The plot of Village of the Giants isn’t radically different than those of the beach movies. There are good kids and bad kids and dancing and rock and roll and it’s all laughably innocent. But…there are also giants. In a small town outside of L.A., a little boy named Genius (played by an 11-year-old “Ronny” Howard, on leave from his gig as Opie Taylor) accidentally invents a substance, dubbed “Goo,” which causes people and animals to grow to giant size. Trouble comes in the form of a bunch of kids looking for trouble. How do we know they’re bad kids looking for trouble? Because they like to dance in the mud and pour beer on each other. They also like to use tough slang like “don’t make book on it.” These delinquents are led by no other than Beau Bridges, jumping out ahead of his Academy Award-winning brother Jeff in the movie-making race.

Anyway, these bad kids steal the Goo from Genius and his sister’s boyfriend, Mike (second-tier teen idol Tommy Kirk). Of course, if you introduce delinquents and Goo in the first act, you just know that the troublemakers have to ingest the Goo by the second act (i.e., complicating incident), which they do. The newly made giants decide this is their chance to let the grownups know who’s boss. They take over the town, cutting off all communication with the outside world. (Remember, this was pretty easy to do in 1965.) And to make sure the adults play ball, they kidnap the sheriff’s little daughter. Of course, in the third act, it all goes bad. Allusions to Biblical characters are made, overwrought symbolism emerges and the giants are cut down to (normal) size.

The cast of Village of the Giants is uniformly excellent. Besides Howard, Bridges and Kirk, we have fine performances from Johnny Crawford, best known as Mark McCain from The Rifleman, and noted ‘60s babe Joy Harmon, who you probably remember from Cool Hand Luke, where she showed off her car-washing skills. And I have to mention the groovy dancing on display from Toni Basil, long before her “Mickey” fame. The film’s producers also filled the flick with some lesser rock and rollers, like the Beau Brummels and Freddy Cannon, doing some mostly forgettable songs. One major plus is the wonderfully evocative score by Jack Nitzsche. In fact, the movie’s theme, “The Last Race,” was recently appropriated by Quentin Tarantino, who used it over the opening credits in Death Proof.

Gordon claimed Village of the Giants was based on H. G. Wells’ 1904 novel, The Food of the Gods and How It Came to Earth, and maybe it was. But I think we all know it was really just an excuse to show a group of giant teenagers taking over a small town and standing up to the Establishment. It also offered a chance to show swingin’ chicks in homemade harem girl costumes doing the Pony and the Jerk in slow motion. You have to admit, to a middle-aged producer trying to make a buck off the burgeoning youth movement, it sounds like an unbeatable combination. And you know what? It pretty much is.

~Theron Neel

Granted, It Conquered the World isn’t all that good, but it almost perfectly epitomizes the ‘50s B-grade sci-fi/monster movie. Made in 1956 and directed by the legendary Roger Corman, the flick tells the story of an alien from Venus with plans to, well, it’s all right there in the title. The creature (which, in his intro to “Cheepnis,” Frank Zappa described accurately as looking “sort of like an inverted ice-cream corn with teeth around the bottom—it looks … like a teepee or a sort of a rounded-off pup tent affair”) hopes to achieve world domination using a disgruntled scientist, played by Lee van Cleef, who has been duped by the alien’s promises of a better Earth through eradication of emotion. Graves played the scientist’s best friend, who eventually talks some sense into his misguided buddy and aids in saving the day. As a kid, I loved this movie. It has everything. There’s mind control, adults with marital issues, monsters in rubber suits, space command malarkey, blowtorch monster repellent and caves. When it’s on today, I usually don’t make it all the way to the end, but I always see enough to satisfy my desire for cheese.

The career Graves crafted for himself was long and full of every kind of role imaginable. Though he’ll always be best known for Airplane! and TV’s Mission: Impossible, Graves made several notable, and not so notable, horror/sci-fi flicks, including Red Planet Mars, Killers From Space, The Eye Creatures and The Clonus Horror. But my other favorite horror work from Graves is a barely remembered 1974 TV movie called Scream of the Wolf.

Scream of the Wolf has a wonderful pedigree. It was directed by Dan Curtis, who was The Man in ‘70s televised horror. Do the titles Dark Shadows and The Night Stalker mean anything to you? Well, Curtis is the guy responsible for both of those horror touchstones. Also involved in Scream of the Wolf was legendary writer Richard Matheson, who wrote the flick’s teleplay. Matheson is one of the most famous and influential genre writers of all time. He wrote the novel I Am Legend, several of the best Twilight Zone episodes as well as novels that were adapted into the films Stir of Echoes, The Legend of Hell House, Duel and Somewhere in Time, among many others. Furthermore, three of his short stories were adapted in the original Trilogy of Terror (yes, the tale of the Zuni fetish doll is his). Now, Scream of the Wolf isn’t one of Matheson’s better stories, but it is great disposable entertainment. C’mon, werewolves, Richard Matheson, Peter Graves, Dan Curtis, 1974—isn’t that enough to make you a little curious? (What if I throw in ‘70s fox Jo Ann Pflug?)

The ‘70s were full of supernatural-based TV movies that were meant to be seen once and then forgotten. And that’s what Scream of the Wolf was. But when I heard that Graves had left us, I remembered it. I don’t know what that says about me, but I do know that Graves will be recalled fondly by myself and others. For a TV kid from the ‘60s and ’70s, Peter Graves was a part of daily life. His movies ran constantly and I saw Jim Phelps accept impossible missions almost every day. All I can say is Mr. Graves, your mission, which thankfully you decided to accept, is completed. Get some rest, friend.

~Theron Neel

Taste the Blood of Dracula is not at all a bad film. Consumer Alert: If you read the Netflix description of this flick (Count Dracula is back in action when three swingers turn to black magic to boost their sex-drive slump), you will definitely get the wrong impression. That makes this sound like a soft-core porn movie, and nothing could be further from the truth. The setting is Victorian England, and the “three swingers” in question are actually three middle-aged men who are pillars of their community. But on the last Sunday of each month, they gather in a brothel on the wrong side of town to enjoy whatever salacious delights are available—the more bizarre, the better. This being 1869 by way of 1969, “bizarre” equals topless women and a belly dancer wrapped in a boa constrictor. Now, for a Hammer film, this is racy stuff (we actually see a bare breast or two), but these gentlemen are growing bored with it. Enter the arrogant Lord Courtley.

Young Lord Courtley promises the men delights previously unimagined, if only they trust him and pony up 1,000 guineas ($5,250). For this then-kingly sum, they will purchase Dracula’s cape, signet clasp and a vial of his powdered blood. With that, they will supposedly be able to resurrect the Master by performing a satanic rite and, apparently, enjoy pleasures not of this world. Granted, it’s all rather vague but they go along with it, fools that they are. And as any sane person might expect, these fools are soon in fear for their lives as an annoyed Dracula hunts them down to take vengeance for Lord Courtley, who died in the ceremony. Here’s the twist: Dracula uses the men’s teen children to exact his revenge.

I suppose this is Hammer trying to impose a socially relevant metaphor into its flagging Dracula series. I don’t know if it boosted the movie’s commercial potential upon release, but in 2009 it’s fun to watch these hypocrites get their comeuppance from the younger generation. Sure, these guys can hang out in bordellos, but they won’t allow their kids to go to a party? Well, Count Dracula has something to say about that. Hungry freaks, daddy, indeed!

Taste the Blood of Dracula, directed by Peter Sasdy, picks up right where Dracula Has Risen From the Grave (directed by Freddie Francis) ends, and it’s an interesting contrast. Sasdy started directing in the late ‘50s and Taste the Blood of Dracula looks like a film directed by a journeyman trying to adapt to a new era. It moves slowly, but has a few of the “freak-out” camera moves popular at the time. Freddie Francis got his start as a camera assistant in the ‘30s and moved up to cinematographer, working on classic films such as The Innocents before he began directing, and Dracula Has Risen From the Grave is a better film for his extensive experience.

Sir Christopher Lee has had an amazing life and career. Sure, there have been lean times, but how many actors have been able to reinvent themselves and establish a new persona for several new generations? Think about it for a second. Lee has played Count Dracula, Frankenstein’s monster, Fu Manchu and the Mummy. You youngsters out there might know him as Count Dooku (he battled Yoda, fer chrissakes) or Saruman. He was in the original version of The Wicker Man and was a Bond villain in The Man With the Golden Gun—he’s also Ian Fleming’s step-cousin. Directors he’s worked with include Laurence Olivier, Peter Jackson, Tim Burton and Steven Spielberg. He actually knew J.R.R. Tolkein, and he is on the cover of Paul McCartney’s Band on the Run album. He’s in the Guinness Book of World Records as “tallest leading actor.” He has even hosted Saturday Night Live. And, as if that’s not enough, he’s now been knighted by the Queen of England—talk about an overachiever.

But even if he becomes king, Sir Christopher Lee will always be Count Dracula to me. His Dracula wasn’t the suave bloodsucker that Bela Lugosi gave us. Lee’s Dracula was a “love ‘em and leave ‘em” fanged feral animal. He might not have been politically correct, but he knew what he wanted and he got it. Actually, his Dracula really did get it. I believe he died at the end of each of his films but, like Jason Vorhees today, he always managed to come back. Now that I think of it, that’s not a bad description of Christopher Lee himself.

~Theron Neel

When a meteor crashes into the hills outside of the hamlet of Exceptional Vista, things begin to go awry. All TV reception goes out and unusual guests begin to filter in. The small town has been on the skids since the nut factory closed, so all the new activity is welcome, though admittedly strange. Dr. Karel Lamonte (Campbell Scott), world-famous atomic scientist from the Atomic Academy, is in town on vacation and hopes to observe the local flora and fauna. Also visiting are Chris Marlowe (Elisa Moolecherry), traveling banjo salesperson, and Michel O’Shea (Nigel Bennett), traveling vacuum cleaner salesman. They are all staying at the local inn, run by the well-read town sweetheart Sandy Fawkes (Fiona Loewi) and her brother, Guy (Tom Everett Scott), with whom she has a disturbingly close relationship. Sandy has her sights set on Dr. Lamonte the moment he hits town and makes no secret of it. Before she gets a chance to make a move, people start turning up dead, covered in viscous blue goo. Who is behind the murders? And could they be connected to the meteor?

Invasion! is a clever little film. I was surprised when I learned it was written for the screen—it feels very much like an alternative theater piece that’s been opened up for the screen. John Paisz has given us an affectionate send-up of those wonderfully terrible 1950’s atomic-age sci-fi/horror movies we used to watch on lazy Saturday afternoons. The movie’s era is hard to pin down. It feels like the ‘50s, but the décor is ‘60s kitsch and we hear ‘70s music played, all of which adds to the anachronistic atmosphere created by Paisz. The script is loaded with understated, witty wordplay: Exceptional Vista is located in the “Western Central Northeast.” It’s located near the villages of Bladder Town and Fetus. The “dead remains of a human corpse, deceased,” are found in the “hilly, lumpy bumpy part of town outside of town.” In my favorite quote, Dr. Lamonte opines on the possible killer, “A genetically engineered band of devil-worshipping serial killers or a sasquatch-type thing—I don’t like the sound of that.”

This flick wouldn’t work without the dead-on performance of Campbell Scott. His portrayal of Dr. Karel Lamonte is what drives the film. The perfect model of a masculine ‘50s scientist, he dreams of a time that science will save mankind. However, he repeatedly proves to be an inadequate hero, often overshadowed by the “girlish enthusiasm” of the quick Ms. Fawkes. Indeed, in a hilarious scene she even beats him at his own game when she lays out the solution to cold fusion, besting Dr. Lamonte’s competing theory of “cool fusion.” The rest of the cast is good, with Fiona Loewi and Elisa Moolecherry distinguishing themselves admirably.

As we all know by now, any good ‘50s sci-fi parody includes a degree of campy sexuality, and Invasion! is no different. But as with its humor, the perverse edge is played subtly for the most part. Sexual identity is subverted through the character names: men are named Karel, Michel, Claire, Dana, Kim, Jan, Leslie, Gayle and Pat. The most masculine male name is Guy, belonging to Sandy’s brother, a man-child to whom Dr. Lamonte grows (ahem) confusingly close by the movie’s end. Dr. Lamonte is also quite fond of his customized blow-up doll (see photo).

As I stated, Invasion! is a charmingly odd film. It’s definitely not for everyone, but if you like parodies of ‘50s sci-fi flicks made by Canadians and loaded with sexually confused heroes and deft banter that seem to be set in every decade since the ‘50s, this might just be the only film for you. Aren’t you glad it exists?

~Theron Neel

It seems there’s an ancient evil preying on the bathing beauties of Bikini Beach, and the delightfully named TV news reporter Raquel Vanvanderzander (Stephanie Hyden) is determined to crack the case, with the help of her old pal, tabloid photographer Archie “Scoop” Barclay (Galen Howard).  But how will this affect the dancers in the all-night go-go contest at the local tiki bar? What part do corrupt detective Sammy Payday (Steven Vargo) and his sweet, clueless girlfriend Boom Boom (Laura Stahl) play in the plot? And what of Noodlin’ Stu (Keith Letl) and Fanny Jo (Liesel Hanson)? Questions, questions, questions…

Director/writer Darin Wood and Christy Savage, his producer and cinematographer, have given us an almost perfect example of the beloved Three B’s: Blood, Boobs and Beasts. It could even be said that this film is ambitious—and that’s pretty much the only problem I have with Monster From Bikini Beach. Don’t get me wrong. I love an ambitious movie, but Wood has taken a perfectly good beach party/monster flick and gummed it up with an inane film noir side story. Consequently, the film is three movies in one, but only two of them are executed well. As long as the film concentrates on the bikini go-go girls covered in day-glo body paint or the giant walking catfish creature that feeds upon them, it’s amazing. But as soon as Sammy Payday shows up with his muddled scheme to cash in and get out, accompanied by wooden, rambling voiceovers, the film stops dead. Also, a major part of the movie is spent setting up and building to the go-go dance contest. But when the contest finally occurs, we don’t really see it, which is a major let-down. Why would a bikini movie with a dance contest as a major plot point squander the chance to show groovy chicks dancing in the contest? Sure, there already is plenty of dancing in the film, but this time it would’ve actually contributed “dramatically” to the story.

But let’s focus on what Monster From Bikini Beach gets right. There are lots of cute go-go girls in bikinis, and a majority of them lose their tops at some point. The cheesy mutant catfish creature is awesomely rendered. The flick gets better every time the monster rambles across the screen, chasing and mutilating sexy girls. Speaking of mutilation, there are some admirable gore effects and buckets of splattered blood on display. One thing that caught my eye was the remarkable look of the film. Sure, this is a very low-budget production, but Christy Savage has taken the time to include some superbly composed shots. The film looks just extraordinary. It has a soft glow and nice use of color that completely took me by surprise.

As everyone knows, any beach movie worth its sand needs a rocking soundtrack. So it helps that the producers have managed to snag a scad of swinging neo-surf bands, including the Pyronauts and the Hypnotic IV.

Now, I’d be remiss if I didn’t single out a few of the performances. Stephanie Hyden may not make a convincing news reporter, but she’s an entertaining screen presence and, hey, she looks good in a shower. As her budding love interest, Galen Howard seems to be doing a fair impression of indie star Jeremy Davies…at least, his hands are. As Boom Boom, Laura Stahl is a bikini-clad sweetheart. All Boom Boom wants is to win the big dance contest and make her man proud, and Stahl crafts a fun, charming character here.

But my favorite performance comes from the lovely Liesel Hanson, with her turn as the ballsy swamp cutie Fanny Jo. L’il Fanny Jo ain’t afraid of nothin’ or nobody, and Hanson is hilarious in every scene she steals—which is every scene she’s in.

So, to sum up, Trash Film Orgy has definitely got the right idea—throw together some sexy girls and cheap monster effects, add a dash of gore and copious amounts of boobs and blood, and shake until ready. But next time, they should quit while they’re ahead. When you have a great recipe, there’s no need to spice it up. There’s a reason exploitation flicks are formulaic: The formula works.

~Theron Neel