All posts by Rod Lott

Horror

Faceless (1987)

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facelessWith Faceless, director Jess Franco updated — unofficially, of course — 1960’s Eyes Without a Face, George Franju’s groundbreaking French classic about a mad surgeon who’ll do anything to give his facially wrecked daughter a new visage, even murder. The main changes in Franco’s work is that he made the victim the doc’s sister, and he threw in the sex and gore not permissible two decades prior. While messy onscreen, the results are tight by Franco’s standards.

In Paris, Ingrid (Christiane Jean, 1982’s Les Misérables) wears a mask to hide her acid-ravaged mug from an attack meant for her brother, Dr. Flammand (Helmut Berger, Salon Kitty). Her face looks like Wheaties left in a cereal bowl, but not forever, provided her brother can find the perfect “donor.” To that end, the physician has been kidnapping and imprisoning the most beautiful women across Gay Paree, and hired a Nazi doctor (Anton Diffring, Fahrenheit 451) — a former colleague of Josef Mengele, no less! — to aid in the surgery room with the “total face transplants.”

faceless1Unfortunately for Team Flammand, one of its recent acquisitions is a coke-snorting model (Caroline Munro, The Last Horror Film) whose pappy (Telly Savalas, Lisa and the Devil) has hired a P.I. (Christopher Mitchum, Ricco the Mean Machine) to locate her.

That he will is a given — how many murders will occur between now and then is the unknown variable, but with Franco at the helm, viewers can be assured the numeral won’t be low. Even without all the botched face-transplant procedures, Faceless is full of realistic-looking ick, from a syringe plunged in the eye to a power drill bored through the forehead. (More offensive is the film’s smooth-jazz theme song, played nearly as many times as Franco has movies, and definitely more times than Mitchum has expressions.)

With a concept that worked wonders for Franju, Franco virtually was assured a notch in the win column. That the X can be bolded is a sign of him giving this one some tender love. As graphic horror, as a sex-charged thriller, as a time capsule of big hair, as proof of Munro at her most drop-dead gorgeous, Faceless succeeds with a smile on your part and a scream on theirs. —Rod Lott

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Martial Arts

Enter the Ninja (1981)

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enterninjaAfter acquiring his ninja license in Japan, Cole (Franco Nero, the original Django) heads to Manila to visit his Army buddy, Frank (Alex Courtney, Looking for Mr. Goodbar), an impotent alcoholic with a sprawling plantation, a penchant for cockfights, a dentally challenged wife and a James Caan ’fro.

Frank and Mary Ann (Susan George, Straw Dogs) find themselves under pressure from ruthless businessman Venarius (Christopher George, Pieces) to sell their land, but they don’t want to, so Venarius enlists nefarious means, like a hook-handed henchman. Good thing Cole is there to use his newly minted ninja skills to rip that hook hand clean off the stump.

enterninja1As Venarius tightens the screws, especially with the hiring of rival warrior Hasegawa (Shô Kosugi, who appeared as different characters in the sequels, 1983’s Revenge of the Ninja and 1984’s Ninja III: The Domination) to fight Cole, the movie gets more violent and ninja-tastic. Director Menahem Golan (half of Cannon Films’ mighty Golan-Globus duo) doesn’t skimp on the throwing stars, of course, but also busts out flash fires, blow-dart map pins and jacks-like face spikes. Meanwhile, Mary Ann wears no bra, not even when on horseback.

It’s hard to tell which is funnier: Venarius calling Cole not by name, but by “ninja,” or Venarius petulantly screaming à la Willy Wonka’s Veruca Salt, “I want my black ninja and I want him now!” Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. What does is that Enter the Ninja is a blast — cheap and cheesy, right down to the ending’s freeze-frame of Nero winking at the camera, but never not deliriously entertaining. —Rod Lott

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Thriller

Vice Squad (1982)

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vicesquadPurportedly based on actual events occurring on the sleazy streets of El Lay, the gripping, grimy Vice Squad depicts one wild night of police and prostitutes in the era of tube tops, hot pants, cornrows and clubs bearing names like The Balled Eagle.

Princess (Season Hubley, Escape from New York) is a businesswoman by day and hooker by night. After her friend and fellow trick-turner (MTV VJ Nina Blackwood) is vaginally — and fatally — mutilated by a “psycho honky” pimp who goes by the name of Ramrod (Wings Hauser, The Carpenter), Princess agrees to wear a wire so the cops can nab him. She does and they do, but he gets away, and thus begins Ramrod’s pursuit to sniff out and snuff out Princess, as the police in turn seek him.

vicesquad1While an exploitation film at heart, Vice Squad takes itself rather seriously. As a result, director Gary Sherman (Poltergeist III) gives it a good amount of grit. It’s as raw as a knee sliding against asphalt and may leave the viewer with the feeling that a shower is in short order — and not the golden kind Princess negotiates over with a client.

Much-needed levity arrives in the form of dialogue as Princess discusses transactions with the would-be consumers of her wares; “Does a teddy bear have cotton balls?” she rhetorically asks one, while another inquires of her, “You’re looking at one horny conventioneer. I’ve seen more ass than a cowboy’s saddle. Think you can handle me?”

Hauser steals the show with his unhinged performance of a wacko in a Western shirt. As evil as Ramrod is, Hauser is a wonder to behold. But so is Gary Swanson (Sniper) as Det. Walsh, Vice Squad’s true leading man. Unfortunately, because he’s so grounded by comparison, not to mention sympathetic, he gets none of the enormous credit he’s due. —Rod Lott

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Sex

The Curse of Her Flesh (1968)

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cursefleshMichael Findlay’s immediate sequel to 1967’s The Touch of Her Flesh, the following year’s The Curse of Her Flesh begins with credits written as graffiti on a public bathroom wall. We read them (a show of hands if you think co-star A. Dick Feeler is a pseudonym) over the sound of a man’s urine stream hitting water — a meta statement?

One year after the events of the previous film, “famous weapons expert” Richard Jennings (Findlay himself) remains on the loose, slaying sexy women who remind him of his no-good philandering wife. For a subplot, he’s also seeking his wife’s lover, so he can introduce his machete to the dude’s member.

A couple of Jennings’ victims are strippers who succumb to a poisoned G-string — one directly and one indirectly, if you know what I mean (and if you don’t, Findlay shows you). Says a cop at the crime scene, “You could say they died from something they ate.”

curseflesh1Another dies from poisoned cat claws, but not until after this excruciatingly unsubtle exchange of dialogue hits you over the head:
Jennings: “That’s a nice little pussy you have there.”
Victim: “Thank you. Everyone who sees my pussy likes it.”
Jennings: “Is it friendly?”
Victim: “Oh, yes. Sometimes I play with it for hours.”
Jennings: “Does it ever get tired?”
Victim: “No, it never gets enough. Sometimes the girl next door comes over and brings her pussy, and puts it with mine.
Jennings: “Amazing how something so soft and pretty as this little pussy can be so dangerous.”

By the time he’s talking about the pussy being able to “swallow as much meat as it can,” she’s as sick of it as we are.

The curse of Curse is that its scenes — sex or otherwise — go on for so long, that when the soundtrack’s song is over, it starts back up. The movie is equally insane as its predecessor, yet less entertaining because it contains fewer murders. On the bright side, at least this one boasts recorded sound, not to mention a movie within a movie that will make you think twice about eating squash. —Rod Lott

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Action

12 Rounds 2: Reloaded (2013)

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12rounds2Barely released in theaters, 2009’s 12 Rounds was, like 2006’s The Marine, one of WWE Films’ well-intentioned but ill-fated attempts at turning John Cena into an Arnold Schwarzenegger for the aughts. Directed by Renny Harlin (Cliffhanger), it was a serviceable vehicle largely ignored. For the redundantly titled sequel, 12 Rounds 2: Reloaded, the WWE subs another fan-favorite wrestler, Randy Orton, yet aims straight for the home-video market.

With a voice that sounds eerily like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, Orton is paramedic Nick Malloy, who becomes an unwilling pawn in a dozen-round game. It’s masterminded by a madman named Heller, your standard-issue villain (Brian Markinson, Shooter) who sets up an entire Best Buy showroom worth of high-dollar equipment in a dingy tunnel full of steam and puddles. If Malloy refuses to play, his kidnapped wife (Cindy Busby, American Pie: The Book of Love) will die. (It’s a wonder she isn’t crushed by her hubbie during lovemaking, being a twig to his trunk.)

12rounds21Round one involves a guy with C4 explosives stitched into his stomach, so you know Heller means business. (Another clue: his douchey Bluetooth earpiece). Heller has Malloy run all over town like Domino’s drivers back in the era of the 30-minutes-or-less guarantee. During an early round, Malloy acquires a sidekick of sorts in Tommy (Tom Stevens, Battlestar Galactica: Blood & Chrome), a substance abuser with a wise mouth, a parole anklet and a butt cut.

Steering the race-against-the-clock proceedings is Roel Reiné, who specializes in DTV sequels, including the Death Race and Scorpion King franchises. He keeps things moving, sometimes so frenzied he calls too much attention to his showiness. Heller’s motive is a lot to swallow, so Reiné throws so many things at viewers as distractions: a coke whore, a bulldozer, an overwrought finale. It’s all very silly, yet more or less diverting. —Rod Lott

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