Ghostkeeper (1982)

Directed by Jim Makichuk 
Starring Riva Spier, Murray Ord, Sheri McFadden 

“Put the gun down and come to mother.”

This is one of the most effortlessly atmospheric horror films I’ve seen in a while. I mean, this thing is all mood, snowbound and claustrophobic and suffocating. An estranged couple, Marty and Jenny (Riva Spier, Murray Orf) and their hotsy-totsy blonde friend Chrissy (Sherri McFadden), head out on a snowmobile trip in the Rocky Mountains (actually Canada) but get sidelined by a snowstorm and end up at a seemingly abandoned lodge. Guess what? It’s not abandoned at all! First though, Marty and Jenny have some awkward conversations and break up a few times, and then Chrissy tells inappropriate sex stories before taking a bath. Naturally, she is unceremoniously dragged out said bath by some freak and fed to some other mutant freak in a shed. Meanwhile, the couple is contending with a crazy old woman who lives at the place and sabotages their snowmobiles so they can’t escape. And if that’s not bad enough, Marty cracks under the pressure almost immediately, rubs grease on his face, and leaves Jenny to die in the snow. She is forced to find her inner warrior and take on the murderous loonies and the blizzard all on her own.

It may or may not help that this was supposed to be an abominable snowman movie. It never gets there, but I’m not mad about it. Here's what I like about Ghostkeeper. First of all, this was one of those tax shelter deals, so it wasn’t even really meant for release. In fact, they ran out of money before it was finished, so any hopes for special fx were out the window (that will be obvious when you’re watching it). Since the director couldn’t shoot it as written without any dough, they just made the second half up as they went along. Ghostkeeper is not even meant to be, and yet it is. And despite its throwaway origins, it could easily be a low-key haze-horror cult classic, not unlike its spiritual cousins The Witch Who Came from the Sea or Let’s Scare Jessica to Death. Like both of those films the acting is good but has a distinct “real people” vibe, like some private-press loner-folk album from 1972, you know what I mean? It feels less like a movie and more like you’re just watching somebody’s loopy acid-reflux dream. And I also like the snow. It’s everywhere. Half the movie is Marty and Jenny struggling to stand up in waist-high snowdrifts. It’s basically snowing the entire time. I don’t think Jenny even takes off her snowsuit in the whole movie. I think she even sleeps in it. I mean this snow is relentless. Anyway if you like the aforementioned movies - or Innkeepers, which shares a similar slow-rolling dreamy vibe - I recommend you check this one out.

BTW, there is a blu-ray available with a new 2k scan; the version I saw on Amazon Prime is kinda smudgy and has a ton of surface noise, like a crackly vinyl record, which actually added to the atmosphere.

- Ken McIntyre

Nightmare in Badham County (1976)

Director by John Llewellyn Moxey
Starring Deborah Raffin, Lynne Moody, Chuck Connors

"Raise that strap to me white trash and I will tear your ugly heart out!" 

This was the most stressful watch I've experienced in a long time. This was a TV movie, but it is unlike any tv movie that I ever remember seeing. Granted this is some kind of theatrical cut but it's loaded with full-frontal nudity and rape (including a teenager). It's a women in prison story about two freewheeling California girls who run afoul of a racist small-town sheriff (Chuck Conners), who railroads them and sends them to a prison farm. Robert Reed (Mr Brady) is the warden! Tina Louise (Ginger) is the main prison guard! The prisoners are forced to work in the field all day in grimy sackdresses that they are not allowed to wash. They are routinely beaten, sexually assaulted and murdered. The two main girls plot their escape but you just know it's a doomed mission. Despite being loaded with established tv actors that you recognize from much lighter things, this all felt very real and was played very seriously. It was surprisingly upsetting. I don't remember this airing, hopefully my mom didn't let me watch it. My buddy Amanda the TV movie queen provided the commentary track on the bluray. I'll give it a listen when I'm emotionally ready (ugh). Anyways definitely recommended, just prepare yourself for seriously bleak tones.

- Ken McIntyre

Night of a Thousand Cats (1972)

Directed by Rene Cardona Jr
Starring Anjanette Comer, Hugo Stiglitz, Zulma Faiad 

"Dorgo, the cats are hungry!" 

Holy smokes, I love this movie. Some rich creep in a cool leather jacket lives in a creaky old castle and for some unknown reason he has a thousand cats. They’re all corralled in a pen and at night he hucks chunks of meat at them. Occasionally one of them makes it over the fence and he just grabs it by the tail and tosses it back into the cat-pit. Why? Who knows? His other thing is he picks up hot Mexican women in bikinis (sometimes in his helicopter) and brings them back to his castle. After wining and dining them he chops off their heads and puts ‘em in jars.  Plus sometimes he plays chess with his evil henchman while wearing a silk bathrobe and smoking one of those weird opium pipes like the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland had. I watched the version on Amazon Prime. It’s only 63 minutes long so probably all the stuff that might explain what’s going on has been chopped out. Doesn’t matter tho. You’ll get it. Great soundtrack, too. Mostly bongos.

- Ken McIntyre

Demon Rage (1982)

Directed by Jame Polakof
Starring Lana Wood, Britt Eckland, Don Galloway 
Rated R 
USA

“The forces of evil are strongest when you are weakest.”

Demon Rage. Holy fuck.

Someone is chasing Lana Wood down the beach. She's in a nightie. 54 seconds in, her giant boobs fall out and start flapping in the breeze. There's an incessant synthesizer blaring away madly, it sounds like the intro to a Norwegian black metal song. You also hear the roar of the ocean. In fact, you will continue to hear the roar of the ocean for the next 90 minutes. It's overcast, there's a mysterious figure up on the hill, draped in black. Lana runs in slow-motion, trying to hold her boobs in place so they don't blacken her eyes. She rushes toward her dimly lit beach house, finally making it to the front stairs. She rushes up the stairs only to find a dead-eyed man-demon waiting for her.

Lana is Lisa. Lisa wakes up screaming. It was all a terrible nightmare. Her daughter Michelle (Sherry Scott) rushes in, alarming by mom's screams. She tells her it was just a bad dream, the second one this week. She asks where her husband is.  Michelle tells her he's out doing his morning “rituals”.  Mom tells her to get ready for school. She does. Mom's nipple has been showing the entire time. Daughter was cool enough to not mention it.

A few minutes later, we're out on the deck. Dad's morning ritual is an invigorating swim in the ocean. Mom and daughter watch. Daughter grouses about how weird this new house is, and how mom and dad fight all the time now. Mom assures it's just because dad's under a lot of pressure to get the new shopping mall done. He's an architect. The school bus comes for Michelle, which is strange, because she looks about 19. The actresses have to yell over the roar of the ocean. As if it wasn't loud enough, wind noises are also piped in.

As soon as her daughter splits, Lisa descends the stairs and walks on to the beach to greet Burt  (Tom Hallick), who's through with his swim. She hands him a towel and starts to disrobe, hoping to spark some romance. He tells her there's no time, he's too busy, she knows what it's like when he's got a project. “We've got to stop this,” she tells him. “You've been working on a project for two years, what about our project?”
“Pushy bitch,” he spits, and then saunters off.

Are you ready to kill yourself yet? Good, let's roll credits. During the credits, a title card flashes with some glowing eyes and a heavy metal font that says “There is a growing belief that in the world of psychic phenomena the loneliness of a human being may be our direct link to...the supernatural.” Which is bullshit in many different ways. They also suggest that what we are about to see is a true story. It is not. Although it is based on another bullshit story.

After the credits, Lisa goes back to bed. A purple blob materializes, tears off the covers, and has sex with her. Lana Wood is completely nude at this point. There's a flash of bush. You forget about the dumb movie for a moment and just start to feel Lana's existential dread. That's the real horror, here. You can see it in her eyes.  You can hear the inner-dialogue going on. “I'm getting paid to pretend I'm being fucked by a ghost. I'm 40 fucking years old and my goddamn sister is Natalie Wood. How many wrong turns did I take to get here?”

I sometimes have those dark thoughts myself, Lana, but I don't let it affect my work. I fuck the purple ghost and move on, man.

Later that evening, dinner at Lisa and Burt's. Their pals and Ann-Marie (Britt Eckland) and Carl (Don Galloway) have dropped by. Carl sounds just like Alan Alda. It's weird. It's also weird how he blatantly hits on Lisa, right in front of everybody.  As if dinner wasn't awkward enough, Ann-Marie bring up her job as a fucking psychic while Lisa and Burt stare off into space. And then  a black cat shows up out of nowhere and sits on Lisa's lap. Burt orders Michelle to get rid of it, but when she goes to pick it up, it tears open her finger and she starts bleeding everywhere.  And that's how dinner ends.

That night, the purple blob turns into the face of a low-budget magician, and then the ghost-demon-magician fucks Lisa again, with Burt snoozing away beside her.

The next morning, Michelle talks to mom about dad and the cat and the house. She thinks something's gone awry, but she can't quite put her finger on it yet. On her way out the door for school, she sees a statue's eye cry blood. She's startled, but doesn't seem to think it's remarkable enough to mention to her mom. Off to school she goes.

Meanwhile, Lisa's out on the deck having coffee when she spots of a couple of the local kids goofin' off. They say hello and the dude goes into a weird Columbo routine. That would have been topical in 1982.  She's a little rattled that he mentioned lonely chicks and ghosts, and also we haven't seen her tits for five minutes, so she decides to take a shower. And wouldn't you know it, she gets ghost-raped in there, too.

Later that day, Burt comes home from work and finds that Lisa has moved into the spare room because she 'needs some time for herself'. Also, Michelle sees the rape-ghost in the fireplace. Also, because you might actually hear what they're saying, Burt and Michelle talk directly in front of the fireplace, so their dialogue is drowned out by the crackling fire.

Lisa's in the spare room, quietly painting the rape-ghost's eyes, minding her own business. Burt, being the douchebag he is, has to go upstairs to yell at her. She glares and grouses until he splits. Now that he's gone, the rape-ghost materializes into an actual swarthy, Egyptian-magician looking rapist, and has his way with her again. That's too many times, man. What's this guy think this is, some kinda strawberry festival?

At this point, Burt tries to reconcile with Lisa, but it's too late, he's lost her to the sex demon, who takes her day and night. When he's not banging her, she's locked up in the spare room, painting weird pictures of him. It's a very unhealthy situation.

It is important to know, at this point, that there's a guillotine in the basement. We don't know why yet. Maybe everyone had a guillotine in their basement in 1982? At any rate, the lights are also out in the basement, and Burt wants to go down there to drag up a kayak or some bullshit, so he gets a flashlight and heads on down. Also he closes the door behind him, which seems like a really weird thing to do. Amazingly, he does not end up getting his head cut off. Yet. Also, Michelle tries to talk to her mom about how weird she's acting, but she's in a hot tub, so between the water jets and the fucking ocean, who knows what she said.

Meanwhile, Burt meets up with Ann-Marie to discuss Lisa. Because it wasn't noisy enough at the beach, they go to a restaurant and sit right next to a bubbling water fountain. Ann-Marie thinks she knows what's up. She's gonna do some psychic investigating. Meanwhile, the demon-fucking continues unabated. Burt comes home mid demon-coitus and tries to catch him in the act, but this is some squirrely sex demon.

What the fuck, Burt takes advantage of the moment and bangs his wife. The demon is definitely not gonna like that. In fact he watches, with furrowed brow, from across the room. He may also be masturbating under his black robe, who knows.

Bummed out, the demon stares at a throbbing eyeball on the wall while some chick dressed up like Kate Bush laughs at him and calls him a fool. Then she heads out to the beach where she bumps into Michelle, and starts babbling to her about the devil. Michelle's not into it, and she hauls ass out of there. Imagine how awesome it would be, though, if it was 1982 and you're walking along the beach and Kate Bush pop up from under the pier and tells you to worship Satan. What a day that would be!

Boy, Burt must've given it to Lisa good, because the next day she's bubbly and happy, but it only lasts for a couple seconds because the demon makes blood spurt out of Michelle fingers! Lisa asks Burt to take her to school or the doctor or someplace so she can work some kinda plan to get rid of the rape-ghost. Naturally, she calls Ann-Marie. She comes by and they hot tub together. They start talking about Lisa's problem and then the water starts heating up and almost boils them alive!

Lisa runs upstairs and finds the demon sitting in a rocking chair and confronts him. “Why are you doing this?” She asks. He responds by banging her. So my guess is he's doing it for the sex.

And then Michelle has a psychedelic nightmare. Can you imagine seeing this movie in a theater? You'd never be the same. Probably the people who saw this in the theater in 1982 are still in an asylum somewhere.

Burt has a dream about having sex with Britt Eckland while Lana Wood and the rape-demon watch. But who hasn't, am I right fellas?

Speaking of Ann-Marie, she and Carl show up at the beach house for a visit. While she's waiting for Lisa to come downstairs, Ann-Marie sees cloven hoof prints in the sand! That's not a good sign.

Lisa and Ann-Marie stroll down the beach and Ann-Marie explains how the demon keeps banging Lisa so that he doesn't have to go to hell. Something like that, it's very noisy on that beach.

Back in the house, the lights go out again, so Carl goes down the basement to fix the circuit. Don't go down there, Carl, there's a goddamn guillotine down there!

He goes down there anyway. RIP Carl. The ambulance shows up and gathers up Carl's body parts. “I can't figure it,” says the cop.  As she rides away with her hubby's head, Ann-Marie issues a stern warning to Burt. “Get out before he gets you, too!”

And so that's what they do. They get in their car and drive off. The end.

No, they don't, they stick around. At Carl's funeral, Ann-Marie introduces Burt to a priest who is actually John Carradine collecting his weekly paycheck. He tells them a bunch of gibberish about how demons are attracted to loneliness, and about how they can take over the body of some really lonely fucker. By the way, there was all this wind-noise during the funeral, but no wind was actually blowing.

So, they head back to the house, and all hell breaks loose. Literally. Like the basement is now hell. 1980's heavy metal hell with fire and demons and naked chicks. One final peek at Lana's full-bush is included in the deal. I'm not sure what happens next – and I don't think the filmmakers did either – but it resolves itself somehow. Basically they went, “Ok, five minutes of fire and synthesizers, that'll explain everything, right?”

And in the end, frisbee and Michelle in a bikini and goodtimes and no hassles. It's finally over. Or is it?

Well, the fucking movie is over, that's for sure. Lisa's on her own for now on.

James Polakof made another movie around this time called The Vals which is just as inexplicable as this one. I feel there is a good chance that James Polakof is literally crazy. Sometimes you can get away with that in Hollywood, at least for a movie or two, before you get locked up again. I don't know where he is today, I wish I did, I have many questions for him, like why all the water, James? Why is water splashing or pouring or crashing in every fucking scene in this movie? And why did Lana Wood look like she wanted to cry in every scene? Not her character, mind you, but Lana herself? What mental tortures did you put her through? Perhaps more importantly, why did they have a working fucking guillotine in their basement? And who exactly told you that lonely people attract sex demons? You only hear shit like that in psych wards, so that's probably where you picked that up. Anyway, even though you made a terrible movie, it is also an awesome, incredible movie, one that sucks you in with the boobs and the bad vibes and keeps you entranced with terrible filmmaking and ridiculous acting and atrocious dialogue and then tries to wrap things up with public access TV style special effects. I love you and I hate you equally, James Polakof, you magnificent bastard. And I just straight-up love this loony movie. See it and FEEL THE DOOM.

- Ken McIntyre 

Ann-Margret's dance scene from 'Made in Paris' (1966)

Hey buds! I mentioned on Episode 175 of the MAG show that I'd recently caught the 1966 Ann-Margret flick 'Made in Paris'. I also mentioned it wasn't super great. In fact, there's only really two things I'd recommend about it.

One is the scene where Ann-Margret gets hammered on absinthe, because Ann-Margret acting drunk is always good times.

The second is the big dance scene from the film, because Ann-Margret dancing like a maniac is also always good times. Check it out below!

- Alistair

California Dreaming (1979)

Directed by John D. Hancock
Starring Glynnis O'Connor, Seymour Cassel, Dorothy Tristan, Dennis Christopher, Tanya Roberts, Stacey Nelkin
Rated R
USA

This uneven 1979 entry directed by John D. Hancock (Let's Scare Jessica to Death, Bang the Drum Slowly) might be superficially mistaken for a proto-teen sex comedy, although in reality California Dreaming is better regarded a late entry in American International Pictures prolific cycle of drive-in diversions of the era.













After all, there's a Porky's-style hole-in-the-wall bit of peek-a-boo...

...unlocked bathroom doors prefiguring a Fast Times at Ridgemont High-like mishap...

...plus other fast food-related innuendo.

But in truth California Dreaming harkens back more than looks ahead, with most of the usual elements of the AIP low-budgeted formula for which producer Samuel Z. Arkoff became known, including a downbeat tone that consistently makes its coming-of-age surface narrative read more ill-fated than is usually the case with such fare.

Dennis Christopher stars as Tony Thompson or "T.T." (as he insists others call him), with his unannounced arrival at a California beach town carrying us through the opening credit sequence.

Nebbish and naive -- and a pretty obvious Revenge of the Nerds precursor -- the tie-wearing T.T. marvels for a few moments at the surfers...

...then strikes up a conversation with gearhead Earl (Ned Wynn).

"Howdy pard," he begins. "T.T.'s the name. Just few in from the Windy City. Chi-town."

Earl rightly eyes T.T. warily, who goes on to explain he's arrived to "check out the scene," including hearing some "hot licks" at any area music spot, a switchblade comb awkwardly punctuating his request. Earl directs T.T. to the nearby nightspot, Duke's Vista del Mar.

"Copasetic!" says T.T. by way of thanks, and we all roll our eyes.

From there T.T. meets Duke Slusarski, played by vet character actor Seymour Cassel. He explains to the bar owner how his trip to the west coast in a way posthumously fulfills a wish of sorts made by his deceased brother, a trumpet player whose records T.T. carries.

Taking pity on T.T., Duke plays his brother's records in the bar and even offers him a free room in the apartment where he lives with his stepdaughter, Corky, played by Glynnis O'Connor (Ode to Billy Joe, The Boy in the Plastic Bubble).

A main plot proceeds from there involving the hopelessly nerdy T.T. trying to fit into the surfer scene, with Corky less than pleased about her summer fun being disrupted by this new, uncool roommate.

Meawhile, a handful of subplots emerge involving the ensemble cast to help keep the viewer suitably distracted and more or less entertained.

One involves the surfers -- Rick (John Calvin), Mike (Jimmy Van Patten), and Tenner (Johnny Fain) -- and their competitive efforts both to get laid and win surfing competitions.

Another concerns Stephanie, played by the alluring Tanya Roberts in an early post-Zuma Beach, pre-Sheena role. While not hanging out with her friend Marsha, played by the equally charming Stacey Nelkin (Up the Academy, Get Crazy), Stephanie tries to come to terms with her rocky relationship with the often-douchey Rick who is more interested with getting drunk, scoring with other babes, and besting the gnarly waves than her.

A third plot involves the aforementioned Earl, his girl Corrine (played by National Lampoon alum Alice Playten), and the slimy, rich Jordy (Todd Susman) who pines after Corrine.

Earl's admiration of Jordy's Corvette inspires the latter to challenge him to a bet. If Earl can stay in his own car for the entire six weeks until Labor Day, the two will swap vehicles. Earl agrees to the bet with enthusiasm, but it's clear from the start it's all a ruse to allow Jordy to make time with Corrine.

Still another subplot involves Duke coming to terms with getting older while negotiating a broken relationship with his ex-wife Fay (Dorothy Tristan).

Finally, like T.T., Corky -- referred to by others early on as the "virgin princess" -- is also experiencing a kind of "coming of age" during her final summer before going off to school. And perhaps unsurprisingly the paths of the two ultimately converge before all is said and done.

As mentioned, while there are several light moments scattered throughout there's a fairly consistent summer-can't-last-forever gloom hanging over all of the hijinks, which depending on your point of view either gives the film and a couple of the characters more depth or just serves as an occasional buzz-kill to what are otherwise good times with few hassles.

Appearing here just prior to his Breaking Away breakout, Christopher is mostly over-the-top as goofy T.T. -- almost to the point of being cartoonish.

Somehow, though, T.T. is endearing enough to keep the viewer caring about his fate, perhaps made more so once the surfer dudes, Duke, and others seem to adopt them into their beachfront brotherhood, helping him fit in with surfing lessons and help with the ladies. Duke in particular believes the key to improving the kid's love life is to learn volleyball, a game that uniquely offers training in both "strength and sensitivity."

As T.T.'s story plays out the other subplots all are resolved as well, some in surprising ways with the possibility of happy endings never quite guaranteed. Interestingly, for many of the characters' stories the prospect of going to Hawaii weirdly exists as a kind of ultimate goal -- a paradise all chase (and perhaps an allusion to the film's title, borrowed from the Mamas and the Papas) -- although the film ultimately seems to assign a kind of futility to such dreaming, too.

Perhaps that's the biggest difference between these earlier drive-in titles (many of which like California Dreaming became late-night staples on early cable TV) and the teen sex comedies that became box office-winners of the next decade -- namely, the possibility of the negative outcomes for stories and/or characters.

In any case, California Dreaming provides a few laughs along with some mildly risque fun in the sun for fans of both categories of films.

- Triple S

Back to the Beach (1987)

Back to the Beach (1987)
Directed by Lydell Hobbs
Starring Annette Funicello, Frankie Avalon, Lori Loughlin
Rated PG
USA

"What the hell is a kahuna, anyway? And is it good to have a big one?"

Annette Funicello and Frankie Avalon were the stars of the wildly popular Beach Party movies from the early to mid 1960's, and have come to represent the boundless optimism of those post-war boom years. Annette was the top-heavy virgin goddess and Frankie was her surfer-king dreamboy, and their G-rated fantasies were played out on the scorching sands of Malibu Beach to the beat of thumping rock n' roll. But every summer ends, and by the late 60's, Frankie and Annette went their separate ways. Annette's most high profile gig after the beach party movies was as a TV spokeswoman for Skippy peanut butter and Frankie, well who knows? And that's the premise of Back to the Beach. Released at a time when the baby-boomers who came of age in the early 60's were now settling in middle-age and feelign nostalgic for theit idyllic youth, the film presents us with an alternate universe what if: what if Frankie and Annette were actually their characters in the movies, and it was a couple decades later? Where would they be? What would they be doing? Would Frankie still be the king of the beach? And would Annette still fill out a one-piece so perfectly after gulping down all that peanut butter? Let's find out!

It's 24 years since their first beach party together, and Frankie AKA the Big Kahuna and Annette are married and they have an asshole teenager who explains the story so far. His name is Bobby (Damian Slade), and he's dressed more like the leather dude from the Village People, but I think he's supposed to be a punk rocker. Anyway, somewhere after the beach party movies, Frankie had a surfing accident, and he's afraid to go back into the water. Instead, he moved the family to Ohio and now he owns a car dealership. They live in one of those 1950's space-age houses and Annette gobbles peanut butter all day, you know, because of the TV commercials. As our story opens, Bobby is getting his lunch from mom, and he is not happy about what's in it. She's gone completely batty with the goddamn peanut butter. It's all they eat. There's jars stacked everywhere.

So, mom's gone insane, dad's stressed out from work, Junior is on the edge. Time for a vacation! So the family heads to Hawaii!

But first they have to stop off in LA to see their daughter, Sandy. Sandy? We'll find out about her in a minute, first roll the neon 80's credits and the neon 80's Eddie Money theme song! We're gonna catch a ride on a wave all over the world!



At LAX. Annette runs into OJ Simpson, who appears to be in a big hurry. You know, from those commercials. And also because he might've just murdered somebody.

So Sandy (Lori Laughlin) is living with some surfer creep named Michael and she hasn't told her folks yet because dad won't like it. So this surprise visit is really gonna open up a can of worms unless she thinks fast!

Frankie uses Bobby's head to bust the door down, but Mike gets out just in time.

Frankie figures it out though and he and Bobby head out to go find the guy and kill him. On the way, they run into a post-apocalyptic surfer gang, but even though Frankie knocks over their surfboards and goofs on their hair, they let him go. Some gang.

And then Frankie just gives up and they go shopping. Later on, they drop Sandy off at her job at Daddy-o's on their way back to the airport to catch their flight.

Annette insists that they go in because their old pal, Dick "King of Surf" Dale is playing, so what the hell, they go in. Frankie runs into Ed "Kookie" Burns, a reference lost to almost everybody at this point.

Annette gets hit on by some sleazy dude in a mesh shirt, which really pisses Frankie off. He demands they get the fuck out of there, but on their way out, he runs into his old flame Connie Stevens. She starts smooching up on him, and that really throws a monkey wrench into the works.

Turns out she has a Big Kahuna shrine in the bar. That's not too weird, is it?

Connie insists Frankie sings a song before he leaves. And so he does. Frankie and Dick Dale and Connie all rock out to a really terrible, really 80's rendition of California Sun. Dick Dale's hair is fucking crazy in this.



Because of all the carrying-on, they end up missing their flgiht to Hawaii. Annette's pissed and Frankie's pissed, and then he says he's going back to Ohio, and she tells him to fuckin' go, she's staying to hang out with Sandy and have some goodtimes. So Sandy kicks Michael out, and mom and Bobby move in. Sandy is not entirely sure this is the best idea, but what the fuck, she can do better. That guy is no big Kahuna.

Meanwhile, back at Daddy O's, Frankie is having a few drinks, and he notices that the bartender looks very familiar.

Back at Sandy's, they have a goddamn pajama party. More of a lingerie party, really. With dancing and mutant surf punks.

After a long night of drinking, Frankie wakes up in surf shack where, ironically enough, he meets Michael, who gives him the Keith Richards hangover cure (Coca Cola, instant coffee, and Alka Seltzer), and then politely informs him about his intentions for Frankie's daughter.

Frankie's first instinct is to kill him, but he's too hungover, so they try and work things out. Later on, in an unsuspected twist - spoiler alert! - we find out that Michael is Connie's son!

Also, meanwhile, Bobby joins the surfpunk gang. You might think, why would they let a poser like him join? Because he has his dad's American Express gold card! Surf punk partytime!

And then out of nowhere, Annette does a ska tune with Fishbone. It's better than Frankie's song, but the dancing is very complicated.



But listen, forget the dancing, we have three to four relationships to repair here. First off, Frankie finds out Michael paints surfboards, so he agrees to go into business with him. Problem solved there. But how do the fellas patch things up with the girls? Frankie has the solution: beach party. That always worked in 1964! Problem is, the harbormaster won't give out permits for night-time parties on the beach. But Frankie's got a plan. Incidentally, at this point, they're back at Daddy-O's and now Stevie Ray Vaughn is playing with Dick Dale, and his hair is even poofier than it was before.


Hey, that harbormaster looks familiar!

The fellas trick the harbormaster into thinking the party is in his honor, so now it's on! And it's working great! Michael and Sandy get back together, no sweat, But Annette goes looking for Frankie, and he's goofin' around with that housewrecker Connie. To make him jealous, Annette goes matte-screen surfing with Troy-the-asshole.  She looks pretty foxy in her hot pink surfer suit.

Anyways, Frankie fuckin' punches his lights out. Which makes Annette mad, but not really. Then she stomps over to Connie to give her the business, but Connie straightens her out. And also compliments her on her tits. They get mentioned alot in this movie.

So she takes her advice and then they make up and make out and everybody is happy. The end. I mean, it seems like the end, but then Pee Wee Herman shows up and performs Surfin' Bird! The 80's version, so he throws in some "radicals" and "gnarlys".  He's not very good at lip synching. And everybody gets on stage and dances with him! And then he gets on a flying surfboard, and ascends into heaven! What a party, the end.


But wait, can we really end the movie without Frankie getting over his fear and surfing again?

No, we can't, so he tells his goddamn story.

But then the mood is shattered by Bobby, who is now the king of the surf punks, because he bought them all dune buggies. He shows up to the ruin the shindig, but everybody just laughs at him, because he's an idiot. But as Frankie points out, we do have a territorial despute, so they'll have to surf for the beach. Michael versus the surf puhk dude. Except Frankie accidentally breaks Mike's foot, so now they're gonna lose the beach to the creeps unless..unless Frankie can get over his fear and surf again! Can he do it?

Of course not, he's a middle-aged car salesman. They get on the next flight back to Ohio. Fuck the beach.

Or do they? We will not reveal the shocking, but I will say this: the Beaver is involved.

In 1987, this was considered satire. We live in an age of sarcasm and snark and ill-will now, so you can't even tell that they were shooting for 'edgy' here, because at this point, it seems just as good-natured and fun-loving as the original beach party movies did. And that's good, because we need to be reminded once in a while that there is genuine joy out there to be had, and it may only be a conga line away.

Packed with fun cameos and goofy musical interludes and corny gags and good vibes, Back to the Beach is everything you'd hope a Frankie and Annette reunion would be. Except maybe for an Annette wardrobe malfunction. You don't get that. They didn't have those yet in the 80's. Anyway, goodtimes and not a hassle for miles.


- Ken McIntyre

PS: Listen to the MAG gang discuss Back to the Beach on Episode 169 of the Movies About Girls podcast!