Ever since teens became an economic force back in the 1950s, the fine folks in advertising and marketing have been devising ways to separate kids from their hard-earned money. And if there’s a market to be exploited, you can bet Hollywood is going to sniff it out. Of course, that’s just what happened. In the late ‘50s, it was rock and roll flicks. In the early ‘60s, those evolved into the beloved beach movies. But by the mid ‘60s, fads were passing quickly and the formula was getting rather stale. Frankie and Annette had gone from being chased by Eric von Zipper and the Ratz and Mice to playing with ghosts in bikinis. It was time for something different. And in 1965, with Village of the Giants, that’s just what veteran exploitation filmmaker Bert I. Gordon delivered.
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
In honor of the recently knighted Christopher Lee, I declare it Hammer time at Slammed & Damned. In my opinion, you can’t touch Sir Christopher’s portrayal of Count Dracula in the films produced by Hammer studios. So today, we’re going to look at what is usually thought of as the last of Lee’s truly great Dracula movies, 
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.
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 
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.
Our next entry in 
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.”
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).
The people at production house Trash Film Orgy seem to know what they’re doing. Hell, the name of their company could serve as their mission statement. And TFO’s latest release, Monster From Bikini Beach, illustrates my point perfectly. Combining ‘50s monster movies, ‘60s bikini/beach movies, ‘70s sexploitation flicks and more, this movie is pretty much a trash film primer. In fact, the film’s tag line tells you all you need to know: “The blood is fake, but the boobs are real!”
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.
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.
