One Million AC/DC (1969)

‘These grapes will make enough wine for the virgin sacrifice later today.’

A tribe of prehistoric people fight, shag, eat and shag again. Outside their cave, a ferocious Tyrannosaurus Rex stands guard to prevent them leaving. However, one girl gets herself kidnapped by a horny gorilla.

Softcore porn flick from Canyon Films, a small, ‘specialist’ studio owned by Ed De Priest, who is credited as directing this from a script by Akdon Telmig. Our story opens with the ‘action’ already underway, basically couples in skins having sex in various cave sets so cramped there’s just about room enough to lie down. This sequence goes on for about 15 minutes, leaving little time for major story development in a film just over an hour long. The girls wear lipstick and eyeshadow (of course), and some of the guys sport cheap blonde wigs, probably obtained from a local drugstore.

The plot really kicks in after that, with our prehistoric heroes menaced by the huge, savage Tyrannosaurus Rex that has taken up residence outside in anticipation of an ‘all you can eat’ buffet. All efforts to repel it with spears are useless (well, the one attempt we see doesn’t work), and the monstrous beast has one of the women as an appetiser. Well, the bottom half of a Barbie doll disappears into its jaws, anyway. Meanwhile, couples are still having unconvincing sex amongst the plastic skulls and one enterprising guy is making cave paintings of them doing it. So he can sell them later on. It’s at this point that we finally realise that this is supposed to be a comedy. As well as a porno.

Dialogue alternates between endless grunting in most of the scenes (naturally), to others where everyone speaks like rejects from a lost hippie community. ’lt’s like going back in time to my first virgin sacrifice,’ suggests one of our be-wigged heroes. ‘Your first?’ smirks another, as if making a really funny joke. Cut to couple having sex. Yes, it’s all high quality stuff.

So why is this of interest now? Well, writer Akdon Telmig was only one letter away from an anagram of ‘Vodka Gimlet’ and his real name was Edward D. Wood, Jr. Yes, the ‘Plan 9’ auteur, often credited as ‘The Worst Film Director of All Time’ finished his celluloid career writing porno flicks like this. Sadly, there’s little evidence of Wood’s trademark awkward dialogue (or much dialogue at all really), but plenty of proof of the ‘no budget’ nature of proceedings.

You see, I wasn’t joking.

The presence of the Tyrannosaurus may not be entirely historically accurate(!), but as it’s played by a cheap, plastic toy we really don’t mind. Filmed from a low angle by someone lying flat on the ground, it’s only visible behind a rock placed really close to the camera. An offscreen hand juggles it about a bit so it appears to be bouncing on an out of shot trampoline. It’s genius. Seriously.

There are some more dinosaur inserts from another source, most probably our old friend ‘One Million BC’ (1940) as all the shots are strongly tinted, suggesting a black and white original. Most of these clips are of such poor quality as to be almost unwatchable.

Predictably enough, none of the cast have very full resumés, most appearing in the same 3 identical titles at the same time. The ‘gorilla’ action is obviously a nod back towards Wood’s script for ‘The Bride and the Beast’ (1958), but was probably dictated by the availability of the costume rather than anything else. Consecutive shots are completely mismatched, with no colour correction being applied, and the camera is terribly static as it documents yet another wrestling match amongst the plastic bones.

No Australian heavy rock bands were harmed during the making of this picture.

The Venus Flytrap (1970)

‘If it takes the blood of a human heart to prove my theory, you will have the blood of a human heart.’

A top rocket scientist suffering from severe overwork is persuaded to take a holiday whilst his latest mission is in flight. He decides to pursue his interest in botany, so he travels to Japan and sets up a laboratory to conduct experiments proving his theory that man is descended from plant life.

No budget atrocity that was originally shot in 1966 and sat on the shelf for a while before it was issued as the lower half of a double bill with filipino horror ‘The Mad Doctor of Blood Island’ (1969). In fact, the only surviving print of ‘The Venus Flytrap’ (1970) has the credits of the other movie attached to it instead and, as a result, was thought lost for many years. Considering what’s up on the screen, this probably doesn’t seem like a big deal. Actually, it was.

But, before we get into that, what about the film itself? Well, we open in the office of our rocket master, played by James Craig. The weather is messing up the launch of his latest space mission, whatever it is. His assistant (James Yagi) knocks on the door producing the sort of hollow sound you only get in a large, empty house, or a large, empty set perhaps. There’s some dull chat before the weather co-operates and the scratchy mission control stock footage kicks in. But it’s all a bit late for Craig, who collapses with the strain. Packed off to Japan to convalesce, he decides to create a man-plant monster in a remote laboratory helped by his assistant’s cousin, played by Atsuko Rome (sensibly hiding behind the pseudonym of Ako Kami).

What follows is a bizarre mixture of old fashioned horror movie tropes and low budget clichés. The remote lab comes with a caretaker who just happens to be a deformed mute who plays a spooky pipe organ. The Prof uses the lightning to animate his plant monster; raising it on a platform to the top of the greenhouse during a violent storm just like ‘Frankenstein’ (1931). There’s a volcano simmering away in the background and a nasty rock slide, both courtesy of stock footage. The action is scored with library music which seems added completely at random; a lengthy car trip accompanied by a tune that would have been more at home in a comedy Western. But, to be fair, perhaps it’s a comment on Craig’s driving skills as it looks very much like he was used to an automatic rather than a stick shift. Near the film’s climax, a group of torch bearing villagers appear as if from nowhere, although they aren’t involved in the final action. This does give rise to the unkind thought that it’s probably more old film from somewhere else. Then Craig blunders about a bit carrying a goat. Presumably to provide a character the audience actually cares about.

All of which brings us to the plant creature itself. Craig calls it lnsectivorus (stop laughing at the back!) and, being part Venus Flytrap, it’s a carnivorous beastie, and things look pretty black for the caretaker’s new dog and her litter of puppies. After a while, lnsecto starts walking about (who needs a root system when you feed on blood?) and makes a concerted bid to be the silliest looking movie monster of all time. It’s probably one of the cheapest. When it kills, the screen simply goes bright red, presumably to protect the viewers from the horror of it all. And the film is as slow and ponderous as old Insecto… at the halfway point pretty much all that’s happened is that the Prof has gone to Japan and acquired a couple of plants for his greenhouse!

Kneel before Insectivorus!

Craig was a Hollywood veteran and does try to bring a level of conviction and authority to the proceedings, but is often derailed by the preposterous dialogue: ‘Your mother was the Earth, the lightning your power!’ and ‘Don’t tell me anything is impossible. l refuse the word impossible!’ In contrast, Rome seems rather wooden, but her performance isn’t assisted by some catatonic dubbing, which often renders her lines incomprehensible.

So, why is this an important film? Why were people looking for it? Well, let’s recap: empty, unconvincing sets, absurd, idiotic dialogue, no production values, library music, stock footage, dumb story about a scientist and his monster. All that’s missing is the undead and some flying saucers. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you’re right! It all points to one man and one man only: Edward D Wood Jr. This is a script which he wrote in the 1950s and someone inexplicably decided to film a few years later.

The film has been reissued on tape over the years under a number of titles, including ‘The Revenge of Dr. X’ and ‘Body of the Prey.’ The credited director is bit-part actor Norman Thomson, although some sources apportion the blame to Kenneth Crane, who had directed a similar US-Japan co-production ‘The Manster’ (1959). Comparing the two films, I think Crane’s participation unlikely, unless he was desperate for money, of course. Some have even suggested Wood had a more ‘hands on’ involvement than just providing an old script, and I guess that is possible. Filming does fall squarely between his last ‘mainstream’ directorial assignment ‘The Sinister Urge’ (1961) and the first of his pornos ‘Take It Out In Trade’ (1970).

Maybe this is a lost Ed Wood ‘classic’ in more ways than one!

Revenge of the Virgins (1959)

‘Beware the strange arrows of the golden horde’

A young couple on the make join an old prospector and two gunmen on a trip deep into Indian country to find a river of gold. But the creek is guarded by a tribe of Native American women who don’t believe in wearing too many clothes, and the gunmen don’t plan to share whatever they find.

Early ‘nudie-cutie’ western made on a shoestring in the forests around Hollywood. Nearly everything is shot in the great outdoors with the exception of a couple of scenes taking place in an unconvincing saloon set, of which we see only the bar counter. Being (very) generous, you could compare it to John Huston’s classic ‘Treasure of the Sierra Madre’ (1948) as there are definite plot and thematic similarities. Our heroes travel into hostile territory and get their hands on the gold but fall out amongst themselves before encountering bandits. Of course it’s as tragically poor as its probable inspiration is wonderful and brilliant.

So, why is this ‘speciality’ picture that runs for less than an hour of interest today? Because it was written by Pete LaRoche. And LaRoche is one of the many pseudonyms of b-movie legend Edward D Wood Jr. Unfortunately, beyond the predictably crude and ramshackle production, there’s very little to identify it with his more famous work. The dialogue doesn’t betray any of Wood’s wonderful eccentricities and the plot is as standard as it comes.

The Hollywood Hills quake to the hopping of semi-nude Native American babes.

The semi-clothed women (apparently, their men have all been killed) are led by golden-haired Nora Carver, who crossed paths with Wood again when she played Sleazy Maisie Rumpledinck in his late porno ‘Take It Out In Trade’ (1970). Narrator Kenne Duncan was also a Wood semi-regular; playing Dr Acula(!) in ‘Night of the Ghouls’ (1959) and appearing as a cop in crime flick ‘The Sinister Urge’ (1960), which proved to be Wood’s last ‘mainstream’ directorial gig before his pornos of the 1970s.

Proceedings aren’t helped by a crude and intrusive musical soundtrack and pretty wooden acting from almost the entire cast. Most have no other film credits, although deserter Del Monroe became a familiar face on TV as Seaview’s shipman Kowalski in ‘Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea’. Also, it appears that gunslinger Hank Delgado is actually actor Henry Darrow, who later went on to success on TV in ‘The High Chaparral’ and ‘Harry-O.’

The Indian babes flash their breasts (racy for the time no doubt) and do a strange, hopping dance, which we see twice. They also fire arrows but have no quivers to keep them in. Probably wasn’t in the budget.

This is a long and weary 54 minutes of non-entertainment. Wood completists will probably want to cross it off their list, but no-one else should touch it with a ten foot pole.

Anatomy of a Psycho (1961)

‘Look, Mac, when you’ve got the bracelets ready, come and get me. Until then stay off my back!’

 A young gang member spirals out of control after his brother is executed for murder, eventually turning on his friends and his sister. She is planning to marry the son of the man who was the secret eyewitness at the brother’s murder trial. 

 Ron Burns was the adopted son of comics George Burns and Gracie Allen and had appeared on their popular TV show. But his career as an actor never took off and this was his last feature. His performance in the title role is a little on the hysterical side but then so are script and subject matter. This is more of a study of juvenile delinquency than psychosis but of course the word ‘Psycho’ was big business at the time. 

 Our hero and his gang hang at the shed where one of them lives and look particularly dangerous for white college boys in comfortable cardigans. They beat up the District Attorney’s son wearing masks, smoke cigarettes and play cards. Burns broods, shouts and is generally far ‘too cool for school.’ When someone foolishly invites him to the tamest pool party in history, he puts the host’s head through a mirror and burns the house down! The second half of the picture is dull courtroom drama that doesn’t skimp on the clichés, my favourite being the weak but loyal gang member that won’t tell the truth. However, Michael Grainger is quite good as the local cop on the case. 

Ronnie’s Adam Ant impression was a little half hearted.

 The main talking point now is the possible involvement of Ed Wood. It has been suggested that he was ‘Larry Lee’ who is credited as co-writer. There is some circumstantial evidence to support this theory. For a start, director Boris Petroff (as Brooke L Peters) and scriptwriter Jane Mann were also responsible for monster flick ‘The Unearthly’ (1957). That film has no apparent connection to Wood but it does have Swedish wrestler Tor Johnson playing ‘Lobo’, essentially the same character he’d played in Wood’s ‘Bride of the Monster’ (1955).

Some of the music used in Wood’s ‘Plan 9 From Outer Space’ (1959) also turns up in ‘Anatomy of a Psycho (1961), although this was library music and freely available. There are no obvious Wood idiosyncrasies in the dialogue but juvenile delinquency was a subject Wood had tackled before (‘The Violent Ones’ (1956)) and Petroff did film Wood’s script for ‘Shotgun Wedding’ (1963). 

 So the case remains unproven.

Perhaps the greatest argument against Wood’s involvement was the quality of the film. It’s certainly not a big budget picture but it is professionally made and a long way removed from a bargain basement Wood production. 

Buy ‘Anatomy of a Psycho’ here

The Unearthly (1957)

‘So, you’ve got an overgrown moron for a pet.’

Professor John Carradine has created an artificial ‘17th gland’ which he hopes will give humanity the gift of immortality. Unfortunately, the medical world doesn’t understand his great vision and he is forced to experiment on patients at his remote psychiatric practice.

Carradine is at it again! Not remotely discouraged by his failures in ‘Captive Wild Woman’ (1943), he covers similar territory here; foisting his new gland on lucky recipients who tend to look a bit the worse for wear the morning after. Escaped criminal Myron Healey (‘Panther Girl of the Congo’ (1955)) turns up and is press ganged into joining the Prof’s crew of helpers which include his statuesque assistant and lover(?) Marilyn Buferd and the not so pretty Tor Johnson as handyman Lobo. Actually, Carradine rapidly begins to lose interest in Buferd when new guest Allison Hayes arrives (and who can blame him?) Hayes doesn’t have much to do here but look fabulous, which of course she manages with ease.

The whole setup is less than persuasive. A doctor refers patients to Carradine who have no family ties and subsequently fakes their suicides. Carradine is suave and urbane and is the ‘top man in his field’, although it’s never actually mentioned what that field is. We gather it’s supposed to be psychiatry from what else is said, although his treatments seem to involve just handing out tablets. Oh, and he’s a complete lunatic, of course.

‘Do you mind? I’m standing right here!’

Tor Johnson’s presence (in open-toed sandals!), gives rise to speculation about Ed Wood’s possible involvement. After all, the Swedish wrestler had played exactly the same part in Wood’s ‘Bride of the Monster’ (1955) but there’s no other obvious or recorded connection. Having said that, director Boris Petroff did film Wood’s screenplay ‘Shotgun Wedding’ (1963) a few years later.

But, by far the most memorable thing about the film is a sequence right at the end. No spoilers here but, if you see the movie, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s genuinely strange and disturbing and belongs in a much, much better film. And some of the cop’s dialogue here is thoughtful and truly chilling. It stands out like a sore thumb after all the mediocrity we’ve already witnessed but it’s the one piece of quality in the whole enterprise.

Enjoyable hokum nevertheless.

Buy ‘The Unearthly’ here