Bunny Lake Is Missing (1965)

The title says it all: Bunny Lake Is Missing! But we’ll fill you in anyway.

Having just moved to a new neighborhood in London, single mom Ann Lake (Carol Lynley) becomes alarmed when she goes to pick up her little girl, Bunny, at school, and the tot is nowhere to be found. Not only that, but no one at the school remembers ever seeing her. And not only that, but they think Ann to be somewhat of a loon.

And not only that, but the authorities — led by Newhouse (Laurence Olivier — pardon me, Sir Laurence Olivier) — think about giving up on the search, because there’s no evidence Bunny ever existed. Or at least none that Ann and her brother, Steven (Keir Dullea of 2001), can present, as Bunny’s personal items at their apartment have vanished.

Director Otto Preminger deliberately toys with the viewer, making you question whether Ann is telling the truth or off her rocker. (It doesn’t help that Preminger cleverly has a cuckoo clock sound off in the background a couple of times — a clue or a joke?) And does that creepy bastard of a landlord (Noel Coward) have anything to do with it?

Although it could stand to lose a couple of scenes that go nowhere, this is a tight, black-and-white thriller with an awfully bizarro final act that’ll have you wondering if you weren’t drugged. It holds up pretty well today, minus the repeated songs of The Zombies. —Rod Lott

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Machete (2010)

Talk about putting the cart before the horse — and getting away with it. Robert Rodriguez’s Machete has the rare distinction of being a movie that stemmed from a fake trailer, the latter being something Rodriguez devised for Grindhouse, the terrific 2007 schlock homage he did with Quentin Tarantino. Thankfully, Machete proves its drive-in bona fides.

Featuring more dicing and slicing than Benihana, the movie isn’t so much a send-up of 1970s-era exploitation cinema than it is a star-studded (if kitschy) revival of it. The pitch-perfect cast includes Robert De Niro, Lindsay Lohan, Jessica Alba, Don Johnson, Jeff Fahey and Steven Seagal, whom we discover, if you put sunglasses on him, is a dead ringer for Jim Belushi. Oh, and Michelle Rodriguez’s bare midriff deserves a special credit of its own (and maybe even an Oscar).

The titular character, though (what, you didn’t know Machete’s a name?) is played by familiar character actor Danny Trejo, a big, thick slab of a human whose real-life travails (ex-con, ex-boxer), are etched on a face seemingly swiped from Monument Valley.

Machete is a former Mexican federale whose life has fallen apart after a drug kingpin brutally murdered Machete’s family. When an oily goon hires Machete to assassinate an illegal immigrant-bashing Texas state senator (De Niro, wandering in and out of accent), the scheme sets off a flurry of crosses, double crosses, bare boobs, slashing, gunfire and as much political subtext that Rodriguez can shoehorn in without incurring the wrath of Arizonans.

Machete maybe goes on a bit too long for its own good, but you have to respect its trashy heart. —Phil Bacharach

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Shock-O-Rama (2005)

I’ve never been able to stomach more than a minute of ei Independent Cinema’s softcore efforts, like Spider-Babe, The Lord of the G-Strings, Kinky Kong and Play-Mate of the Apes. Not being 13 years old, I don’t see the appeal. Surprise then, to see one that’s actually kinda clever, at least by their low standards: Shock-O-Rama.

It helps that it’s interested in a lot more than simulated lesbian sex scenes. Writer/director Brett Piper (perhaps most notable for They Bite) pays loving tribute to horror anthologies in a joyful, drive-in style. It’s like asking, “What if Grindhouse were made for $7.49? Plus tax?”

In the wraparound, Misty Mundae practically plays herself: a Z-grade movie actress. She’s fired by her producers, who then have to screen other films to find a new starlet to fill her void. Cue the stories, one involving aliens in a junkyard; the other, skanks undergoing a scientific experiment (that’s where most of the T&A lay, FYI).

The wraparound becomes a story in itself as Mundae resurrects — and then is pursued by — a zombie. The proceedings never take themselves seriously, which is wise considering the bar for acting is set pretty low. Piper pulls off some good effects, too, on an apparent Big Lots! budget. —Rod Lott

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School Spirit (1985)

Ask any priapic teenage boy with an ounce of imagination what he would do if he could become invisible, and chances are, he’d blush so hard he’d actually achieve an ironic moment of flaccidity.

It’s a shame, then, that the filmmakers responsible for School Spirit didn’t ask a teenage boy to write their script, since it is as impotent an example of the teen titty comedy as the ’80s ever produced.

Made by the same East Indian investors who gave us the insane Sho Kosugi fiasco Nine Deaths of the Ninja, the film tells the tale of Billy Batson (Tom Nolan), a college cut-up who becomes the titular spirit when an emergency-condom run leads to a seemingly fatal car crash. With just a few hours left before he has to follow his spirit guide uncle into the light, Billy’s tangible ghost makes a valiant effort to get laid one last time — first with the frosty Elizabeth Foxx (in a performance that is the very definition of “leggy”) and then with convent-raised, French girl Daniele Arnaud — while also making an effort to honor the sacred college tradition of “Hog Day.”

Sadly, the movie’s chief gimmick is little more than an afterthought and Billy spends far more time as a regular douchebag than an invisible voyeur. The boredom is occasionally relieved by a fun performance from Marta Kober, who seems to be channeling Tatum O’Neal in her role as the dean’s braless jailbait daughter, but she alone can’t overcome everyone else’s lethargic disinterest. —Allan Mott

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The Best of Trailers from Hell!: Volume One (2010)

With that credo that “Any movie can be great at 2 1/2 minutes,” director Joe Dante’s Trailers from Hell website makes the leap to DVD with The Best of Trailers from Hell!: Volume One. Dante and pals John Landis, Eli Roth and Edgar Wright all take turns providing commentary for the coming attractions to their favorite genre pictures — not Mystery Science Theater 3000-style, but purely informational. It’s like the coolest film class in the history of ever.

B-movie fans will come away from the hourlong free-for-all with two frames of mind:
1. “Man, that reminded me a lot of stuff I really need to see again.”
2. “Man, that reminded me a lot of stuff I really need to check out.”

For me, that latter camp includes the proto-slasher Horrors of the Black Museum, Paul Bartel’s giallo-influenced Private Parts, David Cronenberg’s biological horror of Rabid, Roger Vadim’s lesbian-vampire outing Blood and Roses, and the possession picture The Sentinel. Of the four hosts, Roth is the most enjoyable, simply for how infectious his spirit is, whether the clip is for a grindhouse cheapie like Three on a Meathook or Alfred Hitchcock’s classic The Birds.

To provide bang for your buck, the disc also includes a full-length feature — well, 67 minutes, anyway — of the Lionel Atwill/Fay Wray cheapie The Vampire Bat, plus two vintage cartoons from the 1930s — including Ub Iwerks’ “The Headless Horseman” — that my 5-year-old went ape-shit over. —Rod Lott

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