Last Woman on Earth (1960)

Just imagine the possibilities of a B-movie concerning two men vying for the affections of the last woman on earth. None of those possibilities are to be found in Roger Corman’s version, I’m sorry to say — not even if she were the Last Woman on Earth.

We first meet our trio during a Puerto Rican cockfight — with authentic mad-rooster footage! — the semi-lovely but wrinkly Betsy Jones-Moreland; shady hubby Anthony Carbone; and his lawyer, Robert Towne (yes, the Oscar-winning screenwriter, and he wrote this one, too). While the trio is scuba diving, everyone on land dies from a sudden lack of oxygen.

This leaves them lots of time to talk and eat and talk. The men start seeing each other as a threat, and Betsy as a prize. But all they do is talk and eat and talk.

There is one sequence I liked, when the Last Woman on Earth and her two dates roam the streets of Puerto Rico and see all the carnage. For a minute, it’s like they’re wandering through a George Romero film … only directed by Corman, y’know? You can skip it. —Rod Lott

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Black Roses (1988)

Inspired by the heavy metal hysteria of the era, Black Roses is the second film by director John Fasano to link rock music with demonic horror.

His first, the legendarily bad/awesome Rock ‘n’ Roll Nightmare is so uniquely terrible/wonderful, there was no way his second attempt couldn’t be both better and worse in comparison. Blessed with a higher budget, Roses is a more professional looking affair, but in a way that merely works to highlight its deficiencies rather than make them the virtues Nightmare did.

In a small town just a few miles away from wherever Footloose took place, the local teenagers are excited to find out that popular band Black Roses are coming to perform a series of shows in order to rehearse their upcoming national tour. The town’s moral defenders express concern about the sex, drugs and debauchery such concerts will inevitably generate, but the kids get the music they desire, only to discover — too late — that the group’s aim is not to entertain, but to turn their young fans into demonic slaves to their dark lord Satan!

With only the local mustachioed English teacher (John Martin) to stop them, it doesn’t look good for the kids or anyone else who thinks Top 40 is too gay. To its benefit, Black Roses doesn’t take itself seriously and avoids becoming a cinematic Jack Chick comic book. The effects are mostly terrible, but work despite their cheesiness. Not bad enough to be great like Nightmare, Roses is still good enough to earn a rental. —Allan Mott

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Yankee Doodle in Berlin (1919)

Yes, Yankee Doodle in Berlin is silent, but don’t go away. Let me tell you about it. It’s different. Really.

The picture stars Bothwell Browne, who was Danish and a female impersonator. (Note that you don’t have to be Scandinavian to be a female impersonator, but it helps. Just look at Garbo.) Anyway, Browne is Capt. Bob White of the American Army who accepts the job of infiltrating the German high command during WWI in the guise of a sexy woman. He will then vamp the Kaiser (Ford Sterling) and his son, the Crown Prince (Mal St. Clair), and seduce from them all their military secrets. Think of him as Mata Harry.

The comedy comes from shameless slapstick and the conceit that the Kaiser is nothing but a henpecked husband who is constantly under the thumb of his frau (Eva Thatcher). Add that to the propagandistic notion that Germany was being ruled by numbnuts and idiots (played by silent comedy stalwarts Ben Turpin, Chester Conklin, Bert Roach and others) and you have a fast-paced 58 minutes of funhouse slapstick that makes Mel Brooks look like Alan Rickman.

The picture was directed by F. Richard Jones and is pure Mack Sennett, loaded with pratfalls, mistaken identities, domineering women, seltzer bottles, sexual innuendo, collapsing beds and more goofy facial hair than a barber shop full of adolescent werewolves. Settle back to laugh, kick off your shoes, lower your brow, and pop the cap off a beer. Keystone, of course. —Doug Bentin

The Green Hornet (1974)

How can you tell The Green Hornet feature film is cobbled together from four episodes of the ’60s TV series? Because for about 20 minutes, our masked superhero (Van Williams) and his sidekick, Kato (Bruce Lee), are being targeted by the big city’s criminal bigwigs for assassination, and then — kablooey! — aliens from outer space (in the forms of humans donning costumes one level above Reynolds Wrap aluminum foil) burst through the wall. Cohesion and consistency, you are marked for death!

By day, The Green Hornet is wealthy newspaper publisher Britt Reid, and Kato is his chauffeur. The far-out space nuts comprise the largest piece of the story pie as they vie for control of a warhead, then suddenly — and finally — the action shifts to the Golden Lotus Cafe, the playground of the deadly Tongs and their kidnapping and extortion racket.

Hornet was birthed as another Batman, but eschews that series’ playfulness for a more straightforward approach. I wouldn’t exactly call it gritty, but the emphasis is on crime rather than clowning around, with the added pleasure of kung fu. Williams is generic is both line delivery and pretty-boy looks, but likable enough. Lee is, of course, Lee, Supreme Ass-Kicker of the World, and to the surprise of nobody, the biggest asset of this superheroic feature.

Your best bet for grabbing this film and its 1976 sequel, Fury of the Dragon, plus all the episodes, the two crossover eps from Batman, the 1940s serial and a slew of extras, look no further than the four-disc Ultimate Collection import. Since the series — not to mention Batman as well — isn’t yet licensed for stateside release, it’s a steal. —Rod Lott

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