Slaughterhouse Rock (Dimitri Logothetis, 1988)

Are you sitting down? (Do I have to?) No, I really think you should be sitting down to hear what I'm about to say. Okay, so, there's this horror movie from the late 1980s called "Slaughterhouse Rock." It stars Toni Basil as the ghost of a dead rock star who is forever doomed to haunt Alcatraz. And are you ready for this? You don't get to see Toni Basil until at least the forty minute mark. Can you believe this shit? Yes, I realize there needs to be some build up before you unleash Toni Basil and her spectacular gams on an audience. But forty minutes?!? C'mon, man. This is ridiculous. No offense to Hope Marie Carlton (who helped me get through a number of those awful Andy Sidaris turds) and those kind of interchangeable brunette chicks, but there's no way they can compete with Toni when it comes to talent. She sings, she dances, she acts, she wears funny hats, she does it all. So, I'll ask again: What gives, movie I just watched? Why are you wasting mine and everyone else's time like this? I mean, you're clearly a movie that possesses zero originality (everything looks like it's been cobbled together from ideas stolen from better movies). Yet, you had an ace up your sleeve in the form of Toni Basil and, not to mention, Mark Mothersbaugh and Gerald V. Casale from Devo doing all the music, and what did you do? You squandered them. Squandered the living fuck out of them.

I'm not mad. I'm just disappointed. Think about it. Toni Basil shows up on set wearing a leopard print jacket and zebra print pants, and what do you do? You.... you drop the ball, that's what you do. Seriously, we're talking leopard print and zebra print all within the same outfit.

You know how many movies I've slogged through over the years waiting for someone to show up wearing an outfit that boasts leopard and zebra print elements? I don't know the exact number, but trust me, it's a lot. And when they finally do show up wearing the animal print combo I so crave, and it's being worn by none other than Toni Basil, I have to endure the frightfully lame Slaughterhouse Rock in order to do so.

I'm telling you right now, life isn't fair. And there's no greater example of life's unfairness than the mental drudgery I had to undergo while I watched in horror as Toni Basil's wardrobe fiasco/masterpiece be neglected by a brain-sick cabal of no talent twaddle pushers. That's right, the people who made this film push twaddle. They peddle twaddle. In fact, they wallow in twaddle. How else can you explain such a high level of unabashed egregiousness?

Granted, we do get a couple of nice shots of Toni Basil's killer legs during a key scene. I think it's the one where Toni Basil's "Sammy Mitchell" does some kind of voodoo dance to resurrect the spirit from the body of the still living Alex Gardner (Nicholas Celozzi), a teen with thick, dark Mediterranean hair. But the only reason we get a voodoo dance is because Toni took the director, Dimitri Logothetis, aside and asked them if she could bust a few moves. Her logic being: If you're not going to try to inject this turkey with any life, I might as well give it a shot.

Of course, I have no proof this scenario actually took place. But I decided early on that anytime something not lame occurs in this film, someone other than the people responsible for making it had to be behind it.

Since the description of the plot on the internet movie database written by an anonymous user is pretty succinct, so, I think I'll use it. Why not?

I'm paraphrasing: A dark-haired teen and his friends (and his dark-haired brother) travel to Alcatraz prison (at night of course) after said dark-haired teen has disturbing dreams about the people who died there. Soon after they arrive, the dark-haired teen's dark-haired brother is possessed by an evil cannibal demon. The ghost of a female heavy metal singer (Toni Basil) tries to help the dark-haired teen fight the monsters that are haunting his dreams and the island itself.

I think that makes sense. Well, it technically doesn't make sense. But it's pretty much the gist of the plot.

One by one, the dark-haired teens friends are attacked by the demon version of the dark-haired teen's dark-haired brother. And after each friend is attacked, they come back as wisecracking ghosts with gnarly neck wounds. Which, as most people know, is a trope borrowed from An American Werewolf in London. And, like I said, earlier, every moment in this film is taken from a better, more entertaining movie.

Which sums up this movie perfectly. Sure, not every horror movie stars Toni Basil and is loaded with late '80s era Devo songs, but there are literally hundreds of horror movies that are better than this piece of crap.

As for trigger warnings: There's an awful rape scene (it's so casual, ugh) / The dark-haired teen blames his weird dreams on his hormones (anytime hormones are mentioned I would feel uneasy) / Even though there are way too many men in this film... at least they all had plenty of hair on their heads.

A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master (Renny Harlin, 1988)

I've noticed recently that after each subsequent "Nightmare" film has ended, I've gotten into this weird habit of checking to see if there's a sequel (I know they made a lot of them, but I'm not quite sure how many exactly - Eight? Ten? Fifteen? Who knows?). And when I would discover that there was in fact a sequel, I would think to myself: Okay, if this one's lame, that's it, I'm pulling the plug on my self-imposed A Nightmare on Elm Street marathon. As you might expect, when it came time to sit down and watch A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master, I thought for sure that my days as a chronic A Nightmare on Elm Street watcher were coming to an end. Well, will wonders never cease. Not only was A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master worthy of my time, it's whole premise is based on the Freddy-stopping power of a magic spiky bracelet. Initially worn by a big haired Dynasty fan/exercise enthusiast named Debbie (Deb to her friends), the magic spiky bracelet is given to "The Dream Master," who proceeds to use it to extract the souls of her dead friends from the body of one Friedrich von Krüger. Okay, maybe I'm overstating the importance of Deb's spiky bracelet. But what happens to Deb the moment she takes off the spiky bracelet? That's right. She gets turned into a cockroach. Now, I can't guarantee that wouldn't have occurred had she kept the spiky bracelet on. However, and most entomologists will back me up on this one, the only surefire way to prevent human to insect metamorphosis is to decorate your wrists and arms with ornamental bands, hoops and chains that sport studs and spikes. It's not only fashion, it's science.

While we get see Deb (Brooke Theiss) talk trigonometry with Toy Newkirk, work the lunch counter at a local diner, attend the funeral of a fellow teen and pump iron in her garage, the film, directed with an unnecessary amount of flair by Renny Harlin, is actually about a twitchy blonde and a daydreaming redhead.

Remember the Kristen/Kirsten character from A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors? Well, this film continues right where Dream Warriors left off. Except, Kristen (the twitchiest blonde of the franchise... so far) is now played by Tuesday Knight (Patricia Arquette portrayed Kristen in the previous chapter of the Freddy saga). Granted, it takes a few moments to get used to Tuesday Knight as Kristen. But once I saw her smoking a cigarette by her bedroom window in a leggy manner, I totally accepted her. Gooble-gobble.

The fact Tuesday's aura in this film was eerily similar to that of Wendy Lyon, the star of Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II, was also a deciding factor. I love Wendy Lyon in that flick.

Oh, and did I mention that Tuesday Knight sings the film's theme song, "Running from this Nightmare"? Well, she does. And it's great.

Since no one really wants to watch a complete rehash of the previous film, we're introduced to Alice (Lisa Wilcox), the daydreaming redhead. The sister of Rick (Andras Jones), Kristen's boyfriend, Alice does the bulk of her dreaming– you guessed it–during the day.

Worried that Freddy is coming back from the dead... again, Kristen starts to harass Kincaid (Ken Sagoes) and Joey (Rodney Eastman), her fellow survivors from part three, by bringing them into her dreams. Clearly irritated by this unwelcome blast from the past (their attitude is, been there, done that), Kincaid and Joey try to convince Kristen that Freddy's dead. Good luck with that, fellas. This chick sees Freddy everywhere. Seriously, though, she can feel his presence.

Of course, when Kincaid wakes up in the Freddy's junkyard burial ground and Joey is confronted by a topless Hope Marie Carlton in his bedroom, things start to get real. Well, not too real. The deaths of two teens doesn't seem to phase anyone in this movie. Sure, Kristen tries to sound the alarm, but no one seems to be in the mood for some twitchy blonde's bullshit.

Imagine how different these movies would have been had Hope Marie Carlton played Freddy instead of Robert Englund? At any rate, the cool thing about Joey's confrontation with Hope Marie Carlton is that implies that Joey still has a thing for hot blondes (Joey, if you remember, is sexually attracted to the blonde nurse from part three - she ties him to a bed with sentient tongues).

If they won't listen to Kristen, maybe they'll listen to Alice, who, like Kristen, seems to have strange powers. Fat chance. I mean, if Kristen's mom won't listen, no one will (unless she wasn't paying attention to what happened in part three). Which reminds me, Kristen's mom is yet again played the gorgeous Brooke Bundy, whose milfy allure is just as milfy and just as alluring as it was in the previous film.

Did any of what I just wrote make any sense? No, not the Brooke Bundy part, her milf-appeal is pretty straight-forward. I'm referring to the part of about Kristen and Alice's strange powers. Ah, it doesn't matter.

One of my favourite things about this franchise is how the police are hardly ever involved. Featured in the first film, the police, since then, have obviously found better things to do than spend their time solving a series of murders involving teens. Truthfully, they would just get in the way. Of course, knowing my luck, the next movie is most likely going to be crawling with cops.

No, I like how the adults, other than Fred Krueger himself, rarely ever effect the trajectory of the plot. And because of this, extra pressure is put on the film's youthful characters to put a stop to Freddy's murderous ways. You could view these films as a cautionary tale about the dangers of vigilantism. After all, if it wasn't for the actions parents of the dead "Elm Street" teens from the previous movies, all those kids would still be alive.

Yeah, I understand that Fred Krueger would have continued to murder children had they (the parents) decided not to set him on fire. But... Actually, why was Fred not in jail? I remember hearing something about him getting off on a technically, but still, that doesn't make a lot of sense. It just proves my point that the police in this town are completely useless. Maybe the films aren't a "cautionary tale about the dangers of vigilantism," maybe they're pro-vigilantism. They were filmed during a time when vigilantism was all the rage. And it's probably no coincidence that the first film came out around the same time Bernhard Goetz was gunning down muggers in the New York City subway (late 1984).

On a less profound note, I thought the scene where Deb is turned into a cockroach was freakin' sweet and the part where Rick practices martial arts to Dramarama's "Anything, Anything" was oddly inspirational.

Even though I'm probably only halfway done with these movies, I think I can safely declare that the Nightmare series to be the best horror franchise in movie history. I know, that's a bold statement. But I can't find anything to complain about. Whereas, the Friday the 13th movies are filled with stuff to complain about (to be fair, the Friday the 13th films are downright awful). The Freddy movies, on the other hand, seem to be brimming with creativity. And they're well-directed and they fully embrace the spirit of the 1980s (the fashion, music and culture of the decade are always on display... at least they are in the sequels).

Of course, I probably should have waited until I'd seen a couple more of the sequels before making a statement like this. Nevertheless, I just wanted to point out that A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge, A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors and A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master are some of the least annoying horror sequels I've ever seen. Oh, if you don't see any reviews for the nightmare sequels that followed part four posted in the not-so distant future, it's probably because they sucked. Either that, or I choked to death on a sausage roll. Happy Festivus!

Savage Beach (Andy Sidaris, 1989)

When I finished watching Savage Beach, the sort of sequel to Hard Ticket to Hawaii–sort of, in that, they both take place in the same dew-laden universe and even feature some of the same characters–I briefly flirted with the idea of copying what I wrote about Hard Ticket to Hawaii and simply passing it off as a review for Savage Beach. Of course, I would change a few minor details here and there. But for all intents and purposes, it would be the exact same review. Then it dawned on me. Not only would that be unfair to Hope Marie Carlton (Slumber Party Massacre III), Dona Speir, and writer-director Andy Sidaris, it would also be unfair to my millions of fans out there. I know what you're thinking: Millions?!? Don't you mean billions? Oh, you weren't thinking that. Then what were you thinking? Never mind. It's funny you should bring up the whole copying thing, as there are plenty of moments in this film that caused me to think: I can't write yet another nonsensical word collage about Hope Marie Carlton's cuteness, I need something else. Actually, my saviour shows up immediately in the form of a leggy redhead, one that provided me with all the necessary visual nourishment I require to be able to get through this khaki-short saturated exercise pretty much unscathed. Now, I promise to expand on my feelings toward this so-called "leggy redhead." But in the meantime, let's talk about Magnum P.I., or I should say, let's talk about how this film is basically a ninety minute episode of Magnum, P.I. It's true, this film features more naked breasts than your average episode of Magnum, P.I.; in fact, I don't remember seeing any naked breasts on Magnum, P.I. However, neither does this film. Sure, it's got naked breasts, but they're mostly shot from the side. You mean? Yep, side-boob. Even when they are filmed from the front, their usually obscured by fizzy hot tub water.  Obscured by fizzy hot tub water? That's a bloody outrage. Actually, it didn't bother me at all.
 

 

Getting back to Magnum, P.I. for a second, didn't that show have an episode where they come across a remote island where a Japanese soldier believes the war is still going on? I know, I could easily get to the bottom of this by doing some research. But people who don't get paid to wax poetically about leggy redheads don't do research. And besides, I'm going with my gut on this one, and my gut tells me that Magnum, P.I. did a Japanese soldier still fighting World War II thirty-five years after the war ended episode. Even though I'm probably thinking about an episode of Gilligan's Island.
 

 

Judging by the all this talk about Japanese holdouts, I think it's safe to say that's exactly what the plot of Savage Beach entails. Aren't we perceptive. Yes, there's a Japanese holdout. Yet, the film is more about greed, honour, and leggy redheads than anything else. You see, there's this box filled with stolen Filipino gold, and a dying Japanese navel officer has decided the time has come to reveal its location. Well, sort of. He has a general idea where it could be. In other words, the actual location is still a mystery.
 

 

You know what means? There's going to be a lot of nefarious characters coming out of the woodwork who will want to get their grubby little hands that gold. And who's more nefarious than Al Leong? Al who? The balding Asian guy with the long Fu Manchu mustache who's in every American action movie from the 1980s. Okay, maybe he's not in even American action movie. But he's in Big Trouble in Little China and Die Hard (he's the pseudo terrorist who helps himself to a pre-shootout candy bar), and that's plenty in my book. Either way, he plays Fu, yeah, that's right, Fu, a freelance scumbag with a severe hankering from some buried treasure.
 

 

You know who else is nefarious? The guy representing the government of The Philippines, that's who. Now, I don't want to question the hiring practices of government of The Philippines, but are you sure you want Martinez (Rodrigo Obregón) representing you? I mean, I know The Philippines and Spain have historic ties with one another, but this guy doesn't look Filipino at all.
 

 

Actually, the fact that he doesn't look Filipino isn't what makes him so nefarious, it's the fact that he's a communist insurgent, and, most nefarious of all, his girlfriend looks like Teri Weigel. You wanna know why his girlfriend looks like Teri Weigel? It's because she is Teri Weigel. Oh, sure, she's playing character named Anjelica, but her temperament is pure, unadulterated Teri Weigel.
 

 

Add Captain Andreas (John Aprea) of the U.S. Navy, and a blonde C.I.A. agent, Bruce Christian (Bruce Penhall), to the mix, and you got yourself quite a diverse group of treasure hunters.
 

 

How Donna (Don Speir) and Taryn (Hope Marie Carlton), federal agents posing as employees of Molokai Cargo, fit into this convoluted game of international intrigue isn't clear yet.
 

 

In meantime, Donna and Taryn are about to the bust up a heroin smuggling ring (the bastards are using hollowed out pineapples to transport their illicit product).
 

 

You mean to tell me that two blonde women in khaki shorts are going to put a gang of drug dealers out of business all by themselves? 'Cause, if that what you're telling me, I'm out of here. Don't be silly. They have back up. And it comes in the form of a leggy redhead named Rocky (Lisa London), the tallest, most exquisite leggy redhead on all of Molokai.
 

 

Shouldn't you mention that Rocky has a brunette partner? Yeah, yeah, Rocky is paired with some chick in pink bicycle shorts named Pattycakes (Patty Duffek), I know, what a stupid name. But let's stop beating around the bush and talk about Rocky, shall we?
 

 

Arriving at the warehouse that's suspected of being the nerve centre of the drug dealer's operation on motorscooters, Rocky, and her friend, Pattycakes, flirt with the two guards standing outside the entrance.
 

 

The plan is to use Rocky's lengthy gams, which are sheathed in red and black striped tights (don't worry, she's wearing a matching top), to distract them so that Donna and Taryn can more easily sneak inside.
 

 

On top of using her lanky figure, Rocky charms them with her droll wit and the promise of free mai-tais.
 

 

Pairing up with a guard each, Rocky and Pattycakes continue to keep the guards busy. When, all of a sudden, gun fire can be heard coming from inside the warehouse. Grabbing her badge, which she had tucked away (I won't say where), Rocky tells the guard she was flirting with that he's under arrest.
 

 

Is Rocky the kind of gal who is just gonna lie there and feel sorry for herself after you push her to the ground? Um, I don't think so.
 

 

Pulling out of her gun, which she also had tucked away (I won't say where), Rocky gets back on her feet, which are being supported by a saucy pair of black pumps, and proceeds to lend a helping hand to Pattycakes, who's currently being manhandled by the guard she was flirting with.
 

 

When Rocky points a gun at you, where on your body do you think she like to aim? If you said, the crotch, you would be correct.
 

 

To celebrate yet another successful bust, Donna, Taryn, Pattycakes, and Rocky all take a soak together in a hot tub. If you thought that was awesome, which I didn't, by the way (topless hot tub parties are so passé), you probably won't appreciate the scene where Rocky, who has since changed into a reddish mini-dress, gets an automatic breadmaker delivered to her restaurant; which, of course, is called Rocky's. Now, you could say ending a film with the delivery of a breadmaker is a risky move, but it perfectly encapsulated the wonky appeal of this here motion picture.
 

 

Just a second, I've been handed a note. What the... it says here that the film is not even close to being over. In fact, there's apparently more than an hour still to go. Well, that's just great. And as I was coming to this realization, Donna and Shane Abilene (Michael Shane), a fellow pilot, are about to engage in some of the most cringe-worthy dialogue I have ever heard; they, to sort of quote Bon Jovi, "give double entendres a bad name."
 

 

Anyway, while delivering a serum, one that will help a bunch of needy children, to a hospital on the Marshall Islands, Donna and Taryn are caught in a nasty storm. Forced to crash land on a remote island in the middle of the Pacific, Donna and Taryn inexplicably find themselves caught in the middle of a desperate hunt to find a box of filled with gold bars. If that wasn't enough, the gold is being guarded by a Japanese holdout (Michael Mikasa), who, of course, killed Taryn's grandfather while he was surfing there in 1940s. I'm not making this shit up.
 

 

In-between the poorly-staged action sequences (the kung-fu fights are piss poor in terms of choreography) and the hokey dialogue scenes, Teri Weigel, of all people, manages to make the film interesting as a sexy communist. Sure, she engages in two saxophone accompanied sex scenes with Rodrigo Obregón's Martinez (one in a hotel bed and one in the backseat of a car), but it was her delivery of the line, "My ideology means far more to me than fame and adulation. The good of the party is my reward," that impressed me the most. Truth be told, it's probably the best line in the entire movie. I also liked the manner in which she stood while standing on a boat, as her posture oozed confidence. And the black bra/top she wore while standing on a boat was pretty cool as well, especially all those the shiny metallic thingies that covered it; très Rhythm Nation.
 

 

When the time comes for us to find out why the beach is so savage, I'm afraid to say that my interest in this film had long since waned.  And it's no wonder. I mean, with Lisa London's Rocky languishing in Molokai and Teri Weigel relegated to looking fashionably fierce while standing on boats, there's nothing much to latch onto in this film once the action moves to the [savage] island. Oh, and, make sure, if you do manage to make it all the way to the end, to check out the final scene. The super-tight orange two piece outfit Hope Marie Carlton is wearing will cause you sock garters to burst into flames. I know, Hope's orange getup doesn't quite make up for all the lameness that proceeded its appearance, but it does alleviate some of the pain. Lick.

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