Just when I thought the world was starting to get over its nasty habit of not making a whole heck of a lot of sense, Garagehouse Pictures dropped a major bomb on me. Sure, on the surface, the HD offerings of two Los Angeles-made minor indie horror flicks from the late '80s may seem like good cause to rejoice. Alas, both 1987's Monstrosity and 1989's The Weirdo (or, Weirdo: The Beginning, as it is also called) stem from the sadistic and unimaginative world of the late Andy Milligan, so any and all signs of something amazing being found in these
Results tagged “Bad”
Garagehouse Pictures releases a pair of awful horror obscurities which may either induce vomiting, blindness, or death, depending on how lucky you are.
Kino Lorber places Russell Mulcahy's heist stinker starring Kim Basinger and Val Kilmer on display for you to give or take.
Like Kino Lorber's recent release of 1974's The Midnight Man, 1993's The Real McCoy is another Universal production filmed in the South about an ex-con who finds it isn't easy to change their stripes (so to speak). Of course, comparing The Midnight Man to The Real McCoy is like juxtaposing Highlander with Highlander 2: The Quickening. The subtle film reference joke there being that the latter three titles were all manufactured by a filmmaker one either loves or hates (or both, if they're a Highlander fan): one-time pop music video director Russell Mulcahy. Here, former Vicki Vale Kim Basinger stars
Kino Lorber bravely launches a Special Edition release for one of the most hated films of the mid '90s.
Though I never saw the film in its entirety until much later in life, I was nevertheless present when Adam Resnick's Cabin Boy briefly flickered onto silver screens near and far in 1994. I was also there when word began to spread (and quickly, at that) regarding just how popular of a title it was at the time. But my personal favorite Cabin Boy story hailed from a secondhand account, wherein a former acquaintance of mine enjoyed the movie's many, many flaws so much, that he exited the cineplex in tears, resulting in one very confused usher walking up to
Young Nick Adams highlights this entertainingly cheapo Republic Pictures crime flick, now available from Kino Lorber Studio Classics.
While the cliffhanger serial formula Republic Pictures would be so well remembered for had already been extinct by the time they cranked out the aptly-titled ‒ and noticeably cheap ‒ A Strange Adventure in 1956, I think it's safe to say the spirit of the ol' chapterplay was still alive and kickin' in this production. Helmed by ace serial director William Witney (The Adventures of Captain Marvel), this lukewarm hard-boiled thriller from writer Houston Branch (Mr. Wong, Detective) opens with Ben Cooper (as one very grown-up teenager) getting hooked on Marla English (The She-Creature). Alas, Marla is one of them
Christopher George, Tippi Hedren, Charo, and a lot of wood paneling star in this odd little thriller from Kino Lorber Studio Classics.
Outwardly, there isn't much for the average contemporary moviegoer to get excited about over R.G. Springsteen's Tiger by the Tail. But before you go wandering off in search of something else to view, consider what this fairly tepid, tiny thriller has to offer internally. Shot in the late '60s, this, the final film from one of the most prolific B-western directors ever, centers on a slightly disgraced Vietnam veteran who gets caught up in a thoroughly predictable web of conspiracy after his racetrack-owner brother is murdered during a hold-up coordinated by one (or more) of his corrupt colleagues amid the
The American Genre Film Archive and Something Weird Video present something so delightfully awful, it'll leave you ecstatically screaming "Ewe!"
Even established connoisseurs of strange little motion pictures generally regarded as "bad" can occasionally step into something they are wholly unprepared for. And that can certainly apply to anyone who decides to leap off the beaten path only to set foot into the sulphuric pile of sheep dip that is Godmonster of Indian Flats. The fourth and final feature film from recently departed artist/filmmaker (and Cornell graduate also, I might add) Fredric C. Hobbs, this bizarre 1973 offering is truly difficult to categorize, as it appears to be an environmentally-conscious retrograde science fiction/horror hybrid about an eight-foot-tall mutant sheep housed
Kino Lorber Studio Classics blasts off into the crazy surreal cosmos of this sci-fi mini-series.
Despite the fact that it has been released on virtually every form of media since the dawn of home video itself, it wasn't until I sat down to review Kino Lorber's Blu-ray release of Michael (Logan's Run, Doc Savage: The Man of Bronze) Anderson's The Martian Chronicles that I witnessed the TV mini-series for the very first time. And what an interesting endeavor it proved to be. Boasting a rather enviable list of names with their own individual cult followings, this 1979 co-production between the UK and the U.S. has not aged very well over the years. In fact, it
Kino Lorber Studio Classics debuts the infamous Harryhausen knock-off in HD, complete with the incredulous musical variation as a bonus.
"If they could do it, I can do it!" At some point in life or another, some of you have found yourselves saying something along those lines. You may also have also found yourselves coming to the realization shortly after that you could not do whatever it was the other person(s) succeeded in doing so well, usually due to pesky annoyances such as experience and training. Indeed, that was essentially the entire reason for producer Edward Small's 1962 fantasy flick Jack the Giant Killer ‒ which is now available on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber Studio Classics ‒ being summoned into
John Landis' campy homage to classic monster movies surfaces in High-Definition for a limited time from Turbine Media Group.
The first feature film of cult filmmaker John Landis (An American Werewolf in London, Innocent Blood) Schlock serves as a exemplary reminder we all have to start somewhere. Shot over the course of 12 days on a measly $60,000 budget in one of the many suburbs of Los Angeles, Schlock is a campy homage to horror and science fiction movies of the past, as seen through the eyes of one very eager 21-year-old filmmaker. A small community is besieged by a wave of baffling, unsolved murders, committed by an entity whom authorities and the media alike have dubbed "The Banana
VCI keeps the memory of Bruceploitation alive and kicking by cloning a German Blu-ray release for this one.
Though contributions to what has since become known as the "Bruceploitation era" were numerous, those who dare consider themselves loyal to the less-than-esteemed subgenre of ripoff filmmaking generally tend to hold three particular titles high above all others. Amazingly managing to reach a zenith within a cataclysmic cinematic nadir such as this, Bruce Lee Fights Back from the Grave, The Clones of Bruce Lee, and Bruce's Deadly Fingers have become as holy to bad kung fu movie lovers as has Clint Eastwood's The Man with No Name Trilogy has with Spaghetti Western enthusiasts. Apart from the occasional music cue shamelessly
Tony Curtis and Monica Vitti are more than a bit rusty in this appallingly unfunny Italian sex comedy from the Warner Archive Collection.
Every once in a while, a film critic encounters a difficult obstacle to overcome. The late '60s, Italian-made sex comedy The Chastity Belt ‒ originally given the very late '60s title of On My Way to the Crusades, I Met a Girl Who… ‒ proved to be one such challenge. Starring Tony Curtis and Italian bombshell Monica Vitti, this 1967 medieval "farce" incredibly credits A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum writer Larry Gelbart, the same man who would later turn Robert Altman's hit M*A*S*H into an even bigger television sensation. After making it into the film
AIP's only Gothic romance is just as weird as you'd expect, and can now be seen in High-Definition thanks to Twilight Time.
Even if you don't include the many television adaptations, the number of times Emily Brontë's one and only novel has been transformed into a movie for the big screen alone is not only staggering, it's Wuthering. And since there are so many superior versions of Wuthering Heights ranging from the likes of Samuel Goldwyn to Luis Buñuel flying high within those ne'erending winds above us, there's bound to be the occasional oddity plummeting down to the frozen English tundra below. In this case, a strange account of the timeless tale has fallen into our laps thanks to the folks at
Twilight Time brings us the maligned crime caper comedy with James Caan, Elliott Gould, Michael Caine, and Diane Keaton.
On December 5, 1872, the Mary Celeste was discovered adrift off of the Azores Islands, berift of its captain and crew, but still loaded with personal possessions and cargo. Not a single soul from the voyage was ever seen or heard from again, and no explanation has ever been discovered behind the mysterious, mass disappearance. But it wasn't until Columbia Pictures' Harry and Walter Go to New York debuted in American cinemas nearly 104 years later that those who dared board it had the misfortune of discovering what it was truly like being onboard a ghost ship lost at sea.
The Warner Archive Collection revs up the gas for Jeff Burr's controversial buzzer.
Bridging the gap between pure psychological horror with a touch of humor and gore into something polarly opposite isn't an easy task. And there is no better example of that in the realm of scary movies than New Line Cinema's maligned 1990 slasher sequel, Leatherface: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre III. Though technically an '80s flick, Jeff Burr's 1990 contribution to the famous film franchise ‒ which still exists today via an occasional, unnecessary reboot every couple of years ‒ became an instant target for fans and foes alike. Several years before, the Cannon Group released Tobe Hooper's The Texas Chainsaw
John Ashley and Pam Grier highlight this hilariously cheesy slice of Filipino rip-off cinema.
When fans of sleazy exploitation movies get together to discuss their favorite contributions to bad filmmaking from the Philippines, Eddie Romero's name is rarely left out. In fact, the late B-movie guru from the same country that brought us national treasures like the films of Weng Weng is undoubtedly one of the "best" known directors to hail from the country, thanks to a series of mind-numbing mad scientist flicks from the late '60s and early '70s informally referred to as the Blood Island movies. Following the conclusion of the aforementioned series, the late Mr. Romero found himself cranking out a
Pop Cinema releases two cool SWV double features, albeit in compressed, condensed form.
There's an unofficial saying pertaining to the world of adult-oriented filmmaking which goes something along the lines of "If you can think it, someone has already filmed it." Various horrors which shall undoubtedly spew forth from your subconscious once you've thought long and hard about that notwithstanding, there is that occasional moment in time wherein you witness something you had actually wanted to see. For years, I had imagined a scenario involving a man and woman in a post-apocalyptic setting whose first meeting is interrupted by a kung fu fight to the finish with roaming bandits. You can imagine the
Kino Lorber Studio Classics re-releases the awkward, awful remake starring doughy Gérard Depardieu and jailbait Katherine Heigl.
The amazing world of French cinema is unquestionably a unique artform unto itself. So it the remaking of French features for American audiences, for that matter. Alas, the latter skill is something very few people have ever been able to master, and has mostly ever resulted in a heap of bad '90s movies floated into theaters under one Disney distribution label or another. Which brings me to My Father the Hero ‒ Disney's lamentable 1994 attempt at remaking the 1991 French comedy, Mon père, ce héros ‒ as helmed by director Steve Miner (Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken) for release
Unapologetically sleazy and unintentionally hilarious, another Italian exploitation mess-terpiece arrives in the U.S. from RaroVideo.
If you can envision what might happen were someone to create a ’50s style propaganda movie à la George Weiss in the vein of ’60s arthouse roughie by Doris Wishman fused with all of the sense and sensibilities of a cheap ’70s exploitation flick written by Ed Wood, there’s a fairly good possibility you might be prepared for everything The Teenage Prostitution Racket has to offer. Even then, however, you still might not be ready. Sewn together much in the same way a five-year-old would darn a pair of socks ‒ replete with plenty of awkward stitchings that make a
The Warner Archive Collection cordially invites you to attend the premiere of Rachel Ward's slasher movie debut in High-Definition.
One of several kajillion slasher movies manufactured in the early '80s alone, the American-made Night School sports an oddly Canadian aura about it throughout ‒ from the British director (Ken Hughes, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, The Internecine Project) and starlet Rachel Ward (in her film debut) to the vaguely familiar, mostly nocturnal urban New England location photography by Scanners cinematographer Mark Irwin, right down to the finale which honors the horror sub-genre's giallo roots. When viewed in this erroneous light, Night School feels like some sort of underrated cult classic. Amusing enough, however, if you stare directly into the big
Massacre Video brings us a High-Def release of this cult Satanic Panic '80s horror oddity.
Only a short time ago, finding a copy of Jag Mundhra's low-budget '80s horror flick Hack-O-Lantern on VHS was similar to discovering the source of The Nile. Granted, said copy would usually be a well-worn one, as the direct-to-video film ‒ which also once bore the title Death Mask before seeing later distribution on home video under the title Halloween Night ‒ was certainly not the sort of moving picture to have made rounds on the retail videocassette market. Rather, Hack-O-Lantern was the sort of schlocky cheesy tripe which could have only hailed from the glorious days of rental pricing;