Neutron the Atomic Superman vs. the Death Robots (Los autómatas de la muerte; Federico Curiel 1962) and Love After Death (Glauco Del Mar, 1968)

Now that I'm set up with my new apartment and the internet, I am proud to present Diary of a Madman's very first double feature review! ("Science fiction, double feature..." to quote the immortal Richard O'Brien in one of my all-time favorite films, the ultimate midnight movie). Both films were made in Spanish-speaking countries in the 1960s, and both are in black and white, but there the similarity ends.

The evil Dr. Caronte is supposedly dead after his battle with the masked crimefighter Neutron, but in reality nothing could be farther from the truth. Caronte is alive and well, and is using the brains of three scientists whose bodies he stole from the grave, an army of hideous blood-drinking robots, and his little person henchman Nick in order to acquire the formula for a neutron bomb. Neutron must save the day once more. But who is Neutron? Three friends are potential candidates, all of whom are in a love triangle with lovely nightclub chanteuse Nora, the daughter of Professor Walker (The Mansion of Madness' Claudio Brook).

I love luchadore films. El Santo, Blue Demon, and their ilk push my buttons in the best ways. I don't care for American wrestling, but I dig the hell out of their Mexican counterparts. Neutron isn't a luchadore in the sense that he's a professional fighter, but with his black full-face mask with three lightning bolts on it, muscular physique, shirtlessness, fighting ability, and refusal to take off his mask, he fulfills every other aspect one associates with them. (However, he does not wear the cape seen on the film's poster). This was the second in a series of five Neutron films, with 1960's Neutron, the Man in the Black Mask representing the first battle between Neutron and Dr. Caronte. I've not seen the other films in the series, but this one was a lot of fun. The death robots are basically zombies, albeit blood-drinking rather than the flesh-eating type later created by George Romero and much imitated subsequently. There's an interesting scene where one of the robots literally loses his head. Both Neutron and the bandage-masked Dr. Caronte look cool, and Nick is a memorable character whose disability isn't exploited overmuch, even if the dwarf henchman is a genre standby. Claudio Brook is excellent as always,

The fact that Neutron's identity is never revealed (IMDB doesn't even list who plays him, or Dr. Caronte) is heavily played up, and the film never actually resolves which of Nora's three suitors is the masked man. Nora delivers a couple songs in Spanish, as do a male trio. The dubbing is pretty good for a Mexican film from the '60s, and there are some good lines, even if a policeman saying one of the robots "Looks like my mother-in-law!" made me roll my eyes. Neutron also appears to have pioneered the art of disappearing when the police aren't looking later pioneered by Batman. I cannot wait to see more of Neutron's adventures. Those of you with Amazon Prime memberships, give this film a look.

Mr. Montel (Guillermo de Cordóva) is prone to cataleptic fits, and during one of those episodes his beautiful blonde wife Sofia (Carmin O'Neal) and his friend Dr. Anderson (Roberto Maurano) claim he's dead and have him buried. Clawing his way out of the grave, Montel, who according to Sofia was impotent before, becomes a sex-crazed maniac, pursuing every woman he can find, sometimes with their consent, sometimes not. Meanwhile, Sofia and Dr. Anderson are having an affair, though the doc doesn't know Sofia is also screwing his crony Arturo (Angel Mario Ramirez). Discovering the plot that resulted in his burial, Montel vows revenge on his wife and the doctor.

Love After Death (or Unsatisfied Love as the print on my Something Weird Triple Feature DVD, which also includes The Atomic Brain and The Incredible Petrified World, is titled) is the second Argentinean sexploitation/horror hybrid I've seen, the first being another Something Weird release, The Curious Dr. Humpp. Neither are particularly good films, but of the two, this is probably the better. There's not much of a plot, and not a lot of dialogue either, with all of Montel's lines being delivered in voiceover as his inner monologue; it seems that he was unable to speak once he got out of his cataleptic state. What the film does have is its share of beautiful unclad women. While there's no male full frontal nudity, and the film never goes straight hardcore, we do come close to seeing genitalia at times. The film also touches on non-heteronormative sexual relations. An old woman who witnesses one of Montel's rapes says of his blonde victim, "If I was only ten years younger." Montel pursues a dancer he finds in a tryst with a woman, with said dancer turning out to be a male transvestite. There's also a lesbian couple. It's not a particularly progressive film in its sexual attitudes, but still worthy of note.

The horror elements are not very prominent, although there are some decent bloody FX when Montel gets his revenge. There's a surprise ending that, while I get what they were going for, still seems a bit bizarre. Montel's "castle" is clearly nothing of the sort. The best part is the opening where Montel is horrified that he can't tell his mourners he's not dead, followed by him busting out of his grave. It's too bad the rest of the movie couldn't be quite that strong.

The Immoral Mr. Teas (Russ Meyer, 1959)

A few "typical" days in the life of Willie Teas, a dental appliance salesman who finds himself constantly coming in contact with beautiful well-endowed women, about whom he often fantasizes.

I've always loved Russ Meyer's films, but even I admit some are simply better than others. Lorna didn't do much for me. The Immoral Mr. Teas is an example of what are known as "nudie cutie" films, and is therefore heavy on female skin (though never viewed fully frontal, even when the women are completely nude), but virtually free of plot. As a result, I couldn't warm to it the way I do Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! or my personal favorite, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. Mr. Teas, played by Bill Teas (who served as a combat photographer in the Pacific during WWII, where he served in the same unit as Russ, becoming good friends in the process), sees a lot more boobs in the course of his day-to-day life then you would think a seller of truly scary-looking dental equipment who looks kinda like Paul Bartel with more hair and Carl Kolchak's hat would see. The straw hat isn't his only questionable fashion choice: his work outfit consists of a pink jumpsuit, and his beachwear is trunks with a drawstring and two back pockets(?). I'm tempted to say Teas is a nudie cutie take on Jacques Tati's Monsieur Hulot, but I haven't seen any of Tati's Hulot films, so my gut instinct may very well be wrong.

Of course, Russ doesn't skip on the pulchritudinous pneumatic females. One dentist's nurse shows considerably more decolletage than most women I've seen in non-sexploitation movies and TV made in 1959, while also going braless. Interestingly, though Teas peeps at and fantasizes about many of the women he meets, none of those dreams involve him actually, y'know, having sex with them. This may explain why he is seen crossing "Cantlay Street" more than once during the course of the film. Also, his jumpsuit is blue rather than pink in said fantasies. Maybe he feels self-conscious about wearing a color perceived by many as effeminate? Russ himself makes a cameo as an audience member at a burlesque show. Famous British sex symbol June Wilkinson's bare breasts can be seen through a window. The film has no dialogue whatsoever, but plenty of "funny" narration written by Edward J. Lakso (who, in addition to also providing the film's music., wrote for a lot of well-known TV series in the '60s and '80s) and spoken by G. Ferrus. Perhaps the most inexplicable line is the claim, made while Teas fantasizes about three of the ladies he's met frolicking nude as he watches from a distance, that rubber was invented in 1873. Rubber is found in nature, and according to Wikipedia Charles Goodyear patented vulcanized rubber in 1844, so not sure what the hell Mr. Ferrus is talking about there.

If you enjoy beautiful women showing what their mama gave them, this film delivers. But if you're looking for Russ at the top of his game, this is probably not the way to go.

Schoolgirl Hitchhikers (Jeunes filles impudiques; "Michel Gentil" [Jean Rollin], 1973)

Two young hitchhikers, brunette Monica (Joëlle Coeur) and blonde Jackie (Gilda Arancio, credited as "Gilda Stark") decide to rest at a seemingly deserted villa. The two girls, who are in a lesbian relationship, have sex. As it happens, a petty gangster named Fred (Willy Braque, sporting a scar and a handlebar mustache) is hiding out in another room of the villa. Monica encounters Fred, and they have sex themselves, with Jackie soon joining them. The girls leave the following morning. Fred's accomplice Béatrice (Marie Hélène Règne) arrives, wishing to see the jewels he has stolen, but they find them missing from the safe where Fred stored them. Convinced that Monica and Jackie stole them, the crooks kidnap the couple from their campsite. While Fred and Béatrice torture Jackie, cutting her hair and doing something with a large pair of pliers offscreen, Monica escapes from Béatrice's henchman (François Brincourt), and enlists the aid of a private eye named Harry (Pierre Julien) and his pigtailed secretary (Reine Thirion).

Jean Rollin is without a doubt one of the most famous names in French sex cinema. His works include both softcore and hardcore productions, and many of his films feature female vampires. This film was made under Rollin's frequent nom de plume Michel Gentil (Rollin's full name was Jean Michel Rollin de Gentil). I've only seen one other Rollin film, Requiem for a Vampire, when it was on Netflix Streaming way back when they had a good selection of grindhouse cinema. Based on these two films, Rollin's work is long on sex and short on plot. Schoolgirl Hitchhikers (aka High School Hitch Hikers) is reasonably entertaining, but nothing special, and not particularly titillating. It's definitely softcore - both the female leads get full-frontal, but Fred keeps his pants on during sex scenes. Béatrice is clearly masturbating while watching Monica and Fred in the act through a window, but she's only shown from the waist up. Most of the performances are decent, though none are really exceptional. Pierre Raph's music includes a jazzy trumpet, a whistling tune that sounds more fitting for a Boy Scout jamboree, and some groovy sitar music. I was pretty amused by one pair of scenes: Fred has sex with Harry's secretary, who is naked, but she pistol whips him, although he gets the upper hand. When he brings her down again as a hostage, she's fully clothed! Thoughtful of him to let her get redressed. Also watch out for Rollin's uncredited cameo at the end of the film. Jean may not have been the Godard of sexploitation, but he did at least make his films entertaining, so kudos to him for that.

Hot Skin, Cold Cash (Barry Mahon, 1965)

Shelly's husband is in prison, and to pay his lawyer Mr. Stone to get him out, she turns to prostitution, sending her son away and spending her nights walking through Times Square looking for clients. After sleeping with Stone, she encounters a variety of Johns, including a young Japanese photographer, a hepcat whose wife wants to have an affair with a woman but gets cold feet because Shelly is being paid to do it rather than actually wanting to, a priest who only wants to talk her out of her life of sin (as he sees it), a virgin who's put up to it by his potential frat brothers, and a guy who wants her to pose as his girlfriend at an orgy.

Barry Mahon is a director of odd dichotomies. Besides sexploitation fare like this, he also did a few kid's movies, including Santa and the Ice Cream Bunny, an utterly insane piece of garbage that makes Santa Claus Conquers the Martians look like A Christmas Story. His voodoo flick Blood of the Zombie is also extremely entertaining in an incompetent way. This movie has its share of odd moments, but is way more depressing than either of the two aforementioned Mahon films I've seen, which is saying something. Shelly (played by Victoria Astor, whose only other credit is Mahon's short Naked Moonshine) seems resigned to her fate, and says that men have been trying to get into her pants since she was 14. Despite this, most of her clients (with the exception of Mr. Stone and the virgin) never seem to actually have sex with her, so it's amazing she manages to make any money at all. The black and white film and minimal soundtrack only drive home how cold and harsh Shelly's world is. Despite this, it is still a Barry Mahon film, so there are a few moments that will make you go "What the fuck?" Shelly has a pet parakeet named Orpheus, which I would think was symbolic, but Shelly is trying to save her husband, not vice versa. Or it could be a cinematic in-joke, only I can't see Mahon being a Jean Cocteau fan. There's also Shelly telling the hepcat, "No ticky, no washy" (I wonder how Yoshi the photographer would've reacted to that), which causes him to tap-dance before giving her money. He also offers her a joint, which he refers to as "gin johnson," a term I've never heard, and for which Google doesn't seem to turn up many relevant results. During her conversation with the priest, we hear what sounds like a squeeze toy, but neither character remarks on it. At the orgy, Shelly's client has sex with a French girl (though both keep their undies on, as this movie is short on actual nudity), but the sound of buzzing coming from a closet leads him to discover a girl using a vibrator, who briefly comes out of the closet with another girl (more possible symbolism?). The two sniff the air and then go back in. Most of the actors had little-to-no experience, and it shows. Astor is surprisingly decent, but even better is Allen Joseph as the priest who tries to save her. Joseph had the most extensive career of anyone in the cast, and cult film fans will most likely recognize him as Henry Spencer's girlfriend's dad in Eraserhead. The cinematography by Joseph Mangine (whose other work includes The Naughty Victorians: An Erotic Tale of a Maiden's Revenge and 13 episodes of the Judy Blume adaptation Fudge) captures Times Square back in its grittier, pre-gentrification days, including a theater marquee with a title that, though partially obscured, end in "Pussy." A good movie this isn't, but it is an interesting time capsule for its time and place.

Four Dimensions of Greta (Pete Walker, 1972)

Wow, has it really been three years since my last post? Anyway, your ole cineaste buddy Sean has decided to revive this blog for the purpose of posting film reviews. Since my tastes run from arthouse cinema to exploitation flix, you should be seeing a wide variety of films covered here. Tonight's film definitely fits into the latter category.

Pete Walker is a director I've heard about for years, but never got around to watching. Most of his output, from the years 1959-1983, consisted of sexploitation and/or horror. You can probably guess from the poster which one this is. Hans Weimer (Australian Tristan Rogers, better known to soap opera fans such as myself for later playing Robert Scorpio on General Hospital, doing a not overly convincing German accent) is a reporter for Der Stein assigned by his boss (and fiancee's father) Herr Schickler to travel to London to do a story about au pairs. Schickler's friends the Grubers ask Hans to also find out about the whereabouts of their daughter Greta (Leena Skoog, who was actually Swedish), a student who went to England to study grass(!!!). Arriving in the U.K., Hans meets Greta's former employer Mrs. Marks, who says she quit after a week. Mrs. Marks tries to hit on him, but he wants none of the "middle-aged English sow." Hans contacts an old girlfriend, Sue, who is now "practically married," (although, as she pointedly tells Hans, "I've never been a very practical person,") to help him. They head to a club where they find Serena and Kirsten, who used to share a flat with Greta, who forced them to give her all their money. When they were attacked by some "sex-crazed hippies" they found Greta in bed with, they threw her out. At Serena's recommendation, Hans goes to a strip club ("They get naked and they move. They don't wear G-strings," hawker Big Danny repeatedly declares outside), where the huge-afroed Cyn (or "the original Cyn," as she calls herself) tells him Greta worked there until a police raid, and that the money man behind the club, gangster Carl Roberts had the hots for her. With the help of Greta's pro footballer boyfriend Roger Maitland (Robin Askwith from the Confessions of a... film series, sporting truly impressive muttonchops), Hans and Sue finally unravel the whole story.

Four Dimensions of Greta was the first British feature film to use 3-D, in the flashbacks filling us in on what Greta's been up to in London. Most of this involves sex or general nudity, although we do see Greta holding a banana up to the camera (nudge nudge wink wink) twice, and Roger brandishing a broken bottle after catching Greta in the act with Roberts. Despite that, the sex scenes aren't all that eye-popping, even though pretty much all the women who doff their knickers are well-endowed, to be sure. The characters are mostly cookie-cutter, and the attempts at humor (such as a slow-motion romantic scene between Hans and Sue that ends in Hans hitting a waiter in the face with a pastry) tend to fall flat. That being said, I always enjoy seeing Swinging London on screen, and I dug the theme song by "Huckleberry Fynn"(!!!) asking if Greta is "angel or devil." There's also a lot of memorable dialogue, much of which is quoted above. In the film's most self-aware moment, Hans declares near the end, "This is starting to become like a bad British sex comedy!" Indeed. But still very much worth a look for fans of the genre.

For those who use Amazon Prime, you can click here to watch it (complete with 3-D, though you'll need to supply your own glasses), but if you're undecided feel free to check out the trailer first. Word of warning though, it is definitely NSFW.