All posts by Rod Lott

Horror

Audition (1999)

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Few movies will make you happier to be married than Audition. I mean, wives may eat your souls, but they don’t cut off your feet with razor wire, amiright, fellas?

Seven years after the death of his wife, sad single dad Aoyama (Ryo Ishibashi, War) is under pressure to remarry, but afraid he’ll be unable to find his true ideal in his middle age. He agrees to an odd ruse by which he’ll pretend to be auditioning women for a movie, so he can bombard them with a litany of questions, and then hone in on his favorite later.

That chosen one is 24-year-old former ballet dancer Asami (Eihi Shiina, Tokyo Gore Police). Abused as a child, the quiet, mild-mannered and plainly pretty woman barely can make eye contact; nonetheless, Aoyama is smitten. He’ll soon wish he weren’t, because this girl is a freak. And not in the bedroom way.

Audition is one of those movies that would be best to see going in completely cold, because Japanese maverick Takashi Miike lulls you into thinking his film will be about something else, only to slam you into something quite the opposite more than hour into it. Unfortunately, you can’t, because the freaking posters and DVD covers give the twist away; however, the pain is not as bad as you’ve been led to believe. In other words, it’s no Guinea Pig, and thank God.

Mind you, it’s still powerful and tough to forget. You’ll never eat a bowl of dog vomit again. —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.

Comedy

Getting Wasted (1980)

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Near-albino Brian Kerwin (clearly the Jeff Daniels of his day) has to join a military academy after getting expelled from high school. The year is 1967, where there’s a long-haired hitchhiker on every corner and cars have bumper stickers reading “GOD IS ALIVE … AND HE LIVES IN A SUGAR CUBE!”

Kerwin and his roomies smoke banana peels, dump manure confetti on a gym full of dancers, and meet a hippie artist with a fake parrot on his shoulder wearing a button that reads “STONED” (the parrot, not the artist). One of Kerwin’s roommates is traumatized by trains, so he tries to derail one by smearing pats of butter on the tracks.

Stephen Furst (Flounder from Animal House) sits on a toilet filled with gasoline and it explodes. While home for Christmas vacation, Kerwin throws flaming tires from a moving car with elfin pal David Caruso, and his mom cooks their family dog in her new microwave.

If you’re looking for a story arc, don’t; that requires having a story first. The soundtrack boasts actual hits from The Box Tops, Steppenwolf, The Mamas and the Papas, The Rascals and Booker T, among others. Getting Wasted is a framework rather than an actual movie, but then, most movies don’t have a grade-school drug dealer, now, do they? —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.

Thriller

Sisters (1973)

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Brian De Palma sure loves exploring the idea of doubles, duplicates and just plain dupes, and Sisters is one of his finest and earliest such ventures. Opening with a sly trick pulled on his viewers, the psycho thriller centers on French-Canadian model/actress Danielle (Margot Kidder, so good I temporarily forgot she was Superman’s Lois Lane), who’s struggling to make it in New York.

She’s also struggling with the guilt piled upon her by her twin sister, Dominique, especially when Danielle brings home a date (Lisle Wilson, The Incredible Melting Man), which also irks Danielle’s jealous ex-husband, the odd-looking (to say the least) Emil (Bill Finley, Eaten Alive).

It’s difficult to discuss Sisters without spoiling the story’s several twists, so I won’t go beyond details further than Danielle’s across-the-street apartment neighbor, journalist Grace Collier (Jennifer Salt, TV’s Soap, saddled with horrible ’70s hair), witnessing a murder through the window. This allows De Palma to explore his other cinematic obsession: voyeurism.

Call him a Hitchcock rip-off artist if you like, but to do so would be to short-change yourself from a gripping mystery made all the more disturbing by Bernard Herrmann’s score. De Palma established his split-screen storytelling device here — not just a gimmick, but an effective tool to tighten the screws of suspense on his audience. And that he can wield a considerable amount of tension out of a simple act of icing a cake is … well, icing on the cake. —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.

Sex

White Slaves of Chinatown (1964)

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In the first of a five-film franchise known as the Olga series, White Slaves of Chinatown follows the adventures, so to speak, of the lovely slave trader Olga (pronounced “Allga,” per narrator Joel Holt). Being “an animal without conscience,” Olga (Audrey Campbell) spends 70 sin-soaked minutes recruiting and then punishing curvy Caucasian women for “the syndicate,” an organization that specializes in heroin, we’re told. In fact, we’re told everything, as the movie’s dialogue is entirely voice-over, and more often than not, writer/director Joseph P. Mawra simply lets Holt (star of Karate, the Hand of Death) do the talking.

Olga keeps her prey locked up with no food, water or clothes, but she’s not totally heartless, checking up on their welfare once a week, whether they need it or not. It’s all part of her plan to brainwash them into prostitution, naturally, and if any of the girls gives her trouble, Olga takes it out on her via physical pain. One young woman may be hanged upside down on a crucifix for days at a time; another, strapped to a table for whippings and the ol’ Chinese water torture.

Despite all this so-called roughie’s sex and nudity, Republicans may cheer for White Slaves for its anti-abortion message. One hooker terminates her pregnancy via a back-alley doctor, and not only does she kill that baby, but she dies on the table, too. Quips Holt, “Chalk up another one to this filthy old butcher!”

Set in Chinatown where the streets are heavy with “sinister fumes of their opium pipes,” the B&W T&A affair delights in watching the lustful ladies get high and writhe around topless or in their pointy Maidenform bras. During such displays, classical music plays so any masturbators watching can feel uptown and elite while yanking it. The symphonies sure beat the incessant Chinese music that permeates the early half. White Slaves would like to have it both ways: to titillate and infuriate, but let’s not kid ourselves: This is vintage exploitation, through and through.

So enjoy! Your grandmother might even be in it. If so, kudos! She was hot. —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.

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Flick Attack going live to mock Zardoz March 17!

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After John Boorman built up a load of goodwill and power for directing the Oscar-nominated hit Deliverance, he immediately flushed it down the toilet with his follow-up, 1974′s Zardoz. The post-apocalyptic sci-fi epic starring Sean Connery, Charlotte Rampling and a Big Flying Stone Head bombed big, and today is a repeat offender on lists of the worst movies ever made. 

Because few sights are more sore for the eyes than two hours of a former 007 in a red diaper, we’re bringing in special guests to make our screening of Zardoz all better. Your start-to-finish hosts will be The Movie Clubbed, five local writers, comedians and/or creatives — including Flick Attack editor Rod Lott — making their public debut, in the satirical style of Mystery Science Theater 3000. Their pain is your gain!

Set for 8 p.m. Saturday, March 17, this free, live event is part of Oklahoma City Museum of Art’s celebration of 10 years in downtown OKC. One hour before showtime, join us in the lobby for complimentary Stella Artois beer! To reserve your free tickets, visit OKCMOA’s website.