Hawk The Slayer 1980 ***

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There must be something about the worthy quality of film-watching during awards season that makes it so appealing to file copy on so-bad-it’s-good entries. And so we return to the sacred text of Hawk the Slayer, a bizarre fantasy film by Terry Marcel which featured briefly in Netflix’s recent Maniac tv show. Why would a hot director like Cary Joji Fukunaga be a fan? Well, because Hawk the Slayer is one of the cheesiest films ever made, and that’s the appeal; if you’re looking for production values, imaginative plotting and social relevance, stay away. If venerable British character actors, Morricone-goes-disco music cues and shonky dialogue are palatable to you then Hawk slays over and over again, much like an automatic crossbow.

Yes, automatic cross-bows are a big thing in this film, but then, so is dialogue like ‘The hunchback will have something to say about this!’ Hawk the Slayer is set, according to the poster, in a word of sword and sorcery, one where Voltar (Jack Palance) reigns supreme. His brother is Hawk (John Terry), and a flashback reveals that Voltar tied Hawk to a tree and tried to make things happen romantically with Hawk’s wife (Catriona MacColl), a plan which ended badly. The two bothers are sworn enemies, and things get worse when a survivor of one of Voltan’s massacres seeks sanctuary in a monastery, encouraging Voltan to kidnap the Abbess (Annette Crosbie). Hawk sets out to rescue her, with the help of a merry band including a dwarf, a sorceress (Patricia Quinn), a giant (Bernard Bresslaw) and a quick-firing elf.

There’s some familiar names in there, and even more further down the cast list; Roy Kinnear, Harry Andrews, Patrick Macgee, Ferdy Marne, Warren Clarke, Graham Stark and more all appear as Hawk gets bogged down in all kind of inessential sub-plots. But things are pulled along by a weird production design that features lots of fog and lots of Star Wars-lazer effects, plus a rousing score by Harry Robinson hiding under the name Robertson; imagine Jeff Wayne’s War of the Worlds and you’ll have a handle on the epic disco sound featured here.

Hawk the Slayer wears various Star Wars influences with pride; Voltan’s helmet is much like Darth Vader’s, and the explanation for why he wears it is familiar. It’s worth remembering that one of the appealing elements for children seeing Star Wars back in 1977/8 was that it was never revealed what was under Darth Vader’s mask, and a sequel seemed inevitable for that purpose. That sense of mystery arguably created today’s franchise cinema.

Hawk The Slayer might be a rip-off, but it’s a fun, idiosyncratic film that’s gaining momentum as a cult item; if Fukunaga has James Bond watching this is No Time To Die, it would make some kind of sense, although you’d have to use the same goofy logic as an automatic crossbow requires.

Click the link below to see if the film can be viewed in your territory…

One More Time 1970 ***

One More Time‘We know what turns you on’ says the opening song in One More Time, but if stars Peter Lawford and Sammy Davis Junior actually do know what turns us on, there’s little evidence of it in this slapdash comedy. Writer by the brother of Dr Who’s Jon Pertwee, Bill, and directed by Jerry Lewis, it’s a sequel of sorts to 1968’s Salt and Pepper, but is mainly designed as a showcase of the talents, resistible as displayed here, of Davis Junior.

Davis and Lawford are Charles Salt and Chris Pepper, two hipster nightclub owners who fall foul of the law in some kind of Merrie England as featured in Garfield: A Tale of Two Kitties. Lawford plays a double role, Pepper and his twin brother Sydney, who is murdered with a deadly dart and replaced by his brother, swapping the dead body for his living one to investigate the crime. Although the two are supposedly best buds and partners in crime, Chris Pepper doesn’t tell Charles Salt, and allows his friend to think that he’d dead.

This means a good hour or so of Sammy Davis Junior wandering around an English country house vaguely synching to some incredibly maudlin tunes; a sequence in which Davis descends a staircase singing Where Do I Go Now? seems to last for weeks. The personable Lawford is stranded with some character comedy, which isn’t his strongest suit; Lawford can barely be bothered playing a thinly veiled version of himself, so playing another variation on the same person is something of a strain to watch. Meanwhile Lewis indulges himself with some strange set-pieces, including snorting snuff and a lengthy parody of the final scenes of Kubrick’s 2001 as Davis reacts to a country-house bedroom with the same awe that Kier Dullea reacts to the Monolith. It’s an odd, vaguely racist scene which fits with the general indignities that Davis goes through here, having drinks thrown over him, called a ‘chocolate dandy’ and generally side-lined in a way that constantly has him breaking the fourth wall to complain.

One More Time is probably best remembered for one single scene, seemingly improvised without reason, in which Salt finds a hidden doorway that leads to a cellar where Dracula (Christopher Lee) and Baron Frankenstein (Peter Cushing) are working; the gag seems to be that Gothic horror lies beneath traditional British values. Otherwise, when the words ‘that’s it’ appear instead of “the end’, One More Time must have had even the most hipster-cat audiences begging for it to stop; with Lewis directing Davis Junior well beyond excess, it’s the audience who must truly have felt mugged. As a side-note, One More Time offers a good argument against smoking; everyone quaffs fags like their lives depend on it, and there’s even huge close-ups of full ashtrays to present bona-fide testimony to the performers’ enthusiasm for cigarettes.

 

Poor Devil 1973 ***

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Fancy spending 73 minutes in hell with Sammy Davis Junior? That’s the resistible premise of Poor Devil, a ragged tv series pilot that resolutely failed to launch back in 1973, and has promptly been festering inside the dustiest bin of cultural history until Amazon Prime decided to feature this benighted offering as part of its 2019 line-up.

Sammy Davis Junior plays, well, himself as Sammy, the put-upon messenger boy of a big-wheel power-broker. But before you can say Frank Sinatra, it’s revealed that Sammy’s boss is Lucifer himself, played by Christopher Lee, not entirely escaping the bad-boy type-casting which he regularly cursed. Lucifer summons Sammy from his regular gig shovelling coal into the fires of hell, and offers him a fresh start by collecting the souls of wayward human beings in San Francisco, namely Quincy star Jack Klugman as Burnett J Emerson. Identified as Burny by Amazon’s permanently off-kilter subtitling, Klugman’s character is disaffected by his department store job, and seeks revenge on his boss (Batman’s Adam West). Sammy offers to utilise the collective might of San Francisco’s Church of Satan to empty the department store on Xmas Eve as a practical joke, and seeks Burny’s soul as reward for the deed.

If the above synopsis appeals to you, then please get in touch and explain why; it’s kind of like It’s A Wonderful Life but in reverse, and it makes no sense that Lucifer and his cohorts seems to be so civically minded as to want to punish selfish department store bosses. Indeed, Poor Devil feels like a feature-length ad for the wholesome ethos and deeds of the Church of Satan, with which Davis was allegedly, from some accounts, involved. Vanishing and appearing in an underwhelming special effects, Davis prowls around in hideous garb shouting ‘Right on!’ and other hip phrases, while Lee looks genuinely mortified by the depths to which he has sunk.

Awful as this film is, it’s also a fascinating picture of human desperation as a number of household names create a work of non-art that probably wasn’t even the best thing in the timeslot on the day of transmission, My on-going campaign to embarrass Amazon by capturing their half-assed and inherently disrespectful nonsense subtitling continues with the choice offering below.

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And you can see the whole marvellous shebang by clicking the link below…

The Jigsaw Man 1983 ***

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Are YOU looking for daily updates on Arthur Negus? Almost certainly, the answer is no. And yet, I have news of the ancient, long-passed BBC antiques expert, because he drifted across the stream of my Amazon Prime account like the answer to a madman’s prayer during last night’s perusal of Terence Young’s forgotten 1983 thriller The Jigsaw Man.

As a teenager, The Jigsaw Man seemed exactly like the kind of drab espionage fare best avoided, but either the film or my tastes have changed because this critic found himself drawn to such musty charms. But how to persuade others to join me? After an exchange with no less august a figure than Derrick from excellent review site The Ferguson Theater ( http://derricklferguson.wordpress.com/) about films that have merits outside of their conventional values, I came up with this shortlist of ten further reasons to watch The Jigsaw Man, an all-star spy caper very loosely based on the Cambridge Five. Michael Caine plays a Soviet defector who returns to the UK to play a cat and mouse game with British authorities, but no simple summary can capture the many facets of such an enterprise….

  • Would you like to see Donald Pleasence’s house? For indeed, it is the Chiswick maison of the British character actor that forms the backdrop to key scenes here.
  • There are no cameos from Captain America or the Hulk here, but how about a brief nod and a wink from British household entertainer Max Bygraves to add value?
  • While we’re talking cameos, would a brief hello from composer and national treasure Sir William Walton help seal the deal?
  • Would you like to see screen titan Sir Laurence Olivier face to face with David Kelly, best remembered as Basil Fawlty’s Irish builder in Fawlty Towers?
  • Have you ever hoped to see a car chase through Royal Windsor safari park, with monkey and giraffe action included in the fruit-stand-toppling action?
  • What kind of cultural value would you put on seeing James Bond and Rocky Horror star Charles Gray without his wig?
  • Talking of Bond, how about reuniting classic Bond director Young with regular stars in his films like Gray, Sabine Sun and Vladek Sheybal, instantly recognisable via From Russia With Love, and his impeccable musical performance in The Apple?
  • Speaking about reunions, how about bringing Olivier back in tandem with Michael Caine, years after their brilliant combination in Sleuth?
  • Why not have Michael Caine speak, not only in a comedy Russian accent, but a third comedy voice which is supposedly an Oklahoma oilman? Or dress up as a priest?
  • And why not throw in any other available British character actors, lets say, Robert Powell, Susan George and Michael Medwin to fill out the cast?

The takeaway is; there are other reasons to watch a film other than because it’s good by some definition. The Jigsaw Man had various, well-documented production problems, and key scenes are rushed and garbled; the flashback seems to have been lifted from another film. If you’re seeking thrills, don’t bother. But is you’re interested in Britain, film-stars, nostalgia or any number of cinematic ephemera, The Jigsaw Man is well worth exhuming from whatever dusty crypt it has lain in since 1983. The link is below…

The Return 1980 ***

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I’ve been impressed by fellow blogger mikestakeatthemovies for his ability to come up with obscure titles featuring top-drawer talent, films like Dark Places or Contact on Cherry Street, suggesting a secret history of Hollywood stars. He’s well worth a follow. But perhaps some things should stay secret; that’s a reasonable reaction when confronted by such a strange proposition as The Return, which surfaces after decades of shame in a truly horrendous print on Amazon Prime. Wrongly listed as being from 1970 when it’s actually from 1980, Greydon Clark’s sci-fi melodrama is clearly a Close-Encounters rip-off that’s undercooked in many ways, but over-compensates in terms of familiar faces.

The subject is, surprisingly enough, cattle mutilation. In fact, the whole film seems to have been constructed in order to give every member of the cast the chance to say the words ‘cattle mutilation;’ several times over. Martin Landau has a weird line to the effect ‘everybody is all jazzed up about cattle mutilations’ which he says on regular occasions throughout the film. Other improbable stars who try their luck at discussing cattle mutilations include Cybill Shepherd and Jan-Michael Vincent, both in limbo between other, much more recognisable projects for television. Shepherd was post her collaborations with Peter Bogdanovich and pre-Moonlighting, while Vincent was post Hooper and pre Airwolf. They both look less than pleased about appearing in such grade A shlock as The Return, but they both grin and bear it as Wayne and Jennifer, two adults who realise that they have forgotten that they were encountered by aliens as children.

This doesn’t make much sense, but even less when set against a plot with sees Jennifer’s father (Raymond Burr) on the trail of a light-sabre wielding prospector played by Vincent Shiavelli, whose striking countenance is immediately recognisable from his iconic role as the subway ghost in Ghost. Could The Prospector be the key to the solving the spate of cattle mutilations that everyone’s talking about? Why is there a tunnel of light in his mine-shaft? What do we gain from seeing Jan-Michael Vincent ride a motorbike through a plate-glass window?

MST3K made comedic hay from Pod People, a Alien knock-off that was swiftly repurposed as an ET knock-off, creating memorably abrupt changes of tone, and The Return seems similarly discombobulated; that’s presumably why its cinema release back in 1980 didn’t happen. Films quite often have mistakes, but The Return really doesn’t even begin to make sense. If the unseen aliens are peaceful after all, why do they need lumps of cow-meat thrown down a tunnel to them? The Return is a film of remarkable awfulness, and one can only imagine how thrilled Cybill Shepherd must be to see this get a fresh re-release via streaming services. And who are the couple featured in the cover-art below? They look like Jodie Foster with toothache and Richard Benjamin’s creepy half-brother…

Wholly Moses! 1980 ***

mosesIf nothing else, Amazon Prime has unearthed some forgotten films, justly forgotten in the case of Wholly Moses!, a biblical parody film featuring a scattering of Saturday Night Live talent. Released on the back of Monty Python’s Life of Brian, and featuring Dudley Moore between mega-hits 10 and Arthur, it’s remarkably that Wholly Moses! didn’t make a dent, but less remarkable once you’ve seen it.

As a snapshot of random stars, however, Gary Weis’s film is a rich text. Moore and Laraine Newman plays tourists who are separated from their bus trip and discover some ancient scrolls, but this framing story doesn’t return until the final scene. Instead, we switch back to the time of Moses, with Moore cast as Hershel, a false prophet who lives at the same time as Moses and often crosses paths.

Vintage performers like Jack Gilford, James Coco and Paul Sand strike a few sparks when they appear, but many of the gags are lame; a David and Goliath stand-off where Hershel kicks the giant in the nuts. And that’s one of the sharper scenarios here; John Houseman turns up as an angel with a gold lame bow-tie, Madeleine Khan plays a witch, and Dom DeLuise underplays for once. John Ritter’s one scene cameo as Satan is passable, but Richard Pryor’s turn as Pharaoh is actually worth seeing. Reportedly filmed in one day and under duress, Pryor starts well with some well-timed mugging, but never shares the frame with Moore and seems to tire on camera as his solitary scene moves on.

There are some undercooked gags in here to mine; a puppet show that mimics bondage porn, Hershel being prepped for his meeting with Pharaoh as if he’s a stand-up comic about to go on-stage. But with Moore given far too much to do, and not doing it well, Wholly Moses! will always attract by dint of it’s cast, and then leave unfortunate viewers cast out into the wilderness.

Superman IV: The Quest for Peace 1987 ***

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The wheels had come off the Superman franchise for some time before Sidney J Furie’s final entry in the Christopher Reeve era; what’s notable here is how many of the original cast are on board for this famously awful film. Of course, Cannon were desperate for respectability, and the Superman franchise was one expected to generate a family friendly hit, even if Superman III was considerably bent out of shape by being reworked to showcase Richard Pryor. The fourth movie has an interesting premise; what is Superman took an interest, not in costumed foes, but real world issues like the nuclear arms race? The discussion about real world violence in Todd Phillips’ Joker movie has some echoes here, but Superman IV doesn’t go down that road at all. In fact, the movie doubles down on ludicrousness as Superman gathers all the world nuclear weapons, rolls them into a ball and shot-puts it into the sun. He does this after making a speech at the United Nations, which, for reasons which can only be to do with penny-pinching, is evoked by using the brutalist exteriors of Milton Keynes shopping centre in England. The real drama, if that’s the right word, doesn’t kick off until Lex Luthor (Gene Hackman) takes advantage of the absence of nuclear weapons to create Nuclear Man (Mark Pillow) who looks like Trey Parker circa 2002. Superman and Nuclear Man fight on the moon in a blaze of sub-standard special effects; co-star Jon Cryer felt that the film was unfinished, and on this evidence, he’s right, Spotting Jim Broadbent, Mareiel Hemingway and Robert Beatty amongst the cast adds to the fun, and it’s strange seeing such an iconic cast phoning it in for a pay-check. Superhero movies have come a long way from this low-point, but for bad movie fans, Superman IV is a bottomless pit of amusement.