The Laughing Dead (1989) What's So Funny About (Priest's Love And Aztec Resurrection)

I've seen movies with zombies. I've seen movies with mad scientists. I've seen movies with Priests that have lost their path. I've even seen movies where the Aztec people attempt to resurrect their culture. And I have seen plenty of movies where students on a field trip get menaced by any number of things. What I had never seen was a climax that boiled down to a basketball game that turns into a Ray Harryhausen style monster brawl, but that's just what The Laughing Dead delivered. Perhaps that's what happens when you get a Thai-American avant garde composer, poet,  and science fiction and horror novelist in the director's chair. Billed under a shortened version of his full name, Somtow Sucharitkul, in literary circles he would be known better as author S.P. Somtow. The first time director, writer, and star fashioned am intriguingly cheesy vision that both captured the flavor of early 80s horror fiction and the spirit of the cheapo horror feature. So come with me and let's have a few chuckles with The Laughing Dead.

The Graydon Clark Bar: The Forbidden Dance (Is Lambada) (1990)

I attended several dances in high school, but I can’t think of one of my alma mater’s functions that I attended stag. However once, I went to the rival school’s Homecoming Dance in the early spring of 1990. I was a freshman, and there is no telling who talked me into going, that detail is lost to the ages, but the fact remains that I did. I wasn’t attending the enemy’s dance with a master plan to shame their school in some sort of Breakin’ style dance off or to steal all their women. Then I met this girl, an “alternative” type (back when there was such a thing to be) in a Jessica Rabbit style velvet dress. Yeah, I don’t know why she was wearing such a thing, but she was and had the assets to match. (As I recall, I was wearing an unstructured jacket from Chess King, a printed shirt buttoned all the way up “Parker Lewis” style, and pleated slacks, quite overdressed for the after the football game in the cafeteria affair, but who am I to judge.) Somehow, we started dancing if that’s what you want to call it. Later, when it was the stuff of teenage legend, people went on to describe it in many ways, dirty dancing, shocking, an atrocity, crimes against nature, scandalous, and etc. and so forth. At the time though, there was one word on the lips of the zeitgeist that I remember hearing repeatedly that night, and that word was Lambada.

While the Lambada had built a dance craze throughout Central and South America though the late ‘80’s, it didn’t reach American shores until the very end of the decade. The song “Lambada” by Kaoma began to work its way up the charts (peaking at #46), Somehow the idea that the craze was going to take root all across America where people (who may or may not have been at Homecoming dances) sparked not one, but two, films on the subject released the same day in March 1990. The first film, Lambada, directed by Breakin’ and Rappin’ auteur Joel Silberg, stars J. Eddie Peck as a high school teacher who moonlights as a Lambada dancer (opposite The Office’s Melora Hardin) and gets in trouble for it. I know. That sounds awful silly. This is of course nothing at all like tonight’s feature, the competing Lambada flick from the mind of Greydon Clark, The Forbidden Dance (Is Lambada). I put the “Is Lambada” in parentheses because while it may have been in the original title, the producers of the Silberg Lambada film sued to have it taken off. However, only one movie was clever enough to get the Kaoma song for that film, and in that regard, Clark's film comes out on top.

Now, for that far more plausible plot. Lara Harring (Mullholland Drive, Silent Night Deadly Night III) stars as Nisa, a princess from the Amazon jungle. When her tribe is threatened by Benjamin Maxwell (Richard Lynch), she and medicine man Joa (Sid Haig) travel to the city with a plan to confront the head of the evil corporation. This naturally ends up with Joa landing himself in jail and Nisa ending up working as a maid. After going out to dance with her employer’s son Jason (Jeff James), Nisa soon finds herself without a job. Jason, on the other hand, finds himself intoxicated by Nisa’s exotic Lambada dance. Dancing leads Nisa to her next gig, working in a go-go bar as a private dancer (a la Ms. Turner), and when Jason finds her there, he thinks she’s started hooking. Convinced that the princess’ honor is still intact, Jason and the ecological warrior begin to practice to win a dance contest that will allow her to save the jungle or something.

I have to admit by that point it gets a little convoluted, but it also doesn’t matter. Here’s a film that has it all; montages, magical explosions, fighting scenes, cheesy love scenes, dancing, more montages, and even more dancing. You even get a rival for the star-crossed Lambada dancing pair that features a female dancer who would be the perfect match for William Zabka. Once again, Graydon Clark manages to pull all these elements and tenuous trend together into a movie that is a silly good time. Working from a script by Monster High scripters John Platt and Roy Langston based upon a story by uber-schlock producer Manheim Golan, I can’t imagine on paper the Forbidden Dance looked like a good idea. For some when they see the picture, it will still look like a bad idea, but genre fans who love the offbeat and strange will find tons to love here.

I have to start with what I consider the biggest hook for anyone I would want to tempt with this film, Sid Haig as the mute medicine man Joa. Haig, best known now for his Captain Spaulding role, is an actor who has been in everything from Coffy and Spider Baby to Jackie Brown and Boris and Natasha, but I’ve never seen him so tragically miscast. Towering over the other “tribesmen”, Haig looks about as much like an Amazonian as I look like Bradley Cooper (bad example, I know, but you get the point), and his mute performance leads to plenty of laughs both intentional and unintentional. Likewise, Lara Harring doesn’t look so much like she’s come out of the jungle as off the runway. Harring’s performance, like most, is pretty off, but as the film is constantly a little off, it seems to fit and her beauty overcomes plenty of her shortcomings. The film is littered with great supporting performances as well, I especially would like to mention Miranda Garrison (who was also the choreographer) for her role as the predatory club owner Mickey, Richard Lynch for showing up and actually giving the film a heavy, and Barbra Brighton for being the perfect blonde, bitchy, poofy haired rival for innocent Nisa.

If I wanted to (and believe me I want to), I could go on about The Forbidden Dance for much longer. I haven’t even gotten around to little moments like when Nisa tears her skirt off to dance, the final dance showdown, or gotten to talk about the clothes (so many men in giant vests featuring giant blocks of color!) However, these are the kind of things best shared with a few friend and a few drinks. I highly recommend this as a compliment to any dance themed double feature. So pair it with Showgirls, Burlesque, Dirty Dancing, or any of the Step Up films for a night of dancing and strangeness. That about summed up that Homecoming as well, dancing and strangeness. I recall hordes of teens staring as the girl I had just met and I grinded against each other, and little did I know the calf high slit in the back oh her dress has continued to split until it was just shy of showing off her goods. I’ve never danced like that again, and I can’t imagine what possessed me to do so. Years later, when I ended up in a writing class with her, it was a story I was asked to repeat many times, my experience with the Lambada. Now I have finally found a story of The Forbidden Dance that I will speak of in my own hushed tones, and while that Homecoming memory is a faded moment of “glory” from 21 years ago, Greydon Clark’s The Forbidden Dance is the kind of film I can cherish forever.

Remember folks, you can pick up almost any of Greydon's films over at his HOMEPAGE

Bugg Rating

The King of Wilmington - Maximum Overdrive (1986): Uncle Stevie Grinds The Gears

When a movie kicks off with an ATM machine telling the director he’s an asshole, that‘s a dangerous statement to make. This is especially true if the first time director in question is coked out of his mind and promised in the trailer to “scare the hell out of you”. This is doubly true if you’re Stephen King and after famously pooh poohing Stanley Kubrick’s vision of The Shining, you also say in the trailer, “If you want something done right, do it yourself.” On Dino De Laurentiis dime, the King of Horror went to Wilmington,  North Carolina to make good on his promise. There he brought to the screen his short story “Trucks” in the form of Maximum Overdrive, a movie that has been reviled and derided over the years.  While it undoubtedly caused many in the audience (and in the production for that matter) to agree with the ATM machine on the director’s character, today I am happy to be talking about Maximum Overdrive in this second installment of The King of Wilmington.

As a strange comet envelops the Earth’s skies with a greenish haze, machines everywhere decide they’re done doing what we tell them too. For the patrons and employees of The Dixie Boy truck stop that means dealing with rogue electric knives in the diner, impertinent gas pumps, and worst yet runaway 18 wheelers. Parolee Bill Robinson (Emilio Estevez) works as the short order cook at the diner, but when the machines start to rebel, Bill is the only one brave enough to fight back.  Despite the protestations of his boss, the surly Mr. Hendershot (Pat Hingle), Bill inspires the truck stop staff, newlyweds Connie (Yeardley Smith) and Carl (John Short), and hitchhiker (Laura Harrington) to band together armed with Mr. Hendershot’s private cache of weapons to fight back against the mechanical menace.

When Mr. King made his promise in the Maximum Overdrive trailer, people expected the author to remain faithful to his work and present something dark and moody. What people did not expect was a film that verged on high camp chock full of b-movie flourishes, sight gags, and inconsistent logic. The later is of course what they got, but the twenty five years since the release of Overdrive have disconnected the film from King’s promises. This allows Maximum Overdrive to be enjoyed as what it is, a silly retelling of Night of the Living Dead which recasts trucks for zombies and the farmhouse survivors as patrons of The Dixie Boy. While the film features flashes of King, Overdrive belongs on your shelf nestled right between Troll 2 and Killer Klowns from Outer Space, and in my book that’s a pretty damn nice place to be.

In general King acquits himself as a director fairly well capturing some well constructed shots, but King has even stated that he was so coked out of his mind that he doesn’t recall making the film, much of the credit should go to Italian cinematographer Armondo Nannuzzi (La Cage Aux Folles, Frankenstein Unbound). It was not like Nannuzzi walked away from the project unscathed. During a sequence involving a killer lawnmower, splinters shot everywhere including (in a Fulci-esque twist) directly into the eye of the cinematographer. He would later sue Stephen King for 18 million dollars, but the case was settled out of court. This was only one of two major accidents on the set. The other, which happened during the stunt involving the flipped over ice cream truck, fortunately injured no one.

Thankfully not adding insult to injuries, the majority of the actors in the film really sell the material. Emilio Estevez (The Breakfast Club, Repo Man) definitely got the memo about what kind of film this is. If there’s any question about that, just check out the scene where a truck pushes him across the parking lot. Emilio takes it so far over the top it comes back around (and makes Martin glad he didn’t take the Sheen name).  Also on the same page was legendary actor Pat Hingle who hams it up as “the biggest fuckhead” that Estevez’s character has ever met, Yeardley Smith (the voice of Lisa Simpson) as a screaming banshee of a newlywed, and Ellen McElduff (OZ, Homicide: Life on the Street) as the freaked out waitress. McElduff was a real highlight every time she would yell at the sky, “You can’t do this! We made you!” regardless of the fact that the only thing her character had a hand in constructing was a breakfast platter. The only actor who really missed the mark was Laura Harrington as the love interest. Not only was her acting bad, there was no chemistry at all between her and Estevez to sell their sudden, intense relationship.

Now of course this feature is all about the Stephen King films made in and around Wilmington, North Carolina, and I would be remiss if I didn’t talk some about the effect this film had on the area. While many locals were cast as extras in the opening bridge scene, many locals were also confused when the full size Dixie Boy opened up outside of town. Both locals and truckers tried to stop in on the set before a sign was erected letting everyone know it was only a set. After filming, the truck stop was bought by local investors who opened it for real, but after a few years they went under. I understand some of the Dixie Boy signing is still in existence. It also brought some special visitors into the area. Not only did King and crew descend on Wilmington, but he brought with him AC/DC who he tapped to do the soundtrack for the film. If you look very closely in the opening scene where the bridge raises, you can barely make out the Aussie rockers on a boat that passes under the bridge.

Maximum Overdrive has a reputation for being a film that’s not even “so bad it’s good”, but rather just bad. I think this reputation probably comes from a mixture of King’s own dismissals of the film and the rabid disappointment of his fans who expected the ultimate Stephen King film. For the rest of us who just like good old fashioned cheesy entertainment, Overdrive is a win all around. Even as the film sags in the middle with long, pointless expository passages, it redeems itself with trucks blowing up, military vehicles who speak Morse code, and trucks who bully Martin Sheen’s kid. So if you haven’t seen Maximum Overdrive for a while, I definitely encourage you to check it out. If you’ve never seen it and you love campy, silly horror/sci-fi fun, then invite your friends over and kick back. For those about to watch Maximum Overdrive, I salute you!

I’ll be back next Monday with the next chapter in The King of Wilmington when I cover the Wheelchair/werewolf film Silver Bullet.

Bugg Rating

Son of Dracula (1974) Everybody's Talkin' (About Me 'Cause I'm a Vampire)

There are some movies, that no matter what you hear about them, you have to see it for yourself. For years, I had heard that Son of Dracula was an incoherent mess and neither the appearance of Harry Nilsson or Ringo Starr made it any better and perhaps even worse. Still, I had to see it for myself, and thanks to my friends at Cinema de Bizarre, I finally got a chance. In a way, I got just what I expected, but there is something strangely fascinating about the film. While there was a veteran film maker behind the camera, the actors could have been outclassed by an Ed Wood cast any day, but still there is something, a glimmer, a wink, a bite, if you will, which makes the film go from the incoherent mess to an interesting slice of cult cinema.

A hundred years ago Count Dracula was killed by a stake through the heart, but now his son Count Downe (Nilsson) is poised to become the King of the Netherworld. With the careful guidance of Merlin (Starr), the Count prepares for the day, but he is troubled as human needs and desires begin to infiltrate his mind. After he meets a human woman named Amber (Suzanna Leigh), he is convinced by Dr. Van Helsing (Dennis Price) to undergo a process that will end the line of Dracula and turn the Count into a human. However, strangely for a Van Helsing, the doctor doesn’t have the vampire’s best interest at heart.

Singer/songwriter Harry Nilsson might be best known now to cult movie fans for his song “Coconut” that was featured on the soundtrack to Quentin Tarantino’s film Reservoir Dogs, "Everybody's Talkin'" from Midnight Cowboy, or his power ballad “I Can‘t Live (If Living is Without You)”. While Nilsson amassed a cult of fans around his music, he never really achieved much mainstream success, and after his death in 1993, he has become an artist that is mostly forgotten outside of songwriting circles. As the story goes, Ringo Starr had an idea to make a rock and roll musical about Dracula which Nilsson thought was inspired by his album Son of Schmilsson. The ex-Beatles drummer had played on the album, and it shared a similar theme. Ringo however has stated that he never even bothered to listen to the album.

Ringo first approached David Bowie about acting in the film, and the singer turned him down (though Bowie would do his own turn as a vampire in The Hunger). Ringo then got Nilsson on board and recruited Hammer films veteran Freddie Francis for directing duties. Francis, who had directed The Skull and The Evil of Frankenstein, and Craze, probably had no idea what to make of the musicians and their horror romp, but it seems like he did the best he could with the low budget and inexperienced actors that he was handed. Nilsson’s performance could best be described as wooden, and Ringo is way better in films such as Candy and The Magic Christian, but their star power carries their weak performances.

Son of Dracula is also chock full of other rock royalty though in minor appearances as members of Count Downe’s band. The careful eye will see rockers Keith Moon of The Who, Leon Russell, Peter Frampton, and Led Zeppelin’s John Bonham lurking in the background of the film. There are also some great character actors who show up here, most notably is Freddie Jones as Dr. Frankenstein. He was a veteran actor at the time, but would go on to appear in films such as Krull, Wild At Heart, Firestarter, and Dune. Also supporting the film is a number of great songs by Nilsson. His power ballad “I Can’t Live” is featured in the film as well as the excellent theme song “Down”. However, the only song that was specifically written for the film was “Daybreak”, a song with very pertinent lyrics about the dangers of the daytime.

Son of Dracula is a film that has been a holy grail of mine for some time. As a fan of both of the musical stars as well as horror films, I just had to know. I'm not sure the film ever really knows where it's going. There's lots packed in there. Love stories, double crosses, songs, whatever Ringo was doing, and more songs abound, but the question is what to make of it. For Beatles and Nilsson fanatics and those out there who really love their obscure and strange little films, this is a must see. Son of Dracula could not rightfully be called a rock film, horror film, comedy, or spoof. I think its actually weird enough to fall into that very rare category of being a true cult film, a midnight movie of the highest order. Plus, you may think you've seen vampires do everything by now, but until you've seen Son of Dracula, you haven't seen a vamp lead a band into a full on '70's singer-songwriter jam. That's something that I am not prepared to live without. 'Cause I can't liveeeeeeeee.........

Bugg Rating

Boy, howdy, it's hard to even find a clip out there of this flick, but here's one with the John Bonham cameo

Death Bed: The Bed that Eats (1973): Your Sleep Number is 666

Like most people who come on contact with Death Bed: The Bed that Eats, I had to see it on the strength of the title alone. If the film was terrible, so be it. Why does it matter when the title says it all? I’ve heard about this film for quite some time, but my real inspiration was when I was listening to one of my Patton Oswalt CD’s. I had forgotten the bit on his album Werewolves and Lollipops about this film. It ends it saying it inspired him to write Rape Stove: The Stove that Rapes People. I thought it was high time to see this picture, (Death Bed not Rape Stove), and since I’d been talking about so many heady horror films in the end of October, I thought this would be a welcome change.

If you imagine a film made in the ‘70’s called Death Bed: The Bed that Eats, then you’re not too far off from what you get. It’s very important that the title gives no distinction about what it eats. As you would imagine, it eats people, but it will also drink your bottle of wine or eat your bucket of chicken (and return the bones and bucket). That’s not to say that people are not its snack of choice. Anyone who messes with the bed is generally covered in yellow bubbles and sucked down into the bed’s digestive juices. People have tried to stop the bed, but their attempts have been futile. It should have been obvious that you can’t shoot a bed, and the fool who tries to stab will get all the flesh eaten off his hands.

The Death Bed as you may expect, is possessed by a demon, and the story of the bed is told by one of its victims, an artist (Patrick Spence-Thomas) that was consumed and somehow his spirit kept behind a painting. We learn a bit about the demon and its origins, but more importantly we learn about the people that the bed had eaten over the years. In its history, it had devoured criminals, consumed old women, and even lunched on a child. The biggest meal it ever had was when an orgy was held on it, and it got to chow down on six people at once. After learning about the past, we are taken to present day where Diane (Demene Hall) travels to the bed’s house as a getaway provided by a friend of hers who is dissolving the estate. She brings a couple of friends with her, and the bed, which hadn’t eaten in 10 years, begins to get really hungry.

Death Bed director George Barry made this film as a labor of love, and as far as Barry knew, it never got released. In his introduction to the film on the DVD, Barry described how he stumbled across posts on the internet about his film and some grey market copies that were available. Seeing that his film had developed a cult fan base, he struck a deal to get the movie out officially for the first time in 2007. Barry’s film is laughable, let’s get that out of the way right off the bat. It’s about a bed that eats people after all. Now, I’ll give him some credit, it’s not a story that I’ve heard before. Perhaps because of all household furniture, the bed ranks pretty low on the threat level. That being said, there’s something about Barry’s film that I found, for lack of a better term, charming. With its gothic themes and setting, Death Bed had the same kind of feeling that one might get from a Hammer film. It’s actually pretty impressive how good the film looks. Barry didn’t really have a budget as much as he scraped together what he could, and the film looks far better than that.

Not everything about Death Bed was quite as charming as its conceit. The acting is just terrible, and I won’t waste anyone’s time detailing these performers. One after another, actors parade across the screen without a thought to line delivery. I will give a reprieve from my generalization for Dememe Hall who does perform fairly well, and she had a great look like reminded me of Teresa Graves. A few of the ladies do show some ‘70’s skin giving their screen time a boost, but there’s not enough to give the film a sleazy quality. Overall, the only real character is the Death Bed, and I enjoyed the anthropomorphic qualities given to the bed more than any of the actors. I've never seen bed that snored before, but somehow I was not surprised.

Death Bed is not a film that requires much discussion, and I think Barry knew what kind of film he was making or he would have taken out the scene where the bed drinks Pepto Bismol. So in a way you get exactly what you expect, but Death Bed remains an unclassifiable, singular film. I thoroughly recommend for maximum enjoyment of this film invite some friends over, crack open a few beers, and let the laughter begin. Just be careful what furniture you set your beer down on, or you might just find it empty when you pick it back up.

Bugg Rating

No trailer I'm afraid, but here's a fairly nice clip:



And here's Patton Oswalt's routine about the film: