Journey into the Beyond (1975)

Mondo movies are known — and in some circles, beloved — for their aggressive exaggeration of (and/or full disregard for) the truth. Journey into the Beyond, however, is dead-on in one instance: when narrator John Carradine promises in the preface that the following “journey will test your sanity.” Amen.

Its negligible thesis is this: Science and technology, phooey; the paranormal, groovy. Before the film jets around the globe to (attempt to) prove it, Carradine warns the squeamish to listen for an alarm before the gory parts, if they wish to hide their eyes. The contrasting sound is pleasant and near-identical to the Tinkerbell notes on the Walt Disney “Read-Along” records of my childhood, prompting tots when it was time to turn the page.

Beyond features footage of gum surgery (under hypnosis instead of anesthetia), an exorcism (kinda), a tribal fertility ritual (with Nat Geo boobs a-floppin’), psychic surgery (memorably debunked in Arthur Penn’s Penn & Teller Get Killed), telekinesis (magnets, how do they work?) and spiritual healers (Ernest Angley-type bullshit). It says a lot about our changing world that the grossest segment — pus emerging from a cyst like an endless piece of slightly liquified linguini — is now the rationale for the long-running cable show Dr. Pimple Popper.  

Six years later, German director Rolf Olsen would make a bigger splash in mondo’s mixed-up, muddled-up, shook-up world with Shocking Asia. I haven’t seen it, but Journey into the Beyond is such a trying bore, I don’t feel the need to take another trip with Olsen at the helm. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Late Night Horror: The Corpse Can’t Play (1968)

Lasting all of six episodes, Late Night Horror was Britain’s first TV horror anthology to be broadcast in color. Unfortunately, because the BBC regularly wiped tapes, only one episode survives. Fortunately, that ep, “The Corpse Can’t Play,” is a fantastic example of the modern macabre, where the monsters are human.

Opening with a round of musical chairs, the kid’s birthday party setting belies where the next 25 minutes take you. The birthday boy, Ronnie (Frank Barry, Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors), is a spoiled brat. Arriving late to the celebration — because he wasn’t invited — is class outcast Simon (Michael Newport, The Naked Runner), who’s bespectacled, well-mannered and not accepted.

I need not tell you kids are cruel; Ronnie is especially hateful toward Simon, twisting the knife (so to speak) over the latter’s father’s current place of residence: six feet under. Where prolific BBC director Paddy Russell (Z Cars, The Moonstone, Doctor Who, et al.) goes from there won’t be revealed here. That said, even with Chekov’s drama theory top of mind, the denouement still may surprise you in how much a 50-plus-year-old episode is able to revel in such grisliness. And if not, hopefully the show’s unsettling title sequence wins you over.

“The Corpse Can’t Play” comes as bonus DVD with Colin Cutler and Steve Rogers’ book, Late Night Horror: A Complete Guide to the BBC Horror Series. The paperback features wavering typefaces and point sizes as it delves into what is assuredly the most complete history of the show, both now and in the future. The disc alone justifies a purchase. —Rod Lott

Get it at TV Brain.

The Living Dead at Manchester Morgue (1974)

Released under a myriad of titles — Breakfast at the Manchester Morgue, Let Sleeping Corpses Lie, Don’t Open the Window and so on — the Spanish-Italian film The Living Dead at Manchester Morgue calls itself a comedy, but in the 44 years of watching subpar movies, I never thought it was a comedy. Boring, maybe … but a comedy? I don’t think so.

As the swinging, swanky theme plays, a buxom lass flashes her wares to no one in particular. I don’t know who that is or what they want, but that’s replaced with chemical runoff, overflowing trash bags and a stiff upper lip. I guess it’s an ecological film now?

After a fender bender with with Edna (Cristina Galbó), George (Ray Lovelock) hitches a ride with her to the English town of Windermere. While asking for roadside directions, some of the local farmers are testing some machinery utilizing sound waves. It wakes the dead and, thank God, one of the character’s heroin habit. Yeah.

Meanwhile, the inspector (Arthur Kennedy) has some serious anger issues that should be dealt with, until he is barely strangled in the finale.

With the exception of a few well-executed zombie designs, this tries to be five or six films and, as we learn, Manchester Morgue can barely get one off the ground. The mixing of ecological themes, zombie dirges, police procedurals, ill-fated drug drama, British sex comedy and some sort of weird ritual to revive the dead via their eyelids, it is too much.

I did like the randy breasts, though. Pip-pip, my good sir! —Louis Fowler

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The Joy of Sets: Interviews on the Sets of 1980s Genre Movies

Aside from being a winking pun, The Joy of Sets hasn’t been named willy-nilly. Lee Goldberg’s collection of 11 preview articles, mostly for Starlog, indeed captures the feeling of reading about hotly anticipated movies in the blockbuster excess of the ’80s. One can sense the then-young film obsessive had to have felt with such access to the making of multimillion-dollar pictures. Some of his subjects exhibited joy, too.

Take John Drimmer, first-time scripter of 1984’s Iceman, who can hardly believe his luck. Watching the daily rushes “drives me wild. It’s just wonderful,” he told Goldberg. “I mean, here I am, sitting there, drinking beers and watching them create this make-believe world of mine.”

While not all of these Interviews on the Sets of 1980s Genre Movies (as the subtitle has it) entail movies worth watching, Goldberg’s reports never fail to entertain. As with his recent James Bond Films volume, one reason is revisiting a once-dominant type of film journalism; the larger is the in-hindsight delight of checking how forecasts panned out.

After all, you remember that beloved classic of 1986, Hyper Sapien: People from Another Star. No? Are you telling me producer Jack Schwartzman’s prediction regarding his E.T. rip-off didn’t come true? For the record, his quote to Goldberg: “If Keenan Wynn doesn’t wind up with the Academy Award nomination for Hyper Sapien, I’ll eat it.” (Nom-nom-nom, Jack.)

Horror icon Wes Craven fares far better, saying of A Nightmare on Elm Street, “I really feel this will be landmark film for me, my watershed film.” Dead on! More amazing is how forthcoming the Back to the Future crew is about scrubbing all the Eric Stoltz footage and starting anew. Would Robert Zemeckis do the same today? (No.)

For me, the most interesting account of the bunch belongs to Peter Hyams’ 2010: The Year We Make Contact. The admission of figuring out how to follow up Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey — while knowing they will not be able to match it — gives the sequel an underdog polish.

Still, I can’t resist going back to the chapters in which the interviewees fall flat on their face. After bad-mouthing his own Blade Runner, producer Bud Yorkin shares why audiences will line up ’round the block for his arms-dealing Chevy Chase vehicle: “People will come to see Deal of the Century because it’s a subject that is on the tip of everyone’s tongue. … The chase between the drone and something we call an F-19 will be a French Connection ride in the sky.”

Pretty embarrassing, huh? Wait, Deal supporting actor Vince Edwards has something to add: “I think this film is going to be a blockbuster. The best damn picture since Dr. Strangelove. No, it’s going to be better.”

Thank you, Mr. Goldberg, for documenting the joy of hype and bullshit. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Weird: The Al Yankovic Story (2022)

Ever wonder how the most famous parody songwriter got his start? You won’t find the answer in Eric Appel’s Weird: The Al Yankovic Story, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth taking a walk on the wacky side.

Inspired by a fake trailer (think 2011’s Hobo with a Shotgun) Appel produced in 2010, positive reception led him and Yankovic to collaborate on a feature-length biopic. “Biopic,” of course, is used extremely loosely. The only semblance you’ll find of the artist is his hair, humor and accordion.

Weird isn’t a pioneer in satirical, musical biopics. Jake Kasdan did it back in 2007 with Walk Hard — just two years after the genre’s archetypal flick, Walk the Line. While Kasdan’s take pokes at the template to a T, Weird does away with that tomfoolery. Or rather, it does away with everything but the tomfoolery.

Al (Daniel Radcliffe) dreams of making beloved songs “better” by rewriting the lyrics, much to the frustration of his cookie-cutter parents (Toby Huss and Julianne Nicholson). After rejecting his dad’s demands to work at a factory that makes something, Al’s mentored by his childhood hero, Dr. Demento (The Office’s Rainn Wilson). And then he dates Madonna (Evan Rachel Wood).

Following in the steps of Weird Al’s first movie, 1989’s UHF, the gags are relentless. Radcliffe is a natural to physical comedy, at times taking more of a beating than he did in Swiss Army Man. This is especially evident in his lip-synced performance of “Like a Surgeon,” complete with two muscle-bound dancers struggling to dance with Madonna-inspired cone bras.

And though Weird doesn’t make even the slightest effort to portray Yankovic’s tale, it doesn’t need to. Instead, it’s a showcase of his greatest hits, each paired with their own secret history. The backstories of “Eat It” and “Amish Paradise” are zany, outlandish and even touching. Thankfully, “White and Nerdy” is nowhere to be heard.

Anyone who wants to actually learn something about artist’s career are better off reading Nathan Rabin’s Weird Al: The Book. But if you want to experience what Yankovic intended — to laugh your ass off — it’s hard to go wrong with Weird. —Daniel Bokemper

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