Deathstalker (1983)

Hey, I didn't know an Arnold Schwarzenegger flick would wind up in my collection! ...Wait, what? This isn't an Arnie flick? What the heck?

I have no idea why on Earth they didn't hire the Arninegger for “Deathstalker.” The movie contains every element of an Arnie flick imaginable: a muscular male lead, a poor story, goofy direction, and about as many semi-convincing special effects as you can shake a stick at. However, like all Schwarzenegger movies, “Deathstalker” makes up for all of its shortcomings by being THE MOST ACTION-PACKED, TESTOSTERONE-FUELED ADRENALINE-FEST EVER!!! (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

However, there is a decisive difference between “Deathstalker” and the typical Arnie movie. When one directs a mega-blockbuster movie, that person has to be careful with just how far he's going to be taking certain aspects, particularly the role of women. Given that “Deathstalker” is a dollar-bin production, these limitations are utterly absent. As an example, the minuscule budget didn't allow for certain key female wardrobe items, such as clothes. The result is a movie that defines the word “woman” purely as “object,” even more so than your typical modern blockbuster. Team this aspect up with other unusual ones, and the finished product is not just an abrasive testosterone-fest; it's an abrasive testosterone-fest with a healthy side of humorously bizarre scenarios and characters.

Since the movie's called “Deathstalker,” you probably want to hear about about this Mr. Deathstalker himself, don't you? Deathstalker (Rick Hill) has all of the strength and brutality of your typical Schwarzenegger protagonist. However, whereas your typical Schwarzenegger protagonist is at least quasi-articulate, the moments where Deathstalker speaks full sentences can be counted on one hand. He's not soft-spoken in a badass way either. Regardless of intention, the movie does an excellent job at making its hero seem just slightly more intelligent than a Neanderthal. When time comes for Deathstalker to deliver heroic lines of dialogue, the character favors muttering 5-second pseudo-philosophical dialogues before taking off into the night.

On the other hand is Deathstalker's foil, Munkar (Bernard Erhard), a well-played and deliberately-evil character. Munkar knows exactly what he wants and isn't afraid to express his desires via a number of well-directed quintessential evil villain scenes. His makeup and wardrobe are done very well for a B-movie, the said “evil villain scenes” are spot-on, and he's an all-around compelling character.

The film starts off with a typical damsel-in-distress scene where Deathstalker comes in to save the day, no time wasted in establishing him as our heroic badass. Shortly after, a witch explains to him that Munkar holds two of the three main power artifacts holding the universe together. Furthermore, it is his destiny to retrieve these artifacts before the world collapses under the forces of evil. If this premise sounds a little bit like “The Legend of Zelda,” allow me to ensure you that this is not “The Legend of Zelda”: this is actually “Deathstalker.”

Through a number of thoroughly enjoyable and over-the-top action scenes, Deathstalker obtains the camaraderie of Oghris (Richard Brooker) and Karia (Lana Clarkson), two local warriors. Oghris informs Deathstalker about how the ailing Munkar is holding a massive fighting tournament - the winner inheriting Munkar's kingdom and all of his possessions. Once this is established, our three heroes venture into the mountains to take on this dangerous challenge.

At this point, “Deathstalker” promptly drops its already vague attempt at a storyline to treat you to a solid hour of violence, tits, sword fights, chronic overacting, a giant pig-human warrior, tits, executions, violence, tits, Munkar's giant sex pit, and tits. Did I also mention that “Deathstalker” features wanton amounts of violence and tits?

Chest thong. 'Nuff said.

Speaking of tits, a thoroughly amusing aspect of “Deathstalker” is its treatment of sexuality in general. As I've previously established, this flick's definition of “woman” is synonymous to “object.” However, when “Deathstalker” is called upon to bring that definition into perspective, our dollar-bin production team is confined to the limits of the MCAA. For example, Munkar does own a giant sex pit in which women are forced to mud-wrestle nude, but this is done in as tame a way as possible given the subject matter, and “Deathstalker” desperately attempts to make up for this in a number of different vastly entertaining ways.

For example, Karia the proud warrior is outfitted in the most ridiculous article of clothing you could imagine, her breasts exposed in such a way that the definition of “clothing” is thoroughly challenged. The action scenes, however, are what truly define “Deathstalker,” complete with excessive gore and a very cool execution scene.

If you're looking for a mindless, entertaining “beer with buddies” flick, then look no further. If you're looking for a story-driven action movie with emotionally-driven performances, a complex character net and good cinematography, however, you certainly won't find it in this one.

The Lift (1983)

Hey, guys, are you ready... (pff.) Are, are you ready to, uh... (PFFF. Heh, heh.) Are you... Are you ready to go on a ride? (PFFFFT. Heh. Heh. Heheheh. Hehhh... …) … Heh.

BAAHAHA!!!!!!!HAHAHAHAHAHHHHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!1111

“The Lift” is the first foreign film we're gonna be covering. Now that I look at the state of things as they are, I honestly wish I had researched foreign B-movies a little more before opening up shop here at Cinemartyr. American flicks make up the majority of what we're going to be looking at through 2013, so the rare foreign films that slip through the cracks are pretty fun for me to pick apart. A source of pride for the Netherlands, “The Lift” is frequently mentioned as one of the best Dutch horror films of all time. It definitely doesn't stack up to modern horror films in some ways, but it does in several others.

The film opens with some pretty cool interior shots of the titular elevator set to lo-fi synthesizer music. This opening garners a very dark, soulless feel and it's quite effective. However, as a result of one of the strangest cuts in cinematic history, we're suddenly introduced to a quartet of feisty middle-aged people celebrating their recent marriages. As a result of the magic of bad dubbing, it seems as though they had all taken a ton of nitrous oxide: the four of them unable to keep from laughing uncontrollably at any given offhanded “joke” that comes from their mouths as they get into the elevator to humbly offer themselves up as the first victims of the movie. The ominous music from the introduction makes a return for quite a dark yet cheesy effect.

Directly after, we're introduced to our stubborn protagonist, Felix Adelaar (Huub Stapel), enjoying the next morning with his family. Remember how I alluded to the bad dubbing in the film's introduction? This scene is where it really kicks into high gear. There are endless moments of fun to be had with the dubbing; however, I can say as I'm typing this without a shadow of a doubt that the most hilarious failures occur as we observe the Adelaars. Shortly after Felix is called into work, his son asks him to fix his toy truck; the little boy receives a cold, flat and obviously-scripted “Daddy has no time for your ambulance” in response.

Calling the police would seem to be an
appropriate response to a vehicular
break-in, but finding the intruder
delightfully quirky is another option
you could go for, I suppose.

After we're introduced to a few minor characters, Felix begins working on the elevator. Shortly thereafter, he is rudely interrupted by Mieke (Willeke van Ammelrooy), an over-eager journalist who insists that he tell her everything he knows about what's going on. Felix initially finds the woman irritating and intrusive. After his shift, he walks out to his car, only to find Mieke sitting patiently in the passenger's seat. Instead of assertively demanding her to “get the fuck out of my car” like most human beings would do, Felix suddenly seems to appreciate her obnoxious, straightforward attitude and the two team up in order to discover more about the elevator of doom. This doesn't prove to be the easiest task in the world – faced with a corrupt boss who wants Felix to stay out of the company affairs and a suspicious wife (Josine van Dalsum) who assumes that Felix is having an affair with Mieke, the man is given quite a plate of challenges to work with. Once the second act is over, you really feel as if there's no hope for this poor guy. I really like that.

"He went to town on her with a chainsaw;
Black and Decker, I think it was. Split her
right down the middle. I skipped lunch
that day. You could understand why."

As I said, the dubbing plays an essential part in what makes “The Lift” what it is. I don't know what company dubbed the English adaptation of the flick, but it is extraordinarily evident that they FAILED. However, this isn't a bad thing, because the dubbing team failed on such an astronomical level that it's impossible not to laugh out loud at both the obviously-scripted dialogue and the characters' largely indifferent emotional responses to it. When I got into B-movies, I never thought that I would be swept into a world where a detective can describe a woman's gruesome chainsaw murder with a bemusing air of happiness, only to have the people he's speaking to indifferently nod their heads. I never thought that I would see a woman tempting a man sexually during a shift at work, his only response being a flat, “We must use discretion.” This is the pinnacle of awe-inducing wonderment, people. Seriously.

The directing, and especially the cutting, is really crazy. I wouldn't be surprised to hear that director Dick Maas is stricken with a combination of extreme clinical depression and Tourette's Syndrome. There's one scene where Felix visits one of his ex-coworkers. The man has been thrown into a mental hospital due to the stresses of working on the demonic elevator. As Felix speaks to him, we hear the incoherent ramblings of mental patients in the background, which adds a bit of unintentional humor to the scene. The walls are painted white, the lighting isn't the greatest, and the quality of the video itself is rather low. It really feels as though Maas is on the set going through a bout of depression. Very suddenly (and this is where the Tourette's kicks in), one of the mental patients begins playing a saxophone loudly and terribly. Felix's co-worker then freaks out like there's no tomorrow, and the entire scene crescendos to a level of sheer insanity that I can't even begin to describe on paper. After that, the scene abruptly cuts back to the silence that permeates the majority of the movie. That sounds ridiculously disorienting, right? Well, there are a lot of cuts like that in this film. “The Lift” features an almost infinite catalog of scenes that combine the best facets of the two contrasting worlds of insanity and aptitude in order to create really startling, bizarre shit, and it is absolutely wonderful.

Finally, what would an evil elevator movie be without an evil elevator? “The Lift” certainly doesn't hold back with its brutal elevator-related horror imagery. When the second victim is taken, the man falls down the elevator shaft, but the movie doesn't go over the top and give you a visual of his demise. Instead, it simply allows you to lay back and enjoy the man's horrible screaming, along with a beautiful symphony of grating, bone-crushing noises from hell. Later, at the cinematic climax, we get a great action-driven sequence complete with awesome interior shots. It's also worth mentioning that the soundtrack I've been alluding to here and there was composed using only two keyboards: a Roland Juno-6 and a Roland Jupiter-8. As a musician and artist, I can't stress enough what an amazing feat that is. Go watch any given movie in your local theater right now: I guarantee you that the soundtrack will consist of licensed tracks, orchestras and an endless array of sound effects; and theater movies tend to cost upwards of ten million dollars to produce. This man created a proper soundtrack using two household devices. Bra-vo.

I wish I had a Verboden Toegang
where I live. All we get in America is
CVS and Walgreens.

Given that it's a movie about a killer elevator, “The Lift” is way better than it deserves to be. Complete with a compelling protagonist, settings that make excellent use of every last cent of the low budget, a proper soundtrack composed using only 2 keyboards, and dubbing that is so horrendously awful it can be considered a small miracle, the movie carries a broodingly dark atmosphere that would easily weigh down a directing team with less talent. On top of that, “The Lift” is not afraid to reach out and slap you in the face with provocative, intentional humor once in a while. Truly impressive stuff.

Werewolves on Wheels (1971)

"We all know how we're gonna die, baby! We're gonna crash and burn!!"

Nope, I ain't shitting you; heavy-metaller Rob Zombie actually used a quote from “Werewolves on Wheels” to introduce one of his songs, “Sick Bubblegum.” When I had discovered this with my editor Zeke, we were both quite surprised. After thinking about it for a while, though, it's not all that absurd a concept. Zombie's obviously all about cultish, pushing-the-limits type stuff, and that set of adjectives is pretty much how I'd describe “Werewolves on Wheels” as a piece of art. The main similarity between this movie and the range of Zombie's work as a musician is quite interesting: both bear a strong “love it or hate it” feel.

"Werewolves on Wheels" opens with the bunch of bikers, all of whom inexplicably look like Jack Nicholson, riding down some nondescript cross between a roadway and a Moto Racer track. This is set to lo-fi blues rock, and the music is quite fitting, almost hypnotizing as the off-kilter group literally rides for 5 straight minutes. Following this entrancing, nearly beautiful introduction, they all stop at a gas station to beat the crap out of some guy that cut them off in traffic. It's a pointless diversion but it's pretty amusing. Definitely a “B-movie thing,” for those of you unfamiliar with these types of films.

The gang, named The Devil's Advocates, is led by Adam (Steve Oliver), a 30-something year old male who fits the idiotic 70's/80's biker guy stereotype to a tee. He's a sarcastic fatalist and compulsive drinker who doesn't take well to anything he considers to be “bullshit,” which is where his foil Tarot (Gene Shane) comes in.

Adam (R) assuring Tarot that everything's gonna be
alright. The duo's dysfunction spells trouble for The
Advocates later on.

After beating up the traffic guy, the gang stops to take a break. Tarot feels as though there are bad vibes in the air, but Adam reassures him that it's just in his head. As you can well imagine, this is a friendship laden with tension. It's interesting to watch the story unfold as Adam and Tarot's friendship becomes more and more strained. Eventually their arguments pave the way for disaster for the rest of the gang.

Adam disregards Tarot's minor spiritual outburst, and with his nineteen-billionth swig of beer, the group of Nicholsons take off into the hot Statesiana sun to find a story to engage themselves in. However, the fact that they're imbeciles doesn't bode well for them and they wind up becoming lost. Tarot frustratedly insists to his fellow bikers that he “has the truth.” Despite the gang's evident skepticism, this simple statement is all the convincing they need to follow his lead down a secluded back road into the backyard of the previously-mentioned occultist Satanic church. This is where the real fun begins.

What we're given here is the strongest part of the film thus far, especially in terms of cinematography. I don’t know what it is about Satanic imagery that makes B-movies good, but it seems like in between 1970-1985, any interjection of Satanic content into a low-budget production transformed the directors into acid-gobbling maniacs with panoramic imaginations, nonexistent mental limitations and shitty video cameras. There are hooded monks, poorly-recorded ritualistic meditation, animal sacrifice, excessive makeup, and everything else you can set your mind to. This sounds awesome now, right? Okay, here's the bad news:

You know how I said earlier about how “this is where the real fun begins”? Well, I sort of lied. “The real fun” isn't very long lived at all because The Advocates leave the church ground after a single scene; only 10 minutes. At this point “Werewolves on Wheels” turns into a true test of patience for (what I'd imagine to be) most viewers.

The second and third acts of this film are absurdly scattered, attempting to mash “conventional film” and “art film” sensibilities together and creating something not all that great. When I had initially taken this movie to Zeke, I described it to him: “It's one of the more enjoyable films I've ever watched that was basically about nothing.” Although I've come to a point in B-moviedom where I'm aware that (nearly) every B-movie is about something, this film does not seem to readily reflect that. If your movie is going to be an “art film” instead of a “conventional film”, there's a certain line between the two worlds that you'll need to tread over very, very competently to not lose sight of the storyline. “Werewolves on Wheels” is not an example of careful line-treading.

In fact, it fails miserably at this. The most prominent of these failures takes place around ten minutes after The Advocates leave the church. They go out into another field to crash and here's what happens: a pair of Advocates are having sex in supposed seclusion as Adam takes his girl out to the same area to engage in coitus as well. However, what Adam doesn't know is that his girl has been given the mark of the beast. When Satan (exemplified by the monk “One”) witnesses them starting to get it on, he uses black magic to make the woman (Donna Anders) ravenous. As a result: she winds up biting Adam; they both become werewolves; and they fiercely feast on the couple nearby. Let me tell you, even re-watching it right now as I write this, it still baffles me that the direction team decided to use this ill-fitting set of images to portray an extremely important plot point like this. It is so fucking disorienting it hurts to even think about.

Another example of the confusion caused by the underwhelming storytelling occurs later in the movie. After being lost in the desert for a while, The Advocates happen upon an additional 30ish other Advocates who had been lost in the desert. Any explanation of their having been separated is nonexistent, as far as I could tell. I mean, I can be a daft person at times, but for something like that to logically, meaningfully occur, you really should make completely sure that your audience is aware of what exactly is occurring. Moments like this (and trust me: there are a ZILLION of them) are less engaging than they are just plain confounding.

To top all this off, the audio mastering is pretty bad. I don't know who sat behind the mixer board for this movie, but it certainly would have helped that person to actually know how to operate a mixer board. Instead, the result is that I get to have confusing scenes dictated to me via dialogue that sounds as though it had been recorded to a 50-year-old cassette tape.

But not all is bleak here because there is a point in the movie where it almost transforms into a nature documentary about The Advocates. They go off into the desert to engage in drunken shenanigans: fake TV showcases, poor attempts at acting like animals, car-tipping, and other general acts of buffoonery. There's some really beautiful cinematography, and I have to admit that there's a certain point during the second act where the lost storyline almost becomes a blessing (listening to a drunken biker explain that he drugged his friend pretending to be a dog is great entertainment). However, as the movie wears on, the novelty to be found out of these things wears thin. And of course there's the fact that about 40 minutes ago, you were watching a movie about a Satanic cult and now you're watching a movie about a group of idiots lost in a desert. The contrast between these two things in terms of sheer entertainment value is tremendous: I'd take an overacted Satanic priest sacrificing a cat over a group of idiots lost in a desert any day.

I really feel that if “Werewolves on Wheels” cut 20 minutes of the wanton documentation of the life of The Advocates, added 20 minutes of Satanic action and tightened up the storytelling, it would have had the potential to be a really badass movie at very little expense to the integrity of the piece of art itself. Instead, the movie relies too heavily on the hypnotic feel it attempts to set forth. If you're not caught in the spell of slow blues music being played over random footage of dudes riding motorcycles, you're probably not going to “get” this movie. Here in the 2010's, we live in a society of instant gratification, and “Werewolves on Wheels” does NOT seem like the kind of thing any video-game-addicted community college student would wanna go out of their way to pay attention to for 85 minutes.

“Werewolves on Wheels” is far too long for its simple concept, but has great music, great cinematography, charming characters, and a real “sit down and have a beer with buddies” feel. It also certainly has a cogent artistic vision, which is more than I can say for some of the utter awfulness I've had to suffer through in the process of making this blog.

Attack of the Puppet People (1958)

“Attack of the Puppet People” was produced and directed by B-movie figurehead Bert I. Gordon, or “Mr. Big,” as he's known in the cult film community. He's known specifically for his “giant monster” movies: he uses rear-projection techniques in order to create giant (insert anything you can name here). As you could guess, he's produced his fair share of underwhelming work by working in such a specific niche. However, in “Attack of the Puppet People.” Bert turns his voodoo-magic shrink-ray knob down to around 4 and actually focuses on other aspects, creating a mutant fusion of unintentional humor, drama, and psychological horror that's actually surprisingly compelling.

This flick has a very peculiar case of Multiple Personality Disorder. Right from the start, it firmly establishes itself as a cheesy movie via corny acting and a dunderheaded “I'm happy all the time!” sort of soundtrack. However, as the film progresses, at sporadic intervals, the film will explode into ridiculously awesome moments of drama/psychological horror, only to regress back into the innocent facade that it had put up earlier. It may take multiple viewings of the film to realize that it works this way, but it's really quite effective. (As you can tell, I watch these movies way, way, way too much.)

"Attack of the Puppet People" opens up with Sally Reynolds (June Kenney), the female protagonist, taking a Girl Scout troupe on a field trip into the city to a doll factory. The primary aesthetics are established pretty quickly, harboring that totally corny 50's feel. Upon entering, Sally meets Mr. Franz (John Hoyt), the manager of said factory.

Right off the bat, you can tell that Mr. Franz isn't exactly the most mentally healthy person ever. I mean, look at this freakin' guy. John Hoyt isn't given a whole lot to utilize in terms of this character, and despite this, he still manages to come off as a creepy, desperate old man in a very believable way. When he lays eyes on Sally, he immediately insists that she work as his new secretary. While Sally had initially gone there with the ulterior motive of getting a job, Franz is so frightening that she is wary. In fact, he has to plead through a solid 40 seconds of awkward screen time before she gives up and takes the job against her better judgment.

On her first day at the job, Sally meets Bob Westley (John Agar), a busy businessman who only likes business. The two hook up rather spontaneously, and...

*NEEDLE SCRATCH.* Yeah, there is one issue with this film, as I just pointed out here: notice how Bob just kind of came out of nowhere in this review, as if I had just written him in on a whim? Every single character is introduced that way in “Attack of the Puppet People.” It's kind of bizarre, but it works for the movie strangely enough. Just like this blog, it's hardly professional. On a more positive note, the rest of the film is set just as briskly as the characters are introduced. Clocking in at a mere 79 minutes, “Puppet People” is hardly a challenging watch.

Anyways, Sally and Bob quickly decide they want to get married. Mr. Franz, on the other hand, has other plans, and by the end of the week, Sally and Bob find themselves no more than six inches tall courtesy of Mr. Franz's handiwork, trapped in his backroom laboratory with a host of other shrunken people.

The scene that proceeds this major plot development, as you could imagine, is a vital factor as to whether or not you'd want to put up with a schlocky 50's B-movie. So, as your official judge, let me tell you that this scene is not only pivotal, but one of the most adeptly directed scenes in here. The direction and camerawork is extremely tight. Mr. Franz is allowed an excellent moment to be exposed in all of his demented, creepy wonderfulness. The scene even ends with a fantastic use of the damsel-scream, one of the best that I've seen in my history of watching B-movies. That scream is an utterly overused cliché in these sorts of movies, but June Kenney really busts her vocal chords delivering one of the single best damsel-screams I've heard, ever. Seriously. Everything about this scene is great.

Mr. Franz reveals that the intensity of his loneliness has driven him to shrink those he likes in order to be able to keep them as “pets,” more or less. To avoid too many spoilers, I'll leave the synopsis at: Bob and Sally spend the rest of the film on a goofy little adventure searching for a way out of their predicament.

The movie has a small cast of entertaining side-characters. Investigator Paterson (Jack Kosslyn) is constantly pondering in a pseudo-intellectual investigator-y sort of way. The stage supervisor is a clueless idiot who can be seen eating a sandwich before it cuts to Bob's proposal if you look hard enough. All the characters are charmingly silly, and it adds nicely to the silly atmosphere of the movie itself.

The most prominent of the side characters, however, is Mr. Franz's best friend, Emil (Michael Mark). Emil is a fellow puppet/doll aficionado who appears to hail from wherever the hell he feels like living whenever the hell he feels like it. Although Emil's existence in the movie can be irritating at times (he's the perfect example of a mediocre filler character), being able to listen to the incoherent babbling of two disgruntled maniacs makes up for this shortfall in spades.

Overall, I'd have to say it isn't too difficult to recommend "Attack of the Puppet People". I even got my parents to watch it. It's completely clean; it has a lot of unintentional humor; it's surprisingly well-directed for a B-movie; and on top of all of that, the story and horror style is extremely unique. Seriously, guys, this thing is available on Amazon Instant Video for FREE and we're still celebrating the holly-jolly holiday spirit, right? Well, what better way to celebrate that holly-jolly spirit than with a goofy 1950's movie? Hit this up, guys. You won't regret it.