Song of the Thin Man (1947)  

I was worried, but the Thin Man series ends swell with a jazz-themed return to the formula and the kind of comedy that made the series great. Song of the Thin Man has Nick and Nora back in New York, again trying to solve a murder in order to prove the innocence of a friend. In this case, the friend is Phil Brant, who owns a gambling ship and has an argument with Tommy Drake, who leads the club’s jazz band. When Drake turns up dead in Brant’s office, Nick grabs his cocktail shaker and goes to work.
 
Instead of Nick drunkenly and good-naturedly suffering the company of snooty rich folk, Song shakes things up a bit by having him drunkenly and good-naturedly suffering the company of hepcats. It’s brilliant, because his reaction to both is nearly identical, but the hepcats are infinitely less irritating (and so, more entertaining) than wealthy snobs. Also, Nora’s even more of a treat than usual once she gloms onto the hepcats’ lingo and starts using it correctly, much to Nick’s befuddlement.
 
Nick Jr. appears again in this installment, but he’s about 10 or 11 years old and not played for cute anymore. Dean Stockwell (TV’s Quantum Leap) plays him and carries his own as a bona fide member of the wisecracking family. At bedtime one night, he asks for a story. “No story for you tonight,” Nick says, “You’ve got to get some sleep.” Says Stockwell, “But your stories always put me to sleep,” delivering the line almost as perfectly as William Powell reacts to it.

The Thin Man series is famous for presenting marriage as something that people might actually want to do. With Song of the Thin Man, it does the same thing for parenting. —Michael May

Buy it at Amazon.


 

Class of 1984 (1982)

I’ve never seen a horror movie that makes me feel as anxious as having to walk past a group of unchaperoned teenagers, regardless of the situation or location. One on one, I have no problems with the adolescent set, but gathered together, I find they can be as terrifying as suddenly running into a pack of feral dogs. Hollywood has long understood the fear we “old fogies” have for those whippersnappers, and has been too happy to exploit it for excellent dramatic effect.

One of the best examples has to be Mark Lester’s Class of 1984, which has nothing to do with George Orwell’s book, but everything to do with all things awesome. In it, Perry King (TV’s Riptide) plays a handsome music teacher assigned to an urban hellhole of a high school controlled by a gang of psychopathic students whose extracurricular dabbling in drugs and prostitution are really just an excuse to indulge in what Alex DeLarge liked to call “a bit of the old ultraviolence.”

It takes about one class for King to get on the bad side of these ruffians, led by a gifted maniac played by Timothy Van Patten (Master Ninja). Unable to get any help from the school’s useless principal, the feud escalates an innocent student (a young Michael J. Fox) is stabbed and King’s pregnant wife is raped. King then proceeds to (understandably) freak the fuck out and go all Charles Bronson on the young punks’ asses in an insane showdown that’ll have you screaming “Fuck yeah!” more times than an unimaginative porn star faking her way to fame and fortune.

Definitely the best revenge flick from the ’80s that doesn’t star Linda Blair, Class of 1984 not only does for teenagers what Jaws did for oceans and Psycho did for showers, but it features a great performance by Roddy McDowell as another teacher pushed over the edge by his rowdy pupils, as well as a memorable theme song written and performed by Alice Cooper. —Allan Mott

Buy it at Amazon.

The Uh-Oh! Show (2009)

Herschell Gordon Lewis, aka the Godfather of Gore, has still got it! By “it,” of course, I mean goofy jokes, amateurish acting, not-much-better direction, loads of gross-out shots and generally dirt-cheap production values, but if it all adds up to pure entertainment, who cares? The Uh-Oh! Show is the end of that equation. I kinda loved it.

Only Lewis’ second film since 1972, The Uh-Oh! Show is a schizophrenic comedy centered around a demented game show of the same name, in which correct answers garner priceless prizes for its contestants, but also in which incorrect answers take limbs away from them, courtesy of one Radial Saw Rex, a large, African-American man who uses his electric tool like a phallus. The body part to go is chosen by a spin of the Wheel of Misfortune. No anesthetic is offered.

Producers want to bring the hit cable series to network prime time, but not without changes that greatly upset host Jackie (Brooke McCarter, Thrashin’). Meanwhile, a nosy reporter (Nevada Caldwell) wants to expose the show for the people-killin’ vehicle it truly is, and Uh-Oh! somehow morphs into a quasi-anthology that turns fairy tales into splatter stories.

Supplemented with boobs, boners and buckets of blood, The Uh-Oh! Show also comes packed with oodles of Lewis’ charm, evident from the start as he essentially hosts the film itself, sometimes commenting on how terrible it is. But his brand of terrible is different from other kinds of terrible, in that it translated to insanely watchable. I laughed a lot in its 88 minutes, all with it, as opposed to at it. Those with strong stomachs and an affection for his glory days of Blood Feast should do the same. —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.

Satan’s Little Helper (2004)

An odd bird, this Satan’s Little Helper. Its whacked-out premise centers around college girl Jenna (Katheryn Winnick, Amusement) coming home on Halloween just to take her little brother, Dougie (Alexander Brickel), trick-or-treating. That itself isn’t bizarre; the kid’s newfound fascination with Satan, however — and one totally encouraged by his parents — is.

Dougie tells Jenna and Mom (Pulp Fiction‘s Amanda Plummer, repellent as never before) that’s his Halloween dream is to find Satan and be his assistant for the night, to send people to hell. By sheer coincidence, Satan is in town — he of the horned head and mouth that cannot move — murdering people in brutal fashion. Dougie witnesses Satan’s doings, laughs, befriends him, and asks him to kill Jenna’s new boyfriend (Stephen Graham), who kind of deserves it, once you see the guy in his Pretentious College Theater Major Douche hat.

This gives way to a rollicking, stab-a-rific caper — perhaps even a love story between a lisping child and the demon to end all demons, bonding over harming innocents that include a pregnant woman, a newborn baby, a blind man, Dougie’s own father and many more. An elderly lady gets hanged to death on her porch by Satan, and Dougie, for whatever dipshit reason, thinks it’s the funniest trick he’s ever seen. Ditto for Satan squeezing Jenna’s generous breasts in her Renaissance slut costume. (“I can see your boomies!” says Dougie with a disturbing chuckle.)

Writer/director Jeff Lieberman has never been a great filmmaker (1976’s Squirm made Mystery Science Theater 3000, after all), but with Helper, he’s hackier than ever. I mean that in a good way, however, because the flick is an empty-calorie equivalent to a bag of fun-size Snickers. It’s like no other Halloween movie you’ve ever seen, and while I wouldn’t put it up there with Michael Myers’ ongoing efforts at reducing the population of Haddonfield, Ill., it definitely holds mega-potential for annual October viewing. —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.

Ghosts on the Loose (1943)

Legendary one-take helmer William Beaudine (Billy the Kid vs. Dracula) directed Bela Lugosi in Ghosts on the Loose, an alleged comedy starring The East Side Kids, who look to be almost 30. They’re kind of a gang of juvenile delinquents who sing and slap each other and fall down a lot, and are led by pint-sized Leo Gorcey and lanky Huntz Hall.

When Hall’s sister (Ava Gardner in an early role) gets married, The East Side Kids decide to fix her new house, yet they mistakenly enter the one next door that’s rumored to be haunted. It’s not — although the best scenes involve them thinking it is — but rather occupied by a group of Nazis in the cellar who print propaganda on “The New Order” (not the band) and are led by Lugosi.

Watch for when he sneezes and slips in a “Shit!” The loosely plotted Loose is filled with stoopid comedy (“I said sweep, not sleep! Now get to woik!”), to the point that it’s virtually laughless, but also utterly harmless. —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.

Random Genre & Cult Movie Reviews