Turkey Month Turkey of the Month: "Blood Freak"

Yes, that is a turkey-headed monster on the poster for Blood Freak, a 1972 anti-drug picture made by religious nutjobs to warn against the dangers of marijuana.

Blood Freak is the story of Herschel (Steve Hawkes), a Vietnam vet who picks up a hitchhiker named Angel (Heather Hughes) on his hog and takes her home. Angel is a religious good girl, who invites Herschel to crash at her pad for a while. Angel's sister Ann (Dana Cullivan) is a bad girl and she turns Herschel onto pot, to which he immediately becomes maniacally addicted. To support his habit, Herschel gets a job at a local turkey processing plant, testing turkey meat. Of course, the turkey place is run by a mad scientist who is trying to create a turkey that's as addictive as pot. When Herschel eats some contaminated turkey - his head turns into a papier mache turkey head!

And if having a papier mache turkey head isn't bad enough, Herschel is now a turkey-vampire who can only survive by drinking the blood of other pot addicts. Naturally, he goes on a killing spree, draining blood from his victims and slurping it up through his papier mache beak from his hands (I guess he couldn't find a straw). Finally, Jesus shows up to teach Herschel the error of his ways and he is saved, upon which he wakes up to discover the whole thing was just a drug-fueled nightmare. 

I wish I was making this one up, but I'm not. Here:

Wow. Poppers, wine and pot. Yep, these are some bad people. Not only does Blood Freak make absolutely no sense, it features some of the worst acting ever committed to celluloid; special effects that would make H.G. Lewis laugh at their amateurishness and several brief appearances by director Brad F. Grintner as the Narrator/Herschel's conscience, who occasionally breaks out into a coughing fit so bad, you wish he'd swallow some codeine-laced cough syrup already:

And mind you, the trailer below was intended to make you want to see this movie:

 

Why do I think the maker's of V8 are indebted to the makers of this film?

Thus endeth the Turkey Month Turkeys. I hope you and yours had a wonderful and delicious Thanksgiving. As always, I have loads to be thankful for, not the least of which are you, my readers. I don't have nearly as many followers as some bloggers, but I am very thankful for the ones I do have. 

Tomorrow is known as Black Friday in the U.S. (presumably because it's the day when retailers' books go into the black ink, rather than the red) and Uncle P will be out looking for holiday bargains (though not at 3 or 4 AM, as many will be). I've already done some Christmas shopping online and have just a few more things to pick up. If they're good enough to share, I'll recount my shopping adventures tomorrow. If not, expect more of the usual nonsense.

More, anon.
Prospero

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Turkey Month Turkey of the Week: "Catwoman"

Poor Halle Berry. Unarguably one of the most beautiful and talented women in Hollywood, she somehow got suckered into starring in this glistening turd of movie.

In the DC Comics' universe, Catwoman is Selina Kyle, a Gotham City jewel thief with a reciprocal crush on the Dark Knight himself, Batman. In this 2004 stinker she's Patience Phillips, a graphic artist working for a cosmetics company run by the evil Laurel Hedare (Sharon Stone). When Patience stumbles upon a shameful secret regarding Hedare's latest youth serum, she finds herself in danger. And somehow also finds herself the recipient of mystical powers passed on from Catwomen of the past. What?

Filled with 'ancient Egyptian' hokum; 'girrrrlpower' nonsense and one of the worst costumes in Superhero movie history, Catwoman is undoubtedly the nadir of the Warner Brothers' Batman-related films. Featuring over-the-top performances by Stone as the villain and Benjamin Bratt as the cop/love-interest, Catwoman makes about as much sense as a gorilla wearing a tutu. And what the hell the magnificent Frances Conroy is doing in this movie (other than collecting a paycheck), is beyond me.

Previously, Catwoman has also been portrayed by Julie Newmar; Eartha Kitt; Lee Meriwether and most notably, Michelle Pfieffer (Batman Returns). None of those actresses were nominated for a Razzy, though Berry was. And she showed much grace and humor by actually showing up to accept her award for 'Worst Actress.'

Of course, Catwoman is one of the many villains being bandied about for inclusion in Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight Rises. Given the 'realistic' version of Gotham City Nolan has thus-far presented, Catwoman in her original incarnation seems as likely as any other female character in the series. Time will tell...

More, anon.
Prospero

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Turkey Month Turkey of the Week: "Battlefield Earth"

Have you ever paid money to see a movie that was just awful, but you refused to leave because you had already paid? For your Uncle P, that movie was 2000's Battlefield Earth, a stinker of epic proportions starring John Travolta in a screen adaptation of Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard's Sci-Fi novel.

Travolta plays Terl, Security Chief of an alien race called the Psychlos, who in the year 3000 have enslaved mankind and are stripping the Earth of its natural resources (as if we aren't doing a good enough job of that, ourselves). The Psychlos are 8 feet tall, use breathing apparatus that look like snot running out their noses and wear dreds because they are apparently big Ziggy Marley fans. Barry Pepper (The Green Mile) is Jonnie, the only human left with any balls, who leads a revolution against the stupid alien overlords. Forest Whittaker (who really should have known better) is a Psychlo named Ker, looking like a mentally challenged Klingon. 

The dialog is ridiculous, the acting is only slightly better than that in a sixth grade Christmas pageant and the "Special Effects" are short-bus special, if you know what I mean. Produced by Travolta to honor his Loony Toons cult's founder and directed by Corey Mandell and J.D. Shapiro (who have 8 credits between them - Mandell never directed again), Battlefield Earth is the kind of movie you watch because you just can't believe it's as bad as your friends tell you it is. Even other Scientologists will tell you that Battlefield Earth stinks -- but only in private, lest their evil alien overlords drag them away for three years of "reconditioning." Check it out:

Travolta's peculiarly high-pitched voiced sounds particularly silly when coming out of that over-sized head.  This movie is so bad, I have literally blocked it's details from my memory. Happily, some one found a way to make it better (or at least tolerable):

Oh, dear. That was just as horrible, wasn't it? Sorry.

If you've never seen Battlefield Earth (and I honestly cannot recommend that you do so), but find yourself compelled to, make sure its the Rifftrax version (and you might want to watch it 4:20...):



More Turkeys, anon.
Prospero

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I Beg to Differ

It may be a little hard to read, but in lower left corner of the poster for Robinson Crusoe on Mars there's an official-looking seal thingy with the following quote:
"This film is SCIENTIFICALLY AUTHENTIC..." I truly do beg to differ, because even in 1964 when this ridiculous Sci-Fi version of the DeFoe novel was made, they knew Mars was not on fire!

Starring manly Paul Mantee as Cmdr Christopher 'Kit' Draper and future Batman Adam West as Col. Dan MacReady as his co-pilot on a Two Men and a Monkey space mission gone awry, resulting in a crash landing on the Red Planet. With MacReady no longer ready for anything, Draper and the monkey must try to survive the hostel planet.

Remember how I said Mars wasn't on fire? (I'll prove it, if you want me to) Well, this "SCIENTIFICALLY AUTHENTIC" movie says Draper lands on "the fire-swamp that is Mars!" (I always wondered where Goldman got that name), and thus its atmosphere must contain oxygen, so the monkey and the space cowboy can at least breathe. They even find water and primitive seaweed to eat. Then it gets even less Scientifically Authentic when the ships from War of the Worlds show up and laser blast their own damned planet to mine some rare element. Of course, one of the aliens' humanoid slaves escapes and Draper names him Friday, just to see if they could get DeFoe to spin in his grave a little faster.

Now, I read a few really positive reviews of this movie on various sites and blogs, but I was dubious, because even as a kid I thought it was cheap-looking, so I went back and watched parts of it again on YouTube. I'm sorry to say that my memories of this Byron Haskin film are all correct. Haskin did lots of TV for Disney and would later make The Power, an interesting thriller about telekinesis, ESP and mind-control. He was also an FX man on Pal's War of the Worlds. The matte paintingss are quite beautifully rendered, until they stick real people (or worse - 2D rocketship landings) in front of them, and you realize how fake they actually are.

The actors are game enough (like the bird many of us will be eating in four days) and they all manage to get through the thing without sniggering at the complete inanity of what they're doing. They were contract players and they earned their checks, went home at night and envied really big stars. At least Mona the Woolly Monkey had no idea she was making such a bad movie. Or did she? After the trailer, we'll talk about the DRS* (Drumstick Rating System).

Pee-yew! "Scientifically Authentic" my Aunt Fannie's ass! Three out of Five Drumsticks.*

*For the next four days, leading up to the Big Bad Movie Spectacular, I'll be rating the movies I discuss sort-of in reverse of my usual star system. I am, despite what one might think, a breast man. I don't like (nor have I ever liked) thighs or drumsticks. In fact, you might say I really hate drumsticks. So, the DRS works like this: The more Drumsticks, the worse the movie. In other words, One Drumstick is: "Eh - that wasn't so awful" and Five Drumsticks is "Oh dear God in Heaven, who fed that old dog beans?!" Got it?

And if you haven't already, don't forget to check out my new weekly blog Prospero's Zombie Zone.

More, anon.
Prospero

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