Half Baked (1997)

Even though I am not a pot smoker and more than likely never will be, I have to admit I find marijuana comedies pretty dang funny.

Growing up on the starter drug of Cheech and Chong movies when I was a toddler, I have found the predicaments and solutions by cinematic stoners and their kind bud to usually be one of the seven rings of true comedy, with 1997’s Half Baked fitting in there nicely, a truly stupid film packed with truly stupid laughs.

Thurgood Jenkins (Dave Chappelle) is the quintessential weed enthusiast with a janitorial job and a circle of bros who practically stay stoned. When one of his crew gets arrested for accidentally killing a police horse, they decide to become drug dealers themselves, thanks to a special strain of sativa they get from Thurgood’s job at a laboratory.

Becoming the hottest dope dealers in the New York City area, they soon gain the unwanted attention of notorious criminal Samson Simpson (Clarence Williams III), leading to an absolutely minor gang war — the kind that’s probably expected in a movie like this, i.e., the pot-influenced equivalent of a Three Stooges pie fight.

Produced by Robert Simonds (the money man behind SNL-related classics like Billy Madison, Joe Dirt, and, uh, Corky Romano), Half Baked is definitely a product of the illegal times. With legalization only blocks from my house now, it seems almost quaint; still, the scenarios, some 20 or so years later, bring the laughs.

Although, I imagine if I did smoke weed, I’d probably be one of the pot archetypes in the movie, finding all of this stupid — and not in a good way. —Louis Fowler

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Nothing Underneath (1985)

To see Donald Pleasence eat sketti off a Wendy’s salad bar in Milan, you simply must see Carlo Vanzina’s Nothing Underneath.

Other reasons exist in favor of loaning your eyeballs to this bizarro giallo, in which Yellowstone National Park ranger Bob (Tom Schanley, Eruption: LA) senses — thanks to a psychic twin link — that his supermodel sister (Nicola Perring, Duet for One) is in big trouble in Italy. Bob’s not wrong; his sis has just been brutally murdered with an oversized pair of scissors! Naturally, she’s hardly the last victim, which further drives his amateur investigation once he lands in Europe to find out what’s what, aided by Pleasence’s kindly police inspector.

The inevitability of the “twist” is redeemed by the bug-nuts circumstances surrounding it. From top to bottom, Vanzina stirs up quite the ’80s buffet, offering not just lurid thrills, but cocaine, Lycra, Magnum P.I., cocaine, cocaine, “One Night in Bangkok,” Russian roulette and Danish dish Renée Simonsen. Plus, Pino Donaggio’s Body Double retread score auto-grants the film a wonderfully perverse mood it otherwise would fail to achieve throughout.

Nothing Underneath’s killer concept was back — even if Vanzina wasn’t — for 1988’s inferior sequel, Too Beautiful to Die — an obvious misnomer considering the whole movie is about models biting it. Despite the implement of doom being upgraded to a weapon from Conan the Barbarian’s closet, the movie’s virtually the same, Xeroxing everything from the broken glass to the frilly-undies montage. —Rod Lott

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Maniac Cop 2 (1990)

From one Maniac to another — a Maniac Cop this time! — trash director William Lustig is back in the dirtiest of NYC surroundings with this sequel to his 1988 police exploitationer, made only more relevant after 30 or so years of constant brutality from the force. Sometimes art imitates life, I guess.

For those not following along, while the previous entry had Bruce Campbell and Laurene Landon taking down the hulking behemoth known as the Maniac Cop (Robert Z’Dar), they’re both quickly dispatched within the first half-hour by said insane officer, only to quickly be replaced by Robert Davi and Claudia Christian, both one step ahead on the pay scale.

As the Maniac Cop — now with far more reptilian facial features — randomly kills cops and other citizens desperately in need of help around the Big Apple, he eventually makes a bestest friend in the form of a crazy rapist. While I’m glad the Maniac Cop is putting himself out there and making pals, I have to admit I’m a little bit worried about his new friends.

After the Maniac Cop and his bros commandeer a bus headed to Sing Sing, the Deputy Commissioner (Michael Lerner) is forced via bullhorn to admit he’s the reason the Maniac Cop bought it in the prison showers lo those many years ago. After the Maniac Cop is promised a funeral with full honors, he finishes business the only way he knows how: by jumping out of a window while covered in flames, into a prison bus that quickly explodes, killing him.

Until, of course, Maniac Cop III: Badge of Silence.

As much as I liked the original Maniac Cop — and, really, who didn’t? — I truly enjoyed this next chapter in the trilogy, written by trash screenwriter Larry Cohen, keeping every beat filled with scummy action and tawdry suspense. It’s really hard to find a boring moment in this flick and, believe me, I looked for one.

Forever an unheralded cinematic trio of trash films, Maniac Cop 2 is definitely the best one of the bunch, a movie that thankfully gives a nightstick of spills across the knees and a taser of thrills right in the center of the chest. —Louis Fowler

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Confessions of a Puppetmaster: A Hollywood Memoir of Ghouls, Guts, and Gonzo Filmmaking

Whether you love, hate or tolerate the movies of Charles Band, there’s no denying the man has no shortage of terrific offscreen stories to share. Otherwise, his autobiography, Confessions of a Puppetmaster, would not exist — or at least not be a must-purchase.

Subtitled A Hollywood Memoir of Ghouls, Guts, and Gonzo Filmmaking and written with three-time Emmy nominee Adam Felber, the book opens with a line all but scientifically calculated to hook and retain: “Unaware of just how insane things had gotten outside her door, Barbie took a shower.” Move over, “Call me Ishmael”!

Having played a pioneering part in sell-through VHS, video stores, license-based video games, the special-features market and, the name “Harry Potter” and toilet-based advertising campaigns, Band takes the reader on the near-Gumpian journey that is his life thus far — a merry-go-round of risk that has earned him as many fortunes as he’s lost, not to mention wives. You’ll learn about him being babysat by Marilyn Monroe, his affair with the very married Demi Moore, his battles with Klaus Kinski and Gary Busey, and his recalibration with director David DeCoteau after finding his erotic flicks “too damn gay!” (Hilariously, DeCoteau prefers to call them “tighty whitey frighties.”)

He may be the only person to go on record as having nice things to say about Helen Hunt. Outside of his actors, cameos include Liberace, Michael Jackson, John Carpenter, Barbra Streisand and “ancient Japanese horse piss.”

While not quite up there with the autobios of Roger Corman and William Castle (to name two filmmakers as beholden to ballyhoo), Band’s collected Confessions make for a delightful afternoon. While he and/or Felber show too much distrust of the reader (“We’ll get to that,” “More on that in a moment,” et al.), the book flies at 288 pages. I would welcome triple that, easily. —Rod Lott

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Get Crazy (1983)

Allan Arkush is most known as the director of the late-’70s cult hit Rock ’n’ Roll High School, one of my favorite films of all time. But, in 1983, he made an even cultier flick, one that barely got released, despite a great cast and an even greater soundtrack: Get Crazy, also one of my favorite films of all time, if not more so.

Some have called this a sequel, but while it’s not a literal continuation, it’s definitely a spiritual one, featuring a group of regular shmoes who chaotically run the historic Saturn Theater as they go up against the ruling class of moneymen who wish to not only destroy the Saturn, but own the world with their dollar bills. Think Ms. Togar on a sleazier scale.

While the story of stage manager Neil (Daniel Stern) and his crazy crew taking on the slimy Colin Beverly (Ed Begley Jr.) might seem like a routine one, the comedy is very much in the same vein of Rock ’n’ Roll High School, filled with plenty of sight gags; here, even the drama is played for silly laughs, an artform that seems to be lost.

The music undeniably makes the movie so good, featuring (mostly) famous singers in faux roles, such as King Blues (Bill Henderson), Nada (featuring Fear’s Lee Ving) and the surprisingly hilarious Lou Reed as the reclusive Auden, who scores big with a transcendently gorgeous tune that plays as the credits roll. Best of all is the incomparable Malcolm McDowell as the Jagger-like prick Reggie Wanker, a veteran rocker so wrapped up in his self-importance that, when he’s accidentally dosed by the shadowy drug dealer roaming the theater, his most prized possession becomes his turgid conscience, showing him the error of ways — complete with a British accent.

While Arkush is still a director (mostly for television), it truly is a shame he never became as big as contemporaries like Spielberg and so on. As you watch Get Crazy, though, you realize it’s probably because his eye for truly bizarre and outlandish comedy was so far ahead of its time, they had no idea what do with him and, honestly, probably still don’t. —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.

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