Lady Frankenstein (1971)

Featuring day for night, bad dubbing, sideburns, camera zooming, gratuitous nudity and other hallmarks of ’70s cinema, Lady Frankenstein is an ultra-schlocky take on the classic Mary Shelley narrative. The plot centers on Tania Frankenstein (Rosalba Neri, credited as Sara Bey), who returns home from medical school with the hopes of assisting her father Baron Frankenstein (veteran actor Joseph Cotten of Citizen Kane and The Third Man fame) in his unorthodox experiments with human reanimation.

The Baron tries to keep her out of the way, however, not wanting her to face any backlash should their grisly, “unholy” work ever get out. He continues working on his “creature” with his assistant, Dr. Marshall (Paul Muller), acquiring a recently hanged killer’s corpse from a local sleazy grave robber (Herbert Fux) and his cronies. 

On a stormy night, Frankenstein successfully reanimates his creature, despite Marshall warning him not to, given that the hanged killer’s brain had been damaged. This results in the monster — a gargantuan specimen with a bulbous bald head — to immediately rampage, killing Baron Frankenstein and escaping to the countryside, where unsuspecting villagers (several of them amorous couples) fall victim to its indiscriminate wrath.

Tania seems unconcerned by all of this, however, instead convincing Marshall — apparently in love with Tania — to kill a mentally handicapped stud named Thomas (Marino Masé, as Peter Whiteman) and allow her to transplant Marshall’s superior brain into Thomas’ younger, fitter body. Meanwhile, local cop Captain Harris (Mickey Hargitay, Mariska’s dad) suspects the Frankensteins have been up to no good, a sentiment shared by the townsfolk for no clear reason other than to include the requisite angry mob equipped with torches and pitchforks at the film’s climax. Without giving too much away, this we get in spades. 

To say this is an uneven film is an understatement, but its rockily paved roads still offer a thrilling, if altogether bumpy ride. It has the spirit of a gothic Hammer film — not as good as any of that studio’s Frankenstein entries, mind you, but just perverse and at times unintentionally goofy enough to hold interest. Sometimes, perversity and goofiness go hand in hand, perhaps none more so than in the scene where Marshall smothers Thomas with a pillow while he makes love to Tania, sending the lady into a fit of ecstasy. This sexual rapture during murder fits in with the film’s overall assertion that the Frankensteins are preternaturally evil.

Similarly, the Baron’s obsession with reanimating the dead seems rooted in a desire to achieve godlike status among his fellow mortals, not so much for any scientific aims. As such, the monster created by Frankenstein is just that: a marauding hulk imbued with “superhuman strength induced by lightning,” as Marshall puts it. If you’re looking for a nuanced depiction of the Creation, keep looking, because you won’t get it here. If you don’t care about all that and just want to see a brute kill a bunch of people, this is the movie for you. 

With its short runtime and emphasis on exploitation, Lady Frankenstein, despite its flaws, is a fun late-night flick sure to delight all but the most devout Shelley purists. —Christopher Shultz

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Relentless (1989)

So you’ve been rejected by the LAPD academy for psychiatric concerns. Do you:

A) seek a psychiatrist
B) seek career counseling 
C) pick innocent people out of the phone book and kill them  
D) ask, “Father, what’s a phone book?”

In William Lustig’s Relentless, Buck Taylor (Breakfast Club member Judd Nelson) chooses “C” and lets his trigger finger do the walking. Buck’s spree as a serial killer coincides with Sam Dietz’s first day on the job as a homicide detective, mentored/bullied by grizzled veteran Malloy (Robert Loggia, Jagged Edge). As Dietz and Malloy gather clues, Buck keeps on buckin’ societal norms. The standout sequence finds him crashing through his latest target’s condo skylight, then following her to an ultimately ineffective hiding place: inside the basement’s washing machine.

Between this and Hit List, Lustig had one hell of a 1989! Ditto for screenwriter Phil Alden Robinson between this, even if he took a pseudonym, and Field of Dreams, for which he earned an Oscar nod. Highlighted by a ironic use of Norman Rockwell’s The Runaway painting in its closing, Relentless is a reliable programmer — the kind of intentional B movie that enjoyed an A-level theatrical release coast to coast, the kind of highly competent genre outing that Larry Cohen knocked out with regularity.

Upon the film’s release, Nelson playing against his Brat Pack type was neither welcomed nor appreciated, but he admirably commits to the vanity-free role of Utter Nutjob … and perhaps overcommits, rendering Buck too childlike in moments. His performance overall isn’t dissimilar from what Robert Downey Jr. delivered in that era — haircut included!  

As Dietz, the minimally appealing Leo Rossi (Lustig’s Maniac Cop II) doesn’t exactly engender viewer goodwill with his overuse of “jerk-off” as a noun in daily vocab and by threatening his child (Brendan Ryan, Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey) with “a knuckle sandwich.”

Now, I’m not saying you will root against Dietz in his pursuit of justice, but if not for his kind and supportive wife (Meg Foster, The Lords of Salem), you would root against Dietz in his pursuit of justice. So naturally, his character is the star of the entire franchise, from Dead On: Relentless II to Relentless IV: Ashes to Ashes. I’ll still watch them, though, having liked original-recipe Relentless this much. —Rod Lott

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Mandrake (1979)

Although cartoonist Lee Falk is best-known for creating The Phantom, his Mandrake the Magician arrived first. Even before the more popular Phantom leapt from the comic strips page to the big screen to slam evil in his own serial, the latter beat him to it … and then resurfaced one undistinguished Wednesday night on NBC in the pilot pic Mandrake. Like The Phantom, Mandrake comes with an orphaned origin, being raised by a Tibetan monk with the unmistakable voice of James Hong.

In the present day, Mandrake (Anthony Herrera, 1976’s Helter Skelter) enjoys the high life as a Vegas stage illusionist, looking not unlike David Copperfield if he neglected combs. One night, Mandrake’s chintzy act is interrupted by the death of an elderly scientist in the audience. Before croaking, the old man manages to gasp the name “Arkadian,” a tycoon played by Brady Bunch patriarch Robert Reed.

Among other business ventures, Arkadian owns an amusement park, eventually allowing Mandrake to have a showdown atop the world’s fastest, tallest, bestest roller coaster, once he starts investigating the scientist’s “heart attack.” With the help of his sorcerer sidekick (Ji-Tu Cumbuka, Mandingo) and sexy stage assistant (Simone Griffeth, Death Race 2000), Mandrake uncovers a whole Manchurian Candidate conspiracy involving Arkadian employees as sleeper agents.

Mandrake boasts the power of hypnosis by touching people’s heads, thereby projecting their memories on the wall. More often, he touches the gaudy medallion hanging from his neck and — presto! — an object appears to confuse his adversaries. Among the illusions used are a tiger, a bird of prey and a brick wall. This being made for TV, the effect is hardly cinematic. And this being 1979, Mandrake plants an unexpected kiss on the scientist’s daughter (Gretchen Corbett, The Savage Bees), then explains, “That was the only thing I could think of to shut you up.”

Helmed by another Falk, the no-relation Harry (High Desert Kill), the telefilm doesn’t have much production quality — example: cheap kitchen timers sub for bombs — which Herrara nearly matches by having even less to offer as a leading man. Watching Mandrake won’t hurt (much), even as it fails to do the trick. —Rod Lott

Uncaged (2016)

In Uncaged, Netherlands genre giant Dick Maas (Amsterdamned) takes pride in his work — literally, as this loony movie is about a lion on the loose.

After an entire family is slaughtered, zoo veterinarian Liz (Sophie van Winden) gets recruited to help authorities track and prevent the jungle-king culprit from further going Dutch for din-din. Maas being Maas, any capture won’t happen until the filmmaker has his fun for moviegoers’ sake.

And what fun this film — alternately and generically known as Prey — is! To quote experts surveying the grisly mess at the big cat’s initial crime scene:

“Where’s his arm?”

“In the same place as his wife’s head.”

Because Maas’ singular sense of humor always accompanies the gore, it’s tough to take his well-choreographed sequences as anything other than an action-packed cartoon for grown-ups. If the lion chasing a delivery man on a moped through the streets isn’t enough of a ball, wait until the animal does the same to Liz’s ex: a cancer-ravaged hired hunter (Mark Frost, Faust: Love of the Damned) in a motorized wheelchair.

From golf course to public tram, Maas pulls no punches as the Uncaged lion does anything but sleep — just ask the poor kid on the playground slide! Then dig in. —Rod Lott

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Portals (2019)

An anthology of speculative fiction, Portals posits that man has created a black hole. Global blackouts follow, as do odd behavior from citizens, citywide evacuations and mysterious monoliths — portals, if you will — that pop up everywhere with no apparent rhyme or reason. This setup, courtesy V/H/S: Viral producer Christopher White, is full of possibilities.

The four selected to explore, however, greatly underwhelm. A family flees its California home, encountering a portal on a desert road. Amid the chaos, a 911 call center’s operations are paused by a portal suddenly appearing between cubicle rows. Sisters in Indonesia stumble upon a portal in a parking garage. Finally, after the credits, scientists in Liverpool play guinea pigs with the portals, taking one giant leap for mankind.

Portals is nothing if not consistent, but that consistency arrives as aggravating ambiguity. Nothing is explained; rules appear to be as bendable as wire hangers; characters are barely introduced; they spout mumbo jumbo that hardly moves things forward. If you intend your sci-fi film to be that vague, may I suggest your name be Stanley Kubrick or Andrei Tarkovsky? Being deceased, neither numbers among the helmers involved: The Blair Witch Project’s Eduardo Sanchez, Beyond Skyline’s Liam O’Donnell and V/H/S/2 contributors Timo Tjahjanto and Gregg Hale.

Portals’ problem is its script, not the effects. Undaunted, White tried again two years later, reviving his vertical-rectangular-object concept with a fresh coat of paint (and lesser-known directors) as the omnibus Doors. I won’t knock it ’til I try it. —Rod Lott

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