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DVD Reviews Jan, 2007.
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42nd
Street Forever, Volume 2: The Deuce
(2006) Synapse "Are they girls – or devils?"  Synapse Films took over production for the follow-up to one of my favorite
DVD releases of 2005, Ban 1 Productions' 42nd Street Forever. A 21st century
update of the classic VHS trailer compilation, the second volume follows
essentially in its predecessor's footsteps by unearthing some of the wildest
and most obscure coming attractions for exploitation movies that lured '70s-
and '80s-era sleaze beasts into grindhouses along New York's infamous 42nd
Street. The comp kicks off with an excellent hat trick of incredible action
flicks – Abel Ferrara's ballsy rape-and-revenge gutpuncher Ms. .45; The Born
Losers, which unleashed Tom Laughlin's kung-fu-kickin' half-breed Billy
Jack; and Rolling Thunder, a no-holds-barred vengeance machine written by
Paul Schrader (Taxi Driver). That's a triple bill worth enduring a few rat
bites to see. From there, the previews are lumped into twenty-minute blocks by genre: gear-grinder action (like the Southern motorbike mayhem pic Dixie Dynamite, starring St. Warren Oates, and the ultra-obscure racing documentary Dirt); blaxploitation (everything from major studio releases like tick…tick…tick with Jim Brown to bottom-of-the-barrel punchouts like The Guy from Harlem); sex from around the world (Sweden's I, A Woman; Italy's sexy caveman comedy When Women Played Ding-Dong; and Bob Cresse's putrid Invitation to Ruin from right here in the good ol' USA); horror (a mixed bag of '50s monster movies like The Hideous Sun Demon and '70s shockers like The Evil and Wes Craven's Deadly Blessing with Sharon Stone); and Eurospy hijinks (the titles alone are worth the viewing: Kiss the Girls and Make Them Die! Spy in Your Eye!). In short, everything you'd see on a long and chemically impaired stroll down 42nd Street on a Friday night circa '81 or so. Sexploitation hounds might question the relatively small amount of smutty material included here, given 42nd Street's reputation as Ground Zero for sinful cinema; I'd also question the inclusion of several gladiator movie trailers to wrap up the disc, but I never went to the Deuce during its heyday, so I honestly can't say if these films were a staple or not. But these are minor quibbles, and best reserved for DVD nerds, which we here at Sleazegrinder.com are most certainly not. Better to hoist a figurative 40-ounce of the crappiest malt liquor imaginable to Synapse for producing this disc, which preserves the sights and sounds (but thankfully not the smells) of the 42nd Street experience for enjoyment in your own private grindhouse. – Paul Gaita
Okay, so now I’ve dated myself but fuck you. I’ve been to CBGB’s and lived to tell. Have you? Of course now you can’t go cause it’s closed to make room for some fucking condos or something. Owner Hilly Kristal says he plans on bringing the original CB’s urinals to the new Las Vegas location. Now that’s Sleazy. The audience is rabid, dangerous and adorning of their Rasta idols. The footage provides an incredible and disquieting look at the bands performance at the CBGB’s Hardcore Festival in December 1982. Shot in pieces over the three-day festival it’s an astonishingly intimate view into the 80’s hardcore scene. If you have never been to CB’s, the footage makes you feel as though you were…sticky floors and all. At one point, CBGB’s blows a fuse. Bad Brains keeps playing. Imagine, being in the dark, at CBGB’s with a room full of deranged hardcore fans led by a psychotic Rastafarian. Bob Marley’s bad dreams come to life? Maybe… The audio quality has a few rough moments but it’s not hard to figure out why. The audio is constantly being moshed on, crushed by stage diving bodies and smacked upside the head by mike stands. In a rare moment of calm, vocalist H.R. pauses during one of the sets to offer assistance to a bleeding fan. He then reassumes command of all lucky enough to bear witness. Undoubtedly sending a few more to the hospital. H.R. somehow forgot that he should probably be there too in a tight white jacket that buttons from behind. While it’s generally easy to compare the way bands sound or look, it’s impossible to do this to Bad Brains. So brutal in their delivery of hardcore punk they openly defy logic and all comparative description. The DVD ends with “Redbone in the City” right into “Play to Cum”. Only in New York City is this not assault and battery with a deadly fucking weapon. How anyone survived this show and lived to tell is a mystery to me. Bodies are sacrificially strewn across the stage. The audience (when not pummeling each other) sway in a Jim Jones Kool-Aid-like-trance as H.R. offers them another drink. Drink the Kool Aid baby…you won’t regret it. I’m goin’ back for seconds. -Cherrybomb Midnight Blue Collection, Volume 2: Porn Stars of the ‘70s (2006) Starring Marilyn Chambers, Seka, Georgina Spelvin, Helen Madigan
“I want the people to get off.”
Also showcased: Devil in Miss Jones star Georgina Spelvin, who is seen tap dancing and recreating her snake number from Miss Jones at the Roxy and describes herself as “the character cunt of fuck films”; 40-something Jennifer Welles, who plugs the proto-MILF fantasy Honeypie (directed by Hills Have Eyes producer Peter Locke) and talks about fucking Dean Martin; a red-haired and chain-smoking Bambi Woods of Debbie Does Dallas fame, who mentions how uncomfortable she was during the sex scenes in Debbie (she’s also shown dancing at the Melody); and the grizzled Veri Knotty, whose gruesome shtick – tying her colossal beef curtain labia into a square knot – is glimpsed in horrifying close-up (she also tells the grossest stories, including one about being puked on by a drunk club patron). You also get never-was Tara Alexander, who fingers herself enthusiastically as she promotes her upcoming 75-man gangbang at the notorious Plato’s Retreat (Tara actually finished off 86 guys) in ’79; a blissful Annie Sprinkle, who giggles and sighs her way through a consumer report for ladies about “emergency masturbatory tools” like Water-Piks and electric toothbrushes (“You should really think before you shove something sharp up your cunt,” Annie says, and displays an X-Acto knife as a definite no-no); a smirking Jamie Gillis, who talks about his pre-stardom career as a cab driver (which is also his current means of employment); and a behind-the-scenes glimpse at the making of the R. Bolla comedy Honeymoon Haven, with director Carter Stevens (the man behind the final slaughter in Snuff) outlining how he handles a male performer who can’t produce a pop shot (“get the sound guy to do it” is generally the rule of thumb). Most of the interviews are either cordial or genially goofy, with Al managing to ask the best questions (when he’s not leering at his guests), though a few touch on the down side of the adult business. The late Marc “10 ½” Stevens (no, that’s not his collar size) bemoans the shitty pay and the drop-off in roles, while a blown-out Helen Madigan kvetches about scumbag producers and nasty co-stars. But for the most part, Volume 2 is breezy, sleazy eye candy, steeped in a brew of Goldstein-generated horniness and a genuine love for the libertine lifestyle. As with the other titles in the Midnight Blue collection (save the final one, Porn King), Porn Stars of the ‘70s includes a jaw-dropping array of original commercials that ran during the original broadcasts. In addition to the usual strip joints (Jax 3 Ring Circus), “leisure spas” (Spartacus 1 and 2), swing clubs (the hideous Larry Levenson plants a sloppy kiss on his female co-star before giving a hearty endorsement for his Plato’s Retreat) and escorts, you also get plugs for NORML (which thanks then-President Jimmy Carter for his pro-pot statements), a poly-blend bathrobe with “FUCK” printed all over it, the venerable hardcore mag Puritan (“the hot one!”), and orgy club Midnight Interlude, which also had its own cable access show. In keeping with the volume’s theme, a number of pro fuckers are glimpsed in these spots: big Dave Ruby (easily recognizable by his comb-over) can be spotted in the Midnight Interlude commercial, while a fresh-faced Sharon Mitchell and Samantha Fox squirm and grind in a bit for the New Wave Swingers Club. Ms. Fox is also seen with her off-screen boyfriend Bobby Astyr (“the Clown Prince of Porn”) in a delirious spot for Kik, an Isomerizer-type gadget that supposedly turned skunk weed into hash oil. Oh, and Al himself co-stars with a girl in an open coffin to shill for one of his numerous side magazines, Death, which covered everything you needed to know about the end of your life. While not as in-depth as the Deep Throat entry, Midnight Blue’s second volume gives classic porn freaks what they want – lots of time in the trenches with the top talent of the period, and serves it up with a fresh, funny, and unquestionably filthy mindset. If you want more, you’ll have to ask for it from Al himself. And I don’t think you’re ready for that.
–Paul Gaita
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Fearless Fighters (a.k.a. Hero of Heroes, A Real Man, 1973) Starring Yee Yuen, Ma Kei, Chen Hung-Lieh Directed by Mo Man-Hung
“Lei Pong, your kung fu is excellent.”
“Oh, you’re much too kind.”
I actually fell in love with Fearless Fighters long before I ever saw the whole film – its trailer (which is included on the Image disc) was included on a VHS compilation of grindhouse trailers released by ECCO magazine back in the early ‘90s, and its opening seconds perfectly summed up the loco nature of the movie itself: Stone-faced Lei Pong (Yee Yeun) is working out with a sword under a tall tree. He then turns and strikes the trunk of the tree with an open palm, which dislodges a flurry of leaves. Lei Pong then hurls himself into the air and lands with a neat row of leaves skewered on his sword. With one swift move, he removes the leaves from the blade – and then hurls them into the tree trunk, where they quiver like flung daggers. Boss, right? Absolutely. Anyone who can turn leaves into deadly weapons, you wanna see what else he can do. Thankfully, director Mo Man-Hung (who also appears in the film) provides our man Lei Pong with a storyline that allows him to show off his most jaw-dropping, eye-popping moves. And yeah, they get much wilder than the bit with the leaves.
The story (which is fairly complicated, even in its Americanized form) goes something like this: Lei Pong is framed for the theft of royal gold and the murder of its caretaker, the Lightning Whipper (an old guy with a whip, natch), by his fellow Eagle Clan member, To Pa (Ma Kei), who also butchers his whole family (save his son) for good measure. Pong is sprung out of jail by the son and daughter of the Lightning Whipper, and with the help of wandering super heroine Lady Tei (whose headgear resembles an enormous plastic nipple), he sets out to avenge his family and recover the stolen loot. The news of Pong’s escape scares To Pa senseless, so he hires an army of killers to stop him, including the notorious Loner, a.k.a. The One-Man Army, who wields the Twin Swords (basically, one sword that turns into two) and a fun iron hat that can zip through the air and kill people. Naturally, the assassins prove no match for Pong and his team, but To Pa is not to be underestimated (after all, he pulled the wool over Pong’s eyes once before). A fight with The One-Man Army puts Pong on the critical list, but with the help of his master, our hero returns to the fight with new and, um, considerable accessories. Suffice it to say that the conclusion of Fearless Fighters proves that bionics were not an American technological invention.
What makes Fearless Fighters so memorable is not the fighting itself – the brawls, which mostly involve swords and other weapons rather than hand-to-hand combat, are well-photographed and choreographed, but they’re less impressive than the cast of characters that carry them out. Virtually every single person in the film is imbued with super-human powers, including the ability to leap great distances (a standard issue talent in some kung fu movies), sail across bodies of water like a low-flying hang gilder, and wipe out multiple opponents with a single blade stroke. Lei Pong and the Lightning Whipper are the most tricked-out in regard to talents: the old man catches a clutch of arrows in his hands (and mouth) and casually hurls them back at this archers, who collapse en masse, while Lei Pong snatches darts out of the air with the relaxed grace of a pop-up fly ball to center field, and one-ups the Whipper’s arrow trick by catching a fistful of daggers and nailing a score of bandits on a rooftop while wearing handcuffs.
Fearless Fighters was released in the United States in 1973 by Los Angeles-based distributor Richard Ellman, who is featured on a commentary track with the film’s American editor and post-production supervisor, Dick Brummer (who also worked with Russ Meyer and Roger Corman, among many others). Their genial comments are an excellent master class in how to rework a foreign genre film for Stateside grindhouse fans; in a nutshell, Ellman bought the picture from its Chinese producers, and then had Brummer trim down the storyline to its most basic elements (less dialogue, more kung fu). Brummer also re-wrote the script to help match the English dialogue to the Chinese actors’ mouth movements, and brought in a host of Asian actors to dub the picture; character actor James Hong (Lo Pan from Big Trouble in Little China) supervised the dubbing and voiced several characters (including the One-Man Army), while Robert Ito from Quincy and a small Asian cast handled the rest (Ellman reveals that he and Brummer also lent their voices to several characters, as did the legendary Charles Napier). The use of Asian voice actors, along with Brummer’s largely straight-faced script, helps Fearless Fighters get past one of the biggest stumbling blocks for Americanized kung fu movies: terrible post-production dubbing. The dialogue may have its goofy moments (“Punks always talk big!” “I killed a few bums for the sake of justice!”), but it’s never as grating as some of the Shaw Brothers re-dubs, which invariably turn tough guys into stammering, semi-retarded loons (“Heh…yes…I…heh… I will have… my REVENGE!”) For anyone who’s turned off a classic Chinese actioner because of the dubbing, Fearless Fighters will be a pleasant surprise.
But lemme tell you – the professionalism and the solid re-editing, all of that is nice. But you don’t watch kung fu for its post-production values. You watch it for the whoop-ass, and Fearless Fighters brings it to you wholesale, and with lightning whips and flying sparrows and clawed glows to boot. If you’re still bemoaning the day your local UHF channel cancelled Black Belt Theater, here’s your chance to get that dragon action all over again.
-Paul Gaita
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It’s
hard to believe that it has been 24 years since 1982. What’s even harder to
believe is that this gig produced no known casualties. Be assured Sleazy
reader that the violent intensity that is Bad Brains has lost none of it’s
appeal nearly a quarter of a century later. 
A small battalion of
Golden Age porn stars display their silicon-free bodies and swap stories of
the fuck film life with Screw publisher Al Goldstein in this second
volume of interviews and filthy ephemera from his legendary cable access
show, Midnight Blue. Marilyn Chambers and Seka, two of the biggest
names in the adult film business during the ‘70s, bookend the two-hour
compilation; Marilyn (circa ’77 or so) is chatted up by a leering Screw
goon about her new R-rated stage show (one of her attempts to go mainstream
after Behind the Green Door) and her S&M fantasies, while a ravishing
Seka (fresh from rehab in 1980) is interviewed by a svelte Al (who
mispronounces her name repeatedly) at the Melody Burlesque House on 42nd
Street, and touches on her career, pussy-eating preferences, and pro-swinger
attitude. Both are also showcased in lengthy dance numbers – Seka is seen on
stage at the Melody (where audience members could nuzzle the nipples of the
performers), while Marilyn gets two long and groovy-goofy numbers, one a
solo in an apartment, the other, a long number with naked black dude
Tommy Bush and complete with variety show-style solarization effects. 
I’m not enough of an
expert on martial arts movies to be able to say whether this dubbed and
re-edited Taiwanese fist fest is great or just good or terrible – for all I
know, it stinks when compared to any number of titles from the Shaw Brothers
or what have you. But to paraphrase the Cramps, I may not know about kung
fu, but I know what I like. And I love Fearless Fighters because it’s
bursting at its silken seams with manic energy, as well as some of the most
inventive and insane characters, weapons and situations I’ve ever seen in an
Asian action picture.
