Tag Archives: John Waters

Friday Night At The Home Drive-In: Andy Warhol’s Bad (1977)

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Andy Warhol’s Bad (1977) is one of those films that is almost mythical to me (in terms of my own life and how I experienced it – not that I had heard great mythical stories about it). I stumbled onto it as a VHS rental decades ago. I had been exploring Andy Warhol’s filmography, starting with Flesh for Frankenstein (1973) and Blood for Dracula (1974), of course. The VHS tapes showed up at my local video store and looked like something special. The boxes actually said Andy Warhol presents Dracula, and Andy Warhol presents Frankenstein. I read them as Andy Warhol’s Dracula and Andy Warhol’s Frankenstein, which I swear some boxes actually said. 

VHS box for Andy Warhol's DraculaVHS box for Andy Warhol's Frankenstein

One of the first things that I discovered about these films, is that they were not directed by Andy Warhol. Some guy named Paul Morrissey seemed to be getting all of the credit. How can this be? How can a film be called Andy Warhol’s (whatever) and not be directed by Andy Warhol? This was a new concept to me…

I’m not sure what I really knew about Andy Warhol in those days. Not a lot, I’m sure. I knew he was an artist. A “pop artist”, in fact, who painted things like soup cans.  And that he had famously predicted that “In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes.” Although, it turns out that he may not have ever said that, in fact. Go figure.

VHS box for Andy Warhol's Heat - not for Andy Warhol's BadAt some point I must have found out that Andy Warhol made movies. Was that before the VHS tapes of …Dracula and …Frankenstein turned up at my store? I’m not sure. But after I watched those movies, and found them to be suitably unique. and interesting, I decided to rent all of the Andy Warhol’s (whatever) movies. There was Flesh (1968), Trash (1970), Heat (1972) and last, but not least, Bad (1977). The VHS tapes all looked like they were from a matching set, and it seemed like Andy Warhol had a thing for one word titles that were somewhat provocative. And most of them starred a guy named Joe Dallesandro, who was presented as if he was a big star, but I had never heard of him.  It turned out that he was what they call a Warhol superstar.  He went on to have a decent acting career, at first in Europe and then back in North America, where he appeared on TV shows like Miami Vice (1984-90) and The Hitchhiker (1983-91). He was also in John Waters’ Cry-Baby (1990), which is interesting for other reasons that will become apparent.

Andy Warhol’s Bad was the last of the first wave of Andy Warhol films that I made of point of renting and watching, and it was by far my favourite. I would say that it was the best, but that’s a highly subjective thing, and I don’t want to offend anyone who has another favourite (but it was the best). I would say that it blew my mind. It was so edgy and shocking (to me) and like the review on the cover of the VHS box said, it’s “A picture with something to offend absolutely everybody.” — New York Post

Needless to say, I loved it, and I wanted to buy a copy and add it to my collection. Unfortunately, it was pretty hard to come by. The VHS tape that I had rented was technically for sale, as all tapes were at my favourite video store, but the price on the sticker was $199.99. In my experience, this basically meant that the store did not want to sell it, but if anyone was crazy enough to pay two hundred dollars for it, they’d take it. I may have been crazy, but I wasn’t that crazy.

So, I spent the next twenty years keeping my eyes peeled, and scouring bargain bins everywhere that In went. But this movie was never for sale anywhere. I might have considered giving up and paying two hundred dollars for it, but it had long since disappeared from that store. Had someone else been crazy enough to pay that price? I’ll never know.

A couple of years ago, I found a cheapjack DVD released by Cheezy Movies. It was probably no better a print that I had originally seen on that old VHS tape many years ago, but the price was right, so I bought it.  Why has this film never been given the super-deluxe collector’s edition treatment? Why is there no Blu-ray? I’m sure there’s some bizarre legal reasons, or something like that. In any case, i’ll take what I can get until something better comes along.

It was great to finally see the movie again. Of course, it’s not quite so edgy and offensive anymore (to me). I’ve watched a lot of edgy, crazy, offensive movies in the decades since I first saw Bad.

This brings to mind another interesting point. many people have compared Bad to the films of John Waters. Some have even suggested that it was Andy Warhol’s attempt to do a John Waters film (that could have been a good title, actually: Andy Warhol’s John Waters). This is not something that would have ever occurred to me back when I first saw Bad, because I don’t think I had ever seen a John Waters film. Watching it now, after becoming a full fledged fan of John Waters and collecting all of his movies, I can see the comparison. There are still a lot of differences, and I’m not sure that it was actually an attempt to “do” John Waters. But I like Bad for many of the same reasons that I like John Waters, so that’s something, I guess.

I recently found out that Andy Warhol’s Bad (1977) ran for many years as a midnight movie in Chicago. This gives it the ultimate seal of approval as a perfect selection for a #FridayNightAtTheHomeDriveIn. It’s a wonderful, nostalgic blast from the past, and a timeless piece of #NotQuiteClassicCinema. And if you’re a little on the new side, it might still have the power to shock and offend you. And what could be better than that?

Friday Night At The Home Drive-In: Chained Girls (1965)

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Chained Girls is a phrase that has immediate connotations and resonance for me. When I see it on a movie box – or poster – I assume that I am looking at a Women In Prison film (or WIP as some people like to abbreviate it). This is a genre that I have a particular interest in – and connection to – as I once wrote an important essay about it when I was a film student, and subsequently wrote an entire musical play poking fun at it (which was called  Bad Girls Jailhouse and was first produced in 1994). That play started me on a long path of writing, producing and directing crazy musicals, which was my main focus for over ten years – but that’s another story.

Chained Girls (1965) is an old exploitation movie that is NOT about women in prison. It is, as stated in its own publicity materials, “A daring film about lesbianism today!” If that wasn’t shocking enough for audiences in 1965, Chained Girls also claimed to be a documentary. That’s right. A documentary, as opposed to a sleazy sexploitation drama that one might typically have seen at certain drive-ins and grindhouses back in the day. Chained Girls wasn’t a cheap exploitation picture, it was EDUCATIONAL, so… uh… back off censors and other rule mongers. We have to show the public what lesbians do so that honest, morally upright people can LEARN something. This movie is good for them, like eating granola. It can help prevent tragedies and poor life choices by showing what happens to people who who’ve made those poor choices.

Poster for Mom and Dad (1945), perhaps an influence on Chained GirlsI suppose this suggests that Chained Girls is part of that unique exploitation genre, most popular in the 1930s and 40s, which includes infamous movies like Mom and Dad (1945), Marihuana (1936), Child Bride (1943) and She Shoulda Said No! (1949). On the other hand, it was probably influenced by the emergence of mondo movies, like Mondo Cane (1962), Mondo Cane 2 (1963) and La donna nel mondo aka Women of the World (1963). These movies were pseudo documentaries that purported to show shocking but true (and often sleazy) stuff from around the world. Many of them contained footage that was “fake”, or at least explained as being something other than what it was. For example, a film could show footage of a bunch of Poster for Women of the World (1963), perhaps an influence on Chained Girlsmen standing around in a foreign country while the narrator says “These men are here to buy female slaves…”. I suppose it could be true, but there is no actual evidence of slave-buying visible in the footage.

Chained Girls uses this technique often throughout its scant 65 minute running time. One of my Twitter friends (hello Peter) pointed out this questionable gem uttered by the film’s narrator: “Most teenage lesbians are prostitutes or drug addicts.” As I recall, we are simply looking at shots of young women interacting when the narrator says this. I could be wrong, as this movie (despite its claims of being a documentary) is a full production featuring actors who appeared in other exploitation pictures. I don’t think that it contains any Poster for Joseph P. Mawra's Olga's House of Shame (1964), which shares stylistic similarities with Chained Girlsactual “documentary” footage of people living their own lives. Having said that, there might be stolen shots of real people on the streets of the city. But the “scenes” that we witness throughout the film are all staged.

The movie was directed by Joseph P. Mawra, who is best known for his Olga films, such as Olga’s House of Shame (1964), Olga’s Girls (1964), and White Slaves of Chinatown (1964). 1964 was a very busy year for Mawra. As I recall, all of these movies use the same stylistic approach (silent footage of women doing stuff while a narrator says lurid things – and the narrator is often the same guy, Joel Holt, who also acted in and directed a few films as well). Both Mawra and Holt seem to have played out their entire filmmaking careers in the 1960s. Perhaps the arrival of hardcore sex films in the 1970s put them out of business. Who knows?

Chained Girls (1965) is not for everyone, but for those with a taste for its unique brand of antique sleaze, it’s pretty darn entertaining. For those with a sensitivity to out of date, inappropriate and offensive material, it would likely be much less fun. On the one hand, it’s a “documentary” with a lot of misinformation & stereotyping in it. But on the other hand, I kind of believe them when they say they got their facts from recent (in 1965) research. Probably some biased, 2nd rate studies by would-be Masters & Johnson types. This makes it a fascinating window into the crazy beliefs of the time. And it’s the over-the-top inappropriateness of what the narrator is saying that makes the movie a jaw dropping good time (for those who can stand it). John Waters is apparently a fan of this film, and I can see why. In some ways, it’s kind of a distant relative (and perhaps an influence on) Waters’ A Dirty Shame (2004). it’s been a while since I saw that movie, but I recall Waters educating the audience about different types of unusual sexual practices (a plate job, for instance). I really need to see that movie again soon…

One reviewer on the IMDb says “For what it is “chained girls” is one of the best cinematic experiences I’ve ever had… Rarely has a movie made me laugh so hard and so deeply… Really this film is a treat if you are in the right frame of mind and/or watching it with someone who truly has a firm grasp of irony.”

I first saw Chained Girls with my friend Brian during one of our all day movie marathons. We had no idea what we were getting into, and I think we both spent the entire 65 minutes with our jaws hanging open in disbelief (when we weren’t laughing, of course). Watching it again now only confirmed our original impression of it. I remember turning to Brian halfway through the film and saying “This movie could be turned into a brilliant fringe musical.” As I mentioned earlier, I spent many years working on crazy musicals and I had a pretty good eye for material that was ripe for adaptation. “I don’t think I could do it, however,” I said. “The playwright and/or composer needs to be a woman – and preferably a lesbian.” I made a mental note to mention this idea the next time I ran into the right person, but alas, it never came up. So, if any of my lesbian playwright friends are reading this, here’s an idea for you…

As for the rest of us, we can still enjoy Chained Girls (1965), for what it is, on any #FridayNightAtTheHomeDriveIn on which the spirit moves us, grabs us, or otherwise chains us to our seat. It’s the kind of #NotQuiteClassicCinema that must be seen to be believed.

Friday Night At The Home Drive-In: Galaxy of Terror (1981)

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I remember when Alien hit the theatres back in 1979. Ever since I first saw Star Wars (1977) I would check the movie listing in the newspaper every day. I think I mainly wanted to reassure myself that Star Wars was still playing, because I wanted to see it again (and again). But I also loved movies in general, so maybe I was legitimately interested in knowing what was new. The iconic ad for Alien, featuring the egg with green light coming out of it and the often imitated (and sometimes parodied) tag line “In Space No One Can Hear You Scream” really sparked my imagination. I wanted to see this movie but, unlike Star Wars, it was not rated as appropriate for kids. Home video was still only a futuristic dream, so, I had to wait for Alien to be shown on television. Needless to say, I enjoyed it very much.

Fast forward a couple of years, and home video exploded onto the scene. Suddenly, I could rent movies like Alien and see them uncut (as opposed to edited for television). What was even better, I could rent and watch a whole bunch of other movies, that I’d never heard of, that were like Alien. Titles like Xtro (1982), The Intruder Within (1981) Creature (1985), Alien Prey (1977), The Alien Dead (1980) and Alien Contamination (1980) were jumping off the shelves at me. But one of the most intriguing movie boxes I remember was Galaxy of Terror (1981).

I’m honestly not sure if I ever rented it back in the day. Sometimes my friends would see a movie without me, and then I would somehow never get the chance to see it. In those early days, renting movies was like going to a movie. You almost never did it alone. It was a social activity. Eventually that changed, and by the time I got to university I was renting movies by myself every day. But I digress.

All of those Alien inspired movies started to look alike after a while, and they all kind of blurred together in my memory. So, after all these years, I wasn’t sure which one Galaxy of Terror was, or if I’d ever even seen it. Last Friday I decided that it was time to find out.

I had heard a few people say that they felt that Galaxy of Terror was the best of the Alien ripoffs, and after watching it last week I’d be inclined to agree. of course, I’d have to re-watch many of the other films before I could ever truly make such a definitive statement. But I can say that I enjoyed Galaxy of Terror very much. It’s more than just an Alien ripoff. It’s more like Alien meets Forbidden Planet (1956). And considering the low, low budget, the production design is really quite amazing. 

One of the production designers, and the 2nd Unit Director, of Galaxy of Terror was James Cameron. Yes, the guy who made The Terminator (1984), Titanic (1997) and, of course, Aliens (1986) the much loved official sequel to Alien. It seems quite likely that when making (or deciding to make) Aliens, Cameron would have been influenced, and inspired, by his experience of having worked on Galaxy of Terror.

Every review that I have read of Galaxy of Terror has made reference, in a positive way, to one scene in particular; a scene that involved what could be described as a giant space worm (or maggot) molesting (or raping) one of the female crew members (played by Taaffe O’Connell, who was also in New Year’s Evil (1980), another film that I quite like). This “space worm rape scene” is quite something, and fairly unique in the annals of #NotQuiteClassicCinema. Not since John Waters gave us a scene in Multiple Maniacs (1970) in which Divine is sexually assaulted by a giant lobster has there been anything quite like it. I won’t try to describe either of these scenes in detail. Let’s just say that if they sound like something that would entertain you, then they probably will.  

Genre stars Sid Haig and Robert Englund also appear in Galaxy of Terror and they are both very good. It’s surprising how big Robert Englund’s part is, considering that he had yet to become famous as Freddy Krueger. Fans of either of these two actors should definitely check this movie out.

Galaxy of Terror (1981) made for a wonderfully nostalgic #FridayNightAtTheHomeDriveIn, although truth be told, I’m still not sure if I’ve seen this movie before or not. Some moments were very familiar, but that could be because I saw the trailer, or very similar moments in other movies that ripped off – I mean paid homage to – Alien. Either way, I’ve seen enough movies of this type to feel great nostalgia even when watching one that I’ve never seen before. And that’t what #NotQuiteClassicCinema is all about.

Friday Night At The Home Drive-In: Homicidal (1961)

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Much like Scream of Fear (1961), Homicidal (1961) is a post Psycho (1960) psychological horror film shot in black and white. Also like Scream of Fear, Homicidal features a character in a wheelchair. Both movies also contain some clever twists and turns. Scream of Fear is the better of the two, in my opinion, but Homicidal is still an entertaining and effective little thriller.

Homicidal was made by William Castle, who was famous for his gimmicks, like Percepto!, the attaching of electric buzzers to some theatre seats during The Tingler (1959), or Emergo, a giant skeleton that would fly over the audience during The House On Haunted Hill (1959). The gimmick in Homicidal is a 45 second “Fright Break” during which members of the audience who were too scared to continue watching the movie could leave the theatre and receive a refund.

Unfortunately for Castle about 1% of the audience took him up on his offer of a refund (presumably because they hated it, not because they were scared). Castle fought back by creating a “Coward’s Corner” which filmmaker John Waters described in his book Crackpot:

“When the Fright Break was announced, and you found that you couldn’t take it any more, you had to leave your seat and, in front of the entire audience, follow yellow footsteps up the aisle, bathed in a yellow light. Before you reached Coward’s Corner, you crossed yellow lines with the stencilled message: “Cowards Keep Walking.” You passed a nurse (in a yellow uniform? … I wonder), who would offer a blood-pressure test. All the while a recording was blaring, “Watch the chicken! Watch him shiver in Coward’s Corner!” As the audience howled, you had to go through one final indignity – at Coward’s Corner you were forced to sign a yellow card stating, “I am a bona fide coward.” Very, very few were masochistic enough to endure this. The one percent refund dribbled away to zero percent…”

William Castle is certainly an important figure in the world of #NotQuiteClassicCinema. House on Haunted Hill (1959) has been a personal favourite of mine for years. I also really enjoyed The Tingler (1959). Castle did produce one undeniable classic as well, which is another personal favourite of mine: Rosemary’s Baby (1968). The story goes that Castle could only get the rights to Ira Levin’s book of the same name if he agreed NOT to direct it. Thankfully he went ahead hired a young, up and coming director named Roman Polanski, and the rest is history. 

Somehow I had never seen Homicidal until last #FridayNightAtTheHomeDriveIn. I enjoyed it very much and will be happy to watch it again in the future. Sure, it may be overly influenced by Psycho (1960). Yeah, maybe it isn’t William Castle’s best film. But it starts with one the most intriguing opening sequences I’ve seen in a long time. If you haven’t seen it, give it a shot. For the first 20 or 30 minutes, I thought it might be my new favourite movie.

Friday Night At The Home Drive-In: Trick Baby (1972)

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I did not see Trick Baby (1972) back in the 1970s or even the 1980s. It was not the first so called Blaxploitation film – or even the second or the third – that I ever saw. I had never even heard of it until I stumbled upon a VHS copy back in the early 2000s. Of course I immediately bought it, as I’d long before discovered that I had an appreciation for these somewhat forgotten pieces of 1970s cinema. And I was not disappointed with this particular example of the genre.

If you are unfamiliar with the term Blaxploitation, you can read detailed explanations on Wikipedia or Encyclopaedia Britannica. 

It is generally accepted that the two movies that started the genre proper were Shaft (1971) and Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song (1971), so Trick Baby (1972) was a relatively early entry in what quickly became an overcrowded competition for box office dollars. According to Wikipedia, the film cost about $600,000 to make and it grossed $11,000,000 – a considerable profit. So how is it that I’d never heard of it before?

I suppose one reason might be that it didn’t lead to sequels, like Shaft did. Nor did it spark a bunch of similar films starring the same actor(s), a la Pam Grier with Coffy (1973). But I suppose none of this really matters. The fact is that Trick Baby is an excellent crime film. It’s clever, suspenseful, and features a few twists and turns that keep you interested in finding out what’s going to happen. Most importantly, you care about the characters. 

When we first meet ‘Folks and Blue (played by Kiel Martin and Mel Stewart), they are in the midst or ripping someone off. But we are instantly sympathetic to them, because the person they are ripping off is a bad guy (racist, selfish – and in fact he believes that he is ripping off Blue). So, in a sense, the ‘victim’ of the con is getting exactly what he deserves. Not to mention that we can admire the skill, intelligence, and charisma that ‘Folks and Blue possess. They may technically be criminals, but they are kind of like Robin Hood (stealing from rich racists and giving to the poor – namely themselves).

I can think of a few modern films that feature main characters who are killing people (!), who don’t deserve to die, for incredibly selfish reasons – and the filmmakers seem to be asking us to sympathize with the killers! Or to at least to find them interesting for 90 minutes. I find many of those films hard to get through – and I certainly don’t care what happens to the main characters. In fact, I find myself rooting for their victims (and getting no satisfaction, unfortunately). John Waters knew how to make it work in Serial Mom (1994), and Larry Yust, and presumably Iceberg Slim (who wrote the novel), knew how to make it work in Trick Baby. ‘Folks and Blue aren’t even killing people, but they could have been unsympathetic in the hands of less competent writers and directors. The makers of certain modern films should have watched Trick Baby before they put pen to paper, or hit the record button on their cameras. 

I’m purposely not naming any of the offending films or filmmakers because I’m not here to trash other people’s work. And I’m sure that some people LIKE those recent films that I believe are failures. To each their own, as the saying goes. But I would watch Trick Baby a thousand times before I would re-watch any of them. 

Trick Baby (1972) is a #NotQuiteClassicCinema favourite. It has a sense of humour, but it also manages to generate suspense from its earliest moments and then slowly increase the tension over the course of the entire film. A rare feat, in my opinion. You know it’s going to be a memorable #FridayNightAtTheHomeDriveIn when Trick Baby is on the marquee.