'40 Cult Movies' offers a perceptive, interesting new look at the genre

Review by Doug Gibson

Jon Towlson is pretty well known and respected as a genre writer. On the Plan9Crunch blog, we have read and enjoyed his book on pre-code horror films, “The Turn to Gruesomeness in American Horror Films: 1931 to 1936.” But he’s written several books and many articles. The guy’s a legit expert on films.

 

In “40 Cult Movies: 40 Cult Movies from Alice, Sweet Alice to Zombies of Mora Tau” (2023), he reviews and comments on a wide variety of films, from Freaks to Shivers, from Invasion of the Body Snatchers to Upgrade, to The Legend of Hell House to Drag Me to Hell.

 

It's a very diverse selection. Some of the films are familiar to all, some familiar to genre fans, and some are obscurities that Towlson notes have small cults. A Serial Killer's Guide to Life and Redeemer: Son of Satan are examples of films with a following in search of a sustained cult. I love that The Legend of Hell House is included. It’s a fantastic horror film overshadowed by another great film, The Haunting. Towlson aptly notes how the haunted house is perfect match for the plot and mood of ... Hell House.

 

One strength of Towlson’s writing is he can thoroughly discuss a film, its plot, cultural impact, its director's history, its relation to other films, and leave the reader satisfied with what has been read. That is a rare quality in writing.

 

In his introduction, Towlson makes it clear that if you don’t agree with everything, “that’s OK.” I love that in a writer. Towlson describes how many of his films underscore political or cultural themes. I agree with him in many cases, notably films from Penelope Spheeris, David Cronenberg, and George A. Romero, all with multiple films discussed in this book.

 

I had a harder time accepting that Invasion of the Body Snatchers represents 1950s conformity and even the McCarthy era. I know director Don Spiegel thought so but to me it’s solely a damn good science fiction piece. But Towlson presents excellent arguments for his takes and I’d likely have a tough time debating him.

 

The book is full of these types of interesting discussions on how films provoke the culture wars. Cronenberg’s Shivers is an example. Is this tale of a parasite infecting residents with sexual mania actually positive? Is it preferable to a stultified, consumerist life that decreases sexual interest? These, and other reviews of  films such as Martin, Alice Sweet Alice, and others will keep us reading through the night.

 

Also in his introduction, Towlson hopes that the book prompts readers to seek out the films he has covered. I have already started. In the past two weeks I have watched, for the first time, Horror Hospital, Alice Sweet Alice, Audrey Rose, and Shivers. I also re-watched, Redeemer: Son of Satan, a film I saw a long time ago as Class Reunion Massacre. All have been rewarding views.

 

This is the best book on cult films since Danny Peary's 1980s series of books. I hope Towlson will do this again with 40 more cult movies. He’s the writer to give us genre in-depth looks at these unique films. I hope we have three or four volumes. 40 Cult Movies would be a great companion buy with "TCM: Undergound: 50 Must-See Films", which we also reviewed on Plan9Crunch.

 

In his acknowledgments, Towlson writes, “I dedicate this book to anyone who has ever had a tape snarl up in his VCR.” Oh, that is apt. Reading about these films, many I watched for the first time on VHS (I even saw a few in Beta) brings so many great memories of heading to the VCR store and looking for a garishly decorated clamshell VHS. In those days they sold the sizzle more than the steak. I discovered that in films like Dr. Butcher M.D. …, Criminally Insane, Pranks, Bloody Birthday, etc. But there was steak amidst the sizzle, such as Martin, Evil Dead, and Torture  Dungeon, Andy Milligan’s take on Shakespeare that I’d love to see explored in a future volume of Cult Movies ...

TCM features its must-see Underground cult films in new book

 

Review by Doug Gibson

Roughly 40 years ago film critic Danny Peary began his Cult Films trilogy book series. It was groundbreaking for its detailed analysis of films that capture our imagination far beyond the first time we viewed them. We have to see them multiple times. Whether arguable great works of cinema, such as "Night of the Hunter," or a malformed puppy, like "Blood Feast," they were so damn unique. Derivative was not in their vocabulary. You could not replicate a film such as "Plan 9 From Outer Space," or "Pink Flamingos." It was the work of inspired minds, even if a bit, or a lot, unhinged.

I read Peary's three books to tatters, of course. I still have copies. But the books began to fade in impact, something that was written a long while ago. And, then in 2006, TCM started its TCM Underground series and suddenly these fantastic cult films that Peary had written about, and many more, began airing in "the wee small hours of the morning." Directors such as Russ Meyer, Herschell Gordon Lewis, Ed Wood, Ray Dennis Steckler, William Beaudine (post 1960), Timothy Carey, William Castle, Jamaa Fanaka, Penelope Spheeris, Paul Bartel, and others joined the list of respectables that dot TCM's schedule.

It's been 17 years of TCM Underground and I never miss it. If for some reason I cannot be up at those hours, I DVR. And yes, I watch re-runs; after all, they're cult films. Without TCM Underground, I don't think I'd have ever discovered diamonds like "Hausa," or "Emma Mae." For a list of all films aired, including shorts, go here. 

So, when I learned of the October release of "TCM Underground: 50 Must-See Films From the World of Classic Cult and Late-Night Cinema" (Running Press/Turner Classic Movies Philadelphia, 2022), I had to get it. I was hoping for a contemporary update of cult cinema; one that complements Peary's earlier work. 

Readers will not be disappointed. "... 50 Must-See Films" is a gem. The reviews are expertly recapped and analyzed by writers Millie De Chirico (TCM Underground's chief programmer) and critic Quatoyiah Murry. I will briefly recap three reviews. The strength of the analysis includes the authors noting where these cult gems challenged conventional mores of their era, and take positions and assumptions that are accepted more today. Cult films, crudely made or not, can do this. As author/comedian Patton Oswalt says in the book's Foreward: "Moment and feeling always conquer plot and logic, especially out beyond the edge."

The authors have placed the films in various genre categories. Dig just a few of the titles: "I Saw What You Did," "The Honeymoon Killers," "Shack Out on 101." Or "Polyester," "Sometimes Aunt Martha Does Dreadful Things," "Fleshpot on 42nd Street." How about "Blacula," "Haxan" (this film is a big personal favorite), or "Lets Scare Jessica to Death."  And there's "Little Darlings" (I'd forgotten about this film), "Two Lane Blacktop," and the aforementioned "Emma Mae." And besides "Hausa," there is "Belladona of Sadness," "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls," "Mac and Me," and "Funeral Parade of Roses" (which will blow your mind away). 

One thing I like about "... 50 Must-See Films ..." is its daring. It's willing to include films that were almost universally derided. The author's sense films that are just starting to develop a cult. Peary, for example, foresaw that the box office flop "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" would gain a big following. De Chirico and Murry are putting out the word that '80s box-office failures "Mac and Me," and "The Garbage Pails Kids Movie," have grabbed cults and are worthy of note and further interest.

And, indeed, when you look at the ultra-slick, somehow derivative high-production quality animation and fantasy today, you appreciate the uniqueness of the outcasts of the "... Garbage Pail Kids ...," sent to the State Home for the Ugly, or the awkward, crass, in-your-face commercialism of "Mac and Me." It's endearing to see another one-time failure, "Xanadu," bloom today from new viewers who simple marvel at its ability to capture a dozen artistic genres in one feature.

Here are recaps of three films in the book that represent cult genres that -- to my observations -- were not noted as cult material 40 years ago, during the era of Peary. 

The first is "Emma Mae" (1976). Lumped incorrectly as "blacksploitation," (it was given a cheesy other title, "Black Sister's Revenge," in hopes of boosting sales) the film details a young, naive southern girl/woman (Jerri Hayes) moving to live with relatives in Compton. It's a whole new life and culture. She's awkward, not conventionally pretty, and sometimes mocked by family and others. But Emma Mae has a mixture of sweetness and ferocity that slowly earns her respect and friendship. Naively, she falls in love with a man who disrespects her badly, even after she's risked her life and freedom for him. The authors correctly note that this is a hybrid film. "It's part fish-out-of-water story, part coming of age, part family drama, and part revolutionary tale of Black female empowerment."

Another film is the Andy Milligan-directed "Fleshpot on 42nd Street." I was very pleased that TCM Underground finally recognized Milligan's work. His films, ranging in budgets of $10,000 to $40,000, often were "horror" flicks. But Milligan's real skill was digging deep into the domestic lives of his characters, and creating dysfunctions that often led to violence and death. "Fleshpot" is not a horror film. It captures the grimy, dangerous lives of sex workers around 42nd Street in New York City in the 1970s. The main character is Dusty (Laura Cannon) a semi-grifter who steals and leaves her current boyfriend, grifts a horny antique dealer, and moves in with transgender sex worker friend Cherry Lane (Neil Flanagan). (Flanagan, by the way, would note an Oscar nomination if conventional Hollywood cared a whit about grindhouse cinema.)

A small time is spent with these characters, who are survivors enduring life, and we are voyeurs, witnessing their world in grubby sex settings, the streets of 42nd Street, and a lower-tier bar with an eclectic mass of characters, including two sisters who need to be seen to be appreciated. Things might began to look up for Dusty. She meets an interesting man. But you get the feeling there are far more lows than highs in this world. Even Dusty and Cherry -- who need each other -- began to quarrel. 

This is a powerful film. The authors note: "Viewing this edgy classic will likely be a jarring experience for most filmgoers today, even the staunchest cult movie fan. This film was made for a particular and very small subsection of the public, not the masses. This is its charm and its strength. Its an examination of a concealed world operating in the fringes outside mainstream society, and from the artistic bird's-eye view alone, it's a captivating watch."

Many of Milligan's films are lost. Thank heavens "Fleshpot" is one that survived.

The authors also include "Wild Seed," 1965, a film about a teenager 17, Daffy, who runs away from home. After being sexually attacked, she runs into a protector named Fargo, a somewhat harsh 20-something man who is a migrant worker and drifter. He takes her on a nomadic train-hopping cross-country journey to Los Angeles, with all the dangers this type of life offers.

Daffy (Celia Milius) wants to confront her father. She begins to have feelings for Fargo, but he's been battered by life into a type of protective cynicism. But through conflict, they yearn for each other. The authors write: "Wild Seed" is a sensitive, thoughtful film, big on mood and atmosphere and with tons of talent behind it .... (Daphne's) foray into the train-jumping life feels like a glimpse into a secret society ..."

Fans of diverse genres of film will love this book. Readers will make it a constant occasional read, skipping through and back to pages to different films they enjoy at that particular time, and wish to revisit. I hope that, given the amount of films already shown on TCM Underground, there will be several further editions of "50 Must-See Films." 

The Honeymoon Killers is a one-shot classic from director Leonard Kastle

 

                                                                       By Doug Gibson

“The Honeymoon Killers,” director Leonard Kastle’s 1970 black-and-white look at the exploits of real-life “lonely hearts” killers Ray Fernandez and Martha Beck, is a sleazy film, but it’s arty too. For a brief while, it captured the fancy of critics and earned back its cheap $200,000 budget. The film’s acclaim, however, did not extend to suburbia, and “The Honeymoon Killers” eventually found a home in the grindhouse cinemas of 42nd Street in NYC.

This is a really good film, a must for film fans who want to see how effectively a film’s mission can be accomplished so cheaply. The plot: Lonely nurse, Martha Beck (Shirley Stoler) works at a southern hospital and takes care of her whiny, ill mother. Through a lonely hearts club, she hooks up with Ray Fernandez, (Tony LoBianco) an attractive lothario. Critic Danny Peary, in the book “Cult Movies,” nails the sleazy charm of Ray as “slimy Charles Boyer” and describes his teasing talk as “Spanish penny-ante confidence man.” Both leads are fantastic in this film. Stoler should have received an Oscar nomination for her stoic determination to have love at the expense of destroyed lives. Despite that callousness, her character can elicit our sympathy. After Ray gets to close to a woman he’s scamming, Martha attempts suicide. Ray saves her and swears his love and fidelity to her.

To get back to the plot, Beck abandons her job and her mother to follow Ray, even accepting his confession that he’s a confidence man that swoops in on loveless women, takes their money, and leaves. Beck agrees to go with him and play his “sister” in these confidence charades. There is an interesting scene where the idea that Ray can live with Martha — who will stay at the hospital — is broached. Ray, in an ironic definition of machismo, declares that he will not live off a woman. Of course, that’s exactly what he does for a living.

The inclusion of Martha in Ray’s confidence schemes is the trigger that leads to murders. She is incapable of sticking to that role. Watching the women make intimate gestures to Ray, as well as Ray’s own weakness with the more attractive women, drives Martha to be the instigator of murder. Ray, a far weaker individual than Martha, becomes an accomplice in the killings. Perhaps the most terrifying — and one I imagine that pleased grindhouse audiences — is the killing of elderly Janet Fay (Mary Jane Higbee). Ray is supposed to marry her and then do the usual fade. The grouchy Janet, offended by Martha’s bulk and hostility, gets suspicious and wants to contact her children. Her murder is drawn out, as Martha placidly tells Ray she has to die in front of a terrified, pleading, Janet. Ray finally joins Martha in the murder. Martha hits her with a hammer and Ray strangles her. The cramped room, the three persons, with Martha being so big, and the black and white simplicity, really provides a punch to the audience.

I won’t give away any more of this excellent film. As Peary has noted in “Cult Movies,” “A sense of claustrophobia is meant to dominate the film.” Sets are small, the women usually complaining and everywhere is the very large, hostile, unattractive Martha, doing her best to stifle any intimacy between Ray and the women he is fleecing.

Director and script writer Kastle — who never made another film — created a crude but effective, clinical, documentary-feel film of a couple who fed off each others’ warped definition of love. That they can elicit the audience’s sympathy even while being so amoral is helped by the fact that the majority of their victims, even Martha’s mother, are generally poor specimens of humanity. In the film, Ray always signed his letters to his confederate, “Dear Martha.” Near the end of the film, Martha, in prison, awaiting execution, receives a letter from Ray, also in prison, awaiting execution. It’s a fitting finale that after all the carnage, the pair’s warped love is still strong. The films IMDB web page is at http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0064437/.

Gun Crazy is on Turner Classic movies

On Sunday, July 16, 2017, Turner Classic Movies will air the B-movie classic "Gun Crazy." It starts at 8 a.m. MST. We urge film buffs to watch this low-budget film that packs a powerful impact. It's mentioned in Danny Peary's book Cult Films. Director Joseph H. Lewis was an A director in low-budget films. For example, he was easily Bela Lugosi's best Monogram director, helming "The Invisible Ghost." Here's a short review below.

Gun Crazy: 1950, King Brothers Productions, Peggy Cummins and John Nall. 4 stars - This low-budget gem is a film noir classic of the lovesick male with a reform school past who falls for the bad girl and follows her to both of their dooms. Cummins and Nall, little-known actors, generate real sparks as greedy sharp shooters who don't have the patience to live a normal life. When she kills in a robbery and the law closes in on them, the claustrophobic atmosphere director Joseph H. Lewis creates is outstanding and final love to the death moments between these two losers is moving. There's a reason Gun Crazy is taught in many film schools. Don't miss it. It's easy to buy and pops up on TV often.

-- Doug Gibson