Juvenile Jungle (1958)

Directed by William Whitney
Starring Corey Allen, Anne Whitfield, Rebecca Welles
Unrated
USA

"One word and her head goes through a windshield!" 

Man, people were terrified of teenagers in the 50's. And no wonder, really. According to Hollywood, every single time you got more than two or three of 'em together, they'd cook up some kind of crime spree. And so it is with the motley crew of Juvenile Jungle. Gang boss Monte (Joe Di Reda) and resident toadie Tic-Tac (instantly recognizable character actor Richard Bakalyan) have a nice little operation. They wait until payday and case the local drugstore for ineffectual looking shmoes to cash their checks. On the way out, they drag them into the alley, fleece them, and leave them there, bloody and bruised. Then they buy a few cases of beer and join the rest of the gang (including an uncredited Yvette Vickers) for boozy make-out parties on the beach.

So that was the summer of '58: violent and crime-riddled, but breezy enough. And then, Hal McQueen (Corey Allen) shows up. A square-jawed drifter from parts unknown, Hal woos fiery diner waitress Glory (Rebecca Welles) to ingratiate himself into the pack of punks. Once he's in, he devises a sinister plan that'll net the whole gang a cool 50 grand. All they have to do is kidnap the daughter of the dude who runs the drugstore.

Well, “Kidnap without the kidnapping”, as Hal explains. To be honest, I had no idea what the fuck he was talking about, except that it involved him tricking innocent Carolyn (Anne Whitfield) into liking him so he can pretend to kidnap her later and score the sweet ransom loot. But here's the problem – and you're probably way ahead of me – he starts falling for saucer-eyed Carolyn and her simpleton ways. So much so, that he wants out of the deal.

But here's the thing: he forgot about Glory. She's the jealous type. And Hal was her guy first. Glory is not losing her man AND her ransom dough, that's for sure. So in a remarkable display of spite and blind rage, Glory slaps, punches, and threatens any member of the gang who tries to queer the deal, dragging everyone into a vortex of ugly scenes and bloodshed. Who will survive Glory's inglorious tantrum, and will true love win over a woman (extremely) scorned?

Well, it was the 50's, so I'm sure you can figure that out.

Prolific director William Whitney's resume is mostly jammed with TV projects,  but it's also dotted with notable b-flicks through the decades. He had his JD trilogy in the late 50's (this one, The Cool and the Crazy, Young and Wild), squeezed out a Beach Party rip-off in the mid 60's (The Girls on the Beach), and even helmed an exceptionally bizarre post-Blaxploitation flick (1982's Darktown Strutters).  The thread that holds all of his films together is his penchant for whiplash pacing. Whitney likes to keep shit moving, and even with its brief running time (69 minutes!), Juvenile Jungle feels like it's racing to the finish line. There's not a lot of yapping on deck, it's mostly shouting, slapping, drinking, and scheming. And while the eye-rolling morality play washes ashore during the last act – a necessity to getting films released back then – for most of Juvenile Jungle, everyone's an opportunistic asshole. Which is fun. But really, everything else pales in comparison to Rebecca Welles' amazing performance. With her blazing eyes, micro-waist, and jet-black hair, she's a cool ghoul out for blood, and you never doubt for a minute that she'll chop anybody's head off who crosses her. This is Rebecca's only film appearance – she otherwise worked in TV for her entire career – which might explain the intensity of her performance. If you're relegated to damsels in distress on TV westerns all the time, a meaty role like this must feel mighty refreshing.

At any rate, fans of JD film will definitely enjoy this one. Quick, mean, lotsa snappy dialogue, a berserk villainess, and bonus Yvette Vickers dancing drunkenly on the beach in skin-tight stretchpants. What's not to love?

- Ken McIntyre

The Train Robbers (1973)

Directed by Burt Kennedy 
Starring John Wayne, Ann-Margret, Rod Taylor
Rated PG
USA

“Boil it!”

Westerns, like jazz, are one of those things you have to grow into. Nobody wants to sit there and watch old dudes squint and dust blow around for ten minutes at a time or listen to breezy trumpet solos when  they're 17 years old. But add twenty or so years and suddenly, it all makes sense. That's where I'm at now. Sure, I watched Clint Eastwood movies with my dad when I was still a pup back in the 70's, but that was largely because there were only three TV stations back then and we only had one TV. It was either that, or read the same issue of Cracked magazine again for the 20th time. I would not have called myself a fan. But now, holy smokes, I can't get enough of 'em. I usually stick with the ultra-violent spaghetti westerns, though. They've got the cool Morricone soundtracks, the evil bastards, the bright red paint for splattering blood, Klaus Kinski running around like some kind of animal, all that stuff. I haven't really watched any American westerns, and certainly not anything with John Wayne. Until now. Why? Ann Margret.

Ann Margret is, of course, the 60's flame-haired bombshell who starred with Elvis in Viva Las Vegas and Joe Namath in CC and Company, who recorded an album of cowboy psychedelia with Lee Hazelwood and starred in the kooky teen crime-spree classic Kitten With a Whip. Ann Margret sang too loud and danced too hard, and everything she did was drenched in unbridled sexuality. She was as good as the 60's got. And so, when I found out she starred in her own western, how could I resist?

The set-up is as straightforward as can be: Ann-Margret is the widow of a train robber who died in a gunfight in a whorehouse. He stashed half a million in gold out in the desert somewhere, and only she knows where it is. Being a proper lady (and the mother of a young son), she wants to retrieve the money and give it back to the railroad, thusly clearing her family name of any wrongdoing. To secure the loot, she's hired a crusty old cowboy (John Wayne) and his gang of straight-shooters. Since she doesn't quite trust the Duke, she won't tell him exactly where the gold is, so they have to bring her with them. She teases the location out at as they go along.

Of course, any posse of good guys needs a gang of bad guys to chase 'em around. Future Fantasy Island boss Ricardo Montalban leads a band of pistol-packing crazies as they chase our heroes through the desert, intent on grabbing that gold as soon as it's revealed. Wayne insists that Ann Margret wear her clothes as tight as possible so that the bad guys know she's there. Since she's the key to finding the gold, they won't shoot anybody while she's around. Thanks for that one, Duke!

In a surreal moment, the gold is located in an train wreck in the middle of the desert. From there, Wayne and the gang have to fight off Ricardo's men in the desert and then in a tiny town, where things escalate into a literally explosive climax. Seriously, they blow the whole fucking town to smithereens fighting over that fuckin' gold.

It's clear that John Wayne was a couple years past his expiration date here. He only shot a few more movies and died six years after filming this. He's got old man's body and looks visibly creaky. Still, you can see enduring cowboy superstar behind the jowls, and beyond his iffy physicality, he's great in his role as the stoic leader of the gang. Ann Margret is surprisingly subdued (except for a scene where she's supposed to be drunk on whiskey, and she goes full-on Foster Brooks) and the supporting players (including a skittish Christopher George) are solid. There's a lot more horse-galloping than bloodshed, but the desert stand-off and the climactic town-torching are both nail-biters. Also, unlike the spaghetti westerns, The Train Robbers operates with a clear moral compass. There's never any doubt that Wayne and his men are the good guys, or that Ann Margret is anything but a virtuous young lady. And then, amazingly, the last minute of the film upends everything in a funny and jaw-dropping twist.

Over all, great stuff. As I mentioned, if you're young and jumpy, it'll probably move too slow to satisfy, but if you've got the patience for a slow-burn gold chase, The Train Robbers reaps significant rewards.

Plus, Ann-Margret's in it.

- Ken McIntyre 

Romantics Anonymous (2010)

Directed by Jean-Pierre Ameris
Starring Isabelle Carre, Benoit Poelvoorde
Unrated
France 

“I want to get married and make chocolates with you forever."

Holy fuck, is this movie romantic. A socially-inept cutie named Angelique (Isabelle Carre, from the perfectly pleasant French pop band Lilicub) applies for a job at a chocolate  factory run by the equally awkward Jean-Rene (Benoit Poelvoorde, AKA the dude from 90's serial killer comedy Man Bites Dog). The factory is actually on its last legs and about to go bankrupt, but he's never had a relationship before, and his therapist told him he needs to ask somebody out, so he hires her. She thinks she's going to make chocolate, but the job is actually for a sales-rep, which she is terrible at, since she panics and faints whenever she has to speak in public. He doesn't really care if she can sell anything, he just wants to take her to dinner.

So, dinner happens. Jean-Rene is such a ball of nerves that he brings a briefcase stuffed with extra shirts everywhere he goes, just in case he sweats through the one he's wearing. And that's exactly what he does five minutes into their stammering dinner conversation. He retreats to the bathroom, and comes out wearing a ridiculous ruffled shirt. He's so embarrassed, he escapes out the bathroom window and runs home.

Meanwhile, Angelique is trying to make sales and getting nowhere. Everybody thinks Jean-Rene's chocolate is awful. She's got a secret weapon to save the company – she's actually an expert chocolatier – but she can't tell anybody, or she'll be too nervous to make any chocolate. What to do? Also meanwhile, Angelique and Jean-Rene share a kiss, and it's suddenly clear that they're both nuts for each other. The problem is, they're also both literally nuts.

So, can love win out over panic attacks?

Hey man, love wins over everything if it's speaking French.

What can I say? This movie is fucking delightful. If you're not shoveling chocolate down your gullet and/or making out on the couch with somebody by the time it's over, then abandon all hope.

- Ken McIntyre 

The Disco Exorcist (2011)

Directed by Richard Griffin
Starring Michael Reed, Sarah Nicklin, Ruth Sullivan
Unrated 
USA

"Get Down. To Hell!"

It's the 70's. A skinny creep in a wig named Rex (Michael Reed) meets a crazy-eyed redhead named Rita (Ruth Sullivan) at the disco. They have a fling, but the next night, Rex dances with his favorite porn star, Amoreena Jones (Sarah Nicklin), causing Rita to flip the fuck out and lay a whammy on both of ‘em.

The next day, Rex is enlisted into Amoreena’s latest skinflick, and halfway through the proceedings, Amoreena and the twin topless rollergirls are possessed by demons. They murder the entire crew. Rex escapes with Amoreena and, as they slither around the disco underworld, they search for a cure for her affliction. They need…you guessed it, a disco exorcist.

Directed by Richard Griffin (Nun of That), Disco Exorcist is another retro-grindhouse flick, complete with the scratched-film filter, the “missing reels” inserts, the brutal jumpcuts, etc, all of it tossed into the mix in a vain attempt to make it look like something it is not, AKA micro-budgeted and shot-on-video. Every 70’s cliché you can think of is jammed into every frame, from polyester to beaded curtains, lava lamps to Quaalude references, discos to porn theaters, Satanists to orgies. Of course, not everything that happened in the 70’s happened at the same time, like they inevitably do in these throwback opuses, but you gotta give it to Griff, he broke the bank on the goddamn thrift store knick-knacks. Still, on this level (sub-basement), it’s almost impossible to convincingly portray the ugly splendor of 70’s America (the visionary Viva notwithstanding), and all the retro-trappings on display here are really just distractions. He could’ve easily set this story up in the present, and it would have worked just fine. That being said, there’s tons of bared-boobs, blood spurting everywhere, a few seriously kooky set-ups (the climactic, occult-tinged orgy is pretty inspired), and the cast are all on full-throttle. It’s definitely not the 70’s – or even a reasonably facsimile thereof – but it is a groovy, goofy good time.

- Ken McIntyre

Jucy (2010)

Directed by Louise Alston
Starring Cindy Nelson, Francesca Gasteen
Rated M
Australia 

“A womantic comedy of platonic proportions”

Jackie and Lucy are two 20-something slackers working in Brisbane’s (real, and pretty amazing) cult video superstore, Trash Video. Jackie (Cindy Nelson) is a manic-depressive, Lucy (Francesca Gasteen) is a compulsive eater. Neither are any good at making friends or life decisions, so they pretty much just hang out with each other. After yet another disastrous appearance at a cast (naked!) party for their local theater group, when a snarky nude blonde accuses them of being ‘straight lesbians’ in a ‘womance’ (“That’s the girl version of a bromance”, she helpfully explains), our hapless heroines decide that maybe the mean naked lady is right, and that maybe there’s a world out there beyond flaming-crimson hair-dye and cupcake binges.

And so, Jackie and Lucy both try out for the lead in Jane Eyre. Jackie does so because she thinks it’ll get her laid. Lucy thinks it will be her ticket to fame and/or fortune. To prepare, Lucy meticulously rehearses her lines. Jackie takes a different route: she stops taking her psych meds.

The audition happens. One of ‘em gets the role, one of ‘em loses her mind. And then things get really messy. Throw in a pudgy stalker, a preening douchebag, a few full-on meltdowns, and a synchronized dance (they synchronize dance A LOT in Australian comedies) and you’ve got your basic recipe for either disaster or enlightenment. Or possibly both.

A frothy and likeable cross between Ghost World and Muriel’s Wedding, Jucy is a fun, romp-y coming-of-age comedy. It threatens to dip into tearjerker territory here and there, but mostly it stays light n’ sweet. There’s nothing salacious or sleazy on deck (bummer), but the leads are adorable and it’s almost impossible not to root for ‘em.

- Ken McIntyre 

Starcrossed (1985)

Directed by Jeff Boom 
Starring James Spader, Belinda Bauer
Unrated
 USA

"She fled to our world but they came to take her back...dead or alive!"

James Spader is...well, his usual preppy douchebag 80's self (although he's inexplicably supposed to be car mechanic here. A car mechanic who wears powder blue gloves?)  who runs into a girl in a red leather jacket with a Superman curl (Belinda Bauer) who's getting chased down by a couple creeps. He scares them off with tough talk (!) and then takes off with her in his pink convertible (!).

They head back to his place - it's stuffed with retrojunk, like one of those space-age 8 track players and a TV from 1955 - and they get to know each other a little. He's Joey, she's Mary. She tells him the thugs have orders to capture her and take her back to wherever she's from. He assumes she's from Russia. She does not confirm or deny this.

Joey goes to sleep. She turns off all the lights...with her mind! In the morning, he suits up for work (he's got a peach-colored jumpsuit!), but on his way out, he runs into the dudes again. They chase him upstairs and he and Mary vamoose down the fire escape in a shower of lasers and explosions. Yikes, what kind of madness is afoot?

They hide out in a pool hall and she gives him the news: she's an alien from an enslaved planet. She's come to Earth seeking asylum. Joey is, naturally, skeptical. So to prove she's really an alien, she sinks all the pool balls...with her mind! He wants to know where she's from, so they sneak into the planetarium so she can point out her home planet. While there, they run into the lady scientist who runs the joint (?) and they spill the beans. After more psychic tricks (Mary's wicked good at card tricks) she agrees to help our goofy duo evade the bad guys. Or does she?

At any rate, she takes them to see her spaceship, which she left at the town dump. But as soon as they get there, the bad guys show up and blow-up the lady scientist. They try to blast Joey too, but Mary moves a car...with her mind! And so, they escape. For now.

Later on, Joey teaches Mary how to take a bath. While she's soaking in the tub, his doofus buddy from the garage shows up and tells him they ought to sell her off to the media and make a bundle. Joey throws him out the door where he's immediately scooped up by the Feds. They're on the case, too.

Meanwhile, Mary wants Joey to teach her about this Earthling "love" she's heard so much about. So he totally does, man, with slo-mo make-outs and soft-jazz.

The next morning, Joey goes out for breakfast and the FBI snatches Mary. When Joey comes back, he is at first confused, but then he gets a message (...in his mind!) from Mary, who tells him where she is. Joey rushes over to the Federal building where they tell him they've been observing them for days and that they have big plans for our beret-wearing space vixen. Things look bleak, but then Mary mind-explodes the wall and they make a break for it. 17 guys with machine guns chase after them, but no one shoots. They make it out of the building, but now the space thugs are chasing them, too!

Mary decides it's time to get back to her ship and go home. This whole experience has soured her on the whole Earth thing. But she needs Joey's help to get there. I know you love her, Joey, but she's not from here, man. There's a climactic battle (handled, literally, by a smoke machine) and then Mary gets in her ship (literally, a few florescent tubes taped together) and off she goes. The end.

For whatever reason, this tepid TV movie time-waster is fondly remembered by many, but honestly, your breakfast was more eventful then this movie. Stick with Tuff Turf for early Spader thrills.

- Ken McIntyre