"Blood Stalkers" (1975) d/ Robert W. Morgan

After seeing his familiar, inquisitive bald pate turn up in Bigfoot: Man or Beast? (1972), Monsters: Mysteries or Myths? (1974), and Mysterious Monsters (1975), cult audiences were surely wondering what was next for Robert W. Morgan, a "tough, hard-driving man". Tonight's review should answer that question for most.
The familiar stench permeating the air this time around doesn't roll off the hairy back of a sasquatch per se, but rises instead as a fervid reek from the theater's projector, a foul reminder of what can happen when you set out to make a movie, but aren't exactly certain how to accomplish it. It goes like this...


"...you folks have any spare Antiseen tickets?", queries Pip (David Farris Legge).
Two couples station wagon it down to the swampy goodness of Bumblefuck, Florida for a two week lovers' getaway (Really?). There's Mike (Jerry Albert), an obnoxious, pudgy "performer" (translation: homosexual, as evidenced by his polyester slacks and miniature schnauzer),  and Jeri (Celea Ann Cole), a ginger brick shithouse with zero chemistry towards her ahem...man, as evidenced by the way she smothers him with forced Grandma kisses and plays with his face meat during their overly long, poorly lit, dramatic dialogues. There's also Kim (Toni Crabtree), a happenin', skinny dippin' chick who ties off her tops just the way we like it, and Daniel (Ken Miller), a pock-faced war hero who may or may not have blown up a house full of civilians, according to Mike, who claims he doesn't know the whole story, but then relates the whole story, anyway. They're warned against further road trippin' hijinks by an ornery, busted straw hat wearin' gas station attendant who resembles a rural methed out Lance Henriksen, and warns of their impending arrival in "Blood Stalker country".


"Oh noooooo! Jeri found my candy dish and all my Joan Crawford postcards!"
They run into Jarvis, Lester, and Pip (Morgan himself, John Meyer, and David Farris Legge, respectively), and though these cats look as though they're about to break into a lower tier regional wrasslin' promo, they're actually the poach-crazy bad guys. Also, it should be mentioned that there's a wandering loon who communicates with pops, whistles, and wild hand gestures. Yeah, pop pop pop pop to you, too. Some weird muddy footprints, studio-enhanced panther growls, and a mutilated lap dog later, Daniel leaves the girls in Mike's protection (good luck with that) while he slo-mo runs for help over what fluctuates from a repetitive gospel soundtrack to something you'd hear while Buddy Ebsen lays the shoulder on a fleeing purse snatcher on network tv. Meanwhile, something hairy emerges from an upstairs room at the cabin...is it a blood stalker stalking his daily blood? Is it the most man-like...human gorilla that you've never seen? I won't spoil it for you here, not even in pops and whistles, but mainly because the expiration date on this one came and went over forty years ago,  by now.


I always wondered how you soulless gingers got your hair so red.
Interestingly enough, Morgan also penned the script for Mako: The Jaws of Death (1977), a movie by William Grefe', a regional cult director I actually appreciate. You'll no doubt remember Toni Crabtree as "Hooker" in The Greatest (1977), or "Mona" in 1981's Eyes of a Stranger. She also turned up in Police Academy 5: Assignment: Miami Beach (1988). Ken Miller was a silver screen veteran by the time of his appearance here, having nabbed credits as an extra in things as far back as East of Eden (1955), I Was a Teenage Werewolf (1957), and Attack of the Puppet People (1958). Celea Ann Cole was known as Cissie Colpitts when she made her acting debut in 1971's Billy Jack, but she later moved on to projects like Porky's II: The Next Day (1983) and tv gigs on shows like Laverne and Shirley, Love Bat, and Too Close for Comfort. Anyway, I applaud the "twenty-four countries" that saw fit to ban Morgan's departure from groovy Bigfoot documentaries, and only wish I followed suit by skipping out on the weatherbeaten Vidmark vhs copy I snagged from a long defunct mom and pop outfit, in which case, I wouldn't be here laying the old single Wop down, playing the same harmonica melody over and over again...


I was gonna axe to see yer tits, but somebody beat me to it.