Karma Kameldoon

Is Patrick Muldoon the worst actor alive to actively get work? I say this as someone who was TOTALLY Team Austin & Carrie back in the ‘90s heyday of Days of Our Lives, but with age comes wisdom comes the realization that, well, this guy kind of sucks.

Naturally, that means his presence in a sleazy low budget thriller streaming on Amazon Prime is a must-watch.

Quick Plot: In one of the best credit sequences of all time, a catchy modern pop song plays while we get a fog-hued montage of Patrick Muldoon and Patsy Kensit tearing through 19th century London as Jack the Ripper and his bloodthirsty girlfriend. It’s cheesier than my dream plate of nachos and I’m instantly in love.

Cut to the present, where Dr. Trey Campbell (Muldoon in smart people’s glasses) works at a mental asylum on the Rhode Island coast. He’s so dedicated to his work that his annoying daughter Theresa and even more annoying wife Carly (Cry-Baby’s Amy Locane, who went on to have some of her own very bad karma via a vehicular manslaughter prison sentence) complain that he never has time for them. New England island vacation it is!

Before we can hop on a ferry, we first meet schizophrenic patient Maureen Hatcher, a beautiful murderer currently under heavy restraints in Trey’s hospital. Maureen believes that she’s really Agnes, the reincarnated gal pal of Jack the Ripper, and that Dr. Trey is the current embodiment of the famed killer. It’s a complicated doctor/patient relationship.

As Trey leaves to vacation with his horrid family, Maureen flirts with his substitute doctor. Like a true gentleman, he rebuffs her advances in the name of professionalism only to then pull a Kill Bill and attempt to rape her under sedation. 

It doesn’t end well.

Maureen escapes the world’s worst guarded mental hospital with ease, taking out a few more employees and stockpiling random body parts along the way. She makes a quick stop at a lesbian bar to pick up a similarly sized blond with an even worse southern accent than herself to murder and stage the body in a car accident. The world’s best car accident ever.

One of the signs of a great movie--I mean a REALLY GREAT MOVIE--is spontaneous combustion.

Like a gorilla drinking a martini, it just makes everything better.

Don't lie: Seeing this just improved your day tenfold

In the case of Bad Karma, we get our dose of Best Movie Ever when Maureen props her victim in the vehicle, puts it into drive, and watches it coast over a cliff, blowing up before it hits the water. I may have almost failed high school physics, but I’m fairly certain that this is not possible in modern engineering.

From there, Bad Karma slowly goes downhill. Sure, we do eventually get Patrick Muldoon attempting a British accent, and there’s a lot of inefficient police work and severed hands to keep the cheese cold. We get some token sleaze as Maureen hitchhikes with a dad who puts the moves on her despite his kids being the backseat, but the overall energy just doesn’t quite stay where the dairy queen in me wants it to be.

It’s a hard feat.

High Points

If a spontaneously combusting compact doesn’t get you going, check your pulse

Low Points

Needs more cheddar

Fun Fact

Bad Karma was produced by Mark L. Lester, the demigod responsible for Class of 1984 and far more importantly, Class of 1999. Note that it's never the wrong time to discuss Class of 1999

Lessons Learned

Rhode Island mental hospitals for the criminally insane can also be used as public school classrooms

A gunshot to the shoulder is not nearly as fatal as you think it is, despite your medical school education

Extremely violent mental patients are allowed daily eyebrow plucking sessions

No woman can resist the charms of Patrick Muldoon

Rent/Bury/Buy

Look, there’s nothing GOOD about Bad Karma, especially when you realize director John Hough is the same man responsible for The Watcher In the Woods. But hey, those in the mood for a mildly sleazy thriller with high doses of Patrick Muldoon in a top hat won’t find anything better.

It's Notta Too-mah!

I’m not going to lie: about 84% of the reason why I’m writing about The Manitou is so that I could use my favorite Ahnold line ever in the title for this post. 10% comes from the fact that the titular baddie of this film is petite, hence fitting with February’s Vertically Challenged Villainry. Finally, the remaining 6% comes from the following synopsis:

When Karen (Susan Strasberg) tries to have a tumor removed, she discovers it's actually the deformed fetus of an ancient Native American shaman ready to be reincarnated. Soon, the evil spirit bursts forth, and Karen turns to a sham psychic (Tony Curtis) and a contemporary medicine man (Michael Ansara) for a showdown with the murderous creature. Stella Stevens, Burgess Meredith and Jon Cedar co-star in this campy chiller.

Deformed Native American shaman fetuses AND Burgess Meredith? Life, you are a beautiful, beautiful thing.

Quick Plot: Pretty much what I just said. Susan Strasberg plays Karen, a normal by most means woman who just HAPPENS to discover a fetus growing on the back of her neck. The doctors aren’t much help (though at least they avoid being administrators) so she runs back into the arms of her bogus (but well-dressed) psychic ex-boyfriend, played by Tony Curtis. His name is Harry, which is easy to remember because he has his very own tagline: Harry’s the name and Tarot’s the game. Rock. On.

As Karen’s little surprise grows bigger and her talents expand to speaking a tribal language, it becomes universally accepted that she’s actually some form of surrogate mother to a manitou, i.e., the reincarnation of a Native American medicine man. This is a rare ailment probably taught in the final semester of med school, where wily young folks are too hung over while coasting through senioritis and don't have the time to say 'what the f-"

So what does one do upon discovering that one will be birthing an ancient spirit on the back of one’s neck? Abortion is apparently off the table, as an attempted surgical removal turns the doctor’s scalpel into a weapon of self-destruction. Research seems limiting (“after that, it just goes into rain dances,” bemoans a frustrated study buddy). Harry starts shopping around Native Americans, settling on John Singing Rock to perform an exorcism of sorts (because, you know, it’s the 1970s and all genre films were legally required to include one). All he asks for in return is $100,000 donated to the Indian Education Association. Plus tobacco. I probably would have tried to throw in some popcorn balls or movie passes, but that’s why I’m not a seer.

I don’t know how far I should go in recapping the magic of The Manitou. If you like Star Wars, you will eventually rejoice at the sight of space lasers. If you like The Exorcist, you will drool at seeing a kind-of exorcism. There are also boobs and fake snow. A giant hologram that makes every episode of Sightings look positively horrifying. Spontaneous combustion. Lines like “I’m just a South Dakota Indian with a bag of tricks.”

Oh, and one of February’s most exciting Vertically Challenged Villains ever, a little person Native American who spends more time in the gym than Ahhhnold during his pre-Kindergarten Cop days. 

Need I say more?

High/Low Points

Much like the equally laughable The Devil Within Her, The Manitou’s strength and weakness comes primarily from just how seriously it insists on taking itself. The fact that poor Tony Curtis can deliver his lines with so much earnestness is simply hilarious

Lessons Learned

Say it with me: whatever you do, don’t be an administrator

The best way to rekindle romance is to be impregnated in the back by a Native American medicine man

Duh, like, every machine has its own manitou!

I don’t know that the following is any form of a lesson, but The Manitou seems so gosh darn intent on telling it over the end credits that I feel as though I MUST include the epiologue:

Fact: Tokyo, Japan, 1969: A 15-year-old boy developed what is doctors thought was a tumor in his chest. The larger it grew, the more uncharacteristic it appeared. Eventually, it proved to be a human fetus.

Rent/Bury/Buy

The Manitou is one of those 1970s relics that simply can’t be explained. It must be experienced. It has virtually everything you’ve ever wanted to see onscreen, plus an inconsistent sore and floating elderly possessed woman. I can’t for the life of my cats understand why anybody that breathes would NOT want to watch this film. You do breathe, right?

Christmas With the Combustible Covens

After the debacle that was Silent Night, Deadly Night 2 (from a non cheese lover’s point of view, of course) and the bore that was Part III: You Better Watch O ut,  along came the ‘90s and with it, a new take on the yuletide slaughter series determined to start fresh. Silent Night, Deadly Night 4: Initiation, takes the Halloween III approach by having absolutely nothing to do with its forebearers (although a fantasy sequence from the previous film does get a Clint Howard approved cameo). Directed by genre B+ student Brian Yuzna (The ReAnimator sequels, Return of the Living Dead III), this is an interesting and imperfect little movie that embraces all the fun trappings of the lesser decade it was made in.

Quick Plot: Homeless Clint Howard shambles his way down a dark LA alleyway as a woman falls to her death before his eyes, her lower half spontaneously combusting with no human explanation. We’re then introduced to our lead Kim (Neith Hunter), a wannabe journalist doing everything she can to move up from editing the classifieds. Surprisingly enough, she’s learning the hard way that publicly sleeping with a head reporter one month after being hired is not earning her the respect she so craves. That glass ceiling sure is hard to crack, sister.

Frustrated that her snazzily dressed boyfriend won’t pester the boss for her promotion, Kim decides to take matters into her own hands by investigating the mysterious death and writing its story. Research begins at the scene of the crime, where Kim meets an Asian American butcher speaking like an idiot, even though he clearly has perfectly apt English pronunciation skills. Next stop is a New Age shop where the ill-mannered Kim acts like an ignorant snob while somehow charming Fima, the owner, into getting invited to a picnic. Who knew that the way into a hippie shopkeeper’s heart was by accepting her candy, then spitting it out and handing the inside back?


The next day, Kim meets up with Fima and friends for a midday picnic where within 45 seconds, she becomes the center of a toast and gets tipsy off of half a glass of wine. Something is clearly off, since no way would someone with the bad attitude of Kim make friends so quickly. 

To quote another female centered horror film with “Christmas” in the IMDB keywords, all of them witches. It’s not spoiling anything to hint at Fima’s intentions towards Kim, none of which involve girl talk over cosmos. The actual direction of their relationship is interesting, if rather underdeveloped in an extremely brisk film. Strange things begin to happen when Kim hangs out with her new gang: cockroaches invade her apartment, her head spins with flashes of the film’s previous scenes, spaghetti swirls itself into symbolic spirals, and Clint Howard dons a Kubrickian Pinnocchio nose to romance the baffled redhead and get his bare chest oiled up by senior citizenettes.

It's even more disturbing than it sounds.

High Points

A major character’s death is quite well executed, with a few nasty stabs that feel drawn out and mean

Director Yuzna earns a few extra points simply for naming his son (who plays a key character in the film) Conan


Not surprisingly, the practical effects are quite impressive in a richly gooey way. There's a touch of Cronenberg in some of the semen-ish fluids sprawled throughout Kim's after hours adventures, as well as plenty of good old fashioned ickiness

Low Points

Much like myself, Neith Hunter has apparently never been touch to develop an indoor voice, making a good deal of her passionate arguing in the early scenes make us wonder how we’ll be able to survive another 90 minutes when it always feels like our lead is just yelling at us

We never really learn the nature of Fima’s spells, or religion, or hobby or whatever. The imagery and basic atmosphere is interesting enough to follow, but it’s an odd choice to leave so much of the film’s villainess a mystery

Lessons Learned

Upon discovering a body engulfed in flames, feel free to touch it

To make your multi-zipper leather jacket really pop, pair it with a tight black turtleneck. Especially if you’re a man.

Books about spontaneous combustion are classified in the occult section of your local  pagan bookstore

LA is a very windy city, but also safe enough for picnickers to leave their car windows wide open as they roam around public parks


When you put Reggie Bannister in a sweater, he has a striking resemblance to Lisa Simpson’s band conductor, Mr. Largo

Winning Line

“Kim’s Jewish.” 

“Oh Jesus!”

Familiar Face

Chipmunk voiced Allyce Beasley, once again taking on the best friend role she chirped her way through in Rumplestiltskin, and once again not receiving a death worthy of her cloying character

Rent/Bury/Buy

Much like some of Yuzna chum Stuart Gordon’s film, Silent Night, Deadly Night 4 is a pleasant ride during its run time, but quite forgettable when it’s done. The effects are neat and the actual premise is different enough to warrant a watch, but the overall product isn't quite smart enough to earn a place in body horror and not the joyous time that makes something like Jack Frost 2 an annual yuletide viewing. Completists considering the new boxed set should seek it out without worry, as it is a film that merits rewatching somewhere down the line. For others, a rental should suffice.

Drag Me to Hellgate

Hellgate is a gift to every adult who ever found him or herself wondering why the makers of Scooby Doo never grew up.


That’s right. In this film you will find:
-a spooky amusement park
-reanimated animal puppets
-an orangy blond male and dark-haired tomboy
-a fully choreographed dance number of the Can-Can


It's as silly as it sounds, and then a little more so. You take the goofy charms of a cartoon world and add some nudity and spontaneously combustible undead animals. In the end, you don't get a classic but you sure do have a guiltily good time.


Quick Plot:
An incredibly unaffectionate couple and their poor man’s Molly Ringwald friend await the arrival of Ron Palilo (yes, the former Horshak) in an unexciting country house. To pass the time, the trio tells a few charmingly nostalgic ghost stories set in the nearby town of Hellgate, a sort of permanent carnival eternally garbed in Christmas lights. According to local lore, tragedy struck in the 1950s, an otherwise gleeful era filled with neon-lit diners and gum-snapping waitresses.


The flashback/story intermixes itself through the opening credits and early scenes as we are introduced to a viciously denim-clad biker gang big on making homoerotic glances in each others' direction and sexually harassing restaurant employees. All would be fine and 50s had these overly aggressive gentlemen not kidnapped Josie, the pretty young daughter of a surprisingly talented pickax hurler. A laughably tragic accident turns the bland bombshell into something of a ghost (although she’s also referred to as a zombie, so who really knows) and creates a toxic fortress of solitude filled with laser shooting crystals. I think.


Yeah, it doesn’t make much more sense onscreen either, but that’s a good thing. An old-school prospector stumble upon the glistening cave and brings a piece to a man (who may also be the grieving father; it's unclear) who beholds one of the greatest mustaches in film history (Super Mario would be seething with envy). Turns out, the crystals can revive the dead by transforming it into puffy puppets that will, in ten seconds, spontaneously combust. And then we move on.


What else...I think we jump back to the present/real time, where Palilo picks up the healthily reanimated (and horny) Josie for...directions. There's no perverted chuckle behind that statement: he turns down the supermodelish apparition to get back to his beloved girlfriend and wow the lass with enough bedroom talent to make her eyes cross. Thankfully, we're spared the details.


It's hard to actually synopsize Hellgate when the plot has such a bumpy flow. Eventually, our heroes find themselves in the titular town where beheadings occur, seductions are foiled, and disembodied refrigerated heads call out for their lower halves. In other words, wacky hijinks ensue. Nothing's particularly scary, but almost all of it is rather fun in a not-very-good way. And hey, did I mention the spontaneously combusting sea creatures?


High Points
The intermixing of the kids' narrated ghost stories with the present day action isn't exactly clear, but it does make the opening a little intriguing


This movie contains a spontaneously combustible zombie turtle. The very presence of such a creature makes everything associated with Hellgate rather awesome.


The core characters are more intelligent than your typical young-people-in-peril


Low Points
...but none are particularly likeable


How much public doman music can one film dare to squeeze into its score? Hellgate is the one that dares to find out


Lessons Learned
When recently revived from the dead, one's sense of what is sexually attractive may be questionable


John Travolta was not the only sex symbol produced by Welcome Back Kotter...or so the producers of Hellgate would realllllly like us to believe


In the battle of axe vs. chain, axe wins


When in need of a quick ghost effect and cursed with a low budget, lease a player piano


Rent/Bury/Buy
There’s something truly joyful about Hellgate that is certainly worth a watch if 80s cheese is your cup of...well, liquid Cheez Whiz. Like The Pit (the flipside of this double DVD), Hellgate knows not to take itself remotely seriously. I guess you shouldn’t expect anything more from the director of Blackenstein & Wham Bam Thank You Spaceman (aka Erotic Encounters of the 4th Kind), so enjoy the tamed mullets, gratuitous nudity, kickline performance, and everything else Velma and Daphne were too shy to try.