Scream For the Invasion of the Fishmen!

It's been quite some time since I sat down and watched a Sergio Martino horror flick. Perhaps part of the reason stamps from that film being Slave of the Cannibal God, a movie I despised. Still, the guy has a beloved reputation, went on to make the glorious Hands of Steel, and with Screamers streaming on Amazon Prime and nobody getting to the beach anytime soon, why not take a swim?

Quick Plot: In 1891, a small group attempts to recover a buried treasure on a remote island only to be devoured by a gaggle of Black Lagoon-ish fish creatures. Later (or rather, earlier, since the aforementioned prologue was added by producer Roger Corman two years after Sergio Martino finished his cut), a prison ship washes ashore, along with a few convicts and their strict doctor, Claude de Ross.

It takes the fishmen all of five minutes to cut the group down to just Claude and two criminals. The trio is reluctantly taken to the estate of Edmond Rackham, a monstrous aristocrat who is using genius scientist Dr. Marvin to control the aquatic population so they can eventually recover the treasures of Atlantis, buried deep below their island.

So, yeah. There's a lot going on in Screamers. We're also dealing with attempted rape from multiple directions for poor beautiful Barbara Bach and some squirmy racial politics involving the local islanders. 

THOSE THINGS aside, Screamers is otherwise pretty fun and certainly different. I don't usually expect my exploitation films to include subplots involving Atlantis and human evolution. There's also plenty of creative horrors to be found in the actual fishmen, and their webbed attacks are colorful and gross. 

How much of the final product should be attributed to Martino is apparently arguable, as Corman had that cut chopped up and freshened with additional footage shot by Miller Drake and possibly, a very young Joe Dante. Despite his recent past as a director unafraid of guts and gore, Martino apparently wanted his film to be more adventure and less Zombie (a clear influence). Oddly enough, it's the gooey gore that keeps things most interesting.

High Points

Fishmen! We just don't get enough fishmen in the world of horror!

Low Points

Unfortunately, there's so much front-loaded fishmen action (even if you disregard the non-Martino intro) that Screamers' center drags hard

Lessons Learned

Animals don't build traps

When roaming a deserted island, always be on the lookout for spear-floored pits

I have seen the future, and future is fishmen

Rent/Bury/Buy

Screamers is pretty messy (even by the standards of a '70s Italian horror picture) but it's also genuinely different from most genre fare. If you're looking for an Island of Dr. Moreau-ish tale, you're not going to find much more. Let your prison ship wash ashore on Amazon Prime and enjoy.

I Said Brrrrr! It's Cold In Here. There Must Be Some Chiller Theatre In the Atmosphere

No, I shouldn't even try a fake cheer. Just know that this past weekend was the biannual Chiller Theatre Convention in New Jersey so naturally, I put on my best pair of sneakers to troll crowded vendor floors and tiptoe around celebrities I wanted to ogle without paying.


This installment was by far one of my favorite experiences, and only part of that involved the toasted coconut pancakes eaten twenty minutes before entering the elegant halls of the Parsippany Hilton. Highlights, plain and simple:

1. Telling Ruggero Deodato that I loved The Barbarians, and hearing his enthusiastic response that the film is finally going to be available on DVD in the near future. Also, I think I referred to Cannibal Holocaust as "beautiful." Thankfully, he did not respond by offering me turtle meat.

2. Telling his table buddy Sergio Martino that I loved Hands of Steel  (I'm sure he gets that ALL the time) and finding out that his next film is supposed to shoot somewhere in Pennsylvania. For some reason, that disturbed me.

3. Buying these:

One of which stars a wrestler from G.L.O.W. (Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling, for those uninformed), one of which is post-apocalyptic and involves rollerskating, and finally, a film I can't believe I didn't know existed, The Refrigerator, something I'm sure will put Death Bed: The Bed That Eats to the napping hall of shame.


4. Having a strange interaction with Lou Ferrigno (at the urging of Dear Friends Erica and Lisa) where we got a Polaroid photo (taken by a stranger just wandering the room) with the Hulk then spent about 20 minutes trying to decipher what he actually signed. Theories include "Lou the Hulk," "Love the Hulk," "Lou something Hulk," and "Lou Diamond Philips." Either way, I got to tell him that I loved his work in ...And God Spoke, and he smiled.

5. The highlight, by far:

Now obviously, Killer Klowns From Outer Space is in the treasure chest here at the Doll's House so the idea of meeting Grant Cramer (aka Mike Tobacco) evoked all sorts of inner swoons. What really creamed my pie, however, was how gosh darn nice a dude he was. This was apparently Mr. Cramer's first convention outing, and he seemed to be having an enjoyable time, or at least he tolerated my gushing, theorizing, and explanation of why Killer Klowns and The Happening should never share the same sentence. Best of all, my head nearly exploded when I learned that the Chiodo Brothers and Mr. Cramer have been developing a--hold your breath--SEQUEL to what is, quite simply, the definitive cult film of my generation. It seems a ways off but something that actually may indeed hopefully maybe yes indeed I hope I said I hope will get made someday. Sadly, it's not based on my idea for Klowns In Space , but hey, after 22 and counting years, I'll take anything.

So that was my lovely Sunday, capped by the debut recording of a lil cupcake called the gleeKast . Looking forward, I now order you to mark your calendars for the August 20-22, when Monster Mania mashes into Cherry Hill, New Jersey, and I attempt to befriend special guest Tim Curry via my own reenactment of the entire plot of Clue.

Mill Creek Madness!

Back in November, I vowed to take on Mill Creek’s 50 packs to deliver full disc reviews every month.

I lied.

Not intentionally, of course. I never wanted to break my promise, particularly when I later declared it my  New Year’s resolution (screw weight loss!). It's just that I'm a really bad person.

Apologies aside, today marks the triumphant return to my Mill Creek project as we tackle the Tales of Terror 50 Pack and it's electrifying Disc 5.

Side A

1. War of the Robots, aka Reactor, Robots, Stratostars (I dare you to say the last one ten times)

Warp Speed Plot: Somebody decides to cash in on the success of Star Wars with laziness, spandex, and a convoluted plot involving space travel and sexual harassment in the workplace. That sounds far more awesome than the film, which is notable solely for the decision to dress evil henchmen with blond pageboy haircuts.

Celebrity Cred: Antonio Sabato. And lightsabers. Make of that what you will.

Verdict: This should have been tacky goodness to the extreme, but War of the Robots ultimately felt like a neverending story akin to space purgatory. It’s colorful and has moments of laughable joy, but to actually devote its 99 minute running time is something that should only be done when punishing small children.

2. Hands of Steel, aka Fists of Steel, Atomic Cyborg, Arms of Steel, Return of the Terminator

Warp Speed Plot: In the near future, truck stops remain happening joints and the government is investing most of our tax money into creating cyborgs based on Sylvester Stallone’s lead in Over the Top. Paco (Daniel Greene) is its best experiment and has been dispatched to assassinate a scientist. Cursed with a moment of conscience slip, he leaves the would-be victim alive and heads to a dingy rent-by-the-hour bar and motel where nightly arm wrestling matches take place. Shootouts happen, trucks crash, and I keep giggling.

Celebrity Cred: John Saxon snarls and George Eastman sweats, all under the restrained directorial watch of one Sergio Martino. What more do you need?

Verdict: This is the kind of ridiculously amazing extravaganza that makes these 50 packs worth that $15 price tag. Over the top action, non sequitur dialogue, and simple cinematic gluttony (arm wrestling is fun; arm wrestling where the loser’s arm releases a poisonous viper=awesome) make Hands of Steel simply smashing. I was inspired to watch this film after the Gentlemen’s Guide to Midnite Cinema (a podcast you all should be listening to) gave it one of the most entertaining discussions I’ve heard in some time. This is by not means a great movie, except that it is. 

Side B

1. One Frightened Night

Warp Speed Plot: An elderly millionaire decides to split his vast estate amongst a random assortment of soon-to-be murder suspects, all because the only person he’s ever really cared about is his MIA granddaughter. Naturally, the long-lost young lady returns home just in time for the signing of the will, but things get rather complicated (we’re talking jowls shake as the camera zooms in complicated) when a second woman shows up claiming the same identity. Oh oh, but complication reigns SUPREME when the first lucky lady gets murdered and one night of mystery gets rolling.

Celebrity Cred: Charley Grapewin, better known as Uncle Henry in a little film about a girl from Kansas who isn’t afraid of scarecrows or little people.

Verdict: At just 66 minutes long, One Frightened Night is decent enough for background entertainment when cleaning or toaster or doing your taxes (note to self: do your taxes). Fans of old timey whodunits might enjoy this early mystery, but others will probably prefer a more stirring round of Clue.

2. Vampire’s Night Orgy, aka Grave Desires, Orgy of the Vampires, and the more grammatically correct Vampires' Night Orgy

Warp Speed Plot: A random assortment of dull travelers end up stuck in a quaint little village clearly run by a cult of lazily sensuous vampires who really like Shakespeare and hospitality. People die and orgies don’t happen.

Celebrity Cred: Jack Taylor. No, I don’t know who he is either, but IMDB credits him as “Priest” in Conan the Barbarian, so he must be awesome.

Verdict: I enjoyed this one for tis occasionally cheeky humor and amazing overuse of complicated translations in dubbing. It definitely lacks the all-out trashiness the title suggests, but anyone who gets a kick out of poorly transported vampire films might have some fun. If not, just flip over the disc and rewatch Hands of Steel.

Cumulative Lessons Learned

You’ll never own a man until you control his heart

In the 1930s, nights were capable of being frightened

Surprisingly enough, Snuggies will be popular amongst space emperors sometime in the distant future

Asking “No, please don’t do that” will not stop raiders from tearing your shit apart

Your bus driver dying at the wheel is a disagreeable situation

If you’re blond and the female protagonist in a 1980s film, there’s a more than likely chance your name is Linda

If you’re blond and somewhat attractive in a a 1970s Italian vampire film, there’s a more than likely chance that every single male character will hit on you

The meat of a human leg is quite tender

Lastly, when costume designing a film set in space, think realllllllly hard about how plastic hair wigs will age 30 years later

I'm a Slave (of the Cannibal God) For You

Critics today can bitch and moan about the blight of torture porn, but there was a far more nihilistic, misogynist, racist, and generally darker (though physically better lit) period of exploitation cinema in the late 70s-early 80s, courtesy of those wacky Italians. Cannibal cinema--a huge hit for a brief but fertile few years--followed its own grisly recipe: take one exotic jungle locale that made Lost’s lost island look like a Disney resort, add several non-Caucasian actors relegated to the roles of savages, stir in a pinch of rape and/or castration (as obligatory as the “I can’t get any bars on my cell phone” line of current horror), bake in the sweltering sun for 80 minutes and serve with exotic wildlife creatures on the craft service table.


Watching lesser cannibal cinema makes me feel rather dirty and unfulfilled, in much the same way that the ‘unrated’ Captivity reminded me of what it’s like to eat at a cheap buffet restaurant; I dutifully fill my plate repeatedly for the duration of my stay, but everything tastes the same and nothing comes close to being good. Both subgenres work so hard to show you scenes no human has any need to witness, with such little finesse that any shock value is muted. Sort of like the Seinfeld (Marble Rye lady has been haunting me) episode where Jerry’s nudist girlfriend seems like a dream come true until he catches sight of her struggling to open a jar of pickles. Imagery--whether artistic, horrific, or both--can only go so far without context. It’s one thing to show a thrilling chase and reward the hunter with meal of his prey; it’s another to simply insert footage of an alligator eating a monkey.

Sergio Martino's Mountain of the Cannibal God, as my heavily edited version is titled (Slave of the Cannibal God is the more common name), is not quality cannibalia, despite having a decent budget and a semi-famous cast who seem to be enjoying the film as much as I was.


Quick Plot: Ursula Andress plays the concerned wife of a missing anthropologist, who disappeared into the jungles of New Guinea. She and her shifty brother enlist the aid of a khaki shorts-wearing Stacy Keach (along with several dispensable natives whose fates seem far less valued by everyone in and behind the film) who has his own reasons for hiking through the perilous rain forest. An Italian adventurer of sorts joins the fun to make googly eyes at Andress and save her life lots, while a cannibal tribe slowly sends scouts to reel those sun-tanning imperialists in for a dinner invitation.

There’s nothing wrong with this premise, yet I found myself so overwhelmingly underwhelmed by everything about this film. It looks gorgeous and the action-adventure aspect is played decently, but in watching the characters stumble through a terribly intrusive score, I got the feeling that nobody had any desire to be a part of this. The white actors look on in mild fear as stock footage is awkwardly inserted. Several animals are torn apart for our (dis)pleasure. Sometimes a plot point happens and characters kind of react. More often, it doesn't and they don't. But the music keeps playing. Then it stops. Then it plays again. And so on.


High Points:
Well-done scene of a boa constrictor wrapping itself around Andress is neat, but since it feels like the 7th ‘animal-attacking-woman-saved-by-white-men’ scene in the film, the scare isn’t what it should be

One of our main characters has an unexpected fate that actually surprises


Low Points:
Gratuitous animal violence feels even more carelessly tacked on than all the topless shots of the recent Friday the 13th

Andress’s one facial expression of blank worry=her performance

An alligator attack is 96% facial reactions, 3% alligator, and 1% "I’m bored and will now play Boggle"


Lessons Learned:
Cannibals are jerks, but little people cannibals are just plain dicks


The jungles of New Guinea are rich in uranium


Being a cannibal goddess gets you the same costume designer as Elizabeth Berkley in Showgirls

Native girls are easy


Winning Line:
“You showed them fornication!”
It’s not that I condone the evil Swiss brother’s fatal seduction of an island lass, but isn’t a little fornication necessary for, you know, ensuring the continuation of your small and endangered tribe?

Repeat Offender:
Perhaps it’s the jungle air, but skinny and helpless Andress has the same punching power (and sound effect) as every male twice her size


Rent/Bury/Buy:
If you want to see a beautifully shot, well-written film that uses extreme violence to tell a story and explore complex themes about the dark nature of mankind...buy a copy of Cannibal Holocaust. While I don’t condone the animal cruelty--in fact, I abhor it and take mild comfort and knowing direcot Ruggero Deodato has since admitted wrongdoing--those scenes are at least prompted by characters’ decisions. In Mountain of the Cannibal God (bury), I imagine this as a sample and standard conversation during shooting:

Martino: Ursula, stand right hear so we can see Johnny gut the lizard.


Andress: Why?


Martino: Don’t ask stupid questions. Action!