Cockfighter (1974)

One of the most uncommon New World Pictures projects was exclusively Roger Corman's idea, adapted from a rather obscure novel by Charles Willeford. And though it was meant to be someting of an artistic provocation – I reckon, a replay of "The Intruder" – it became an instant disaster and flopped miserably. "Cockfighter" has been given to Monte Hellman, one of the oldest Corman's pupils, who came back around after directing "Two-Lane Blacktop" for Universal (till this day his most famous film), which never scored bigtime against it's powerful vision and raving press reviews. Nestor Almendros was hired as a cinematographer for the picture (later Academy Award winner for Days Of Heaven in 1978) and was paid to fly from Paris to USA – it was his first American movie. The only problem was Monte Hellman, who he felt like passing on this project when he saw a scouted dirt pit in Georgia with smashed Southerners around, betting heavily on blood-thirsty cocks.

"Cockfighter" has irrevocably retained this split. A strange picture, expressed in quick cuts, bloody close-ups and out of blue voice-over – it didn't manage to develop characters' potential either. Although definitely an artist's alley, it got dominated by second unit shots of Lewis Teague in an editing stage – film's editor, who volunteered to fill it with rough, shocking footage, demanded by Corman. Unfortunately this move cut it's legs totally, boiling it down to a vague half-way runner between typical New World exploitation product and a possible, multi-layered tale of love and passion in a violent world, which as we might only presume was something closer to Hellman's spirit. Inside screening uncovered a sheer brutality of the rough cut and it must've been really repulsive one as even Corman turned away from releasing it with so much chicken blood and guts flying around. As an effect the final cut was something of a compromise between Corman's salesman drill and director's artistic vision, but it satisfied nobody



"Cockfighter" is a story of Frank Mansfield acted by Warren Oates. Although he's a top cockfighting coach, he loses opportunity to win MVP of the year award when shooting his mouth off and getting his favourite rooster slaughtered in a hotel room before the big day... his love for whiskey is only part of the problem as there's alsoa girl, who loves him madly and is repelled by his unconditional blood lust. Shaken by the loss he takes an oath to keep his mouth shut untill he finally takes the trophy. That makes Warren Oates' performance a mute one for most of the time (which might as well be the best thing here) and his inner dialogues externalized by mentioned, bizarre voice-over. But shaping up is not that easy and Frank needs to hit the bottom before getting a grip again. Short on cash he sells his parents' house – which gets tolled away – and comes back to the game with a new partner (Omar Baradansky - weird Polish-American countryside businessman), who provides him with fresh chickens. Together they take on the toughest competitors of this southern sport step by step and eventually get down to the beat.

Apparently cockfighting was still a country entertainment in the South when the film was made, but in the same time it was a public embarassment and the topic hadn't a slightest chance to storm the box office. Tabooed at least, but most likely totally disgusting event for drive-in crowd, hardened by exploitation roughies – if it was made today, animalists would get a heart attack – it screened for a very short time. After expected wows didn't exactly come as a wave, it got yanked off by Corman, recut and reissued as Born To Kill. Joe Dante has done another oddball trailer with famous helicopter explosion – used in almost all New World Pictures teasers – but even these desperate gimmicks couldn't save the picture and it was shelved eventually. Somehow it survived underneath the surface and became a minor cult movie afterwards, considered a second, most important work of Monte Hellman. Although pacing is kind of wonky, Corman's influence overwhelming and it doesn't reach weirdness of "Two-Lane Blacktop", it's an interesting example of digesting the southern mystique by one of the most interesting American directors of the golden era. 70's curious zone!

Danger: Diabolik (1968)

Lured by the success of Batman's and Fantomas's film versions – classic comic strip and criminal fiction heroes – Dino de Laurentiis decided to spin two projects in late 1967. One of these creations eventually became Roger Vadim's "Barbarella" while the other one – cashing on a great popularity of Italian fumetto about supervillain Diabolik – was assigned to Mario Bava and dubbed simply "Danger: Diabolik". Although it was the most expensive movie Bava ever directed, flashing with stylish sets or classy designer costumes and it made a huge blast in Europe, it didn't manage to break through in United States, where after limited theatrical release it went down to circulating as a 16 mm print. But with time it gained a large following, today being considered one of the best comic book adaptations ever made linking pulp frivolousness with a sense of underground sensitivity, very appealing to the counterculture of the late 60's.

As the movie was based on an established comic strip series, it had a pile of volumes to exploit and in fact Bava just cut'n'pasted Diabolik's most interesting adventures rewriting them into a tight script. Known by his gothic horror, fantasy & giallo versatility, he was a perfect match for a movie, which demanded weird imagination, tension building and certain equivocality from a director. As an effect Bava came up with a humorous, luscious vision bridging pop cultural light weight with genre parody and anti-establishment winks towards political revolutionaries of the psychedelic era. In the end his figure of Diabolik (acted by John Phillip Law) is an ambiguous one, coming down as a sort of witty, technology-savvy superthief, who robs from filthy rich, but not for the profit... for pure fun and satisfaction exclusively. Although he likes to surround himself with top of the line decor and drives pricey Jaguar, he wouldn't have a sense of purpose without his gorgeous girlfriend Eva, who's more important than all the gold and jewels of this world.



He's introduced while nicking a car carrying $10 mln, smoking the escort out and lifting it with a crane. But as he comes home to his lady luck Eva (played by beautiful Marisa Mell), he simply tosses the money on a bed and they're promptly drowning in the heat of a love act using it as a spectacular fetish. But the government will soon have enough and will grant chief of police new prerogatives to get Diabolik by any means. Importantly, there is another bad guy in this story, Valmont – boss of the powerful syndicate, whose operations are being busted one by one in order to force him into a deal. He'll be the criminal mind to deliver Diabolik. Knowing his ways far better than police, he's gonna pick the right bait to catch him. Although this plan initially pans out, Diabolik hides more aces and throws them on a table eventually, slipping away from the hands of law being officially dead... and blowing up all tax and financial centres afterwards in an act of absurd revenge. Facing all these futile efforts the prime minister becomes edgy and orders another desperate trap set. Will Diabolik finally slip?

This fast-paced caper by Mario Bava is much different from his other genre works, mostly as he had much bigger budget at his disposal and didn't hesitate to spend it on lurid sets, which perfectly mirror the spirit of the epoch – sci-fi ideas of the late 60's meet current Italian interior design. Then there are Marisa Mell's designer clothes, who's dripping with sex herself as always (one of the reasons to see this movie). Yes, it does have a dash of exploitation, but Bava's eye is still there with his famous close-ups (mimicked at large by later giallo and horror artists), long, full frame shots, giving viewer a sense of depth or his dynamic car chase sequences, definitely ahead of it's time. It's all nicely combined by a streamline action, exactly like in comic books – one scene goes after another without any psychological sit-downs as development of the characters is pretty unnecessary here – they are as we see them. Over the top acting and psychedelic musings like zapping press conference with laughing gas or busting Valmont's pad filled with joint puffing hippies add to a general sense of playful romp, which didn't lose anything with time. On the top you get ravishing Ennio Morricone's soundtrack, so don't hesitate and just go for it!

The Doll Of Satan (1969)

A middle class couple (Jack & Eizabeth) arrives to the old French castle to partake in a reading of the last will of young lady's uncle, just to find out he left her these ancient premises in inheritance. Overwhelmed by castle's bizarre aura they rather choose to enjoy themeselves in a beautiful countryside casually staring to discover it's striking nicety. Soon enough they are to find out, that their new home has been an object of a pending purchase offer, made by a local businessman. When they encounter this gentleman during a walk through the forest, he mentions that a deal is still on the table, waiting to be reconsidered by the new owner. Suddenly strange things start to happen with a young lady being a centre of the brutal game, whose puppet masters are nearer than she expects.

Although very appealing, the title of this rare giallo flick has nothing to do with the plot as satan's horns are virtually absent. Instead, the movie carries a strong resemblance to Roger Corman's gothic horrors, especially as set production is concerned. While plot evolves, it's gothic wings are being cut down a little in favour of a cheesy espionage spoof. In comparison with other gialli of the late 60's, that one has minor interest in exploiting middle class games, nudity or even Italian alta moda. Acting is not it's strongest side either, but that's at least counterweighted by light fetish touch to scenes of morbid visions, where main character is involved. We even get a short peek at her nipples and they're not too bad. Only magnet here is a dressed, female beauty – blonde one is a victim while brunette one is the crook and on the top we get another one, brown-haired daredevil – a secret agent.

What can I say about Ferruccio Casapinta's "The Doll Of Satan" in the end? It can barely provoke a grimace on your face and it's definitely not funny in a bad way other cult B-movies are. Nothing more than a full-length eurospy gibberish dressed in gothic trimmings with subpar script and action as askew as it's practically possible. That's true it's rare and you won't find an official release, but I wouldn't mind not having it in my collection as it's value is next to none. A dull pot boiler I'm afraid, blinking dramatically at the seekers of rare Italian gialli. But if you're really into the genre, there are other yummy rarities worth grabbing and only if you are the most adamant completist, you might consider giving it a go. Otherwise, stay clear of this movie, cause you're gonna curse the producers and the place, where you've bought it.

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One On The Top Of The Other (1969)

If there's one Lucio Fulci's film you cannot afford not to watch, it's "One On The Top Of The Other" aka. "Perversion Story" (Italian title: "Una sull'altra"). Inspired by Hitchcock's famous "Vertigo" with James Stewart and Kim Novak, it uses giallo rails to spice up classic thriller frame by exploiting what Hitchcock was never able to come through with – sex and erotic passion. While for my money it's a much better picture, I need to mention I was never big fan of Hitchcock appreciating "Psycho" and nothing more. Partly cause I personally hate Old Hollywood romance cliches and partly cause his style is very repetitive and too self-conscious for my taste. Fulci on the other hand had roaring 60's past him, standing on the shoulders of the cultural revolution, which changed a lot in the cinema – from 1959 to 1969 it was like light years ahead! That gave the movie a distinctive flavour, but also let him boil up the story to a sensual orgy.

In fact, it's one of these maestro's genre flicks so flapped around eroticism, that pratically void of violence, which is very often paired with his style by gore fans if not forcefully superimposed. However we have to remeber, that Fulci was suave and smart director, who didn't jump on stage just to say: "Let's do this zombie movie, filled with sex and violence. It'll sell". He evolved like every other great director, shaping his workshop and developing his interests with time through many movies, which included sword & sandals flicks, comedies, documentaries, spaghetti westerns and even musicals. In the end of 60's shaken by suicide of his wife, tired with comedies and spaghetti westerns he suddenly discovered giallo – invented single-handedly by Mario Bava in his two early 60's movies: "The Girl Who Knew Too Much" (1963) and "Blood and Black Lace" (1964). That definitely changed Fulci's artistic route giving him new means of expression, which is best exemplified by "One On The Top Of The Other".

But Fulci would never lower himself to a blatant rip-off, instead he was gonna offer one of the most complex, criminal stories ever featured on the screen. His first take on giallo is definitely one of the best of the genre and starts a completely new offshoot – erotic criminal, which tracks a bust up of marriage. But that's not all of it! Considering, that this amazing movies, starring Jean Sorel, Marisa Mell and Elsa Martinelli was an international co-production, it was released in four different cuts (American, French, Spanish and Italian) of which two (Spanish and Italian) are considered very rare today. Although differences between the cuts are not crucial for the intrigue, they accentuate diverse tones and expose or delete erotic scenes. American version is the most stripped one as far as carnal heat is concerned, while Italian and French one are the most passionate showing all of it. Italian version is the longest one, running approximately 105 min., but it drops initial bird's eye shots of San Francisco apparent in French cut, released as "Perversion Story" on DVD. On the other hand it contains full dialogue lines making this version most elaborate and detailed one.



Italian cut presents full, sophisticated script based on a story of a San Francisco upper middle class marriage. Doctor George Dumurrier (Jean Sorel) is exposed as a character finding himself in a difficult situation, between a falling relationship and his private clinic drowning in serious financial troubles... but his affair with a sexy photographer Jane (Elsa Martinelli) is fortunately flourishing while he's daydreaming about getting rid of the wife, Susan (Marisa Mell) to make his life complete. This somehow happens without his intervention as she soon dies of dramatic asthma attack. Not being able to grieve as he's heart is jumping to start over with Jane, he surprisingly finds out, that his wife's kept a valid life policy worth $1 mln, which makes him instantly rich.

He's able to save the clinic now... and pursue his erotic desires as he's just met a new hottie in a local strip club, Roaring Twenties – Monica Weston, whose beauty is a mirror reflection of his dead wife. Only she's blonde, has deep green eyes and her line of work includes paid sex – in the end she seems nothing more than a witless hooker. But after spending night with her, he accidentally finds out, that she needs to take the same anti-asthmatic drug as his dead wife and that's just the beginning of a long mystery-solving run as he promptly becomes arrested by police and accused of murdering Susan to profit from her insurance policy. Hitting with red herrings, hazardous passions, double-crossing, unexpected twists and dark underbelly, film finally leads to slightly crude, but still surprising ending. As Fulci plays the suspense very well, it becomes a very effective challenge for the imagination.

Maestro's picture is visually stunning, spiked with absolutely amazing shots of Alejandro Ulloa, including fast close-ups, slow panoramic shots and off-beat dolly outs. My favourite one captures Jean Sorel and Elsa Martinelli making love through a veil of thin fabric with red lens – very psychedelic indeed. This Fulci owes undoubtedly to European New Wave masters like Godard or Antonioni. But his vision of working with a camera is not worse than these established auteurs, Fulci is just more after genre's exploitation possibilities and doesn't want to be pretentious. On the top the movie is supported by a breath-taking jazz soundtrack by Riz Ortolani ("Mondo Cane"), clearly one of the best 60's soundtracks I happened to hear. Ortolani's main theme with rich bass notes, counterpointed by a flurry of high-pitched brass licks is an intrisic element of many pivotal points of the movie and often left me breathless.

As far as acting is concerned Jean Sorel is not bad in his role, but feminine creations rule here with gorgeous Merisa Mell playing two sides of the coin and Elsa Martinelli capturing the spirit of strong, sexy, self-made woman. Well-chosen sets and locations add another layer to this cult movie as well as high fashion costumes, which will make vintage orientated designers scream. Although this is one of the rarest Fulci's movies, it's more than worthy tracking down and a must-see for maestro's fans. In my shortlist it occupies a second position after "Don't Torture a Duckling" (1972) and before "Lizard in Woman's Skin" (1971), starting the most creative period of Fulci's career. The only thing I really don't like about it is the ending, suddenly bringing para-documentary style onboard. And while it couldn't meet any more experimental touch in order to sell worldwide, I feel that going down that road it could have made a real masterpiece. Nevertheless, divorced from "what if he..." wondering, I reckon it's still one of the best B-movies or at least gialli ever made, which can be hardly pigeonholed after all. It needs very careful watching, but it won't disappoint Fulci's ardent followers.

Five Easy Pieces (1970)

One of my all-time personal favourites, "Five Easy Pieces" is an absolutely electrifying drama perfectly summing up bittersweetness of the 60's – a period of irreversible cultural transformation, which changed societies, but individuals even more. This great vision of Bob Rafelson, photographed by Laszlo Kovacs, played out by Jack Nicholson and Karen Black is one of the best, that American auteur cinema has had to offer. Emotionally exuberant picture featuring verbatim acting creations and surprisingly simple story flows high due to masterminded narration, transgressive pacing and spot-on shoots, utilizing non-ordinary angles. It's quasi antic connotations make it a little bit more than just a social critique and it's enigmatic ending embodies all, that truly timeless cinema should be associated with. While this is just one nugget in the epoch's pile of gold, only few 70's artistic flicks matched it with their passion and genuine storytelling qualities.

Bob Rafelson was one of these crucial forces in the late 60's and early 70's American cinema, which later lost their impact and were forgotten, covered up with other names like Francis Ford Coppola or Martin Scorsese. Still, he remains one of the most original auteurs and producers, who managed to inject new blood into the Hollywood system. In fact his "Head" (1968) besides casting The Monkees comes as one of the most original, surrealistic romps made in the 60's and although initially flopped, became the ultimate cult movie later on. That's where his collaboration with Jack Nicholson has started, who co-wrote this yummy flick. With "Five Easy Pieces" Rafelson was nominated for Oscar as a director and script writer – he took the first one in glory together with New York Critics Award. This on the other hand leaves me upset about Academy Awards today, won by pictures, which wouldn't probably even take a nomination 30 years before – for which I don't even bother watching them usually – but every time has it's "spirit" and the golden years will rather not come back.

"Five Easy Pieces" is a story of Robert Eroica Dupea, impersonated by Jack Nicholson – a romantic dropout from upper middle class nest of anything but average, classical musicians. Bobby – as we get to know him in the beginning – severed ties with his family and has gone down South to live a life of a physical labourer, moving from job to job, from town to town. Although at some point he's refused to pursue his family's artistic heritage (as his brother and sister did without a blink of an eye), he cannot find peace as a "class refugee", working in the oil fields, bowling, fucking girls and downing beers with his pal. But his girfriend Rayette (Karen Black) seems a perfect symbol of what he desperately struggles to embrace. She's easygoing, warm-hearted and pretty in a way, but brainless and lacking any wider horizons. Confused about his past Bobby plays along, but mixed emotions and guilt of losing the higher ground eventually provoke a fight with his buddy and then with Rayette. In the end he's just a non-committed drifter, who can only keep fear at bay for so long.



One of these days he doesn't want to take it anymore and visits her sister Tita in a recording studio. Narration makes clear, that she's a subpar pianist, but leaving a question about Bobby's talent open. Although she's very happy to see him, she needs to lay a very sad news on her brother. Their father had two strokes recently and doesn't seem to be feeling well. Jerked around by guilt and melancholy, Bobby decides to drive up the country to Washington, to visit his old home and check on his father. Making it a bundle, he decides to leave his girlfriend, but she makes a scene and thus they carry on together. However, he doesn't want to bring Rayette down, ashamed over her working class, non-educated background. Instead he forces her to stay in a cheap motel not far from the island, on which his family's been living.

As Bobby finally arrives, he finds his father terminal and a new tenant at home – a young pianist and his brother's girlfriend. That wakes up a yearning for a new affair as well as natural, musical talent. When he plays beautiful notes of Chopin – while camera rolls over family photos showing him next to his father – his status as the most talented one becomes obvious, explaining uneasy family tension around the life he chose. Although his savage nature and very unpredictable character will be more than a girl can take, Bobby beds her in the course of an action just to find out afterwards, that he's still not a good fit for quiet, classical pianist lifestyle and eventually leave home with Rayette. That leads to an unexpected, beautiful ending, which becomes the most precise depiction of Bobby's hasty, rebelious personality.

Rafelson's work is one of the most important American films ever made, paving the way for Jack Nicholson to the stardom. In "Five Easy Pieces" actor continues, what he started in "Easy Rider" finally breaking free from a burden of secondary roles. Although, we're gonna see Jack Nicholson doing even better (in "Last Detail", "Carnal Knowledge", "King Of Marvin Gardens" or "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest"), this is the role to be acknowledged and remembered as it's here, where his pure hysterical energy and talent for bringing out character's metamorphosis got revealed in a raving streak of confrontations. But this masterpiece would never reach this level if not Laszlo Kovacs with his cameraman virtuosity – his total eye is just amazing. Obviously, top-notch screenplay by Rafelson and his clear, artistic vision come on the top, creating a perfectly structured tale with spontaneous narrative curves, invoking profound conflicts of the human nature as well as basic dilemmas of free thinking individuals in a modern, mobile society. This is an obligatory viewing for any serious film buff!

The Girl Who Knew Too Much (1963)

Hailed by critics and movie buffs as the first giallo movie in cinema history, Mario Bava's "The Girl Who Knew Too Much" (or "La ragazza che sapeva troppo") takes it's title from critically acclaimed Hitchcock's thriller "The Man Who Knew Too Much". Beyond any doubt Bava was inspired by Hitchcock's movies praising mainly "Psycho" as a genre breakthrough, which set it's print on many 60's thrillers and horrors – American and European ones. This legendary film was also his fourth and final movie shot in black & white as one year later he'd go fully Technicolor with another exuberant giallo classic – "Blood & Black Lace", where he'd pull out all the stops creating genre history. But it's here, where he made a giallo statement juggling with pulp fiction sleaze in order to reinvent the art of screen terror and setting a blueprint for the next 300 Italian productions. From this perspective "The Girl Who Knew Too Much" is a really exceptional achievement.

The girl's name is Nora Davis (Leticia Roman) and she's just flying over to Rome from United States, flipping through pages of another giallo novel. Her auntie is sick and she's looking forward to meeting her, unfortunately she dies shortly after Nora's arrival, in the middle of the night. Shocked by this sudden occurence, she tries desperately to get a doctor on the phone and then runs to the hospital stomping on spiral stairs of Piazza di Spagna, but she gets knocked by a thief and lands unconscious on the pavement. When she finally comes to her senses a weird murder is being committed right before her eyes. But when she reports it to the police, they cannot investigate as apparently no harm was done... at least as far as they know. Driven by viral giallo fantasies she goes after the mystery herself and forces her auntie's personal doctor, Marcello Bassi (John Saxon) to help her out. That leads to a series of unexpected events and final encounter with malevolent Alphabet Murderer.



Emotionally vibrant with carefully paced, oniristic narration, "The Girl Who Knew Too Much" is an extraordinary film calling for multiple viewing. Many can be said about Bava's inventive camerawork, master shadow play catch and stunning photography. Even Furore – movie's main theme, sung by Adriano Celentano, helps to lay a roaring vibe on Bava's story from a first frame, which shows an aeroplane high in the clouds. All the elements and licks play along just fine smoothly carrying the action ahead. Acting performances are strong and certainly well caught on camera. As John Saxon couldn't speak Italian, this is also first giallo featuring full Italian dubbing and first giallo to bring drugs to the screen. A puff of marijuana cigarette and Nora is high, confused about what is real and what is a fantasy, which serves Bava as an opening bracket of the story and as a closing one too. After the climax she conceives in her mind, that it all could have been just a weed dream. Stoner movie? Well, let's not get that far.

As the first giallo, Bava's movie was actually paving the way, but as this step on the moon was promptly overturned by "Blood & Black Lace", it never got ripped off by director's devotees such as Dario Argento, Lucio Fulci, Sergio Martini or the others. Paradoxically, the structure of the latter one was grabbed, successfully tweaked and polished, eventually evolving into a point of occult thriller or satanic slasher (depends on the artist), where a form became everything, pushing sound screenplay aside. While "The Girl Who Knew Too Much" seems a fairytale in par to later attainments of Italians, it's much closer to European New Wave in terms of film expression than Bava's later works. Especially exterior shots resemble Fellini's and Antonioni's hunt for catching the nature of the game. A truly artistic B-movie, which skillfuly balances taste and thrills. Definitely a must-see for giallo greenies and completists, who somehow missed it.

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Hunter S. Thompson – His Final Hours (2006)

One of these minor documentaries, that only die-hard fans can dig. Directed by William Hicklin for Cineflix International (Canadian TV production company) it makes an interesting effort to uncover last 24 hours of Hunter S. Thompson's life as a part of Final 24 biography series. While most of the classic and modern documentaries on Hunter have covered him on a current time basis or in retrospective – coming up with personal interviews and live/archival footage – this stuff goes down a little bit weirder patch favoring his last day as a TV play. We get a bunch of actors impersonating Thompson, his son, wife and befriended video camera operator – Ben Fee, who's been invited over at that time to shoot the family reunion. Obviously, it's been made after writer's suicide, so nobody was able to interview him anymore, but a drama take itself – known well from many criminal or historical documentaries – works here as well.

However, director had also ambition to map Hunter's long way to fame, thus he interviewed his ex-wife, few old Rolling Stones editors and his neigbours. There's even a psychiatrist and one minor book biographer in this bunch, but both without a real muscle. Overall His Final Hours is a nice collage of acted reconstruction and Hunter's back-story, which weaves in and out as the countdown to an end is getting nearer. All threads are linked, all explanations are given and all known facts are unveiled as we watch the actors giving their performance on a snowy-white set (as Thomspon took his life in February) in a country house, carrying a forced resemblance to Owl Farm. For those of you, who've read two or three biographies about Thompson, there won't be probably any new crack on the writer, but this material is consistent enough to serve as an expanding pill for the readers, who are after obnoxious or shocking details, which in Hunter's case seem more than easy to catch. He proclaimed himself the last public drug fiend anyway.

Thompson's twisted, double nature and persona playing comes first as an explanation for his mythical drive towards drugs, alcohol and wild non-conformism. Although portraited as a juvenile delinquent in Louisville, who nevertheless aspired high and then bitter journalist for many years (two books rejected, being limited to smalltime press writing for a long time), who suddenly broke through with Hell's Angels in 1966 and then just winged ahead to better deals, there's never any doubt about his great writing talent. This is confirmed by everybody in the movie, can hardly be questioned and happens only when another frustrated crappy writer sweats out some adolescent bunk in order to get his five minutes. But more interesting is digging in Hunter's closet, which is done with a surprising dose of competence. Sandra (ex-wife) doesn't take his charm away, but speaks of his dark temper as well.

Respectively his former Rolling Stone editor – Alan Rinzler, takes us back to the early 70's recounting anectdotes how Hunter must've got loaded with everything he could have laid his paws on (usually coke, weed and whiskey) in order to crystalize the angelic vision out of thin air. Otherwise he couldn't write. If he was zonked out like a space monkey, he coudn't write either. Apparently, a delicate balance was necessary. That – as it's stated here – was a good line in a short run, but in the late 70's or early 80's started taking it's toll as an integral part of Hunter's lifestyle and ultimately as a destructive fix. The most detectable result was a crashing level of his writing as imaginative started becoming real (a prisoner of his own narration theory). In fact, between 1973-1983 he didn't write anything new – The Great Shark Hunt (1979) was brilliant stuff, but only a retrospective collection of previously written materials – with Curse Of Lono (1983) opening another period. But even this book would have never been published if not Douglas Brinkley's intervention, who had to put it together virtually by himself!

Then we eventually come to fin de siecle, 2003-2005, when Hunter underwent two hip surgeries, suffered broken leg pain and started getting weary and depressed from daily mixture of painkillers and Chivas Regal. At that point it wasn't mystery for anyone, that he was a hard drinking alcoholic, although most of the people interviewed in the movie prefer to speak of "a professional drinker". Whatever, diplomacy was never Hunter's strong line and he wouldn't mind in-your-face anyway. Moreover, he's been spreading the word about his suicidal mood at least two years before he's actually done it as well, so nobody could have been genuinely surprised (covered in the movie). The way he's done it? Hemingway way? Stashing almost 30 guns loaded around the house? The only option really. And the word he left on a paper: "Counselor"? Probably an ultimate gonzo joke... but we'll never know, cause he's dead now sniffing heavenly coke. Good filler for detail hunters, but you need to be Hunter's lover to really appreciate it!

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The Terror (1963)

Among many Corman's cult classics "The Terror" occupies a very particular space as the only picture, which took more than three weeks to wrap up. In fact, it took nine months before any editing might have taken place as the story kept missing and missing from the reels, even if five directors were busy closing in on Corman's wacky idea. Have you ever seen a low-budget picture, which can hardly pull off any storyline? Well, meet "The Terror", which doesn't have any plot at all. Basic concept of this legendary gibberish, heavily outlined by the cast, critics and Corman's fans invaded director's brain when he's been finishing the shoot of „The Raven” (1962). He mentions looking at the beautiful, gothic set and feeling kind of upset from a necessity to tear it all down a day after. Thus he got touched by a genie and came up with another movie, which could have been shot over two days, without any need to cut between the scenes to save time by keeping the camera on!

Although one thing he still missed was the screenplay, Corman solved it quickly by calling his fastest writer, Leo Gordon, who eventually agreed to write some loosely linked pages in few days. Director now had a set, very basic story and a cast brought up in a jiffy. Jack Nicholson agreed to play a French Army officer – Duvalier, who wandered off of his regiment along Baltic Sea shoreline during Napoleon's military campaign. Sandra Knight (Jack Nicholson's wife) played Helene, a mysterious ghost dragging him into... that's the problem as nobody knew what exactly. Then there was Boris Karloff as Baron von Leppe, who got paid $30,000 by AIP to commit two more days to next Corman's movie. Finally, the role of his servant was filled by Dick Miller. Eventually it proved to be a rather poor triangle for a thrilling, gothic romp, hence two other characters were created to buzz it up – mysterious mute named Gustav and The Witch. The roles were grabbed by Jonathan Haze and Dorothy Neumann respectively.



As nobody really knew initially what the story was about and what the motivations of their characters were, Jack Nicholson and Boris Karloff were forced to stroll around the props for two days occasionally exchanging nonsense lines. After two days shooting Corman had to leave to Europe in a rush, where he was planning to make another quickie, "The Young Racers" (1963). Thus a task of finishing the movie was laid on Francis Ford Coppola, who was to direct exterior scenes linking the castle sequences with another part of the story or more precisely he just had to work up it's foundations. He manged to improve the story though by bringing Duvalier and Helene outside and making them interact, which unfortunately bent it out a little bit, leaving retarded "castle plot" even more problematic.

Confronted with an obvious gap in a storyline and missing more footage Corman gave a camera and some film to his assistant Dennis Jakob – fresh UCLA graduate. But Dennis shot his own movie about a Civil War in three days instead leaving Corman in a real despair. This time Monte Hellman was picked and asked to shoot additional scenes on the cliffs of Palos Verdes. He was happy to do it and filmed everything he was told to, but felt that the scipt should have been changed even more, so promptly rewrote an already messed up story overlapping it with another absurd twist, which made The Witch look for revenge and Gustav talk... but at least he was able now to explain the mystery of this movie to a beat up viewer. While Corman was pondering his long over time project, he figured he needed another man to round up the story by shooting some more footage.

Jack Hill jumped onboard and carried on for a bit, but Corman still needed one more day of filming and this time Jack Nicholson persuaded him he'd do it if everybody was doing it anyway. As the story didn't sparkle anyway – it definitely missed a beat – Corman decided to go for the ultimate twist. Baron was not a Baron, but Eric, witch's son, who took his place long time before by killing him in a duel. Bad news was, the witch didn't know that and tried to kill him all this time by using Duvalier and Helene to drive him completely crazy! As Jack Nicholson said: They don't make movies like The Terror anymore. The movie has become a cult trash since and was featured as a tribute by Corman's pupils in such movies as: "Mean Streets", "Targets" or "Hollywood Boulevard". A real chunk of low-budget movies history, where the movie itself is the least important thing!

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