The Stepmother (Howard Avedis, 1972)

My eyes fanatically searched the screen for any sign of seedy content, but they repeatedly came up empty while devouring the tragically limp The Stepmother, unheralded exploitation maestro Howard Avedis' directorial debut about jealously, murder, paranoia, lust, and one of the guys from M*A*S*H. The thing I kept thinking to myself as watched this potentially trashy flick unfold was: "Why is it called "The Stepmother"? I mean, where is she? For most of the film we're knee-deep in a murder investigation and there's not a single stepparent in sight. I started to think the whole thing was some sort of elaborate joke; a convoluted ruse to get poor saps to view mistitled films from the early 1970s in order to satisfy the sick jollies of some apathetic playboy. Now, I realize I risk coming off sounding impatient, but if I'm watching the "stepmother," I wanna see a freaking stepmother! Well, at least within the first ten minutes (I may be crackers, but I am reasonable). And, no, this is nothing like the situation with The Third Man. It just isn't. My desire to see an actual stepmother acting all stepmotherly from the get-go is the sanest thing I have ever desired. I had a faint approximation of who the stepmother was in The Stepmother (in retrospect, it's actually quite obvious). But until then, I'm gonna try to focus on what happens before she unveils her shapely self. It begins with Frank Delgado (Alejandro Rey) arrives home to find a business associate coming out of his home with a satisfied grin on his face. Not one to mince words, Frank strangles him to death in his driveway and haphazardly buries his lifeless corpse in a secluded part of town. This scenario sounds pretty straightforward, but Frank's alibi is full of holes.

Nevertheless, Frank tries to carry on like nothing's happened; an impulsive get together with his non-strangled business associates, wife, and friends at the beach seems to do the trick. However, Frank's unease over his wife's apparent infidelity and the stress over his recent crime of passion is clearly visible. This strain plagues the green-eyed developer for the rest of the movie and causes him to lose his grip on reality.

As the police close in and Frank's friends start to worry, there's still no sign of the stepmother. That is until Frank mentions that his son Steve Delgado (Rudy Herrera Jr.) is flying in from Mexico City. Now, I'm no genetics expert, but that would mean Frank's wife is his stepmother. Oh, you should have seen the look of relief on my face as this little nugget of information came to light (it was such a pathetic sight). Sure, up until then the police procedural hooey with John Anderson and Duncan McLeod was tedious, the pacing was snail-like, and the over reliance on using the freeze frame technique to punctuate every scene was annoying. But to finally have the stepmother identified was a misguided treat.

The lovely Katherine Justice plays Margo Delgado, Frank's wife and Steve's stepmother. The first half of The Stepmother may been dominated by Alejanndro Rey and his acute jitteriness, but the second half belongs to Miss Justice. Well, to be honest, that's not really true. But whatever, right? I'm not gonna let little things like facts and reality ruin my stepmother-based high.

Anyway, the way Katherine managed to smoke, drink, and dial a rotary phone in bed all at the same time was a glorious sight to behold. You see, women could multitask and still retain their feminine dignity back in the '70s. Not like today, with their gimcrackery, expired cheese, and whatnot. After showing off her dexterity, Kate Justice also got to exhibit her seductive side during her alone time with her stepson. Alcohol and marijuana-fueled it may have been, but I thought she did terrific job when it came to selling the sexy.

The other standout in the cast was Marlene Schmidt as Sonja Hill, the wife of Frank's best friend, Dick (Larry Linville). Doubling as the film's associate producer, the German born Marlene lit up the screen every time she would make an appearance. It's true, this luminosity might have had something to do with the fact that her character has propensity for wearing yellow and orange, but I like to think that her luminance was unassisted.

Looking deeper into her biography, it seems as though she appears in all of Howard Avedis' films (she is credited as a producer on all them as well). Which, I must say, makes the prospect of watching more of his films an appealing one.

video uploaded by Drive-In Films and Anything 70s

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