'Monstrosity' is gutter auteur Andy Milligan's take on Frankenstein

 

Essay and review by Doug Gibson

Rob Craig’s book on Andy Milligan, Gutter Auteur: The Films of Andy Milligan, is aptly named. Milligan, who died nearly 35 years ago, made films designed for 42^nd Street. The sleazier the “Deuce” got, it didn’t matter; a Milligan film would provide well for its audience.

Jimmy McDonough, who penned the superb biography, “The Ghastly One: The Sex-Gore Netherworld of Filmmaker Andy Milligan,” recounts Milligan’s early career, when there might have been an opportunity for him to break through bohemia and into a mainstream career. In the ‘60s, he wrote, acted and directed plays in such iconic locations as Caffe Cino and La MaMa Experimental Theater. A short film he directed in 1965,”Vapors,” is well regarded as an early gay-themed film. It played art houses on both coasts.

But McDonough also chronicles a horrific familial life Milligan endured, and it likely affected his career, as he feuded with producers and distributors, and could be tyrannical, even cruel, when directing. After making some late-feature adult drama films that are unfortunately lost (some attracted better than average reviews and box office) Milligan settled down into grindhouse horror direction. William Mishkin was his money man. Milligan would get $20,000 or so, spend half of it making a film, and presumably pay himself with the excess.

A dress-maker who ran a shop for a while, Milligan made garish period pieces. He made versions of horror films, including “Torture Dungeon,” (Richard the Third), “Blood,” (House of Dracula), “The Body Beneath,” (Dracula), “The Rats are Coming. The Werewolves are Here,” (The Wolf Man/Willard), “The Man with Two Heads,” (Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde), “Nightbirds,” (The Servant) and “Bloodthirsty Butchers,” (Sweeney Todd).

Drawing on his dysfunctional life, he made psychological, violent films that assailed marriage (The Ghastly Ones,” religion, “Guru the Mad Monk,” and family life, “Seeds.” He even made a poignant, downbeat porno/adult film, “Fleshpot on 42^nd Street,” that is a commentary on life where his films were often shown.

Occasionally Milligan would attempt to move from Mishkin to other producers. He even made films in England. But most films were with Mishkin.

For a long while, Milligan lived in Staten Island, and some films were shot at his home. He eventually bought and lived in a Staten Island hotel where he shot a couple of films. He then moved to Manhattan and ran an off-Broadway theater, The Troupe, for several years.

Perhaps feeling his age, and disgusted with the decay of Manhattan, Milligan moved to Los Angeles in the mid ‘80s. He resumed much of his past life, opening an ill-fated dress shop, started a Troupe West playhouse which lasted a few years, and made some movies. Milligan, a gay man, also settled into a relationship with a younger man, a sometimes hustler, named Wayne Keeton.

Milligan made three films in Los Angeles: “The Weirdo,” an interesting remake of a lost film that involved a bullied young man in a dysfunctional family. He also directed (for hire) a film, a comedy horror titled “Surgikill.’

In between Milligan kind of reunited with the Mishkin family to direct “Monstrosity.” Lew Mishkin, William’s son, provided the money. Andy and Lew hated each other, but the VHS boom probably motivated the ulta-low-budget film, which is Milligan’s take on the Frankenstein monster, with a little bit of the Golem thrown in.

None of Milligan’s ‘80s films made any money. The video boom was over. “The Weirdo” perhaps had a tiny VHS release, and later a Blu-Ray. “Surgikill” sat on the shelf for decades. ‘Monstrosity” economically fared no better. It may have had a small Europe VHS release. It finally found a DVD home early in the 21^st century and a Blu-Ray release in 2018.

Yet “Monstrosity” is my favorite Milligan LA film, and I feel comfortable saying it’s the most cultish of his last films. It’s dreadfully cheap, with typical Milligan gore (a couple steps below Herschell Gordon Lewis). The first 25 minutes – despite interesting film-noirish shots of sleazy ‘80s Los Angeles – is torture porn.

Stereotypical punks kill and maim random people on the streets. They rape and badly injure a young woman. While in what’s supposed to be a hospital room – but looks like a bedroom – one of the killers, pretending to be an orderly, savagely kills her, removing her intestines (again poor special effects). Her grieving boyfriend, along with a couple buddies, decide to create a Golem-like monster to get revenge. In an outdoor shed, they do just that and name the creation “Frankie.” Get it?

Readers may be wondering why I keep watching. But once Frankie arrives – played by frequent Milligan actor Hal Borske – “Monstrosity” turns into something special, the unique work, indeed, of a gutter auteur. As Craig writes in “Gutter Auteur …,” “… “Monstrosity” is an amazing, baffling and at times extraordinary film, equal parts social satire, slapstick farce and light fantasy, awash in the overall sheen of the horror-comedy mythos. … “Monstrosity” is Andy Milligan’s “Frankenstein,’ a conceit stated overtly by one of the characters, and vividly illustrated via the film’s main plot points.”

Borske's Frankie captures the spirit of Mary Shelley’s creation. He’s a monstrous innocent, initially trusting in his creators but learning the downbeat, dysfunctional lesson that most of the world hates him, and his creators only want to control him.

It’s not an irony, but merely obvious, that Borske’s Frankie, despite his deadly violence, is the most humane character in “Monstrosity.” And Milligan throws in a love interest, a dim-witted, oft-abused but gentle drug addict named Jamie Lee, played by Carrie Anita. It’s a marvelous performance by an actress I doubt was in another film.

Milligan never did love better than in this film as the relationship between a monster and a street girl seems natural. In wacky fashion, the pair are married by a guardian angel. During intimacy blood, rather than semen, shoots from other parts of Frankie’s body.

The cruel murder of Jamie Lee by Frankie’s creators leads to a revenge-filled bloody climax.

The final scene of “Monstrosity” is a cult gem. Author Craig accurately tags it as “allegorical.” Frankie sits on a public bench chatting away with a “bag lady’ named Agnes. They converse about life and the things they’ve learned through existence. Frankie is mellow, a bit downbeat but also optimistic, prepared to use his brain to be the best man he can be. What I like most in this final scene is that Frankie seems to have blended in with life on the street. His contemporaries aren’t alarmed by his conventionally grotesque appearance.

The camera moves up into an epilogue where Milligan shouts “Cut, that’s a wrap! Then cast and crew members join Frankie and Agnes on the street. It’s another cultish touch that probably wouldn’t have been included had the film received an initial release.

After “Monstrosity” there was the for-hire “Surgikill.” Milligan’s boyfriend Keeton died of AIDS. Soon afterwards Milligan was diagnosed with AIDS. The Troupe West playhouse closed and Milligan died in 1991. Author McDonough, who worked on the crew on “Monstrosity,” relates Milligan’s horrific final days. By then a pauper, Milligan is buried in an unmarked grave.

If you want to learn more about Andy Milligan, you can purchase McDonough’s’ updated biography and Craig’s analysis book here, and here. You can search ebay or other sites for issues 52, 53 and 54 of Tim Lucas’ Video Watchdog, to read a three-part series on Milligan. And Plan9Crunch blog has a detailed look at the making of “Surgikill” by its writer, the late Sherman Hirsh. Andy, in rascal fashion, conned Sherman into believing he never made films in England, but it’s a great read. And Plan9Crunch blog interviewed McDonough a long while ago. Many of Milligan's films are reviewed at Plan9Crunch.com.

Andy Milligan biographer Jimmy McDonough talks about 'The Ghastly One ...'

It's no secret that at Plan9Crunch, we are fans of the cult filmmaker Andy Milligan. His no-budget grindhouse films of a generation ago had a unique stamp that defined Milligan's compelling, dysfunctional style. Milligan died of AIDS almost 20 years ago, broke and more or less forgotten. Biographer Jimmy McDonough spent time with Milligan in his final years, and helped with a couple of his later films. His biography of Milligan captures the life Milligan led, from Cafe Cino productions, off-0ff Broadway productions, grindhouse filmmaking and his gay, hustling lifestyle that led to his death. We sent Jimmy several questions about Milligan, and he was kind enough to answer them with candor and insight. McDonough has written several acclaimed biographies that include the lives of Neil Young, Russ Meyer, and his latest, due out in about a week, Tammy Wynette. http://www.amazon.com/Tammy-Wynette-Tragic-Country-Queen/dp/0670021539 Here's the interview, unedited, conducted by Doug Gibson and Steve Stones. Thanks again, Jimmy!
---
1) How much of an influence did Cafe Cino have on the evolution of grindhouse (42nd St.) cinema and eventually on mainstream cinema?

McDonough: I'm not sure it had any influence on 42nd Street. It had a great deal of influence on Andy, though. Freedom. It gave him the license to create. And to make flesh certain fantasies lurking in his mind. Very powerful, that. If I had a time machine that is one place I'd go back to...the Cino, to watch one of Milligan's productions. Better yet, watching Andy watching of his productions. See those beady little eyes dancing as he utters a low, evil chuckle, all while watching a couple of actors beat up on one another. I think the Cino days held great promise for Andy. He had a big framed picture of Joe Cino, an unusually sentimental thing for Milligan. I still have it."

2) Why didn't Andy Milligan, in your opinion, make it out of the grindhouses as a director, given that he had more critical success at Cafe Cino and as an off-Broadway theater director? McDonough: "He was self-destructive. Milligan refused to tailor his act for anybody. He was incapable of it. And Andy could be an angry, angry guy. It scared people. Producer William Mishkin was the only one who could deal with Andy for more than a picture or two, and even that relationship was fraught with tension. Mishkin gave him the opportunity to make movies, but it was never financially rewarding enough to lead anywhere. The limitations were always the same--and primarily it was, "make it for nothing." Bill was a very cautious individual who wanted to see a return for every dollar spent. Andy was caught in a trick bag, stuck on the Mishkin plantation. All he could do was grind out one cheapo film after another. Eventually he burned out and grew very bitter about it all."

3) There seems to be mixed accounts as to whether or not Milligan actually made some of his films in England. One individual told us that he did not make any of his films there. Can you somehow confirm if Milligan did/did not make any of his films in England? What evidence or information do you have to suggest that Milligan did indeed film in England?

McDonough: Didn't make any films in England?!? You can't be serious. What poppycock. Is this the same "individual" who goes around claiming Andy wasn't homosexual? Bloodthirsty Butchers, The Body Beneath, Nightbirds, The Man with Two Heads, The Rats Are Coming... were all shot in England (parts of Rats were shot on Staten Island). The English estate where Milligan shot Body Beneath and Rats--do you think that's a set? Done with CGI? All the overseas actors--Berwick Kaler, Julie Shaw, Annabella Wood, Dennis DeMarne, so many others--did Andy fly them all to Staten Island? He didn't have enough in the budget to buy the crew coffee! You read the book, right? Reliable witnesses like John Borske and John Miranda are quoted about working with Andy overseas. Andy HIMSELF talks about living and working in England. He made films for an English producer, Leslie Elliot, also quoted in the book. Are they liars? Did I make it all up? What would be the point of such a conspiracy, anyway?"

4) What are your thoughts as to whether or not Milligan will ever achieve the cult status of someone like Ed Wood? Could Milligan ever achieve the same status as Wood, and could you envision Hollywood ever making a big budget film of his life, like Tim Burton did of Ed Wood? If Milligan will never achieve the status of Ed Wood, why is this?

McDonough: There was a certain innocence about Ed Wood (however angora-swathed) Milligan never had. Andy comes from a grimier, more recent time. He kind of picks up where Wood left off. Every week I get more and more mail about Andy. So something is happening, however tiny. Much to my amusement, there has been talk of a film of The Ghastly One, but I don't see how that particular environment could ever be replicated. Maybe in England. Don't tell anybody!"

5). In your own view, what is it specifically that makes Milligan films so sought after by cult film fans? What is his appeal to you as a writer?

McDonough: You know how there are these utterly obscure 45s that record fanatics savor? Some nobody--let's call him Herman--cuts a few great records at midnight in the back of a radio station and only 500 copies slip out to the world. Herman doesn't make a dime, works his entire life as a high school custodian, then dies of cirrosis of the liver at his Mom's house. Twenty years later he has a fan club in Sweden and the French are writing books about him. Suddenly Herman's got a cult! It may only be twenty-six people, but they're willing to die for the guy. Why? Who knows. Something in what Herman did struck a chord within these few. And if one person catches the virus, it's a given somebody else will get it, too. That's one of the few things that makes life bearable: sharing a movie or a book or a song with another person. Suddenly you're not alone. Everything's so homogenized these days, it's like it all comes out of the same fast-food vat. Movies are so slick, TV is all the same reality show, the radio's filled with songs that have been AutoTuned free of emotion. There's no use crying about it, that's just the way things work. The Model T turns into the PT Cruiser. You can't escape it. Andy is a refreshing antidote to all that. His is a timeless world, a dirty aquarium swimming with threadbare thespians in outlandish costumery, all of them ranting and raving the Milligan world view. Within seconds you know where you are, and it isn't pretty. There's something so original, so crackpot about the vision. For better and for worse, there's nothing remotely like it. Andy's movies are looking better and better as the years go by. I think I was too hard on his films in the book. That's the only thing I regret about The Ghastly One. What appeals to me most of all is that Milligan did it against all odds. People laughed at him, told him he was no good. He kept right on going. Make no mistake, Andy was an artist. You may think his art is something that should be scraped off the bottom of your shoe, but he was a true artist until the bitter end. One of the many reasons I admired him."

6) Milligan is noted for his "swirl technique" in early films, as well as long shots and facial closeups. Is this all due to the limitations and weight advantages, of an Auricon, or did he have his own style techniques that he deliberately used?

McDonough: "I think it was a combination plate. Andy couldn't be bothered by technical things, even the simplest adjustments that would've made his films a thousand times more bearable. The guy had no patience. Try to show him a different way of doing anything and he went berserk. Yes, he was affected by the limitations of his equipment, but primarily he was driven by emotions that way were beyond his control. Andy was a walking, talking 'swirl camera.' So that seeped out of his fingers and through the 16mm Auricon. His 35mm pictures are more earthbound. You couldn't 'swirl' that tank."

7) I was watching Tom Vazzo on a GURU DVD extra talking about working with Milligan's later films. He has little nice to say about Milligan's film-making. You were there for a couple of films. I'd like you to relate some positives of Milligan's skills that showed up even in a film such as Monstrosity?

McDonough: "You can't judge Andy by Hollywood (or even 'Independent Filmmaker') standards. He existed in a creepy little snowglobe all his own. Milligan made pictures for no money. NO MONEY. Anybody who's worked in the film business knows how hard it is to make a movie, particularly if you're a one man band like Milligan. There was something heroic in the way he did it. And he swept you up in the enthusiasm. It was the best fun ever. I wish you could've been there. I worked on big budget Hollywood pictures and it was a total bore. With Andy it was always total lunacy. Whenever I get together with Charlie Beesley, my primary cohort from those days, we end up doing impressions of Andy--or his much-beloved 'script girl' Frank Echols, who was always rolling his eyes at whatever atrocious faux pas Milligan had just committed. Honestly, I think of those times and I laugh out loud. Some of the happiest days of my life, working for Andy.

8) In The Ghastly One, you describe Milligan as an ill-tempered misanthrope capable of tantrums and vilifications, yet your affection for the man comes through in a genuine manner. Explain this paradox. How could someone who pushed so many people away from him be so well liked by you and others? 

McDonough: Explain? I don't think I can. My job as biographer is to evoke, not explain. Cantankerous, complex characters deserve friends, too. I've spent my life around them, and apparently I am one. Andy could be screaming about shooting drag queens one minute and then turn around and do something so kind and gentle you'd do a double-take. Not many people saw this side of him, but it was there. Not a day goes by that I don't think of Andy. I still wear the cowboy boots he gave me. I still have the cowboy shirts he made for me. And they still reek of his scent, which, I must tell you, is quite unforgettable. Eau d' Milligan!" 

9) Why were Milligan and other grindhouse filmmakers so easily manipulated and exploited by people such as the Mishkins, etc. Did they have any legal recourses they could have used?

McDonough: "I think a loaded gun would've worked much better. Those days were like the wild west. A handful of people held the power on 42nd Street. They controlled what played there. You wanted to play your pitiful little picture there, fine, but bend over first. A handful of distributors were savvy enough to swim in this shark tank and William Mishkin was one of them. He was the filter between Andy and the powers that be. Once Milligan lost Mishkin, it was really over for him. No way was he going to deal with somebody like Bingo Brandt and emerge without his feathers. I have a lot of respect for William Mishkin. Did he treat Andy as good as he could've? Probably not. But they made a lot of pictures together. And those lurid campaigns we all love came from Bill's feverish mind, nowhere else. In terms of exploitations campaigns the guy was a genius. I love the posters and pressbooks for Milligan's pictures as much as the movies themselves. I have a lot of respect for William Mishkin. Did he treat Andy as good as he could've? Probably not. But they made a lot of pictures together. And those lurid campaigns we all love came from Bill's feverish mind, nowhere else. In terms of exploitations campaigns the guy was a genius. I love the posters and pressbooks for Milligan's pictures as much as the movies themselves."

10) Do you think any "lost" Milligan films, such as The Naked Witch and "The Degenerates," might have prints that are still lurking out there somewhere?

McDonough: "You never know. I think I might've just located a 16mm reel that I believe is from "Depraved."

Last question: If you have any box office information on Milligan's films, we'd love to share that info on the blog. Also, any chance of a release of Nightbirds some day? (It took us a long time to find Torture Dungeon, Blood and Legacy of Horror, and I'm not sure the last two were worth it!

McDonough: "(I'm) happy that my collection of Milligan films now resides with the noted Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn and he plans on releasing them on DVD. Mr. Refn is just the man for the job. He loves all things Milligan and I know he'll do a great job with it all. A huge relief, that." Editor's Note: "Nightbirds" was released in 2012 by BFI DVD's Flip Side label with "The Body Beneath" and extras.

Andy Milligan's 'Nightbirds' is a gem

By Doug Gibson

I'd been meaning to write something about "Nightbirds," a 1970 Andy Milligan film, helmed in Britain for the owner of a "cinema club," that apparently had virtually no showings. According to Milligan biographer Jimmy McDonough, the cult director had a 16-millimeter print of "Nightbirds" that passed to the writer after Milligan's death. Eventually, McDonough (read an interview here) sold "Nightbirds" and other Milligan film memorabilia to filmmaker Nicolas Winding Refn, who had the cash to get Nightbirds a Region 2 release courtesy of the BFI's Flip Side label. (Read) Living n America, I bought the film and watched it on my laptop.

First, it's pure Milligan, a dysfunctional love affair where a weak man, Dink, played by oft-used Milligan player Berwick Kaler, meets a striking manipulative blonde, Dee, played by Julie Shaw. They begin an idyllic affair in Dee's rummage-filled upstairs flat making love often (this is one of the more erotic Milligan films) and talking, although it's mostly Dink revealing his feelings. Despite Dee's interest in Dink, there's a remoteness to her. Eventually, the pair develop conflicts. One involves Dee's mysterious relationship with her male landlord. The other involves Dink's friendship with a flirty, very middle-aged friend named Mabel. In a scene that is pure Milligan, the queenish Mabel physically flutters around Dee, appearing both maternal and sexually interested.

The film is similar to "The Servant," in that Dee slowly grows more calculating and manipulative toward her lover, so much so that the viewer realizes she's playing a sadistic game with a much-weaker, more vulnerable prey. All of Milligan's routine misogyny is on display, although Dee is more multi-dimensional, and harder to read, than the average Milligan antagonist. Whether this is due to Milligan, who made his unique films quickly and in slapdash fashion, or the superb performance by the beautiful, "vulnerable-looking" Shaw, is worthy of debate. Most of the cast is adequate, Kaler pretty good, but Shaw is simply marvelous in her role. Had independant film been more popular 40-plus years ago, she may have become a star. As it is, she disappeared after this non-release, never making another film.

I won't reveal more of the threadbare, dysfunctional but haunting "Nightbirds." Go see the film, readers. Buy the DVD, and take advantage of the trailer above. I have a challenge for TCM Underground, or IFC's more disappointing Grindhouse nights. Get a Milligan film. Although my preferred choice would be "Torture Dungeon," I'm sure that "Nighbirds," one of Milligan's top 5 films, and more like "Fleshpot on 42nd Street" than "The Ghastly Ones," would be an easy grab for either network. Readers should send emails to TCM and IFC and get Milligan on. If "Nightbirds" makes it TCM Underground, the director's early gay short, "Vapors," (read) would be perfect for a TCM Underground short.

Gutter Auteur an interesting criticism into work of grindhouse filmmaker Andy Milligan

By Doug Gibson

"Gutter Auteur: The Films of Andy Milligan," McFarland Press, 2012, is the latest subject of film criticism from Rob Craig, who earlier tackled "Ed Wood: Mad Genius" for the same press. To be honest, it doesn't really matter much if readers agree or not with Craig's comments and criticisms of the late grindhouse filmmaker, Milligan, who completed about 30 very low-budget films over nearly three decades, the 60s to early 90s. (Most of his films were completed prior to 1975). What's important is that Milligan, and his films, are receiving this depth of examination and commentary. Milligan, 1929-1991, made unique films which developed tiny cult interest prior to his death. In the past generation, thanks largely to an excellent biography by Jimmy McDonough, articles from Tim Lucas (Video Watchdog) and more critiques from Sleazoid Express author, the late Bill Landis, his cult has grown, albeit very slowly.

As good as McDonough's biography is, if focused more on his life than his films. Craig's effort -- despite some introductions -- including a thin one from Milligan contemporary Robert Patrick -- and background information on grindhouse cinema and the culture of sleaze that defined the now-gone 42nd Street theater district, where Milligan's films flourished, -- focuses on the films, describing them, deconstructing them, and even providing some information on how they fared commercially. For those who have seen enough of Milligan's films, "Seeds," "Torture Dungeon," "Bloodthirsty Butchers," "Nightbirds," "Blood," "The Ghastly Ones," "The Weirdo," ... and so on, it won't be a surprise that Craig views Milligan's work often as harsh, dysfunctional deadly attacks on the traditional family, motherhood, heterosexual relationships, heterosexual oral sex and happiness, which simply is not an approved ending in a Milligan film. Sex is twisted in a Milligan film, which often features incest.

To find the reasons for this pessimism, Craig hearkens back to McDonough's biography, which revealed the extremely dysfunctional family that Milligan grew up in. It included a morbidly obese, probably insane mother and a hapless, enabling father. The early films of Milligan are lost, thanks to a producer who destroyed them. However, a surviving early film, "Seeds," probably is representative of Milligan's early "sex" films, that dealt with life in the city and family. Craig regards "Seeds" as both a sex film and a horror film. Perhaps, but the horror is not traditional; it's comprised of a family literally rotting from hate and dysfunction, where violence and murder seems a natural result rather than a plot twist. (In the Seed DVD extras, there is a "working print" of Seeds that is far better than the main film, which is slowed down considerably by 35MM sex inserts. (Milligan shot Seeds and most of his films in 16MM blown up). The inserts almost ruin the film.

Milligan's "horror" films are better described as period pieces produced -- mainly for producer William Mishkin -- that fit a particular commercial need for 42nd Street fare but still enabled Milligan to produce his Genet-like and Grand Guignol-type attacks on traditional values, including the family and sexual relations. A dressmaker by trade, his films include garish colors, elevator music, and roses. They include "Torture Dungeon," his version of Shakespeare by way of Staten Island, "The Man with Two Heads," his Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, which Craig aptly notes may be the best version of Stevenson's classic tale, "Bloodthirsty Butchers," his take on Sweeney Todd, "Blood," his monster-mash of Universal's creations, "Monstrosity," his take on "Shelly's Frankenstein, "The Body Beneath," his vampire take, and "Guru: The Mad Monk,: his dark riff on religious dogma. (And to think I've only mentioned a few of his films!)

Craig understands that sampling Milligan, while not exactly a pleasant experience, is time well spent intellectually. They provide a glimpse into a world where positive results are simply not possible due to the ugliness that dominate human relationships. Take the recent BFI Flip Side DVD release of the once semi-lost Milligan film, "Nightbirds," which Craig critiques. In it, a young man meets a beautiful woman who enraptures him with sex, then casts him away. He dies and the predatory woman goes after a new man to ruin. As Craig mentions, it's a claustrophobic film, with most of the action confined to a single room. The male protagonist is a pathetic figure, a mere fly for the evil woman's web. It's also impossible not to keep watching.

Milligan was literally a one-man filmmaker, doing everything from directing to gaffer work to music scoring in order to make his films cheaply for Mishkin and others. Most of his films cost about $10,000. It's a tribute to his ramshackle skills (perhaps mostly learned as a director for the iconic, tiny Caffe Cino in the early 1960s) that Milligan could create these haphazard agitprop worlds on the cheap yet create characters and situations that hooked viewers.

By most accounts, Milligan could be a very unpleasant man. He drove away potential investors and friends and railed against Mishkin and other producers, although he seemed to live comfortably enough for more than two decades. He bought homes and a small hotel in Staten Island, and an off-off broadway theater in New York City. He eventually moved to Los Angeles in the mid-1980s, and capped off his career making films for William Mishkin's son Lew, who was not as bright as his father. Lew Mishkin hated Milligan so much that he, as mentioned, deliberately destroyed copies of his earlier films. To this date, film sleuths are still looking for titles such as "The Naked Witch" and "Tricks of the Trade," and others that Mishkin Jr. melt for copper and spite. From time to time, Milligan films are discovered. Examples include "Vapors," his first film, a pre-Stonewall short about life in a gay bathhouse, "Seeds," and "Nightbirds."

It's interesting that Craig also did a book on Ed Wood. Both Milligan and Wood died in poverty. Milligan and Wood are diverse in that Wood was a likable chap with limited skills who destroyed himself with booze.  Milligan was a very skilled filmmaker who made his films in slapdash fashion. Milligan, although a prowler of gay night sex (he would die of AIDS) was not a drinker or drug abuser. His harsh personality drove away relationships that might have improved his finances.

Craig's criticisms  are interesting. He takes a somewhat contrary view of some films. He's less enthusiastic of "Vapors" and "Fleshpot on 42nd Street" than other critics are, and he likes later Milligan efforts such as "Legacy of Blood," and "Blood," more than many other Milligan enthusiasts. I appreciate his strong thumbs-up critique of "Monstrosity," the Frankenstein knockoff starring Milligan actor Hal Borske, that is a terrific, satirical comedy that deserves more notice. (In fact, memo to the folks at TCM Underground -- there are a wealth of Milligan films that deserve late-night Friday showings on your series.) One nice piece of observance by Craig is how Milligan, in his later films, "Carnage," "The Weirdo" and "Monstrosity," appear more kind to the protagonists than in earlier films, although the films still retain the customary dysfunctional endings. Craig, like McDonough, has only scorn for "Surgikill," Milligan's final hospital horror comedy. While the movie is very crude and juvenile, it does have some positive moments, and a Milligan touch, a drag queen nurse.

"Gutter Auteur" is a good read, and an improvement on Craig's otherwise OK book on Wood, which relied too much at times on feminist theory. I agree with Craig that Milligan's films are better on the big screen (I have yet to see one that way, unfortunately) I hope "Gutter Auteur"  takes a place as a work that contributes to Milligan's slow-but-baby-steps-consistency march to greater cult status. His films are fascinating slap-dash pieces of dysfunction, and Craig understands that, and provides some interesting commentary. Despite this book, a great biography and other works, I suspect there's more to learn about the fascinating life and work of Milligan.

For those uninitiated in Milligan, here's a great scene from Torture Dungeon (below).

Rerun: Interview with Andy Milligan biographer Jimmy McDonough

In 2010, Plan9Crunch interviewed Jimmy McDonough, author of "The Ghastly One ...," the fascinating biography of the late grindhouse filmmaker, Andy Milligan. For our readers' convenience, we re-run it today. Interest in Milligan remains high. Due in part to McDonough preserving a print for years, the British Film Institute just released Milligan's very obscure film, "Nightbirds." We can always hope "The Naked Witch," the original "The Weirdo," "The Degenerates" or other lost films resurface.

1) How much of an influence did Cafe Cino have on the evolution of grindhouse (42nd St.) cinema and eventually on mainstream cinema?

McDonough: I'm not sure it had any influence on 42nd Street. It had a great deal of influence on Andy, though. Freedom. It gave him the license to create. And to make flesh certain fantasies lurking in his mind. Very powerful, that. If I had a time machine that is one place I'd go back to...the Cino, to watch one of Milligan's productions. Better yet, watching Andy watching of his productions. See those beady little eyes dancing as he utters a low, evil chuckle, all while watching a couple of actors beat up on one another. I think the Cino days held great promise for Andy. He had a big framed picture of Joe Cino, an unusually sentimental thing for Milligan. I still have it."

2) Why didn't Andy Milligan, in your opinion, make it out of the grindhouses as a director, given that he had more critical success at Cafe Cino and as an off-Broadway theater director?

McDonough: "He was self-destructive. Milligan refused to tailor his act for anybody. He was incapable of it. And Andy could be an angry, angry guy. It scared people. Producer William Mishkin was the only one who could deal with Andy for more than a picture or two, and even that relationship was fraught with tension. Mishkin gave him the opportunity to make movies, but it was never financially rewarding enough to lead anywhere. The limitations were always the same--and primarily it was, "make it for nothing." Bill was a very cautious individual who wanted to see a return for every dollar spent. Andy was caught in a trick bag, stuck on the Mishkin plantation. All he could do was grind out one cheapo film after another. Eventually he burned out and grew very bitter about it all."

 3) There seems to be mixed accounts as to whether or not Milligan actually made some of his films in England. One individual told us that he did not make any of his films there. Can you somehow confirm if Milligan did/did not make any of his films in England? What evidence or information do you have to suggest that Milligan did indeed film in England? McDonough: Didn't make any films in England?!? You can't be serious. What poppycock. Is this the same "individual" who goes around claiming Andy wasn't homosexual? Bloodthirsty Butchers, The Body Beneath, Nightbirds, The Man with Two Heads, The Rats Are Coming... were all shot in England (parts of Rats were shot on Staten Island). The English estate where Milligan shot Body Beneath and Rats--do you think that's a set? Done with CGI? All the overseas actors--Berwick Kaler, Julie Shaw, Annabella Wood, Dennis DeMarne, so many others--did Andy fly them all to Staten Island? He didn't have enough in the budget to buy the crew coffee! You read the book, right? Reliable witnesses like John Borske and John Miranda are quoted about working with Andy overseas. Andy HIMSELF talks about living and working in England. He made films for an English producer, Leslie Elliot, also quoted in the book. Are they liars? Did I make it all up? What would be the point of such a conspiracy, anyway?"

4) What are your thoughts as to whether or not Milligan will ever achieve the cult status of someone like Ed Wood? Could Milligan ever achieve the same status as Wood, and could you envision Hollywood ever making a big budget film of his life, like Tim Burton did of Ed Wood? If Milligan will never achieve the status of Ed Wood, why is this? 

McDonough: There was a certain innocence about Ed Wood (however angora-swathed) Milligan never had. Andy comes from a grimier, more recent time. He kind of picks up where Wood left off. Every week I get more and more mail about Andy. So something is happening, however tiny. Much to my amusement, there has been talk of a film of The Ghastly One, but I don't see how that particular environment could ever be replicated. Maybe in England. Don't tell anybody!"

 5). In your own view, what is it specifically that makes Milligan films so sought after by cult film fans? What is his appeal to you as a writer?

McDonough: You know how there are these utterly obscure 45s that record fanatics savor? Some nobody--let's call him Herman--cuts a few great records at midnight in the back of a radio station and only 500 copies slip out to the world. Herman doesn't make a dime, works his entire life as a high school custodian, then dies of cirrosis of the liver at his Mom's house. Twenty years later he has a fan club in Sweden and the French are writing books about him. Suddenly Herman's got a cult! It may only be twenty-six people, but they're willing to die for the guy. Why? Who knows. Something in what Herman did struck a chord within these few. And if one person catches the virus, it's a given somebody else will get it, too. That's one of the few things that makes life bearable: sharing a movie or a book or a song with another person. Suddenly you're not alone. Everything's so homogenized these days, it's like it all comes out of the same fast-food vat. Movies are so slick, TV is all the same reality show, the radio's filled with songs that have been AutoTuned free of emotion. There's no use crying about it, that's just the way things work. The Model T turns into the PT Cruiser. You can't escape it. Andy is a refreshing antidote to all that. His is a timeless world, a dirty aquarium swimming with threadbare thespians in outlandish costumery, all of them ranting and raving the Milligan world view. Within seconds you know where you are, and it isn't pretty. There's something so original, so crackpot about the vision. For better and for worse, there's nothing remotely like it. Andy's movies are looking better and better as the years go by. I think I was too hard on his films in the book. That's the only thing I regret about The Ghastly One. What appeals to me most of all is that Milligan did it against all odds. People laughed at him, told him he was no good. He kept right on going. Make no mistake, Andy was an artist. You may think his art is something that should be scraped off the bottom of your shoe, but he was a true artist until the bitter end. One of the many reasons I admired him."

 6) Milligan is noted for his "swirl technique" in early films, as well as long shots and facial closeups. Is this all due to the limitations and weight advantages, of an Auricon, or did he have his own style techniques that he deliberately used?

McDonough: "I think it was a combination plate. Andy couldn't be bothered by technical things, even the simplest adjustments that would've made his films a thousand times more bearable. The guy had no patience. Try to show him a different way of doing anything and he went berserk. Yes, he was affected by the limitations of his equipment, but primarily he was driven by emotions that way were beyond his control. Andy was a walking, talking 'swirl camera.' So that seeped out of his fingers and through the 16mm Auricon. His 35mm pictures are more earthbound. You couldn't 'swirl' that tank."

7) I was watching Tom Vazzo on a GURU DVD extra talking about working with Milligan's later films. He has little nice to say about Milligan's film-making. You were there for a couple of films. I'd like you to relate some positives of Milligan's skills that showed up even in a film such as Monstrosity?

McDonough: "You can't judge Andy by Hollywood (or even 'Independent Filmmaker') standards. He existed in a creepy little snowglobe all his own. Milligan made pictures for no money. NO MONEY. Anybody who's worked in the film business knows how hard it is to make a movie, particularly if you're a one man band like Milligan. There was something heroic in the way he did it. And he swept you up in the enthusiasm. It was the best fun ever. I wish you could've been there. I worked on big budget Hollywood pictures and it was a total bore. With Andy it was always total lunacy. Whenever I get together with Charlie Beesley, my primary cohort from those days, we end up doing impressions of Andy--or his much-beloved 'script girl' Frank Echols, who was always rolling his eyes at whatever atrocious faux pas Milligan had just committed. Honestly, I think of those times and I laugh out loud. Some of the happiest days of my life, working for Andy.

8) In The Ghastly One, you describe Milligan as an ill-tempered misanthrope capable of tantrums and vilifications, yet your affection for the man comes through in a genuine manner. Explain this paradox. How could someone who pushed so many people away from him be so well liked by you and others?

McDonough: Explain? I don't think I can. My job as biographer is to evoke, not explain. Cantankerous, complex characters deserve friends, too. I've spent my life around them, and apparently I am one. Andy could be screaming about shooting drag queens one minute and then turn around and do something so kind and gentle you'd do a double-take. Not many people saw this side of him, but it was there. Not a day goes by that I don't think of Andy. I still wear the cowboy boots he gave me. I still have the cowboy shirts he made for me. And they still reek of his scent, which, I must tell you, is quite unforgettable. Eau d' Milligan!" 

9) Why were Milligan and other grindhouse filmmakers so easily manipulated and exploited by people such as the Mishkins, etc. Did they have any legal recourses they could have used?

McDonough: "I think a loaded gun would've worked much better. Those days were like the wild west. A handful of people held the power on 42nd Street. They controlled what played there. You wanted to play your pitiful little picture there, fine, but bend over first. A handful of distributors were savvy enough to swim in this shark tank and William Mishkin was one of them. He was the filter between Andy and the powers that be. Once Milligan lost Mishkin, it was really over for him. No way was he going to deal with somebody like Bingo Brandt and emerge without his feathers. I have a lot of respect for William Mishkin. Did he treat Andy as good as he could've? Probably not. But they made a lot of pictures together. And those lurid campaigns we all love came from Bill's feverish mind, nowhere else. In terms of exploitations campaigns the guy was a genius. I love the posters and pressbooks for Milligan's pictures as much as the movies themselves. I have a lot of respect for William Mishkin. Did he treat Andy as good as he could've? Probably not. But they made a lot of pictures together. And those lurid campaigns we all love came from Bill's feverish mind, nowhere else. In terms of exploitations campaigns the guy was a genius. I love the posters and pressbooks for Milligan's pictures as much as the movies themselves."

10) Do you think any "lost" Milligan films, such as The Naked Witch and "The Degenerates," might have prints that are still lurking out there somewhere?

McDonough: "You never know. I think I might've just located a 16mm reel that I believe is from "Depraved."

Last question: If you have any box office information on Milligan's films, we'd love to share that info on the blog. Also, any chance of a release of Nightbirds some day? (It took us a long time to find Torture Dungeon, Blood and Legacy of Horror, and I'm not sure the last two were worth it!

McDonough: "(I'm) happy that my collection of Milligan films now resides with the noted Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn and he plans on releasing them on DVD. Mr. Refn is just the man for the job. He loves all things Milligan and I know he'll do a great job with it all. A huge relief, that." Editor's Note: "Nightbirds" was released in 2012 by BFI DVD's Flip Side label with "The Body Beneath" and extras.

Andy Milligan's 'Vapors' a fascinating pre-Stonewall gay short

By Doug Gibson

Vapors is a fascinating pre-Stonewall era short film that portrays the gay lifestyle of that era in neutral, and even positive story-telling. The 32-minute black and white film was shot by Andy Milligan, the late cult gay filmmaker who would later make a string micro-budget gutter horror films unique enough to garner cult status.

Vapors may be Milligan’s best film, although “Fleshpot on 42^nd Street” is a strong contender. The film takes place in a bathhouse of that era in NYC, it’s meant to be the St. Marks bathhouse (exteriors are shot there, and towels from that establishment are used in the film. Interiors, which are quite realistic, were shot near Milligan’s apartment in NYC. A gay young man, played by Gerry Jacuzzo, who would become a Milligan troupe actor, arrives at the bathhouse. He, Thomas, enters a room and awaits male companionship. An older man, Mr. Jaffe, played by Cino Café director Bob Dadah, enters and the two begin a conversation. Sex is never mentioned but the chat is intimate; much of this is due to Jacuzzo’s performance, which is Oscar quality. He maintains eye and hand contact with Mr. Jaffe and makes an effort to understand this interesting man.

Dadah is very good too as a repressed homosexual, married, and making his first trip to a bathhouse. It becomes apparent soon that he’s looking for someone to talk to, about his dissatisfaction with his wife and his grief over his son’s death. During the conversation, Mr. Jaffe, played well by Dadah, asks to touch Thomas’ skin. The caress is tender. The conversation has turned to Mr. Jaffe’s dead son, and Thomas seems to be a surrogate, a chance for a grieving father to caress a child once again.

Although no sex occurs between these two, their conversation is more intimate than intercourse.

Also in the movie are various “queens,” frequent, ubiquitous frequenters of St. Mark’s that move in and out of the action. Usually grouped together, they serve as a Shakespearian choir, updating the audience about life in the bathhouse and the culture of frequent, anonymous homosexual sex.

This was filmed almost 20 years before the AIDS virus struck. It’s a time capsule of a movie. Watching the lives of quiet and extrovert desperation, one understands how unfair it was that those who desired same-sex companionship were forced into the dysfunctional, seedy world of St. Mark’s and other locations. As Milligan biographer Jimmy McDonough has published, Milligan was a frequent participant in the life of frequent anonymous sexual encounters with men in sticky locations, from bathhouses to flophouses to 42^nd Street theaters. He died of AIDS, as did many of his contemporaries.

The film was written by Hope Stansbury, a Milligan actress. It is at times a corny victim of its era. The queens, the best acting is by another Milligan actor, Hal Borske, are stereotypical and might be considered bigoted today. Dadah’s complaints of his wife’s cold cream, ugly feet and bunions are juvenile. But it all works, largely due to Jacuzzo’s sensitive, intense performance.

The last scene has Thomas, alone, asking a man to come in his room. The man drops his St. Mark’s bathrobe. In the original film release, it focuses on the visitor’s penis. That caused police raids in its time. The Something Weird folks, who rescued the film from oblivion, have a print that does a sketchy job of blocking the penis. Vapors, which deserves more notice, is an extra on SW’s DVD of another Milligan film, The Body Beneath; its trailer is also included. It is also in a SW compilation of gay films of that era.

Interview with Jimmy McDonough, author of The Ghastly One: The Sex-Gore Netherworld of Filmmaker Andy Milligan

It's no secret that at Plan9Crunch, we are fans of the cult filmmaker Andy Milligan. His no-budget grindhouse films of a generation ago had a unique stamp that defined Milligan's compelling, dysfunctional style. Milligan died of AIDS almost 20 years ago, broke and more or less forgotten. Biographer Jimmy McDonough spent time with Milligan in his final years, and helped with a couple of his later films. His biography of Milligan captures the life Milligan led, from Cafe Cino productions, off-0ff Broadway productions, grindhouse filmmaking and his gay, hustling lifestyle that led to his death. We sent Jimmy several questions about Milligan, and he was kind enough to answer them with candor and insight. McDonough has written several acclaimed biographies that include the lives of Neil Young, Russ Meyer, and his latest, due out in about a week, Tammy Wynette. http://www.amazon.com/Tammy-Wynette-Tragic-Country-Queen/dp/0670021539 Here's the interview, unedited, conducted by Doug Gibson and Steve Stones. Thanks again, Jimmy!
---
1) How much of an influence did Cafe Cino have on the evolution of grindhouse (42nd St.) cinema and eventually on mainstream cinema?

McDonough: I'm not sure it had any influence on 42nd Street. It had a great deal of influence on Andy, though. Freedom. It gave him the license to create. And to make flesh certain fantasies lurking in his mind. Very powerful, that. If I had a time machine that is one place I'd go back to...the Cino, to watch one of Milligan's productions. Better yet, watching Andy watching of his productions. See those beady little eyes dancing as he utters a low, evil chuckle, all while watching a couple of actors beat up on one another. I think the Cino days held great promise for Andy. He had a big framed picture of Joe Cino, an unusually sentimental thing for Milligan. I still have it."

2) Why didn't Andy Milligan, in your opinion, make it out of the grindhouses as a director, given that he had more critical success at Cafe Cino and as an off-Broadway theater director? McDonough: "He was self-destructive. Milligan refused to tailor his act for anybody. He was incapable of it. And Andy could be an angry, angry guy. It scared people. Producer William Mishkin was the only one who could deal with Andy for more than a picture or two, and even that relationship was fraught with tension. Mishkin gave him the opportunity to make movies, but it was never financially rewarding enough to lead anywhere. The limitations were always the same--and primarily it was, "make it for nothing." Bill was a very cautious individual who wanted to see a return for every dollar spent. Andy was caught in a trick bag, stuck on the Mishkin plantation. All he could do was grind out one cheapo film after another. Eventually he burned out and grew very bitter about it all."

3) There seems to be mixed accounts as to whether or not Milligan actually made some of his films in England. One individual told us that he did not make any of his films there. Can you somehow confirm if Milligan did/did not make any of his films in England? What evidence or information do you have to suggest that Milligan did indeed film in England?

McDonough: Didn't make any films in England?!? You can't be serious. What poppycock. Is this the same "individual" who goes around claiming Andy wasn't homosexual? Bloodthirsty Butchers, The Body Beneath, Nightbirds, The Man with Two Heads, The Rats Are Coming... were all shot in England (parts of Rats were shot on Staten Island). The English estate where Milligan shot Body Beneath and Rats--do you think that's a set? Done with CGI? All the overseas actors--Berwick Kaler, Julie Shaw, Annabella Wood, Dennis DeMarne, so many others--did Andy fly them all to Staten Island? He didn't have enough in the budget to buy the crew coffee! You read the book, right? Reliable witnesses like John Borske and John Miranda are quoted about working with Andy overseas. Andy HIMSELF talks about living and working in England. He made films for an English producer, Leslie Elliot, also quoted in the book. Are they liars? Did I make it all up? What would be the point of such a conspiracy, anyway?"

4) What are your thoughts as to whether or not Milligan will ever achieve the cult status of someone like Ed Wood? Could Milligan ever achieve the same status as Wood, and could you envision Hollywood ever making a big budget film of his life, like Tim Burton did of Ed Wood? If Milligan will never achieve the status of Ed Wood, why is this?

McDonough: There was a certain innocence about Ed Wood (however angora-swathed) Milligan never had. Andy comes from a grimier, more recent time. He kind of picks up where Wood left off. Every week I get more and more mail about Andy. So something is happening, however tiny. Much to my amusement, there has been talk of a film of The Ghastly One, but I don't see how that particular environment could ever be replicated. Maybe in England. Don't tell anybody!"

5). In your own view, what is it specifically that makes Milligan films so sought after by cult film fans? What is his appeal to you as a writer?

McDonough: You know how there are these utterly obscure 45s that record fanatics savor? Some nobody--let's call him Herman--cuts a few great records at midnight in the back of a radio station and only 500 copies slip out to the world. Herman doesn't make a dime, works his entire life as a high school custodian, then dies of cirrosis of the liver at his Mom's house. Twenty years later he has a fan club in Sweden and the French are writing books about him. Suddenly Herman's got a cult! It may only be twenty-six people, but they're willing to die for the guy. Why? Who knows. Something in what Herman did struck a chord within these few. And if one person catches the virus, it's a given somebody else will get it, too. That's one of the few things that makes life bearable: sharing a movie or a book or a song with another person. Suddenly you're not alone. Everything's so homogenized these days, it's like it all comes out of the same fast-food vat. Movies are so slick, TV is all the same reality show, the radio's filled with songs that have been AutoTuned free of emotion. There's no use crying about it, that's just the way things work. The Model T turns into the PT Cruiser. You can't escape it. Andy is a refreshing antidote to all that. His is a timeless world, a dirty aquarium swimming with threadbare thespians in outlandish costumery, all of them ranting and raving the Milligan world view. Within seconds you know where you are, and it isn't pretty. There's something so original, so crackpot about the vision. For better and for worse, there's nothing remotely like it. Andy's movies are looking better and better as the years go by. I think I was too hard on his films in the book. That's the only thing I regret about The Ghastly One. What appeals to me most of all is that Milligan did it against all odds. People laughed at him, told him he was no good. He kept right on going. Make no mistake, Andy was an artist. You may think his art is something that should be scraped off the bottom of your shoe, but he was a true artist until the bitter end. One of the many reasons I admired him."

6) Milligan is noted for his "swirl technique" in early films, as well as long shots and facial closeups. Is this all due to the limitations and weight advantages, of an Auricon, or did he have his own style techniques that he deliberately used?

McDonough: "I think it was a combination plate. Andy couldn't be bothered by technical things, even the simplest adjustments that would've made his films a thousand times more bearable. The guy had no patience. Try to show him a different way of doing anything and he went berserk. Yes, he was affected by the limitations of his equipment, but primarily he was driven by emotions that way were beyond his control. Andy was a walking, talking 'swirl camera.' So that seeped out of his fingers and through the 16mm Auricon. His 35mm pictures are more earthbound. You couldn't 'swirl' that tank."

7) I was watching Tom Vazzo on a GURU DVD extra talking about working with Milligan's later films. He has little nice to say about Milligan's film-making. You were there for a couple of films. I'd like you to relate some positives of Milligan's skills that showed up even in a film such as Monstrosity?

McDonough: "You can't judge Andy by Hollywood (or even 'Independent Filmmaker') standards. He existed in a creepy little snowglobe all his own. Milligan made pictures for no money. NO MONEY. Anybody who's worked in the film business knows how hard it is to make a movie, particularly if you're a one man band like Milligan. There was something heroic in the way he did it. And he swept you up in the enthusiasm. It was the best fun ever. I wish you could've been there. I worked on big budget Hollywood pictures and it was a total bore. With Andy it was always total lunacy. Whenever I get together with Charlie Beesley, my primary cohort from those days, we end up doing impressions of Andy--or his much-beloved 'script girl' Frank Echols, who was always rolling his eyes at whatever atrocious faux pas Milligan had just committed. Honestly, I think of those times and I laugh out loud. Some of the happiest days of my life, working for Andy.

8) In The Ghastly One, you describe Milligan as an ill-tempered misanthrope capable of tantrums and vilifications, yet your affection for the man comes through in a genuine manner. Explain this paradox. How could someone who pushed so many people away from him be so well liked by you and others? 

McDonough: Explain? I don't think I can. My job as biographer is to evoke, not explain. Cantankerous, complex characters deserve friends, too. I've spent my life around them, and apparently I am one. Andy could be screaming about shooting drag queens one minute and then turn around and do something so kind and gentle you'd do a double-take. Not many people saw this side of him, but it was there. Not a day goes by that I don't think of Andy. I still wear the cowboy boots he gave me. I still have the cowboy shirts he made for me. And they still reek of his scent, which, I must tell you, is quite unforgettable. Eau d' Milligan!" 

9) Why were Milligan and other grindhouse filmmakers so easily manipulated and exploited by people such as the Mishkins, etc. Did they have any legal recourses they could have used?

McDonough: "I think a loaded gun would've worked much better. Those days were like the wild west. A handful of people held the power on 42nd Street. They controlled what played there. You wanted to play your pitiful little picture there, fine, but bend over first. A handful of distributors were savvy enough to swim in this shark tank and William Mishkin was one of them. He was the filter between Andy and the powers that be. Once Milligan lost Mishkin, it was really over for him. No way was he going to deal with somebody like Bingo Brandt and emerge without his feathers. I have a lot of respect for William Mishkin. Did he treat Andy as good as he could've? Probably not. But they made a lot of pictures together. And those lurid campaigns we all love came from Bill's feverish mind, nowhere else. In terms of exploitations campaigns the guy was a genius. I love the posters and pressbooks for Milligan's pictures as much as the movies themselves. I have a lot of respect for William Mishkin. Did he treat Andy as good as he could've? Probably not. But they made a lot of pictures together. And those lurid campaigns we all love came from Bill's feverish mind, nowhere else. In terms of exploitations campaigns the guy was a genius. I love the posters and pressbooks for Milligan's pictures as much as the movies themselves."

10) Do you think any "lost" Milligan films, such as The Naked Witch and "The Degenerates," might have prints that are still lurking out there somewhere?

McDonough: "You never know. I think I might've just located a 16mm reel that I believe is from "Depraved."

Last question: If you have any box office information on Milligan's films, we'd love to share that info on the blog. Also, any chance of a release of Nightbirds some day? (It took us a long time to find Torture Dungeon, Blood and Legacy of Horror, and I'm not sure the last two were worth it!

McDonough: "(I'm) happy that my collection of Milligan films now resides with the noted Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn and he plans on releasing them on DVD. Mr. Refn is just the man for the job. He loves all things Milligan and I know he'll do a great job with it all. A huge relief, that." Editor's Note: "Nightbirds" was released in 2012 by BFI DVD's Flip Side label with "The Body Beneath" and extras.