Action

Maniac Cop 2 (1990)

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From one Maniac to another — a Maniac Cop this time! — trash director William Lustig is back in the dirtiest of NYC surroundings with this sequel to his 1988 police exploitationer, made only more relevant after 30 or so years of constant brutality from the force. Sometimes art imitates life, I guess.

For those not following along, while the previous entry had Bruce Campbell and Laurene Landon taking down the hulking behemoth known as the Maniac Cop (Robert Z’Dar), they’re both quickly dispatched within the first half-hour by said insane officer, only to quickly be replaced by Robert Davi and Claudia Christian, both one step ahead on the pay scale.

As the Maniac Cop — now with far more reptilian facial features — randomly kills cops and other citizens desperately in need of help around the Big Apple, he eventually makes a bestest friend in the form of a crazy rapist. While I’m glad the Maniac Cop is putting himself out there and making pals, I have to admit I’m a little bit worried about his new friends.

After the Maniac Cop and his bros commandeer a bus headed to Sing Sing, the Deputy Commissioner (Michael Lerner) is forced via bullhorn to admit he’s the reason the Maniac Cop bought it in the prison showers lo those many years ago. After the Maniac Cop is promised a funeral with full honors, he finishes business the only way he knows how: by jumping out of a window while covered in flames, into a prison bus that quickly explodes, killing him.

Until, of course, Maniac Cop III: Badge of Silence.

As much as I liked the original Maniac Cop — and, really, who didn’t? — I truly enjoyed this next chapter in the trilogy, written by trash screenwriter Larry Cohen, keeping every beat filled with scummy action and tawdry suspense. It’s really hard to find a boring moment in this flick and, believe me, I looked for one.

Forever an unheralded cinematic trio of trash films, Maniac Cop 2 is definitely the best one of the bunch, a movie that thankfully gives a nightstick of spills across the knees and a taser of thrills right in the center of the chest. —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.

Reading Material

Confessions of a Puppetmaster: A Hollywood Memoir of Ghouls, Guts, and Gonzo Filmmaking

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Whether you love, hate or tolerate the movies of Charles Band, there’s no denying the man has no shortage of terrific offscreen stories to share. Otherwise, his autobiography, Confessions of a Puppetmaster, would not exist — or at least not be a must-purchase.

Subtitled A Hollywood Memoir of Ghouls, Guts, and Gonzo Filmmaking and written with three-time Emmy nominee Adam Felber, the book opens with a line all but scientifically calculated to hook and retain: “Unaware of just how insane things had gotten outside her door, Barbie took a shower.” Move over, “Call me Ishmael”!

Having played a pioneering part in sell-through VHS, video stores, license-based video games, the special-features market and, the name “Harry Potter” and toilet-based advertising campaigns, Band takes the reader on the near-Gumpian journey that is his life thus far — a merry-go-round of risk that has earned him as many fortunes as he’s lost, not to mention wives. You’ll learn about him being babysat by Marilyn Monroe, his affair with the very married Demi Moore, his battles with Klaus Kinski and Gary Busey, and his recalibration with director David DeCoteau after finding his erotic flicks “too damn gay!” (Hilariously, DeCoteau prefers to call them “tighty whitey frighties.”)

He may be the only person to go on record as having nice things to say about Helen Hunt. Outside of his actors, cameos include Liberace, Michael Jackson, John Carpenter, Barbra Streisand and “ancient Japanese horse piss.”

While not quite up there with the autobios of Roger Corman and William Castle (to name two filmmakers as beholden to ballyhoo), Band’s collected Confessions make for a delightful afternoon. While he and/or Felber show too much distrust of the reader (“We’ll get to that,” “More on that in a moment,” et al.), the book flies at 288 pages. I would welcome triple that, easily. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Comedy

Get Crazy (1983)

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Allan Arkush is most known as the director of the late-’70s cult hit Rock ’n’ Roll High School, one of my favorite films of all time. But, in 1983, he made an even cultier flick, one that barely got released, despite a great cast and an even greater soundtrack: Get Crazy, also one of my favorite films of all time, if not more so.

Some have called this a sequel, but while it’s not a literal continuation, it’s definitely a spiritual one, featuring a group of regular shmoes who chaotically run the historic Saturn Theater as they go up against the ruling class of moneymen who wish to not only destroy the Saturn, but own the world with their dollar bills. Think Ms. Togar on a sleazier scale.

While the story of stage manager Neil (Daniel Stern) and his crazy crew taking on the slimy Colin Beverly (Ed Begley Jr.) might seem like a routine one, the comedy is very much in the same vein of Rock ’n’ Roll High School, filled with plenty of sight gags; here, even the drama is played for silly laughs, an artform that seems to be lost.

The music undeniably makes the movie so good, featuring (mostly) famous singers in faux roles, such as King Blues (Bill Henderson), Nada (featuring Fear’s Lee Ving) and the surprisingly hilarious Lou Reed as the reclusive Auden, who scores big with a transcendently gorgeous tune that plays as the credits roll. Best of all is the incomparable Malcolm McDowell as the Jagger-like prick Reggie Wanker, a veteran rocker so wrapped up in his self-importance that, when he’s accidentally dosed by the shadowy drug dealer roaming the theater, his most prized possession becomes his turgid conscience, showing him the error of ways — complete with a British accent.

While Arkush is still a director (mostly for television), it truly is a shame he never became as big as contemporaries like Spielberg and so on. As you watch Get Crazy, though, you realize it’s probably because his eye for truly bizarre and outlandish comedy was so far ahead of its time, they had no idea what do with him and, honestly, probably still don’t. —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.

Sci-Fi & Fantasy

Legend (1985)

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Even though I’m typically the first one to openly ridicule many modern films focusing on fantastical fare along the lines of goblins, hobbits and elves, there are a few from the 1980s I unabashedly enjoy, with one of them being the 1985 Ridley Scott flick Legend, a favorite video rental of my mother.

I have to admit that, during my many childhood viewings, even though I was somewhat lost in the plot, as soon as Tim Curry’s demonic creature Darkness showed up in the third act, the fear of God was in me and it didn’t matter what had come before, as I was engrossed.

And that Bryan Ferry song playing over the credits? I’ve always loved that tune.

Tom Cruise is Jack, a forest dweller in love with the lovely Princess Lili (Mia Sara). In order to impress her, like most men would do, he shows her the secret unicorns roaming the woods. However, some evil demons are looking for the same beasts, mostly to steal their horns which apparently are imbued with some kind of magic.

This causes an immediate winter in the forest, as Jack and his newfound elven buddies try to make it down to the underworld to rescue Lili and regain the horn. That’s all well and good, but the place is ruled by Darkness, who, if you ask me, is the most perfect realization of a Satan-like creature in all of film. He is truly some scary stuff, although I heard women say he’s erotic. (Chances are they were looking for attention.)

When originally released, Legend was a bit of a bomb, and I can see why: The film suffers from a case of overimagination, almost creating its own rules and language — something that hurts many nonderivative films, as many moviegoers just want something they can get in and out of in around 90 minutes.

And, bless the studio, in the original theatrical cut, they sliced much of Scott’s work down to right around 90 minutes.

That being said, after viewing the director’s cut, I think he ably did his best to craft a modern-day fairy tale in the studio system, with actual thought put into it, so of course they didn’t want it. This isn’t just kids running around shouting made-up words like morons. But, you know, that’s the kind of fantasy that sells and this didn’t, so what do I know? —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.

Reading Material

Planet of the Apes: The Complete History

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Sean Egan is hardly the first damn, dirty human to chronicle what is arguably sci-fi’s smartest film franchise, but his Planet of the Apes: The Complete History has the benefit of recency other notable overviews have not. Thus, it’s able to cover the celebrated trilogy that followed the fumbled footsteps of Tim Burton’s remake.

Er, sorry: reimagining.

Published by Applause, Egan’s book works well as a crash(-land?) course in All Things Apes. Beginning with Pierre Boulle’s source novel and moving movie to movie from there, he examines each work, smoothly weaving in insight on how societal changes influenced the story.

Don’t dismiss this as stuffy academia; despite overuse of the word “putative,” Egan’s book is the very definition of accessible, not to mention unafraid to wonder how the monkeys took care of, well, business — toilet business, that is. Speaking of crap, in his chapter involving the short-lived Saturday morning cartoon, the author rightly dubs it “anti-animation.” He’s more enthusiastic about the live-action series, which deserved a better shot; Egan shares all the forces working against it.

Elsewhere, readers will find a near-forensic breakdown of the origin of the 1968 film’s classic twist ending. Many have laid claim to birthing that shocker, including Pink Panther shepherd Blake Edwards, briefly attached as director. Egan considers several what-ifs — that is, unmade Apes iterations and sequels, from Edwards’ own take to Boulle’s out-of-touch Planet of the Men submission and ’89 Batman scribe Sam Hamm going full Howard the Duck with a script that sees the simians patronizing the likes of fast-food chain BK — that’s Banana King to you and me. (Groan.)

Even POTA’s various video games, soundtrack albums, comic books, novelizations and tie-in novels (the latter “an exercise in plugging holes”) earn considerable ink. I can’t imagine someone unfamiliar with the storied franchise would want to go in cold, but as a fan, I’m glad Egan has done more than his fair share to keep it alive. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

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