Sunday, July 26, 2015

W (Willy Milan, 1983)

Standing over his prey in a menacing fashion, Nosfero, the leader of a militaristic crime syndicate (one filled with a seemingly endless supply of leather clad dandies), says: "You killed my brother. Now I'm going to cut off your dick." Not one to sit back and let his genitals hit the dirt without a fight, W2, a non-rule-playing cop, responds by saying: "If you do that, you leave me no choice but to slaughter your bald minions." This may come as a bit of a surprise, but the conversation I just quoted doesn't occur in W. That being said, I think most of you will agree that it sums up the plot of this action-heavy Filipino revenge movie pretty succinctly. However, since I'm never succinct, I plan on dragging this thing out for as long as possible. Okay, I probably won't drag it out for that long. But I ain't stopping until I have fully explored the cock-free dilemma that W2's wife experiences after her husband loses his junk on their wedding night. In other words, sit back and relax. I just watched a movie made in the Republic of the Philippines about a man who wakes up to find that his penis is no longer attached to his body. Life is good. I Eunuchs.

Doing what any normal woman would do when faced with such a profound form of dicklessness, W2's wife makes friends with her shower nozzle. Now, you would think that the sight of your wife openly boning plumbing fixtures would cause W2 to rush down to the Manilla Learning Annex to sign up for cunnilingus classes (or, at very least, order a chin-strap dildo from the back of one of your now useless porno mags). But it doesn't. No, what does W2 do instead? He sits by the pool and sulks.

Boo-hoo, my wife's pussy is hungry for cock, and I have nothing to feed it with.
After he's finished sulking, W2 decides to confront Nosfero. Sadly, he doesn't get very far, as he fails to get past his Lieutenant. As a bound W2 hung in the middle of Nosfero's camp, he must have thought to himself: Why didn't I just lick my wife's vagina? If he didn't think that, then, well, he's a bigger dumbass than I initially thought.
Of course, a lot of people will say that W2's wife shouldn't have fucked one of his cop buddies. I, for one, I'm not one of these people. The moment W2 left to confront Nosfero was when I lost respect for him. Your thirst for vengeance has caused to lose focus on what's important. And that is, the needs and wants of your wife's clitoral infrastructure.
Changing gears for a second. I'm usually quite the wordsmith when it comes to describing synth flourishes. However, the one that accompanies the bulk of the film's psych-rock heavy score is causing me fits. Hell, I'm not even sure it was made using a synthesizer. Either way, I loved the weird, funky ass music heard throughout this movie.
What I am sure of is that Pentagon (Richard Jones) reminded me of Heinrich Himmler (Reichsführer of the Schutzstaffel) and David Leisure (Empty Nest). I wonder if any aging Nazis got a chance to see Empty Nest? Call me mentally unsound, I can just picture, oh, let's say, SS-Sturmbannführer Alfred Naujocks screaming for the nurse at his rest home to turn on Empty Nest in the TV room: "Hey, don't make me start World War II again. Put on meine favourite show!!! That David Leisure iz a riot." Anyway, Pentagon, the man in charge of the international underworld syndicate at the center of this motion picture, hopes to turn the land occupied by Nosfero (Den Montero) and his trike gang/cult into the biggest marijuana plantation in all of Asia.
Meanwhile, down at police headquarters, Alice (Alicia Alonzo), a police reporter, is introduced to an enforcer named W2 (Anthony Alonzo). On top of meeting W2, Alice also meets R2 (Bing Davao), D3, B9 and V1.
If you're wondering why I bothered to mention W2's fellow enforcers, the answer is easy, they all have alphanumeric names and one of them is played by an actor named "Bing Davao."
At any rate, the reason W2 doesn't make a play for Alice is because it would seem that W2 has a girlfriend (Anna Marie Guteirrez). Unfortunately, she won't accept his marriage proposal until he gets a less dangerous profession. Being an enforcer, as we'll soon find out, is no picnic.
After killing Nosfero's brother in the parking lot of a local steak house (see what I mean, no picnic), W2 is suspended from the force. The look on his girlfriend's face when she hears that he's been suspended speaks volumes. Seeing this as positive step in the right direction, W2's girlfriend starts to view the disgraced cop as husband material.

Despite being targeted by Nosfero (W2, R2 D3, B9 and V1 are nearly killed while enjoying a late night snack), W2 and his girlfriend decide to get married right away. As they're about to consummate their marriage by engaging in some good old fashion lying down heterosexual intercourse, Nosfero and his men (and women) swoop in and drag the horny newlyweds away.

Waking up in the hospital the very next day, W2 is shocked to discover that his penis is gone.

Unable to penetrate his new bride with his missing penis, W2 becomes increasingly frustrated. To make matters worse, Maj. R.A. Medina (Joonee Gamboa), W2's boss, won't overturn his suspension. Meaning, W2 can't legally go after Nosfero. However, if you were paying attention earlier, you will have no doubt remembered that I called W2 a "non-rule-playing cop." And, as most people know, non-rule-playing cops aren't the type to sit idly by and allow their severed penises to go unavenged.

You know what that means, right? Cue the welding montage. Employing the help of a sympathetic female syndicate/cult member, W2 turns his Camaro into an armored battle wagon of death. The cool thing about the welding montage is that it reminded me of a Test Dept. video.

Will the side-ponytail-sporting Nosfero and his bald/face-painted minions be able to stave off the attack launched by a cock-lacking ex-cop who just found out his cock-starved wife has been canoodling with a cocky cock-abundant ex-co-worker? Given that Nosfero commands a huge army that seems to spend the majority of its time training, I'd say the answer is most definitely yes. That being said, I wouldn't underestimate W2. Whoever is victorious in the ensuing battle, there's no denying that it's going to be freakin' epic. Let me put this way, the local undertaker is going to be getting a lot of new business when all is said and done.

Sunday, July 19, 2015

Hot Legs (Bob Chinn, 1979)

Hey, late 1970s porno actress. Would it kill ya to put on an anklet? If you're too lazy to bend down that far, how 'bout a belly-chain? Call me perverted and sad, but I don't think that's too much to ask. I mean, for crying out loud, give me something to work with here. Ugh. At any rate, for a film that's purportedly about lingerie, there's an awful lot of nudity in it. I know, flicks like these are renowned for their nudity. But c'mon, man. Do they have to be naked all the time? As I was saying, like, ten seconds ago, the least they could do is put on an anklet or a belly-chain. However, as you've probably already figured out, no ankle or belly beautifying jewelry is forthcoming. No, what we get instead in Gail Palmer's Hot Legs is a series of sex scenes that boast naked men and naked women. If I wanted to watch unclothed animals humping on each other, I'd go down to the park. I don't know, maybe my expectations were too damn high, but I was hoping for more lingerie sex. On the positive side, a photographer (Paul Thomas) and his assistant (Sharon Kane) conduct a photo-shoot that features two female models wearing black stockings and skirts with healthy slits. If every scene had been like this, we would be talking about one of the greatest films of all-time. But every scene isn't like this, and that's the problem.

Now, this doesn't mean I'm going to ban myself from watching films directed by Bob Chinn in the future. It does, however, mean that I'm going to be somewhat cautious the next time the opportunity to watch one comes around.

Seriously, how do you fuck up a film about a fledgling lingerie company who are desperately trying to get the word out about their sexy product?

Okay, maybe "fuck up," is a tad harsh. But the fact that none of the sex scenes featured a stitch of lingerie was beyond aggravating.

Of course, I didn't notice this right away. What I think happened was, the sheer awesomeness of the opening credits sequence must have hampered my ability to think straight. That being said, after I eventually got my faculties back, I started to notice the nudity. And, much to my chagrin, I began to realize that none of the chicks were wearing stockings during sex.

I know, pretty outrageous, eh?

Getting back to the opening credits for a second. Everything from the leggy camera angles to the rockin' theme song was perfect. Sure, the stockings could have been blacker (they actually looked gray at times) and the theme song is no White Bunbusters (not much is), but as far as making first impressions go, Hot Legs had me eating out of the palm of its hand.

After the founder of Hot Legs, Mort (Richard Pacheco), is done smooth-talking John (Jon Martin), a potential investor, he heads over to his studio/office to see how things are progressing.

Stressed over the fact that he's got a deadline to meet, Mort starts to panic when he realizes that Annie Spencer (Jesie St. James), his star model, hasn't shown up for work yet.

You would think that the angry message Mort left on her giant, late 1970s answering machine would cause Annie to get her skinny ass in gear. But it doesn't. Lying sprawled out on her bed without any clothes on (boo!), Annie coos as her boyfriend (Blair Harris) laps up the crumpled outer layer of her wheatfield-esque girl squishy with his tongue.

Fans of fucking on film should take note that the sex scene between Oksana Baiul, I mean, Jesie St. James, and Bill Blair is the only one to feature a position other than the missionary position.

As Oksana Baiul and Bill Blair are going at it, a photographer named Dave (Paul Thomas), and his assistant Debbie (Sharon Kane), try to work around Annie's absence by shooting a nautical themed lingerie spread with Michelle (Jennifer Wolfe) and Candy (Adele Sloan), two models who are just as leggy as Annie.

(You called Jesie St. James Oksana Baiul again.) Oops. I always get Ukrainian figure skater Oksana Baiul and disco era porno actress Jesie St. James mixed up.

Telling Michele and Candy to "pull those slits up," the Dave and Debbie photo shoot sequence is probably the hottest scene in the entire movie.

It's definitely hotter than the sight of Bill Blair's balls being repeatedly shoved in my face. Wait, that didn't come out right. What I mean is, I grew tired of Bill Blair's balls. I will say this, though, I appreciated the fact that it looked like Bill had shaved them recently. Granted, the upper portion had some mild five o'clock shadow action going on. But the underside was silky smooth.

The testicular forecast for today is silky smooth with a chance of some mild pubic shadows appearing by the late afternoon (you might want to bring a toothpick).

In a bizarre twist, when Oksana Baiul finally does arrive for her photo shoot, what we get is a lot of face shots. What are you doing, Bob Chinn? The movie's called "Hot Legs," not "Hot Faces." Ahhh, this movie!!!! While it gets a ton of stuff right, its screw ups are glaring.

The lesbian scene between Oksana Baiul and Julie (Lisa Sue Corey), a demure seamstress, could be viewed as a screw up (it's pretty dull). But it does lead to one of the film's more clever sight gags. Let's just say it involves a Halston dress and an ironing board.

Since Halston was renowned for his disco-friendly clothing, it only makes sense that the next scene be about "Disco Hot Legs," nylons that will apparently allow women to show as much leg as they want (they're basically sparkle-covered tights).

If anyone had any doubts whether or not this film takes place during the disco era, they won't have any whatsoever when they see the Disco Hot Legs photo shoot sequence. Flashing lights, roller-skates, tongue kissing, Travolta posing, double-scrunchies, triangle-shaped earrings and a throbbing disco song ("oooh, you should be dancing... love on wheels"), this scene has got everything a fan of this particular period of history could want and more.

Of course, the models for the Disco Hot Legs (Penelope Jones and R.J. Reynolds) jettison their disco threads the moment the sex gets underway. Actually, we don't even get to see them jettison them, they're simply clothed one minute, completely naked the next. On the bright side, R.J.'s balls are dolphin smooth.

Oh, and since it wouldn't be a film from the late 1970s without a reference to the International Society for Krishna Consciousness, we get one in the form of a plot twist involving Oksana Baiul, I mean, Jesie St. James.

In closing, even though I was annoyed by the amount of nudity in this film, the sex scenes, unlike this review, are mercifully short. And given that this film was recently remastered by Vinegar Syndrome, it looks fantastic. The late 1970s have never looked so good.

Sunday, July 12, 2015

Roller Blade (Donald G. Jackson, 1986)

Roller skates, big hair, butterfly knives, leotards, portable cassette players, black thongs, neck-gore, skateboard punks, shopping carts and hand puppets. Oh, hi. In case you're wondering, I'm not just listing random things in order to kill time. You won't believe this, but all the stuff I just mentioned actually appears in the amazing Roller Blade at some point or another. Sure, it's lacking a few things here and there (for starters, there are no black silk stockings featured in this film whatsoever), but as far as post-apocalyptic skate-sploitation flicks go, it's pretty much got everything you could ask for and more. It's true, it doesn't quite reach the dizzying heights of Shredder Orpheus when it comes to overall greatness, but it's definitely better than Prayer of the Rollerboys. While it's true, Roller Blade and the films I just mentioned do have a lot in common, I think this particular film, written and directed by Donald G. Jackson (Hell Comes to Frogtown), has got the others beat in terms of sheer insanity. I know, Shredder Orpheus is all kinds of insane. But once you see the outfits worn by Mother Speed and her roller-skating sisters, you'll start to see what I'm getting at.

The only way to describe their outfits is like this: Imagine if the Ku Klux Klan decided to consulate Gucci to remake their signature look.

While it pains me to compare their look to that of the KKK, their outlook is all about peace and understanding. That being said, they will straight-up stab your ass if you as much as look at them funny. But, if they like the cut of your jib, they might just heal your ass. That's right, the sisters can heal people. And they do so by waving their magic butterfly knives over the affected area.

Of course, the haute couture KKK outfits and butterfly knives that heal are just the beginning when it comes to understanding the scope of this film's nuttiness.

As things get underway, I wouldn't chastise you for thinking that this film had a Fred Olen Ray quality about it. Hell, I, too, thought the film reeked of Fred Olen Ray (and believe me, as someone who has seen Evil Toons, that's a stench you do not want to reek of). However, the second Mother Speed (Katina Garner), the leader of The Cosmic Order of Roller Blade, and Marshall Goodman (Jeff Hutchinson), the protector of the Third Harvest of the New Order, open their mouths and start conversing with one another, I knew this wasn't your typical slab of cinematic trash.

As Mother Speed and Marshall Goodman are chatting, Sister Sharon Cross (Suzanne Solari) is writhing in bed. Having a nightmare, one that involves Baby Saticoy dragging her into a vat of acid, Sharon's black thong would dig into her anus with every writhe. How do I know this, you ask? Let's just say I've been watching hot chicks in black thongs writhe for quite some time now.

Anyway, it would seem that in the old days, people skated for fun. But now people either skate or they die. Case in point, Hunter (Shaun Michelle), a freelance bounty hunter, stabs and kills some guy who wasn't wearing skates. Now, would he have lived had he been wearing a pair of roller-skates or riding on a skateboard? Who's to say. All I know is, those who do not skate in this film's universe are easy pickings.

The so-called "Roller Patrol," lead by Marshall Goodman, try to police this unruly wasteland (L.A. during the Second Dark Age), but it's clear to anyone with eye-holes that still sort of work that chaos is calling the shots.

What's that? Who leads chaos? As most of you know, chaos doesn't usually have a leader. But if you were to ask the demented Doctor Saticoy (Robby Taylor), he would probably tell you that he's the one in charge... of chaos.

Since the Roller Patrol are no match for Doctor Saticoy, it's up to the Cosmic Order of Roller Blade to stand up against his unique brand of villainy. Unfortunately, three roller blade sisters are captured by the Samurai Devils, a gang affiliated with Doctor Sacticoy... (Don't forget Baby Saticoy.) Ah, yes. Baby Saticoy. The face of chaos for the majority of the film.

As I was saying, three roller blade sisters are captured by the Samurai Devils. Two of them are forced to wrestle one another, while the third one watches from the discomfort of  a shopping cart. If you thought writhing in bed caused your black thong to press tightly against your anus, you should see what wrestling does... to your anus.

Don't worry, though, Mother Speed launches a rescue mission. And you can almost guarantee that the mission is going to be a success, as it's lead by none other than Sister Sharon, whose butterfly knife swooshes open with a shitload of vigor and at least six tubs worth of moxie.

When word gets out that Doctor Sacticoy wants someone to steal the Cosmic Order of the Roller Blade's magic power crystal and that he's willing to pay a hefty sum for it, Hunter jumps at the chance (after all, her Walkman needs new batteries). In order to infiltrate the cosmic order, Hunter pretends to be a damsel in distress. The plan is to have the sisters think that she wants to join the order, and when they're not looking, nab the magic power crystal. However, things get a tad complicated, when Hunter, who is re-branded as "Sister Fortune," starts to bond with Sister Sharon.

I can't say I blame her. I want to bleed to death all over Sister Sharon's supple hindquarters... let my blood nourish her smooth thighs and tasty buttocks.

Things go from being a tad complicated to extremely complicated when Waco (Sam Mann), a shopping cart pushing bounty hunter (dig the swimming goggles, man), kidnaps Marshall Goodman's son for Doctor Sacticoy. But don't worry, things go back to being a tad complicated when Waco sees Sister Sharon's aforementioned smooth thighs and tasty buttocks. What I mean is, Waco switches sides when he realizes that's there's more to life than ball bearings.

Even though Roller Blade looks like it was made for no money, it still manages to create the sense that this world actually exists. You see, by simply using their surroundings (Sun Valley, California) in an imaginative manner, the producers were able to construct a universe that seemed authentic and totally lived in. It didn't hurt that old-timey second person singular pronouns were added to the dialogue during post-production, and that Michelle Bauer makes a brief appearance as a "Bod Sister."

Smart, funny and profound are three words. And, believe or not, I'm going to use them to sum up my feelings about Roller Blade. And while I'm at it, you can add: Sexy, unique and stupefying. Go forth now and skate the path of righteousness.