Female Prisoner Scorpion: Jailhouse 41 (1972)

Way down in the lower depths of Jailhouse 41 (it’s not actually called that in the movie), the eponymous Scorpion (aka Matsu, played by Meiko Kaji) lies chained, subject to the sadistic whims of the cycloptic warden Gorda (Fumio Watanabe).  After enduring humiliations from both guards and fellow inmates alike, Matsu and six other prisoners make good their escape.  But their flight to freedom will prove more harrowing than their stay in the penitentiary.

Meiko Kaji is one of those cultural icons revered more for their looks (i.e. the act of looking, not their physical traits, though she is also a striking beauty) than any thespian skills.  This isn’t to say she can’t act, but from what I’ve see, she’s rarely called upon to do more than clench her jaw and glare.  And she does both spectacularly well.  Here in Shunya Ito’s Female Prisoner Scorpion: Jailhouse 41 (the second entry in this influential series), the entirety of her performance is physical.  She doesn’t speak at all until near the film’s end, and then it’s only two lines of dialogue.  Nonetheless, we know exactly what’s going on in her head at all times (it helps a bit that this generally boils down to three emotions: hatred, suspicion, and pity).  This is Matsu’s strength.  She doesn’t mince words because there’s nothing left to be said.  The ultimate pragmatist, Matsu sees the world for what it is – a merciless, misogynistic shit hole – and deals with it in the same way that it has dealt with her.  All of this is reflected in her eyes.

Speaking of eyes and reflections, Jailhouse 41 is rife with them, and not only from Kaji.  Gorda’s dead, false eye attempts to consume and violate Matsu’s soul.  His eye, Matsu’s eyes, and Oba’s eyes (the contagonist or secondary antagonist, if you wish, played by Kayoko Shiraishi) all give off the same look throughout the film but with different meanings.  Matsu’s deadpan stare is a retreat into herself, a fortification against the external world, and a coiled trap waiting to be sprung.  Her fellow prisoners misread her limp inactivity as acquiescence and apathy, when, in fact, it is anything but.  Gorda’s eye is a metaphoric monster and the ugliness inside the male psyche, the male id unleashed.  He’s a lecher and a brute, not above using his status and his staff to destroy the women in his charge.  When first we meet him, he’s one year into his attempt to drive Matsu insane (it can be argued that he’s wasting his time, because she already is, in a sense).  The blacked-out lens of his glasses reveals for the audience the cruelty and alienation in the man, as we espy the horrors he subjects others to in it.  His false eye, when it’s finally popped out of his head, presents not just a victory but also a portal to an alternate reality, a looking glass world where the events of the narrative never took place (and if you think about it, this shot is similar to the first shots of the film which focus on Matsu’s eyes, and the entire film can be seen as a pure dream/nightmare sequence from her perspective).  Finally, Oba’s gaze is pure bestial fury (she’s even honest enough to admit this – “I know I’m a beast!”).  She hates everyone and everything, a nihilist preferring the solitude of her rage to what sisterhood she may form with the other escapees.  Everyone is an enemy, because they’re different from her, and she’s paranoid enough to believe that this matters (not without some reason).  This comes through crystal clear in her baleful gaze (often cast from under her eyebrows).  

These three viewpoints form a worldview of how these women (all seven of them, but, by extension, all women) are seen and treated.  In one of several fantasy sequences, the crimes of the escapees are described.  The women kneel, dressed in matching outfits (like their batik prison uniforms, this unifies them) before a field of blackness.  The camera glides past each as a narrator (in, I’m guessing here, Noh Theatre style) sings of their sins.  While they are all guilty of their individual crimes, it is stressed that all of these women were driven to commit them by men.  This tableau is presided over by an old woman.  She was found, alone and deranged and clutching a knife in a death grip, in an abandoned village.  She, too, has been cast off by the world of men, and it has destroyed her.  She is a portent of what will happen to all of the protagonists, but it’s Matsu who refuses to accept this fate.  Later, we see a reenactment of Oba’s crime.  In it, the local villagers surround her, net her, and beat her.  Oba transforms into each of the escapees, tormented by the people who put she and them in this position.  Again, it’s Matsu who stands up defiant, the ideal of feminine individuality in the film.

Jailhouse 41 is as gorgeous and carefully crafted as any film from Japan at this time (it does bear some stylistic clichés of the era, but they fit for the nightmare quality of the picture) while being as enthralling as any exploitation movie made.  For as sleazy as it is, however, the tone is grim.  This isn’t light fare, though it certainly has heightened moments.  Its exploitation elements are more condemnatory than titillating.  The film is designed to provoke some thought, not erections (or at least I found nothing sexy here).  What I did find was excellent filmmaking for any level of budget or genre constraints.

This will likely be the only film from the Arrow bluray box set that I review.  This is not because I don’t like the others in the series (they’re all fantastic in their own ways), but they do tend toward a certain formula (this one being the exception) which would make further reviews redundant.  Then again, who knows?  Maybe I’ll come back and want to dip my toes and pen in these waters somewhere down the road.  Anyway, the set is outstanding, packed with the usual quality supplements in which Arrow excels.  There has been talk about the color timing on these films, and I have to say that the level of blue in this film is noticeable, but I also feel that it adds to the atmosphere of the piece.  I also know that Arrow stated that this coloring is due to the level of restoration they performed on the original materials, so if it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for me.

MVT:  Ito displays a deft hand, stylishly and narratively.

Make or Break:  The scene where the prisoners are punished for an attempted riot proves their breaking point, and it may be the viewer’s, as well.

Score:  8/10 

Deadbeat at Dawn (1988)

Jim Van Bebber subverts expectations with “Deadbeat at Dawn.” It’s ultimately a revenge fable, but it isn’t structured like a common one. It looks as if it’s going to go down the beaten path at the outset, but turns a corner into a dark alleyway. The entire film feels like it takes place in a dark alleyway, basked in the seedy underbelly of a rundown neighborhood. This is an unpleasant film, albeit a well-made one.

Goose (Jim Van Bebber) is looking to leave his gang, the Ravens, in favor of a life of solitude with his squeeze, Christy (Megan Murphy). His cohorts don’t take kindly to this, breaking into his home and brutally murdering Christy. Goose believes the murder was at the hands of their rival gang, the Spiders. Naturally, he seeks vengeance.
Except “Deadbeat at Dawn” isn’t a natural revenge flick. It moves to the beat of its own drum with the rhythm coming across as chaotic and out of tune. You slowly realize this is the point. Bebber isn’t concerned with telling a generic revenge story. He’s more concerned with examining how a lowlife thug copes with loss. Not just loss of his girlfriend, but loss of his life. Without the love of his life or his gang, Goose is directionless. He has nothing left to lose and, as we all know, there’s nothing more dangerous than a man with nothing left to lose.

Goose is a sad sack for the majority of the film, moping around aimlessly for the first half (and understandably so). He has no intentions of hunting down the Spiders, feeling more comfortable wasting away his existence in bars or in his father’s broken home. He goes to the latter first seeking comfort, but gets none from his abusive alcoholic of a father. He’s more concerned over his son replacing his beer and helping him get his fix than comforting him.

The father scenario is a tricky one. On paper, it’s reasonable; necessary even. It exists to show how Goose fell into the wrong crowd, a broken home damaging him emotionally. His father’s PTSD from serving in Vietnam parallels the war Goose engages in on the streets constantly. It even highlights Goose’s desire for compassion, hoping to bond with his father despite knowing that won’t happen. The problem is Bebber directs the father angle too comically. The father’s attitude is too over-the-top, resulting in unintentional laughter at points. Any time the drama and tension from the scenario begins to surface, it’s sunk by the overbearing performance.

This is a problem that plagues “Deadbeat at Dawn,” though it’s thankfully not consistent. While the film is always manic, as are the performances, most of it is complementary to the tone. The gang members can get away with being over the top, as that matches the lunacy of their carnage. Their outlandishness is reigned in via their heinous actions. It’s hard to laugh at them when they’re viciously beating people with bats or mowing enemies down with guns.
Bebber revels in the sleaze and grime. While this can be off-putting for some, it’s not sleazy for the sake of being sleazy. It’s representative of the world created, a languid cesspool riddled with crime and despair. The gangs exist because they have to out of survival. None of the denizens in the rundown neighborhood are given a chance to escape by society. Their Hell is a creation of segregation.

The only reason Goose is able to live out his revenge fantasy is by circumstance. He’s forced back into the gang, no longer the leader but the errand boy. He’s tasked with aiding in a theft, the kind all thugs dream of: the big one that can secure them for life. It’s through this theft that Goose is able to exact his revenge, slowly piecing the puzzle to his girlfriend’s murder along the way. He really only obtains his vengeance out of defense, snapping and turning his hand against his own gang as well as their rivals. And man, is it something! Goose becomes a badass, a one man gang who eliminates his enemies with nunchucks, guns, beheadings, and even ripping a man’s throat out!

“Deadbeat at Dawn” is no doubt a vile film. It’s one that goes too over the top at times, but never loses focus. It’s structured awkwardly, but that’s purposeful. The awkward structure matches the awkward nature of Goose’s life. It’s a disgusting life, resulting in a disgusting film. It’s not always easy to stomach, but it’s satisfying in its execution.

MVT: Jim Van Bebber. He has a tight grasp on the film and the world he created. He has a concise vision, even if the structure says otherwise. The repulsiveness of it all could have easily become too overbearing, but he does a fine job of anchoring it.

Make or Break: Strangely enough, it’s the father scenario. While that may be one of the weakest scenes due to the comical performance, it doesn’t break the film. It represents the path the film is going down, what Bebber is most interested in, and does a lot to develop the character of Goose. The scene works in spite of the comical performance, making the film as opposed to breaking it.

Final Score: 7/10

Episode #325: Bone Cop

Welcome back to the GGtMC!!!

This week the Gents cover TimeCop (1994) directed by Peter Hyams and starring Jean Claude Van Damme and Bone (1972) directed by Larry Cohen and starring Yaphet Kotto!!!

Direct download: ggtmc_325.mp3 

 

Emails to midnitecinema@gmail.com

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Episode #302: Lost Freaks

Welcome back for another episode of the GGtMC!!!

This week we are joined by Todd, great friend of the show, for coverage of Freaks (1932) directed by Tod Browning and Lost Souls (1980) directed by Tun Fei Mou. We want to thank Todd for coming on and programming the show, he does a ton of favors for us and we admire all his hard work!!!

Direct download: ggtmc_302.mp3 

 

Emails to midnitecinema@gmail.com

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Midnite Ride #27: Bone

Welcome to another Midnite Ride!!!

Karl Brezdin and Mattsuzaka bring you coverage of Bone (1972) directed by Larry Cohen!!!

Direct download: MidniteRide_Bone.mp3

Emails to midnitecinema@gmail.com

Adios!!!

 

Nightmare In Badham County (1976)

Imagine this, if you will.  You’re a monster kid (yes, you are, so shut up).  You’re cruising around the dial (back when televisions had dials and you had to sometimes adjust the signal manually [that means with your hands]) when you come upon it.  A permanently boggled schlub in a seersucker suit who looks like he would have fit right in at the press room in His Girl Friday leveling a crossbow at an elderly lady, warning her not to approach.  She, naturally, does, and the man looses a bolt.  As the arrow finds its target, the senior citizen transforms into a gruesome, hairy monster (a rakshasa, to be precise) just before dying.  And so was I introduced to the wild, wonderful world of Kolchak: The Night Stalker, arguably one of the most fun television series ever made and one of my all-time favorites (though, in all honesty, I can’t say it’s the highest quality in the world, but how much of what we hold closest to our hearts ever is?).  The show was dubbed Kolchak’s Monster Of The Week (I believe by “TV Guide”), and it was that, but this is what fed the hunger inside me and kids like me.  However, for how formulaic the show is, the television movie from which it sprang (The Night Stalker) is exceptional and often touted as one of the best films ever produced for the small screen.  That film was directed by John Llewellyn Moxey, the director of Nightmare In Badham County (aka Nightmare).  Make of that what you will.

Cathy (Deborah Raffin) and Diane (Lynne Moody) are a couple of students from UCLA on a little road trip through the American South (always a bad idea in exploitation fare).  When their tire blows out, they get a firsthand taste of the local constabulary’s asshole-ish-ness in the form of Sheriff Danen (Chuck Connors).  Later, after the Sheriff tries to make it up to the ladies by lecherously hitting on them and is rebuffed in public, the two women quickly understand exactly how close-knit this little community is.  They also learn that the Badham County Farm is only one step removed from Hell.

This is a WIP film, and it has all of the elements needed for the genre.  It has the prisoners being abused and forced to wear flimsy, easily removable clothes.  It has aggressively predatory lesbian guards.  It depicts slave-like conditions under which the characters toil.  It has vicious internal conflicts among the inmates.  And this last point is the specific reason why the leads are played by a white woman and a black woman.  You see, the tensions at the farm are only exacerbated by its being segregated.  Though both sets of prisoners are treated as slave labor, it is the black prisoners who are given the more menial tasks.  Even at the bottom of the ladder, they get a raw deal.  This segregation and the treatment of the different races come as a shock only to the two outsiders.  To the people indigenous to the area, it’s simply how things are.  By that same token, the women in the black barracks mostly get along with one another.  It’s the women in the white barracks that get into cat fights and generally want to kill each other.  This sense of solidarity among the blacks isn’t because they’re sager than the whites any more than the discord among the whites is because they’re less civilized than the blacks.  It’s more distressing than that.  The numb obedience of the black women comes from an innate sense of racial inferiority which has been institutionally reinforced over decades.  This idea enhances the film’s overall somber attitude.

This vile corruption is embodied by three men (four, actually, but one of them has very little to do in the narrative), representing the government (or more specifically one part of it).  Danen, the Judge (Ralph Bellamy), and Superintendent Dancer (Robert Reed) are supposed to be enforcers of the law.  These are the people whom we rely on to keep the bad guys away.  These are the people who are our protectors.  That they so readily twist and manipulate the system to suit their own base desires points to an endemic illness.  We have seen this sort of corruption of power countless times in film.  It is portrayed in communities both North and South (though I would venture a guess that there are more of them set in the South, just because of its old ties to slavery).  But the one constant in films like this is that these are small, clannish localities.  Big, metropolitan, corporate corruption is another facet in other movies, but that is usually typified by its dispassion.  In small areas, where everyone knows everyone else and everyone seems in on the scheme, it’s the familiarity that makes the evil done more insidious.  This isn’t a wide net spread over a large mass.  This is a tight glove wrapping itself around your throat.  It feels more intimate, as if the perpetrators have something personal against their victims.  But even the bodies of the subjugated are just meat to be used and discarded at a whim, still just a means to an end.  No matter how much these villains may enjoy what they do, they still do it with a sociopathic detachment, because these acts no longer offer pleasure.  This is merely what they do.

All WIP films are sleazy.  That’s one of their big appeals, and Nightmare In Badham County is no exception.  Women are demeaned and molested throughout.  A scene with guard Alice and prisoner Nancy nails this home.  Alice strips down to just her panties, sits on a couch with her crotch splayed, and states, “I didn’t keep you out of the fields today just so you could eat my lunch.”  It’s not just the situation or the double entendre of the dialogue.  It’s Alice’s open repose that amps the sleaze up.  Her nudity makes her menace (again) feel more intimate.  But beyond all this, the film is resolutely grim in tone.  Intriguingly, this is illustrated with Dancer’s skanky interactions with the women and how they customarily turn out, but it takes on a quasi-meta meaning due to Reed’s casting in the role.  This is not because of the actor’s well-documented sexual orientation but to his identification as one of America’s most beloved, moralistic fathers in recorded history (Mike Brady of The Brady Bunch, for those who don’t know).  To see a man who was held up as a moral compass for many years discard said morality and get down into the gutter makes it feel somehow more wrong and just a little shocking.  It’s at this point in the film when the viewer begins to understand the gravity of the situation and believe that truly this nightmare may not be one from which our protagonists may ever awake.

MVT:  The dour quality of the film sets it apart in my experience with this genre.  This is bleak, even angry, filmmaking, and despite its exploitation roots, it has something to say.  It just says it through gritted teeth.

Make Or Break:  The scene with Danen and the girls in the local lockup manages to be nasty and creepy without being explicit.  It also sets the timbre for the remainder of the film and reminds the audience that this is only the beginning.

Score:  6.5/10      

Instant Action: Foxy Brown (1974)

Foxy is an adequate description for this lady!

Written By: Jack Hill
Directed By: Jack Hill

This was my first experience watching a Pam Grier film, and boy oh boy, am I glad I finally got around to seeing her in action. To say that the camera loves Miss Grier would be an understatement, the camera is infatuated with Miss Grier. She has that unique combination of sexiness, charm, beauty, charisma, and a willingness to get down and dirty. I'm not going to lie, it doesn't hurt that she's more than willing to take her clothes off time and time again. However, there's more to Miss Grier than a woman with a giant rack who's willing to show off said rack. There's an intimate relationship between Miss Grier and the camera, and this comes through most pointedly in the scenes where she has to put more than just her body on display. Her desire for revenge is easy to believe, as is her ability to be tough and scrape by in life. Magnetism is not something I write about often, but Miss Grier has an odd sort of magnetism where she makes scenes work that shouldn't.

Jack Hill keeps his camera glued to Miss Grier's contours. In that regard Mr. Hill is no moron, he knows exactly what type of film he is making. Foxy Brown is an exploitation, or blaxploitation, film and Mr. Hill plays that up. There's nudity everywhere, fights that break out for no apparent reason, and vicious crimes perpetrated by bad men. I will never be able to claim to be extremely well versed in exploitation cinema. That doesn't mean I don't know quality cinema when I see it, and there's things being done by Mr. Hill, and Miss Grier, in Foxy Brown that can only equal quality cinema. There's nothing wrong with being an exploitation film, and Foxy Brown helps to prove that exploitation cinema can be just as great as any arthouse or Hollywood production.

Foxy Brown isn't the deepest of films, it's message is a simple one of revenge. But there's more to Foxy Brown, and labeling it as just a revenge flick sells the film short. I was very impressed with the way that Mr. Hill gave power to his female characters. Whether they were naked or not they women in Foxy Brown came across as actual women with distinctive motives and desires. It's a small thing really, but the way Mr. Hill allows the women in Foxy Brown to take the forefront really adds to the genuineness of the film.

The action in Foxy Brown is a little rough around the edges, with moments where people are clearly missing their punches or kicks by a wide margin. Something interesting happens during those moments, that being that I found I didn't really care. Punches were missed and kicks flew past their mark, but the energy of the film had won me over to the point where I didn't care about the less than perfectly choreographed action. The score, the presence of Miss Grier, and the direction of Mr. Hill helped to carry the film past any fault lines present in its core.

I come away from Foxy Brown very impressed with the entire production. I know that a lot of cinephiles will easily dismiss a film like Foxy Brown, but I think to do so is to do a disservice to a splendid film and an important part of film history. I look forward to seeing more from Miss Grier, and better exploring the filmography of Mr. Hill. Foxy Brown is a fine flick, an exploitation film that serves up its revenge in a satisfying manner. There's an energy and verve to Foxy Brown that is infectious, I know it made its way into my bloodstream.

Rating:

9/10

Cheers,
Bill Thompson

Episode #239: Ninja War Massacre

Welcome to another episode of the GGtMC!!!

Thie week special guest Fnord steps in to help the Gents with reviews that were selected as part of our Kickstarter campaign. Fnord and good friend of the show Blake chose Massacre Mafia Style (1978) directed by and starring Duke Mitchell and Ninja Wars (1982) starring Sonny Chiba and Hiroyuki Sanada!!! We want to thank Blake and Fnord for the support of the show!!!

Direct download: ggtmc_239.mp3

Emails to midnitecinema@gmail.com

Voicemails to 206-666-5207

Adios!!!

Maniac (1934)

I have only ever seen a live freak show one time.  I don’t remember when it was or which of any number of annual county fairs it may have been at, but I did see one many years ago.  Don’t misunderstand, there wasn’t much to see.  There was a sword swallower, a tattooed lady (she didn’t have a thing on the Suicide Girls, but still…), and an alligator man (note to rubes: simply a guy with icthyosis).  I was young enough to love every minute of it, even the mannequins made up like various freaks in a poor man’s version of the Mütter Museum.  So naturally, I also fell for the come-on to take a gander at what was behind the dark curtain.  Again, I don’t recall the wording exactly, but I fell fast for this hard sell.  Next thing you know, I’m one dollar poorer and standing in a partitioned corner of the tent staring at replicas of deformed babies in suspension:  babies sharing a head, babies sharing a torso, and so forth.  I can’t say it wasn’t interesting to look at, but let’s face it, if someone says they want to show you the Egress and then escorts you out the door and onto the street, you’re likely to be hit with a mix of aggravation and admiration.  I don’t think I’d want to go see a modern freak show like Jim Rose’s for the simple fact that part of the fun of old school freak shows was in being taken advantage of.  To my thinking, the modern versions are more “freak” than “show,” and that’s not really entertainment to me.

Dr. Meirschultz (Horace Carpenter) wants to try out his new life-restoring serum on the corpse of a young woman who recently turned up in the morgue.  Strong-arming assistant and former actor Maxwell (William Woods) into impersonating the coroner, the two skulk into the morgue and perform their experiment with successful results (kind of).  But Meirschultz wants to get a victim with a “shattered heart” in which to transplant the heart he has been keeping alive in his lab.  Resisting the doctor, Maxwell winds up shooting the older man and, instead of getting the hell out of there, decides to impersonate the madman and carry on in his name.  And that’s about the first ten minutes.

Anyone who is in any way a fan of Genre and Exploitation Cinema should know the name Dwain Esper.   Basically, what he and his wife, Hildegarde Stadie, would do was take their little films, like Maniac (aka Sex Maniac), from town to town and exhibit them in roadshow style at local theaters and burlesque houses, appealing to the prurient interest of both male and female audiences.  Well-versed in the carnival tradition, Esper was no dummy, and he knew how to both satisfy his audience and skirt decency laws.  Essentially, he advertised his films as being educational or, barring that, moralistic and therefore uplifting to his audience’s character.  This is why there are often text cards or crawls which interrupt the film’s story (such as it is)to give the audience some cursory edification about a given subject (for example, medical descriptions of Dementia Praecox, Paranoiacs, Paresis, and Manic-Depressive Psychoses).  The restrictive Hays Code (aka the Motion Picture Production Code) was enacted into law in 1930 and started being enforced in 1934 (and would be in effect until 1968) by the Breen Office which was a giant thorn in the side of exploitationeers, but this in no way slowed down Esper and his wife.  This is the ball which such luminaries of Exploitation as Kroger Babb (of the infamous Mom And Dad), H.G. Lewis, and Roger Corman would pick up and run with (not always in the right direction, but that it moved at all is significant) for decades to come.  And his influence is still felt today, in my opinion.

When we think of the past (or at least when I do, and particularly the past as depicted in visual media of the day), it is typically very clean, sanitized in a way.  It’s not the past, per se, but how its producers want the past to be remembered.  People didn’t have genitals (a notable exception to this being actress and libertine Louise Brooks).  People didn’t die violently.  The good guys always won.  The State always had its people’s best interests in mind rather than its own agenda.  It’s a fabrication, but damn if it hasn’t become the truth (or the popular truth, at any rate).  Film’s like this one are examples of sleaze which feel more transgressive for the times in which they were created, because we (okay, me) still have it in our heads that what we’ve been show about this era is honest for the most part.  So you feel a little dirtier seeing a woman’s bare breasts as she’s virtually raped by Maxwell’s latest patient, Buckley (Ted Edwards).  It feels somehow more wrong watching an erstwhile actor pop out a cat’s eyeball and eat it (though I’m fairly sure they didn’t actually do that on set, to be honest) in the film’s most (in)famous scene.  Of course, after having seen such transgressive films as Cannibal Holocaust and Salò, Maniac feels a bit old-fashioned, but it still doesn’t feel 100% okay, either.  

Intriguingly (and it’s almost metatextual, in a way), the film also deals with appearances and truth.  Maxwell is a gifted mimic, and he starts off impersonating the coroner.  And yet, after taking on Meirschultz’s persona, he quickly becomes as insane as the doctor ever was, his appearance becoming the truth.  What we see is Meirschultz, and what we get is Meirschultz, even though it’s not.  Ironically, Maxwell will attain the apotheosis of his acting career by completely becoming the deceased scientist and successfully carrying on his maniacal work in actuality.  He is the two people at once, but his original calling (the theater) is at last fulfilled by fulfilling this new one (mad science).  In the same way that Dr. Mabuse’s evil transcended his physical being to infect others, insanity in this film is contagious and “…our defense against a world which is not of our making or to our liking.”  In other words, if you’re not careful, you could very easily go as insane as any of the people in this film (or, say, the person sitting next to you watching this picture).  With a level of theatricality somewhere in the stratosphere and all the technical virtuosity of moldy bread, this is in no way, shape, or form a well-made or even a good film.  This is insanity on celluloid and a peek under the antiseptic veneer of a past so meticulously cultivated since its inception, it’s difficult to fathom that things like this could ever have existed back then.  But I absolutely love that they did.

MVT:  At a scant hour long runtime, the amount of pure craziness that infests every frame of this film is bewildering.  You not only don’t have a second’s respite to consider that everything about the film is bullshit, but you also don’t have a second’s respite to figure out if you’re not as nuts as the characters on screen. 

Make Or Break:  There’s a reason why the cat’s eye scene is so talked about (in the same way that similar scenes are talked about in films as variegated as Zombi 2, Un Chien Andalou, and Thriller: En Grym Film), but let’s be honest; You could unspool this film onto your floor, sit in the middle of the celluloid pile and point at any arbitrary frame, and you almost certainly would still point to a scene which makes this movie such a deviant pleasure to behold.

Score:  6.75/10

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