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.

The Fast & the Fabulous

In 2008, Paul Not the One That Directed Boogie Nights W. Anderson "remade" 1973's Death Race with Jason Statham's torso, which apparently got a sequel that nobody ever heard of two years later called Death Race 2.

But we're not here to talk about that.

In 2017, it would seem, the House that Roger Corman Built went back to the well for another remake closer in tone to the original and pleasantly far from the movie that I once described as "a video game for people with arthritis."

Although it does have ample Jason Statham torso

Quick Plot: It's the year 2050 and the United States of America is...different. Or maybe it's just exactly what it will be like in 33 years. 

Actually, that can't be the case, because science has been allowed to progress far enough that cancer has been eradicated. The downside? People are living longer, leading to overpopulation in a dying economy.

President Tru--

eh, excuse me, "the Chairman", aka Malcolm McDowell done up in the most glorious futurized  dead-bird-toupee we've seen since, well, the latest presidential (er, I mean presidented) news conference.

So. The Chairman, played in juicy full-teethed glory by the always game McDowell, runs the country like a busy arcade that just discovered virtual reality. In order to help reduce the masses, an annual death race is held across the country. Like the 1975 original, the best way to rack up points is to kill pedestrians along the way.

Our contestants are, quite literally, a colorful bunch. Roll call:

Jed Perfectus, a genetically engineered superhuman specifically designed to win the death race, although one has to imagine the scientists were a little distracted by crafting their version of Alan Tudyk playing Rocky in The Rocky Horror Picture Show

A.B.E., a robot car designed to show that technology is all you need (until he experiences his own form of an existential crisis)

Tammy the Terrorist (YellowBrickRoad's Anessa Ramsay), a southern blond psychopath who has created her own form of a cult that, not surprisingly, does well in the red states

Minerva Jefferson, an enthusiastic black rapper with a mission of her own

and of course, Frankenstein, the seasoned masked champion. In this iteration, Frankenstein is played by Manu Bennett, formerly Crixus (or as I liked to call him, Studdicus) from Starz's delightful, highly underrated Spartacus series.

Extreme operatic violence ensues, all with a biting wink and Idiocracy flavor you expect from a film that encourages the murder of children and the elderly. As the race takes us across the America of the future, the film gives us a mix of obvious jokes, massive CGI decapitations, sly political commentary, and even a pair of TV personalities shamelessly mirroring Effie Trinket and my REAL favorite Hunger Games character, Stanley Tucci's Caesar.

It's a good, cheesy, violent, and gloriously stupid time if there ever was one.

High Points

Much like the first Death Race, this one's most interesting characters are its women, particularly Ramsay's Trumpette-From-Hell messiah and Folake Olowofoyeku's layered gangsta rapper with a conscience

Low Points

As much as I loved Minerva's hit single "Drive Drive (Kill Kill) Drive Kill", the fact that I haven't been able to get it out of my head for a week has been a tad inconvenient for daily life

Lessons Learned

Math is for heathens and nerds

Turning global famine into clickbait is harder than you think

Winter was just a myth

Rent/Bury/Buy

Maybe I was just in the perfect mood, but I enjoyed the hell out of Death Race 2050. Watching politically relevant movies these past few months has generally been a sad, troubling experience, but this one pairs the timely analogy with such gleefully over the top vengeance that it hit me in just the right spot. It's on Netflix Instant and so long as you're in the right mind space, its' quite a ride. 

No Escape From Terminal Island

Well before Lance Henrikson guru'd out for No Escape and Vinnie Jones stole a movie from Stone Cold Steve Austin with The Condemned, a bearded Tom Selleck took his own trip to an isolated penal colony in pure '70s style. 

Ah, the beauty of post-stardom, decades-later cover art.

Quick Plot: Somewhere in a future that looks a lot like the late '70s, the state of California ruled the death penalty was cruel and unconstitutional. What to do with the growing batch of men and women convicted of first degree murder? Why, ship them off to a remote island and let the criminals with no shot at parole build their own existence, or kill each other trying of course!

Terminal Island has the simplest of setups, perhaps because we've seen various incarnations of the same story told before and after (Turkey Shoot, Escape From New York, etc.). The film opens cleverly with a news crew presenting a special on the titular land mass, smartly giving the audience everything we need before sailing off to hell.

This is no Gilligan's Island. We follow a female named Carmen as she enters into her new, violent society. A few alpha males have taken control of the group, forcing the rest of the men to provide what equates to slave labor. The handful of ladies have it worse: in addition to toiling the fields by day, they're expected to provide sexual favors for the reigning male population by night. 

Thankfully, a resistance is formed by some of the less rape-y men who recruit the women and follow a kinder policy of teamwork and consent. Naturally, the other side of the island doesn't take this easily and a civil war ensues. 

Directed by Roger Corman protegee Stephanie Rothman, Terminal Island comes with a ready-made premise for violent '70s exploitation. Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the film, however, is how it manages to craft its ingredients into something far more thoughtful than you'd expect. When we meet the impossibly beautiful island women, we groan with anticipation of seeing their clothing torn as the men take their turns during scheduled rapes. Perhaps it's the fact that director Rothman is female, but guess what? Terminal Island doesn't make us watch that. 

Make no mistake: these women are abused, but unlike so many pieces of trash cinema (I say that with affection), Terminal Island isn't interested in glamorizing the violence. The only nudity we get comes when a female character is taking control of her body in order to punish a would-be rapist (in a rather creative honey-lubricated hand job, no less). Some of the women are active and admirably ready to fight back, while one is clearly suffering from PTSD with no easy cure in sight. For a barely 90 minute drive-in action romp, that's fairly deep stuff. 

Even without the gender politics, Terminal Island remains a pretty neat little flick. The supporting characters have mostly standout personalities and the action, when it fully kicks in, has a grand scope. Maybe it isn't as trashy as its premise might suggest, but sometimes, that can be a darn good thing.

High Points

At first, the lack of a single clear protagonist seemed a little scattered, but Terminal Island does a surprisingly good job of creating a memorable ensemble

Low Points

That being said, it's a minor shame that our main villain is just not that memorable when you consider the fact that this is supposed to be the baddest group of criminals the country has

Lessons Learned

You gotta have a maniac!

Wild mustard has quite a high sulfur content

Another word for mead is "cow piss"

The closer to the bone, the sweeter the meat

Side Note

Mostly I'm adding this to remind myself to track down whatever I can by Stephanie Rothman. A quick glance at her Wikipedia page (and further reading from the various in-depth links) introduced me to a fascinating filmmaker with the misfortune of coming through the system at an even WORSE time for females in the industry. I'm eager to learn more.

Rent/Bury/Buy

I caught Terminal Island via a random TCM Underground airing, and much like the rest of Stephanie Rothman's work, it seems like you'll have a tough time tracking it down elsewhere. If you can find a copy, it's well worth the effort. 

What's the Buzz?

Every now and then, I remember to check out what Turner Classic Movies (better known as TCM) has airing at times when I’m not DVR’ing Jeopardy! or Step Up 3D for the nineteenth time. On one such occasion, I saw the intriguing title The Wasp Woman, written and directed by cult cinema’s official godfather, Roger Corman.   

Quick Plot: Janice Starlin is the founder and spokeswoman for a major cosmetics company that has hit a rough patch. To her investors, the cause is obvious: as the face of the brand, Janice’s fortysomething wrinkles are driving down sales. 

It’s a blow to her ego, but Janice doesn’t take such corporate insult lying down. When a controversial scientist named Eric Zinthrop walks in with a demonstration on the anti-aging effects of wasp jelly, Janice has volunteered herself to be its guinea pig before you can say Avon calling. 

As one might expect from any sci-fi monster movie made in 1959, said wasp jelly doesn’t quite succeed without a few side effects. In an age well before softly lit television commercials featuring happy people bike riding while a pleasant-voiced narrator speed talks through diarrheaconstipationimpotencenumbnesserectionslastinglongerthaneighthoursdrymouthinvoluntarybladderactiondepressionlossofappetiteweightgainandinsomecasesdeath, Janice has no one to blame but her own impatience. Sure, the initial facelift she gets from her first trial helps to instantly gain the confidence back from her board, but then Janice rushes the process before Zinthrop has the chance to warn her that, well, she might just turn into a wasp woman, she does indeed, turn into, a wasp woman.

If Masque of Red Death taught me one thing, it’s that Roger Corman is indeed capable of making an actual good movie. He just typically chose not to because such a goal costs valuable time and money.

Running barely an hour, The Wasp Woman feels like something in between a genuine attempt at filmmaking and a quick cash-in on The Fly. As Janice, Susan Cabot gives a strong, dedicated performance, taking the material perfectly seriously and in the process, creating a real person and unconventional villain. The basic theme of a woman who built a successful career only to have it questioned when her looks start to fade is extremely relevant half a century later, and Corman handles the concept with surprising restraint. For a nice stretch, I was predicting The Wasp Woman to reveal itself a hidden gem of the 1950s.

Then the movie ended.

I mean it: the clock struck one hour and the credits rolled. I guess Corman had another movie to make.

The shame of it is that The Wasp Woman had so much promise. Sure, the actual monster effects vary between being almost unsettling and somewhat laughable, but the underlying politics are prime material. Added to it is a minor subplot involving some of the male employees attempting to undermine Janice, something that could have easily lent itself to some interesting final showdowns. Instead, The Wasp Woman rushes to its conclusion, leaving plenty of potential in its nest.

High Points

Cabot really does give it her all, even when wearing a heavy wasp’s head and big ol’ antenna 

Low Points

Aforementioned race-to-the-finish-line ending

Lessons Learned

Friends don’t let their brilliant, daring, and one-of-a-kind scientists not keeping great records of their illegal research drive irresponsibly

‘Women’ is the excuse every man uses when he can’t find an answer

Just because side effects haven’t been joked about yet doesn’t mean they aren’t a serious danger

Rent/Bury/Buy

For a Corman joint, The Wasp Woman is more than decent. I was disappointed because I wanted more, which is generally a good sign for a film. No, this is no The Thing or Them!, but as a cheap '50s monster movie, the film makes for a fully watchable 60 minutes.

WELCOME...to Medieval TIMES!

The name Roger Corman calls to mind a lot of things--MST3K episodes, 2-day film shoots, high profit margins, Lance Henrikson in Scream 3--but 'a quality film' is rarely one of them. The presence of Vincent Price, on the other hand, generally implies that SOMETHING good will happen onscreen, making 1964's The Masque of Red Death irresistible to a curious cinemaniac like myself.

Quick Plot: A mysterious man in red hands a rose to a crone passing by in the woods. You know what that means.

Well, if it was the year 1100, you would TOTALLY have known what that meant. The devil/death is sending a message to a European village that their deliverance is at hand. For most of the lowly townsfolk, this means they'll die of the plague. The wealthy or imprisoned, on the other hand, get to party/get tortured inside the castle of one Prospero, played with juicy evil by a devil-worshipping, gold lace-trimmed puffy shirt wearing Vincent Price.

Prospero isn't all black masses and pentagrams though. The man is quite the party animal, actively encouraging his guests to play dress-up, act like farm beasts, and get wasted while he observes such entertainment as tiny dancers with womanly voices performing what I guess is simply little person ballet, but what somehow feels more akin to Toddlers and Tiaras.

When that gets boring, Prospero passes the time trying to corrupt Christians, particularly when they're good-looking. His favorite good girl, Francesca, stays as a well-dressed prisoner actively trying to free her doomed-to-die lover and father. For the most part, this involves whining about Christianity and turning her head as Propsero orders lashings on others, though slowly but surely, an interesting form of mutual respect begins to grow.

As I explained in my intro, I expected very little from The Masque of Red Death. The only things prompting me to press play were the presence of Price, convenience of a 90 minute Instant Watch, and the mere words "12th century" and "plague" in the film's description. 

I am sometimes easy to seduce.

So imagine my surprise to learn that The Masque of Red Death is an ACTUAL GOOD MOVIE. If you’ve seen Uwe Boll’s Rampage, you probably know what that feeling is. It begins with doubt, as you double check IMDB to confirm that you are indeed watching the movie you planned on. Once that happens, you fall into hesitation. There’s no WAY the quality can be maintained coming from the hands of a filmmaker who keeps one eye on the clock while directing...right?

But for the most part, it does. The Masque of Red Death isn’t the greatest genre film of the ‘60s, but it’s a fun ride that toes a gleeful balance between the cheeky and macabre. Poor villagers die, wealthy lords and ladies dress up like fools and die even worse, Vincent Price mugs like a champ and Corman’s colors pop like paintball. There’s little not to like.

High Points

Holy Crayola box batman! The rich brightness of virtually every costume, haircut and furniture piece makes The Masque of Red Death an absolutely stunning visual work. Observe one of its most famous scenes, as Prospero flees Death through a series of rooms that change color, Wizard of Oz/The Cook The Thief His Wife & Her Lover style

Low Points

For all the hubub and worshipping, I expect Satan to have a far more badass mustache than one composed of lampshade fringe

Lessons Learned (About Medieval Times)

Not too surprisingly, gorilla suits were highly flammable

The parties of the upper class made the Playboy Mansion look like Sesame Street

Bangs were totally bangin'

Rent/Bury/Buy

I’ll readily admit my weakness for any film involving plagues, dances of death, medieval torture, Vincent Price in period garb, or noblemen dressed like gorillas. The Masque of Red Death includes all these things, and it includes them extremely well. It’s not a masterpiece, but the film is bursting with life in its depiction of Death. It’s a fun, dark, and unique little watch and if nothing else, it beats just about anything else in the Corman catalog.