right after the New Year with some more great reviews!

Braindead (a.k.a., Dead Alive) (1992).

The Scoop:
This has been billed as the goriest film of all time, and for once, the hype does not lie. Early on, it manages to out-gross (and I don't mean box office here) everything that came before it, and it doesn't let up. The gore is pounded into you, becoming the ultimate parody of the genre. Reducto ad absurdum. By the end, when the hero is cutting down zombies left and right with a lawnmower, the gore has reached new comic heights. You gotta have a strong stomach for this one. (The movie has a strong stomach of its own, in fact -- and strong intestines that attack and devour anything that cross their path.)

Those New Zealanders are weird people.

But there's more to this early film by Peter Jackson than just the gore -- there's also a wonderfully funny script, a swashbuckling visual style and a bunch of head-long performances by a group of unknown actors. This one is a must for every horror aficionado, and a real eye-opener for those latecomers who only know Jackson for "Lord of the Rings" or "King Kong."

Best Line:
"I kick arse for the Lord!"

Side Note:
There are a few edited versions of this floating around which cut out the best parts, so double-check the box and accept nothing less than the full, uncut version.

Companion Viewing:
"Bad Taste" (1987) or maybe that helicopter scene from "28 Weeks Later" (2007).

Links:
IMDb.
Peter Jackson Online page.
Peter Jackson Fan Club page.
The Movie Cynics drinking game.

Take a Look:
Messing around in graveyards at night is always a bad idea. Shouldn't these kids know that by now?


Look out for that man with the lawnmower!

The Monster of Camp Sunshine (1964).

The Scoop:
This entry from the 1960s nudie cycle is somewhat of an oddity, featuring less nudity than expected, a semi-competent stab at a plot, a strange silent movie whimsy, and some fine black-and-white photography on location in New York City.

The story involves two young roommates trying to make their way in the big city -- one is a fashion model trying to decide whether to model a topless bathing suit, and the other is a nurse at a hospital that inexplicibly has a lot of caged rats hanging around.

First the nurse introduces the model to the swinging life of Camp Sunshine, a nudist colony upstate, then accidentally spills chemicals on the rats, turning them into killers that chase her out a window. Her doctor boss, being the responsible sort he is, disposes of the dangerous chemicals by throwing them into the ocean. The plot just gets more ludicrous from there, culminating in the filmmakers trying to destroy the monster with parachuting scientists, a couple different armies and an entire stock footage library. One of the goofiest things you'll ever see.

Best Bit:
The rat attack!

Side Note:
This was the first effort for producer Gene R. Kearney, who went on to a more respectable career as writer and director in television, working on such shows as "Night Gallery," "Kolchak the Night Stalker" and "Lou Grant."

Companion Viewing:
"The Thrill Killers" (1964).

Links:
IMDb.

Take a Look:
This purports to be the trailer, although it's just a randomly edited bunch of shots. (Warning: Thar be boobies 'n' booties ahead!):

Find more videos like this on www.truveo.com.

Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (1970).

The Scoop:
It's about time I got around to reviewing this classic.

Along with "Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!" (1965), this represents the apex of the Russ Meyer canon. Finally, Meyer's single-minded obssession with big breasts is coupled with a wonderfully campy plot -- an all-girl rock band called the Carrie Nations (played by, from left to right in the photo, Marcia McBroom, Dolly Read and Cynthia Myers) comes to Hollywood, where they find drugs, violence and lots of wild sex.

In the first film of his ill-fated stint as a major studio director, Meyer teamed with future film critic Roger Ebert to create a landmark work that celebrates the excesses of the free love '60s while also looking ahead to the crises and malaise of the '70s. Not bad for what is, at heart, a cheap sexploitation flick.

Read, Playboy's Playmate of the Year for 1966, is an especial revelation in her first starring role. So is John Lazar, who plays flamboyant record producer Ronnie "Z-Man" Barzell, a character based on the unhinged exploits of Phil Spector.

Fast-paced, joyous and filled with great music, "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls" is definitely of its era and wonderfully loopy fun. It is very nearly the perfect movie, despite its shocking downer of an ending.

Meyer's joy ride as a major studio director would have a rough ending as well. Despite the smash box office success of the film, it draws controversy, too, particularly from Hollywood's old guard, who are aghast by its excesses (it was one of the earliest films to carry an X rating). After just one more film for Fox (the disappointingly straight "The Seven Minutes" in 1971), Meyer was dropped by the studio and he returned to the exploitation underground.

Best Line:
"This is my happening and it freaks me out!"

Side Note:
The "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls" project originally began at Fox as a true sequel to their madly successful 1967 adaptation of Jacqueline Susann's trashy novel "The Valley of the Dolls." However, the script Susann submitted fell short of the studio's expectations, and their contract allowed Fox to go ahead with a sequel without her involvement in such a situation. The project went through a number of incarnations in the development process before finally being given to Meyer, who the stodgy studio had signed in an attempt to get a piece of the booming youth market. The rest is history, as they say, although Susann was able to get Fox to append the now-famous disclaimer to the beginning to warn viewers that "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls" is not, in fact, a sequel to "Valley of the Dolls" after all.

Companion Viewing:
"Spice World" (1997) and the "Josie and the Pussycats" cartoon series.

Links:
IMDb.
Official Site.
As a Side Note.

Take a Look:
The totally awesome trailer:


The cross-country trip:


"Marijuana cigarettes! Reefers!" Oh noes!


A little sumthin'-sumthin' for the ladies who love the ladies:

Blue in the Face (1995).

The Scoop:
The title is especially appropriate given how much the actors blab in this film.

Shot by Wayne Wang and Paul Auster along with their film "Smoke," "Blue in the Face" is nothing more than a series of improvised vignettes in and around the smoke shop run by Harvey Keitel's character in the first film. Keitel is the only holdover from "Smoke" and the film is entirely improvised.

And boy does it show.

Most of the scenes meander to nowhere in particular, and the only interest comes in seeing so many big name actors and musicians try to ad lib off each other. Some aren't too bad (such as Madonna delivering a singing telegram, or Lou Reed's discussion of his fear of travel), but most of them just plain suck.

It's like an acting class exercise gone wrong, but if you're in the mood for pointless indulgence, this is the film for you.

Best Line:
"Yes, I am smoking cigarettes and some of my friends have died of them, but I am not downing a quart of Scotch in fifteen minutes. Looked at that way, cigarettes are actually a health tool."

Side Note:
This was shot in just five days. Wang and Auster claimed to take their inspiration for the move from Roger Corman.

Companion Viewing:
"Smoke" (1995).

Links:
IMDb.

Take a Look:
This series of clips should give you a pretty good idea of the feel of the movie. And just because it's a random, patched-together string of clips, don't think that the full film is any more coherent. It plays just like this, but with more aimless cameos.