All posts by Rod Lott

Sex

The Toy Box (1971)

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The Toy Box is an utterly bizarre mix of sex and horror, and I fully admit to watching it only because Uschi Digard is in it, as I’ll see anything to which she and her charms lent time. Uschi isn’t the star, but she does have the film’s most memorable scene. (Seriously, have you seen her? How could she not?)

The story is about an old scraggly guy who looks not unlike Burl Ives. He has no eyes, sits in a dark room and telepathically has various young people carry out his most twisted sexual fantasies. Said fantasies include having a woman pleasure herself with a new dildo (“It turns on easy,” she says. “Hopefully it will do the same for me.”); having a fat guy butcher and copulate with dead women; and having a bunch of partygoers have an all-out orgy, despite the severed heads that pop up from nowhere and bodies that fall dead without explanation.

In Uschi’s aforementioned scene, she goes to bed, only to have the bed come alive to feel her up and before you know it, she’s screwing the sheets.

Reportedly, The Toy Box boasts a must-be-seen-to-be-believed twist ending, but unfortunately, the copy I was watching pixelated and froze before I could reach it. If what I did see was any indication, I’m sure it’s wild. But if you’ve seen the ending and can fill me in, please do. In the meantime, I’m on to more Uschi … —Rod Lott

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Mystery

Nancy Drew and the Hidden Staircase (1939)

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Being the most pure mystery of the bunch, Nancy Drew and the Hidden Staircase is arguably the most enjoyable entry of the four-film franchise, even if the leads’ antics are entirely rote by now. The important thing is, they still amuse, and go out on a high note. It’s kind of a shame there weren’t more.

In this adventure, two sister spinsters announce plans to donate their estate to a children’s hospital. The catch is their father once upon a time designated they must live in it every night for 20 consecutive years, and now, they have roughly two weeks to go. When their chauffeur turns up dead, it’s obvious to us someone’s trying to scare them away by murdering the man and, thus, foil the old maids’ good intentions.

To the loony, incompetent authorities, however, led by Capt. Tweedy (Frank Orth, The Lost Weekend), it’s a long jump to a conclusion of suicide. Luckily, Nancy (Bonita Granville) and platonic pal Ted (Frankie Thomas, whose lower register suggests dropped testicles post-Nancy Drew … Trouble Shooter) appear on the crime scene to fiddle with pieces of evidence and plant a false one. Oh, kids!

When Nancy learns the twist — the one we get from the start because, oh, y’know, it’s in the title — she exclaims, “Boy, isn’t this a pancake!” And that sums up the clean-behind-the-ears appeal of this picture, strengthened by anachronistic plot devices as ice delivery and telegrams. At an hour long, Staircase is hardly taxing. To borrow another two dated exclamations that could sub as a review, “Swell!” and “Hot diggity!” —Rod Lott

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Comedy

The Haunted Mansion (2003)

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Remember when Eddie Murphy used to be funny and he did that routine about how Hollywood doesn’t make horror movies with black people because they’d leave a haunted house at the first sign of suspicious goings-on? Well, now that Murphy is no longer funny, they made that movie. And he must no longer be black, either, because he goes in and stays in that haunted house.

Based on the Disneyland ride, The Haunted Mansion casts Murphy as a real-estate salesman hoping to score big when the opportunity arises to put a multimillion Louisiana mansion on the market. En route to their vacation, Murphy and his clan check the place out. It’s inhabited by butler Terence Stamp and — zikes! — ghosts!

Skeletons come alive, apparitions appear everywhere, Jennifer Tilly’s disembodied head resides in a crystal ball, and yet nothing of significance happens in the entire hour and a half. Nothing but ass-numbing, migraine-inducing pain. This one makes any of the nonsensical Pirates of the Caribbean look like Best Picture material. This also makes Murphy look like the world’s biggest sellout.

Poorly written and utterly soulless, it’s not fun, not funny and not worth a single minute of your time. —Rod Lott

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Thriller

Orca (1977)

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It’s impossible to watch Orca without thinking of Jaws. Hell, director Michael Anderson (Logan’s Run) won’t let you! Ennio Morricone’s score borrows a cue or two from John Williams, shots of the fin are like a constant visual reminder, and — let’s be honest — producer Dino De Laurentiis never would’ve made this project had Jaws not eaten up box-office records. Given Dino’s Kong-sized ego, the killer-whale film even acts like it’s out to top the Great White, opening with a scene in which a shark is turned to bloody chum by a whale, as if to say, “You’ve been pwned, Spielberg!”

He wasn’t. Not just a flop, but a real slog, Orca stars Richard Harris (Gladiator) as the possibly insane Capt. Nolan, who’s out to hunt down the “most powerful animal in the world,” according to a marine biologist (Charlotte Rampling, Zardoz). That angers her, and so does Nolan’s interest in her, prompting her to diss him with a curt, “You’re a sensitive bore.” (Oh, no, you di’n’t!)

Nolan hooks a female killer whale, not knowing the beast was pregnant. When he hoses its expelled fetus back into the deep, the father whale (Orca, I guess) makes it his life’s work to follow them across the ocean and take ’em out. When Orca makes off with a character’s leg, Nolan channels his inner Ahab and clunkily vows, “I’ll fight you, you revengeful son of a bitch!” The last five or so minutes provide the thrills and atmosphere missing all along.

Among the supporting cast, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest‘s Will Sampson plays the Native American no one listens to, and soon-to-be-sex-symbol Bo Derek makes her film debut as the girl who seemingly cannot blink. Orca is played by himself; he’s a talented whale, somehow capable of screaming underwater. —Rod Lott

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