Action

Ricco the Mean Machine (1973)

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Hell hath no fury like Robert Mitchum’s puppy-faced, denim jacket-donning second son sporting a Dutch Boy ‘do. Christopher Mitchum stars as the not so suavé Ricco, a young man out for revenge after getting sent to prison on phony charges. The man responsible, Don Vito (Arthur Kennedy, Fantastic Voyage), not only did that, but took over his murdered pop’s organization and has been balling his woman!

Out a year early for good behavior, Ricco’s itching for some bad behavior, and who can blame him? I would, too, if my sultry, go-go dancing girlfriend (Malisa Longo, White Emanuelle) were cheating on me with Don Vito, a middle-aged, wispy-‘stached exporter of soap and dope. Ricco’s real aim isn’t winning Rosa back, but finding out who blew his dad’s brains out. (That mystery is one you could solve right now by guessing.)

Aiding our hero is the scintillating Scilla (Barbara Bouchet, Caliber 9), a niece of Ricco’s old counterfeiting buddy and quite the con woman herself. Her skills give Mean Machine one of its two most memorable scenes, in which she performs a striptease on a foggy bridge at night to lure two of Don Vito’s goons out of their car.

The other is after another goon is caught canoodling with Rosa, so Don Vito orders his men to cut the poor sap’s genitals off and shove ’em in his mouth before dumping the guy in the soap factory’s pit of bubbling lye. Director Tulio Demicheli (Sabata the Killer) doesn’t shy away from portraying these acts — and their icky aftermath — in graphic detail, at least in the unrated cut, which makes the Italian crime entry a cut about the crap. Mitchum sure doesn’t have the presence to carry the film, so Demicheli lets the violence do the talking when the sex isn’t doing the doing; the prologue alone seems to off nearly as many men as the movie has minutes. —Rod Lott

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Horror

Ghostkeeper (1982)

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When the Canadian horror film Ghostkeeper first hit U.S. home video, the box art depicted some sort of demon chicken that, naturally, isn’t anywhere to be found. I cry fowl — er, foul — on the title, too, because Ghostkeeper also has no real ghost.

It does have a genuine keeper in the first scene, however: a shopkeeper whom our lead characters derisively call “Gramps,” yet he warns them of an oncoming storm anyway. Those young people who should know better are three snowmobilers out having New Year’s fun. Per the “Surf City” rule, there are two girls for every boy, and the dumber of the females says, “How can mountains be dangerous? They’re so beautiful.” (Later, she relates that one time in 10th grade where she indulged in her prostitution fantasy.)

Making their way through the powder, they have to climb up to a seemingly abandoned lodge for shelter. Per all ’80s fright flicks, two clichés occur quickly: A cat jumps out of nowhere, and the smarter woman (Riva Spier, Rabid) says, “I think there’s somebody else here.” She’s right! It’s an old woman with stringy hair and a perpetual frown (Georgie Collins, TV’s Lonesome Dove: The Series). She lives there with her son and a “windigo”; the latter resides in the basement, but both kill people for a hobby.

In this case, the evil is more a supernatural force than a bloodthirsty creature, but you’ll hardly notice, because next to nothing happens. Snowy locales can make excellent settings for scary movies — see: The Shining — but scenery is all this pile of Canuck crap has going for it. I’m all for slow-burners, but Ghostkeeper is just a slow-starter that never reaches a modicum of momentum, and there’s a huge difference. —Rod Lott

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Reading Material

Dwarfsploitation

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Immediately upon learning that Dwarfsploitation was, indeed, truly a book all about movies featuring midgets — pardon me, I mean “little people” — I thought that it had better discuss the seminal scene of Billy Barty cutting off Carrie Fisher’s dress with a sword in Under the Rainbow, or the guide wouldn’t be worth a pint of anything.

As they said in those spaghetti sauce commercials of the ’80s, it’s in there. Co-authors Brad Paulson and Chris Watson, both regular-sized humans, have compiled reviews on quite a wide selection of films. I didn’t count how many, but there are 320 pages’ worth, from The Adventures of Baron Munchausen to The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm, with more Weng Weng titles than I’ve been able to locate in between.

2010’s excellent Destroy All Movies!!! book rounded up every appearance of punks on film its writers could find — no matter the size of the role — and critiqued the flicks, hilariously. Paulson and Watson do the same here, but subbing dwarfs for punks, and not matching the wit of Destroy editors Zack Carlson and Bryan Connolly.

The passion for their subject is equal, however. In fact, Paulson and Watson even have created a handful of terms they use throughout, such as calling anyone who’s not a little person a “tallie.” That particular one is used the most, and kind of annoying after its first use.

Also, speaking of passion, either Paulson or Watson really, really wants to bang a female dwarf. The reviews are not credited, so I’m unsure exactly who has the hots for the little ones — maybe both. This assumption is drawn from the entries on the likes of Total Recall and I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell. It could be all an act, yet it’s not written like one.

You’re not going to get deep insight into the films featured. That’s not the point. The point is celebrating the little guy, in an easygoing manner that’s both affectionate and amusing. For example, take this sentence from their look at Ghoulies 2: “The great dwarf actor Phil Fondacaro … looks like John Oates from the band Hall and Oates and wears suspenders.”

Without a doubt, unless you are stick-up-the-ass politically correct, Dwarfsploitation makes for a fun read. It is not without its, er, shortcomings — namely, it’s in desperate need of an editor. Whether repeatedly misspelling the name of someone as iconic as Diane Arbus or writing that Gremlins hit theaters in 2004, Paulson and Watson have turned in not the cleanest of copy. That loose nature may be appropriate for a project that sounds like it could’ve originated from a frat chat, but the errors number so many that I could not ignore them; I would be doing a disservice to potential readers if I chose not to bring it up.

Most people may gloss over that, instead to grow apoplectic that movies they expected to be covered are not. Now, Dwarfsploitation never claims to be complete, but for including as many obscure flicks as they have, notable omissions abound.

For example, where is Don’t Look Now? Scrooged? The Garbage Pail Kids Movie? Mulholland Dr.? On the Right Track? Jimmy the Kid? Burial Ground: Nights of Terror? The Sinful Dwarf? The Jackass franchise?

Actually, I’ll tell you where The Sinful Dwarf is: misfiled in the Ts. Again, a professional sweep-through could have elevated this book from recommended with reservations to highly recommended. —Rod Lott

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Comedy

The Spirit Is Willing (1967)

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Leave it to William Castle to turn a triple homicide into the basis for a comedy. The result is The Spirit Is Willing, a dispiriting effort from the usually reliable director. In fact, of all his films since Castle became a name brand with 1958’s Macabre, this is the only one I’ve seen that wasn’t at least mildly fun to watch. Even taking his minor works into account, from Zots! to Shanks, I didn’t think such an un-feat were possible.

At the same time, I wish it no ill will, because it’s entirely harmless and full of the good-naturedness that made Castle a matinee hero. Its focus is on a lovely, coastal, 19th-century home haunted by the ghosts of Ebenezer, Felicity and Jenny — a love triangle between a greedy man, his ugly wife and their attractive maid, all of whom kill one another in the jaunty, played-for-laughs prologue.

The trio of mute spirits has scared away residents for ages — depicted in a crudely drawn credit sequence — and the latest arrival is the Powell family, on an extended vacation: worrisome magazine editor Ben (Sid Caesar); his subservient wife, Kate (Vera Miles, Psycho); and their temperamental teenage son, Steve (Barry Gordon, The Girl Can’t Help It). As soon as the Powells move in, the ghosts get to work wreaking havoc, and Steve angrily shoulders the blame for all the damaged antiques and even sinking his uncle’s yacht.

With guest turns from John Astin, Harvey Lembeck and Doodles Weaver, Spirit offers nothing that merits more than the rare, occasional smile. In fact, from today’s perspective, Steve’s outbursts are so violent, they provoked stress and discomfort in this viewer. For ghosts swirling around the heads of befuddled characters, Castle offered 13 of ’em in a far superior spookshow. This one’s just a rare misfire for the man. —Rod Lott

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