All posts by Rod Lott

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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Mystery

Seven Blood-Stained Orchids (1972)

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7orchidsWho else but a black-gloved killer could provide the menace for a giallo? (That’s rhetorical.) In Seven Blood-Stained Orchids, the staple of such Italian films murders lovely women, leaving them half-naked and clutching an amulet shaped like a crescent. The press dub him “the Half-Moon Maniac,” and among his victims are a street prostitute, an abstract artist and a newlywed in a train.

The latter, Giulia (Uschi Glas, The Sinister Monk), survives, but the cops and her metrosexual fashion-designer husband, Mario (Antonio Sabato, Grand Prix), stage a funeral to give them the upper hand, as well as protect her. Mario and Giulia whisk away on their honeymoon, but instead of putting their parts against one another where they belong, they stick their noses where they don’t, investigating leads in hopes of uncovering the killer’s identity before he kills again.

7orchids1Or at least before he kills too many times again, as the man is quite prolific.

Once revealed, the motive for his madness strikes one as underwhelming, but it’s the getting there that counts, and Seven Blood-Stained Orchids is enjoyable up until those final few minutes. It bursts with great pedigree among Italian cult cinema: Umberto Lenzi (Spasmo) directs and co-writes with Roberto Gianviti (Don’t Torture a Duckling), based upon an Edgar Wallace novel; Riz Ortolani provides a superb, groove-laden score; and standing out among the eye candy is the gorgeous Marisa Mell (Danger: Diabolik). —Rod Lott

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Horror

Maniac (1980)

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maniacMeet Frank Zito. He’s a Maniac, Maniac, I sure know, and all because he was locked in the closet as a boy.

As played by Starcrash’s Joe Spinell, who co-wrote the screenplay, Zito is a sweaty louse, looking like a slightly taller Ron Jeremy. He has extreme mommy issues, to the point where he sleeps with and talks to mannequins, which he dresses up in lingerie, makeup and wigs.

maniac1He also spends his nights murdering women, from strangling a hooker in hot pants to stabbing a nurse in a subway bathroom. Seconds after each kill, Zito scalps them. While the ladies are his target, pity any man who should get in his way — ergo, the film’s famous slow-motion explosion of the head of effects artist Tom Savini (credited as “Disco Boy”) via shotgun.

In professional photographer Anna (Caroline Munro, Slaughter High), Zito actually meets a woman he doesn’t want to kill — at least not immediately. To get close to her, Zito fibs that he’s a painter. Speaking of, Maniac is a portrait — both literal and metaphorical — of Times Square at its seediest. Director William Lustig (Maniac Cop) seems to capture every grain of dirt, every bead of sweat, every smear of grease, and every puddle of God-knows-what. It looks as grimy as its subject matter feels, so much that you might want to shower afterward.

As 42nd Street-ready as they come, the flick enjoys an undying reputation as being so gory it’s disturbing, but I found it more dull and slow than anything else. —Rod Lott

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