Only now does it occur to me... TELL ME THAT YOU LOVE ME, JUNIE MOON (1970)

Only now does it occur to me... that TELL ME THAT YOU LOVE ME, JUNIE MOON is not what it appears to be. I'd been told that this, one of the final films Otto Preminger made before he died, was merely mediocre. They didn't tell me that it was batshit insane, a gloriously sincere queer melodrama starring Liza Minnelli that occasionally feels like John Waters made a Hammer horror flick. Am I goin' too fast for ya? 

So Liza plays Junie Moon, a withdrawn good girl making her way in the world, when a date goes horribly wrong––and I mean horribly wrong. First her date orders her to strip in a cemetery, which is sort of a red flag.

And it would all be very Hammer horror/Roger Corman faux-Poe-Gothic if it wasn't for the music––it's scored with the similar kind of POW! BANG! big-band music they use whenever Batman and Robin get in a fistfight in the 1960s series. Hey, I don't know, man.

Then things really take a turn at the junkyard, where he knocks Liza down and pours battery acid on her face...

 

I'll have you know that absolutely nothing motivates these events except for maybe a heightened, post-Tennessee Williams dedication to lurid melodrama.

With her face half-scarred, Liza spends time at a sanitarium [please, for sensitivity's sake, make no references to her collaboration with the Pet Shop Boys, "(I Think I'm) Losing My Mind"]

where she gains a wheelchair-using gay bestie (played by the legendary Broadway director of THE BOYS IN THE BAND and DEATHTRAP, Robert Moore).

He lends the film an amazing, manic energy and a propulsive heartbeat, like he stumbled out of an Armistead Maupin novel. Liza also befriends a troubled and seizure-prone young man and possible love interest (Ken Howard), and the trio make their way to a rented house, trying to prove they can make it on their own.

Note Liza claiming she does not not know what to do with sequins

Along the way, we meet creepy-peeper neighbors who feel like they escaped from a Russ Meyer/John Waters flick, Liza develops a friendship with a tree-dwelling owl,

there are bizarro nightmare sequences with black & white makeup and a disorienting squashed screen effect,

what I swear is a Charles Bronson mannequin,

Prove me wrong––I dare you!

and holy shit, Fred Williamson––the Hammer himself!––as a workin' man and homoerotic foil named "Beach Boy,"

Williamson fans will note that there is also a CABARET-inspired gang in the plagiaristic-Italo-trashterpiece 1990: BRONX WARRIORS, which co-stars Williamson as "The Ogre"

and finally, an aging Kay Thompson (nightclub singer, Page Six standby, creator of the ELOISE book series, and godmother and eventual real-life roommate of Liza) shows up, strutting around like she's a socialite from a hag horror film (WHATEVER HAPPENED TO AUNTIE MAME?)

and generally acting like she owns the place.

Are you going to tell her otherwise?!?

It culminates in a warm-hearted road trip and journey of self-discovery––

and dammit if this ridiculous camp-fest doesn't have a big ol' heart, surrounded by genuine compassion and confidence. This movie is completely insane, completely sincere, and I enjoyed it on every level.

Commercial Review: KING COBRA MALT LIQUOR AD- PART 1 (1985, Fred Williamson)

Stars 5 of 5. 

Running Time: 30 seconds.

Notable Cast or Crew: Fred Williamson aka "The Hammer" (1990: BRONX WARRIORS, FROM DUSK TILL DAWN, VIGILANTE, THE NEW BARBARIANS, ORIGINAL GANGSTAS, BLACK CAESAR). 

Well, I suppose I have a tradition to maintain of publishing beverage reviews every St. Paddy's day (past reviews include DAD'S OLD FASHIONED BLUE CREAM SODA, BLUE DIAMOND BEER, CHAMPAGNE COLA, and IRISH POTCHEEN), and while I missed out on it yesterday, this year, I'll continue my examinations of mind-altering celebrity beverage hucksterage, á la James Mason's Thunderbird Wine ad, Ice Cube's St. Ides Malt Liquor Jingle, or Rutger Hauer's partnership with Guinness. So I present to you now: Fred Williamson's King Cobra malt liquor ad. Fred Williamson has lived many lives– a football star (for the Oakland Raiders and the Kansas City Chiefs), a bit player in classics (M*A*S*H), a TV love interest (JULIA), 70's American blaxploitation star (HAMMER, BLACK CAESAR, HELL UP IN HARLEM), Western and Spaghetti Western star (THE SOUL OF BLACK CHARLEY), a writer and director (MR. MEAN, NO WAY BACK), Italo-plagiaristic trash star (THE INGLOURIOUS BASTARDS, 1990: BRONX WARRIORS, THE NEW BARBARIANS), William Lustig hero (VIGILANTE), and 90's comeback genre film actor (ORIGINAL GANGSTAS, FROM DUSK TILL DAWN). He was also the star of a series of King Cobra ads. For those who have never experienced the malty, manly bite of King Cobra, it's one of the more easily attainable forty-ounce malt liquors, produced by Anheuser Busch, and available at grotty convenience stores and grungy bodegas everywhere with the intent of brightening hobos' days by dulling their senses and polluting their bladders. 

  

Our journey begins on Same Old Malt Liquor Street, a monochrome byway that most of us are acquainted with, and altogether too well. Some of us spend out entire lives there, never knowing that a better path could await us, if only we'd open our minds.

  

Then, Fred Williamson crashes the party- The Hammer himself. 

 

"If you've only ever experienced harsh malt liquor taste– it's time to change!" With a mystical touch from The Hammer, accompanied by a whooshing sci-fi sound effect, we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto, we're on– 

 

...KING COBRA BOULEVARD. It's electrifying. Color washes over us like a cleansing hand of God. Suddenly everything seems so clear. Fred Williamson walks by, and the others follow. They know not why they follow, but some primeval organ, long forgotten by man and etched upon their spinal columns, compels them to follow when a prophet is in their midst. "King Cobra's the only malt liquor that's so good when the taste grabs you, it's a different breed- that's quality." Now would probably be a good time to mention that whenever The Hammer expounds upon the benefits of upgrading to King Cobra, he is accompanied and punctuated by a heavenly chorus who sings: "Kiiiing Co-Bra!" Regardless, Williamson begins to amass a veritable army of disciples who leap for joy and spin and dance and pirouette in unison, driven into a righteous frenzy by the divine right to better malt liquor that The Hammer is offering them. He's like the Jean Bodin of malt liquor! 

 

 

I was just thinking of the Pied Piper of Hamelin but I can't remember why. Anyway, the swarm of King Cobra-acolytes prances ever-forward, and then in silhouette–

   

"King Cobra is cold malt liquor satisfaction with a smooth taste." The destination is revealed to be one swingin' party being hosted at, ostensibly, Fred Williamson's apartment. An exceptionally foamy can of The 'Cob is opened. What, did they shake that up beforehand? Or did it come from the handbag of one of these twirling ladies?

   

"So when you pop the top, what's the clue?" 'So when you pop the top, what's the clue?' is the question posed to us by The Hammer. What does it mean? Is the clue...foam? How is foam a clue? And in general, why are we talking about a clue? I was not aware that a mystery of some kind was involv– ah, I get it! I see what you did there, Fred. Divine mystery. As explored in the 'Mystery Plays' from the Middle Ages, which are quite obviously being referenced here. Clearly, The Cobra was the snake whose temptations caused Adam and Eve to be expelled from Eden. But now King Cobra is in charge, inviting us back to Eden, where the rockingist forty-ounce party of all time shall now commence! There's a new daddy in town, and he has been crowned KING! But back to the riddle– "So when you pop the top, what's the clue?" It's soon answered by a boisterous partygoer who sings her reply in verse: 

 

"Don't let the smoooooth taste foooool ya!" And she's right! Don't let the smooth taste fool you into thinking that this advertisment is only about malt liquor, because the taste is not smooth! It's an aside to the initiated, so that they may begin pondering the next step of their King Cobra devotionals. Also, I like that guy in back with the 'stache.

  

Williamson then returns with additional wisdom:

   

"Anheuser-Busch...to give cold malt liquor satisfaction. ...Don't let the smooth taste fool ya..." He places an unusual emphasis on fool, as if there is something of greater importance being said between the lines, which, of course, there is. The commercial comes to a close, and today's lesson is ended. Soon afterward, Fred starred in a trilogy of films made by Italians looking to cash in on the 'success' of Cannon Film's COBRA, starring Sylvester Stallone. They were: COBRA NERO (BLACK COBRA), THE BLACK COBRA 2, and THE BLACK COBRA 3: THE MANILA CONNECTION. Coincidence? Regardless, don't let the five stars fool ya....KIIIIIING CO-BRA! -Sean Gill

Film Review: 1990- THE BRONX WARRIORS (1982, Enzo G. Castellari)

Stars: 5 of 5. Running Time: 97 minutes. Tag-line: "In the year 1990, the Bronx is officially declared No Man's Land. The authorities give up all attempts to restore law and order. From then on, the area is ruled by the Riders." Notable Cast or Crew: Mark Gregory (THUNDER, JUST A DAMNED SOLDIER), Fred Williamson (INGLORIOUS BASTARDS, VIGILANTE), Vic Morrow (BLACKBOARD JUNGLE, THE LAST SHARK), Christopher Connelly (BENJI, MANHATTAN BABY), Joshua Sinclair (KEOMA, THE LAST SHARK), Ennio Girolami (TENEBRE, LIGHT BLAST), Stefania Girolami Goodwin (Castellari's daughter- also in HEROIN BUSTERS, SINBAD OF THE SEVEN SEAS), George Eastman (BLASTFIGHTER, THE NEW BARBARIANS). Music by Walter Rizzati (HOUSE BY THE CEMETARY, THUNDER 2). Cinematography by Sergio Salvati (CITY OF THE LIVING DEAD, GHOULIES II, CONTRABAND). Best one-liner: "You fuck! It could be a pile of shit out of someone's asshole!" 

 

 Somebody lends Italy their copy of THE WARRIORS, and this is what happens. 

 

Now 1990 was a rough time to be in the Bronx. There was this guy, Trash, who led the toughest gang. 

 

Everybody knew they were the toughest because whenever they parked their motorcycles, they did it in a 'W' formation.

  

Trash looked like he'd be more at home go-go dancing in a club cage, and his jeans were so tight you could see his asscrack through them, but he was the toughest. Then "the richest girl in the world" wandered uptown, shacked up with Trash, and a major shitstorm broke loose. That's the main drive of this movie, but that's not why you're watching it. You're watching it for spit-take inducing lines like "Just keep talkin' f*gface, and I'll tear your fockin' lid off!" or "The bird has flown the coop, and Little Red Riding Hood was caught by the big bad seven dwarves." Let those sink in for a minute. I love this movie. I love that a gang member plays a drum solo on the banks of the East River for ten minutes while every member of a 50 man brigade gets his own reaction shot. 

 

I love that there's a CABARET inspired tap-dancing gang, complete with swords, metal derbies, and synchronized fight choreography.

  

I love that the SWAT van is clearly a re-painted Mr. Softee truck. I love that in the funeral scene, everyone throws a handful of ashes into the East River, which immediately blow back into their faces, and they didn't redo the shot. I love that all the views of Manhattan clearly reveal that this was filmed on Roosevelt Island. I love that funky soundtrack, full o' big bouncy basses and reverb-heavy high-hat action. I love all the odd references to gray matter, reflecting idioms that don't exist in English ("Would you mind asking Blade to put his gray matter in motion?", "You gotta be kiddin'––you got your gray matter in your butt!"). I love insults like "Pisshead!" and character names like 'Hot Dog' and 'Witch.' I love that there's a character named 'The Hammer' NOT played by Fred 'The Hammer' Williamson. 

 

The Hammer plays The Ogre. 

This is about as good as it gets, ladies and gentlemen. To reveal too much more would be a sin. And be sure check out the sequel (with Henry Silva!), ESCAPE FROM THE BRONX. Five skull-glowin', roller-skatin', high-hattin' stars (in a 'W' formation).

 -Sean Gill 

 

 

Junta Juleil's Summer '10 Movie Series 

 1. HELL IN THE PACIFIC (1968, John Boorman) 

 

2. KUFFS (1992, Bruce A. Evans)  

 

3. THE OUTFIT (1973, John Flynn)

 

4. FOR Y'UR HEIGHT ONLY (1981, Eddie Nicart)

5. A*P*E (1976, Paul Leder)

6. BLIND FURY (1989, Philip Noyce) 

7. HIS KIND OF WOMAN (1951, John Farrow) 

8. HIGH SCHOOL U.S.A. (1983, Rod Amateau) 

9. DR. JEKYLL AND MS. HYDE (1995, David Price) 

10. MIDNIGHT IN THE GARDEN OF GOOD AND EVIL (1997, Clint Eastwood) 

11. 1990: BRONX WARRIORS (1982, Enzo G. Castellari) 

12. ...

Film Review: VIGILANTE (1983, William Lustig)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: 90 minutes.
Tag-line: "You're not safe anymore..."
Notable Cast or Crew: Robert Forster (ALLIGATOR, JACKIE BROWN, MEDIUM COOL), Fred Williamson (1990: BRONX WARRIORS, INGLORIOUS BASTARDS), Richard Bright (MARATHON MAN, THE GODFATHER), Joe Spinell (MANIAC!, BIG WEDNESDAY), Steve James (THE DELTA FORCE, AMERICAN NINJA), Woody Strode (ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST, KEOMA).

The instant VIGILANTE begins, you know you're in for something special. Right off the bat: "Magnum Motion Pictures, Inc. presents..." Gets you thinkin' about malt liquor, condoms, handguns. Hold that thought. Then, we got a group of people in a dimly lit, grimy classroom. Fred "the Hammer" Williamson is doin' his thing, giving an inspiration speech. We see them prepping for target practice.

The Hammer works the crowd- we're not gonna be victims anymore, it's time to take back the city- "THIS IS OUR WATERLOO, BABY!"

BLAM!! All the vigilantes shoot in unison. Blackout. The movie could end right here and still get five stars, and we're only 2 minutes in. And there's so much more great shit to come.

Watching this movie is akin to running a medieval gauntlet: basically, it's a nonstop assault of hoods abusing good citizens, and then vigilantes puttin' the hurt on the hoods. And it's extraordinarily artistic. Lustig is a scholar of Italian film, and he's been taking notes.


Argento, Castellari, Fulci, Leone- you can see them all, but VIGILANTE's strong enough to stand on its own. There is a LOT going on here: Kickass creepy syths and powerful electric Spanish guitar courtesy of Jay Chattaway and Willie Colon. Asscracks bathed in moody blue lighting. A crisp, tangible "New York in Autumn" atmosphere that conjures the twilight of society. Joe Spinell as perhaps the sleaziest lawyer in all of cinema:

Woody Strode as an elderly prison inmate with fists of steel and a heart of gold.

Robert Forster as a regular Joe whose life's been transformed into a waking nightmare:

Legendary hardass and provocateur Richard Bright with a ball bat. A pimp complains about the recession. A corrupt prison guard tells rapists in the shower to go ahead and "have a party." I really don't see how this could be any better.

A bunch of it was filmed in Greenpoint (in Brooklyn) too, which makes it extra special for me, because I used to live there.

I used to do my shopping at that Key Foods!

But back to The Hammer: beard neatly trimmed and eyes ablaze, he leaps off of buildings, does karate, and practically reaches through the screen to throttle you.

And I highly recommend the experience.

-Sean Gill