All posts by Louis Fowler

Kitchen Sink

Sarah T. — Portrait of a Teenage Alcoholic (1975)

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WTFAfter new student Sarah T.’s (Linda Blair) hopes are dashed when she fails to make it into the glee club, she begins a staggering road to faux-drunkenness in the classic made-for-TV melodrama Sarah T. — Portrait of a Teenage Alcoholic. Made at a time when open liquor was practically its own food group, it doesn’t help that Sarah walks around Hollywood with her deadbeat dad (Larry Hagman) as he’s slugging brews out of a paper cup.

Things start looking up when she duets with Mark Hamill on a Carole King song, but with congratulatory booze passed around at the wildest shindig you ever did see — they’ve got a party sub! — things get really crazy when Sarah T. smashes a plate of far too much potato salad into a rival’s chest after a rather cutting comment about Raquel Welch and how she eats all of her potato salad. While for most of us that would be a real popularity killer, but, because of her alcoholism, Sarah T. is now the most fun girl in school, especially among the chunky kids who carry their lunch in a ratty brown sack and still say “Far out!” Far out!

At home, though, things get worse as she’s not only busted for boozing while babysitting, but inadvertently get her nice old maid fired. Luckily, by the end of the film, Sarah T. goes to a teen-centered Alcoholics Anonymous and, after listening to a junior alkie spill his guts, mostly gets her life back on track — the drunken horseback-riding into oncoming traffic helped too, I’m sure.

Directed by Richard Donner in what feels like the one true sequel to The Omen — dominus tequilium — the facts about teen drinking are clumsily presented to the parents watching at home with their kids, while the kids are given plenty of great tips on how to score booze and not let Mom and Dad find out about it. Sadly, I had to learn that college. And it wasn’t booze, it was Doritos.

Just call me Louis F., I guess. —Louis Fowler

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Action

The Real McCoy (1993)

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One of the great good films to come out of the 1990s action boom, this Russell Mulcahy caper stars Kim Basinger as Karen McCoy, quite possibly the hottest felon ever to walk out of a woman’s prison, complete with makeup and hair did. After a multiyear rap for a botched burglary of an Atlanta bank — complete with high-tech gear that must’ve cost more than she would’ve made from the heist – she’s now looking to reconnect with her son and walk the straight and narrow.

But, of course, because Kim Basinger is so hot, every man she comes across wants to wrap their slimy tentacles around her, especially her grimy parole officer, who I’m pretty sure was in plenty of Ernest P. Worrell flicks. Add in the equally slimy Terence Stamp, as a crime lord clad mostly in a terrible Southern accent, who kidnaps her kid, leaving her with no other option but to return to the robbing life. Along the way, she meets affable J.T. (an affable Val Kilmer), a bumbling driver who seems out of place in this movie, but oh, well, it was the ’90s and we threw caution to the wind and hired Val Kilmer whenever we could.

Watching The Real McCoy for the first time in 20 or so years, it’s a bit strange now to watch these Joel Silver, Andrew Vajna, Don Simpson or, in this case, Martin Bregman-produced flicks in the era of #MeToo, because throughout most of the movie, Basinger takes beating after beating from various men and never once fights back — until the very end, of course, when she all of a sudden unleashes kung-fu kicks left and right.

A lot of this probably wouldn’t fly today and you’d have to wonder if Basinger, whose star has waned a bit, would do it all differently today. And while it would be easy to call for a remake, this was quite the bomb at the box office, earning about $6 million in receipts. Maybe it didn’t fly so well back then, either? —Louis Fowler

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Martial Arts

The Sword and the Claw (1975)

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Cüneyt Arkın, one of the proud futuristic freedom fighters from Dünyayı Kurtaran Adam — also known in the States, rather dumbed-down if you ask me, as Turkish Star Wars — is back on the small screen in a rather good-looking print of 1975’s Kiliç Aslan or, for the sake of argument here, The Sword and the Claw.

In this bargain-basement flick, a king with a birthmark of a lion on his back is killed by his sleazy mustachioed rival. When his concubine, pregnant and on the run, has his baby in the woods, said child is kidnapped and raised by lions, mostly done through a quick vignette of a small child feeding an equally immature lion some raw meat, which couldn’t have been safe, but the kid and the lion look like they’re having fun.

As the child grows up into strapping vine-swinging man Arkin, he immediately runs afoul of the same corrupt leader and, for his troubles, has his hands burnt black, Cajun-style. Thankfully, an old man forges a pair of new unwieldy metal hands — lion’s claws, if you will — and, in the last 10 minutes of film, rips out the throats of the supreme leader’s army and, of course, the big boss. Roll credits.

That seems simple enough, right?

A prime example of the popular Turkish costume dramas of the time, The Sword and the Claw has choppy editing, uneven music and the worst dubbing in history, but damned if it isn’t an entertaining flick, with Arkin jumping off the screen, somersaulting into every fight scene, with particular abandon being given to the bloody finale and his angry lion-face.

If memory serves me, I vaguely remember the VHS box for this movie when it was called Lionman, always overlooked and gathering dust. Still, the American Genre Film Archive’s Blu-ray — from the only 35mm print in existence, natch — is the nicest I’ve even seen of a Turkish film of this ilk, a genre usually reserved for 10th-generation burns.

As a bonus feature, the AGFA disc includes the kung-fu foible Brawl Busters starring Black Jack Chan, produced by the “Official Chinese Black Belt Society.” Yep, that sounds totally legit. —Louis Fowler

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Sci-Fi & Fantasy

Split (1989)

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Not to be confused with the recent M. Night Shyamalan film — but how I hope it is — the Split from 1989 is very much a prototypically bizarre YouTube clip stretched out into interminable movie length, so I guess that’s something to be technologically proud of.

Within minutes of pressing play, the screen is soon filled with bad teeth, bad accents and bad dialogue — including the classic line “We came for breakfast, not for AIDS!” — with the immediate start-stop bent going between this homeless man’s world and some sort of technologically unsound underworld, giving the movie an infinitely more intriguing first half-hour than many other futuristic-repressed films of the time.

The homeless man, actually, is a sort of quick-change artist, slipping in and out of one bad comedic persona after another; he’s also on the run from this nameless group of American computer-hacker types who are desperately trying to track down the man, whose real name we learn is the unlikely Starker (Timothy Dwight).

Apparently living off the grid, especially in a time when it was easier to, strange computer graphics come to life, pixelating and swirling, proving somehow that Big Brother really is watching Starker and, of course, brainwashing all of us. By the way: Everyone is living in some form of a dystopian future, but I only learned that from reading the back of the Blu-ray case — it still looks and feels like generic 1989 Los Angeles to me.

While writer/director Chris Shaw’s film drags as we follow Starker around from one supposed comedy bit after another, where he goes to art shows as an Austrian psychoanalyst and hangs out at a Terry Gilliam-esque woman’s house, for example, keep with it; if you persevere and give it a few minutes, Split eventually becomes an absolute cheesy mind-melt as it barrels down toward a typically dark and depressing ending that I’m not sure I really get yet, but I appreciated nonetheless.

Apparently one of the first films to use CGI — and it shows — Split was a very low-budget outing with a message bigger than it could possibly contain: Conformity is a soul-destroying beast and the only thing that can save us all is a fat urinal cake to be dropped in the water supply cleaning our clouded visions — something I’ve written about in clandestine pamphlets for years. —Louis Fowler

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Reading Material

Ad Nauseam: Newsprint Nightmares from the 1980s

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Here I was, for all these years, thinking I was the only dumb kid who clipped movie ads out of the newspaper.

Whenever my dad was through with The Dallas Morning News or The Dallas Times Herald, whichever he picked up that day, I scoured through their massive entertainment sections, cutting out the advertisements for movies that I knew would never come to my small town of Blooming Grove, Texas, but maybe someday I’d catch them on TV or, even better, VHS.

I think my mother threw that collection of yellowing pulp out sometime ago, sadly, but here’s Ad Nauseam, which is definitely the next best thing. A collection of 10 years’ worth of newspaper advertisements — apparently printed straight from the dailies themselves — by former Fangoria honcho Michael Gingold, the memories this book will resurrect from the dead is a beautifully scary thing.

From the classics like first runs of Poltergeist and reissues of Halloween to — and the most interesting, in my opinion — trashy works like Death Valley and Madman, as well as the horror comedies of Once Bitten and Transylvania 6-5000 and, let’s not forget, the Italian imports such as The Gates of Hell and Demons, everything your adolescent mind could have dreamed up from such imaginative slicks — and, let’s be honest, were often better than the actual film — is right there, all in screaming black and white ink.

For the actual readers, however, there are even a few quotes from Oklahoma City film critics along the pages, most notably The Daily Oklahoman’s burly Gene Triplett, who calls Friday the 13th Part 3: 3D a “snuff movie” — which goes to show that there’s a reason people have called his paper “the Daily Disappointment” for 50 or so years.

But Ad Nauseam is far from any kind of disappointment. While yes, many people won’t get it — especially fathers who ask “Why do you waste your time with these stupid horror movies?” — for those of us who remember the grotesque excitement of the movies, the ads — hell, even the newspaper in general — this is a grue-soaked return to the glory days of gory cinema.

Or, as they’re known in Oklahoma, “snuff movies.” —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.