"It Happened at Lakewood Manor" (1977) d/ Robert Scheerer

Even if you missed tonight's review when it was first broadcast back in 1977 (I didn't, so nyah nyah, motherfuckers. You never missed cool shit like this back then, it was forbidden.), you were probably drawn in years later by the USA Home Video big box vhs with Suzanne Somers' ant-engulfed milk wagons depicted on the sleeve, and really, who'd blame you for that? I picked it up myself, back then, for that very reason, only to be reminded that, for heavy on names it was, with the likes of Robert Foxworth, Lynda Day George, Brian Dennehy, and even Suzanne Somers, in a brief cameo capacity, though she receives top billing for it, all on board, it was pretty light on delivery of the genre goods, though it remains a nostalgic stroll back to a time when television networks created their own quickie cash ins on silver screen trends, and with movies like Kingdom of the Spiders (1977), Grizzly (1976), Day of the Animals (1977) all cashing in at the box office, eco-horror proved too lucrative to ignore for their small screen competitors.


Come n' die on the floor (come n' die on the floor) meet the ants and you're through (meet the ants and you're through)...(sung to the tune of "Three's Company"main theme)
Two construction workers stumble into a swarm of ultra-aggressive ants with a toxic bite in a closed section of the Lakewood Hotel, during an extensive renovation, but before they can warn anyone of the impending poison picnic, they get buried alive. Oops. Now, like a hundred minute episode of Love Boat, we get the main cast of characters; there's the elderly proprietor, Mrs. Adams (Myrna Loy) and her sultry daughter, Valerie (Lynda Day George), who's having flesh-pleasure with the foreman, Mike (Robert Foxworth), who discovers the workers' corpses with his buddy Vince (Bernie Casey! Hot damn, that's outta sight.), and then there's real estate mogul Fleming (Gerald Gordon) actively pursuing his dream of turning the place into a casino, and his busty piece of side trim, Gloria (Suzanne Somers), along for the ride, to sit around in next to nothing and look really fucking good, doing it. Meanwhile, the aggro army of ants assaults a young boy, then kills a cook, and nearly adds Vince to its growing list of fatalities, which Mike has a hunch that they just might be responsible for...


"You little bastards! BAAAAAAAAASTARDS!"
Enter two workers from the Board of Health (Anita Gillette, Bruce French) who make the investigative scene, determining that these ants are not only poisonous, but highly resistant to insecticides. A recipe for disaster if ever I've heard one. Meanwhile, Gloria's slumped dead on the floor, with ant-engulfed titties, another health board bloke bites the dust, and a rag tag group of survivors is being driven upstairs to safety by the ants, who've overtaken the hotel from their massive nest in the pit, and number in the millions. The authorities dig a trench to hold the deadly army back, using water and gasoline to fuel their rescue of the trapped patrons and employees inside. Finally, only Mike, Valerie, and Fleming remain, cornered by ants. Fleming miserably fails his attempt at a triple Lindy to safety out the window, and the two trapped lovers are forced to breathe through tubes as they're rescued by workers in white suits who smoke the little bastards out. But could it all happen again? It could've, but thankfully, it didn't.


"Ahhhhh!!! Somebody loose-topped the pepper shaker on me!"
Super soul brother Bernie Casey was still riding a wave of popularity at the time of this tv movie, one that started with 1969's Guns of the Magnificent Seven, and included genre classics like Gargoyles (1972), Dr. Black, Mr. Hyde (1976), and Cleopatra Jones (1973), while Foxworth showed up in Damien :Omen II (1978) and Prophecy (1979). Somers appeared in Bullitt (1968), American Graffiti (1973), Magnum Force (1973), and even Billy Jack Goes to Washington (1977) before scoring the familiar role of Chrissy Snow, really the only reason you'd ever be caught dead watching Three's Company, besides splitting a side at whatever getup Furley has on, and Stanley Roper's zingers at his horny, homely old wife, but you get where I'm coming from. Myrna Loy was an actress who was huge in the twenties and thirties. Like I was getting to earlier, you may want to revisit this one for nostalgia's sake, and truthfully,  seeing it takes me back to grade school, where I was much like the Wop you see before you now, but with more hair, and less tattoos. Still, I've gotta cite it's overall weakness in the delivery of quality seventies eco-horror like many of it's counterparts managed to achieve. On the scale, Manor merits a measly single Wop, worth a look for hardcore horror addicts, perhaps.


"You mean we're smoking dog shit, man?" 

"Dr. Black, Mr. Hyde" (1975) d/ William Crain

Watching the vintage trailer for tonight's review, another slice of blaxploitative horror from the guy who served up the likes of Blacula to cult audiences three years earlier, might leave you in a mad jones to hunt down the 35th Anniversary release (which should only set you back a couple of bucks at the time I'm writing this), what with all the rappin' narration, afro-coiffed homeboys gettin' chucked through plate glass windows, and promise of  further goings on of a freaky, outta sight nature within. Who'd blame you? You've got former 1968 L.A. Ram Pro Bowler and head Gargoyle himself, Bernie Casey, in the lead, ably supported by Rosalind "Omega Man" Cash, Marie O'Henry, and prolific tv actor Ji-Tu Cumbuka as a police lieutenant whose dryly intelligent quips predate Jules Winnfield by two decades, but recall Samuel L. Jackson's famous performance just the same. Casey's inner homicidal honkey-by-night was created by none other than Stan Winston, who teamed up with Ellis Burman on Casey's reptilian look on the aforementioned made-for-tv cult classic, Gargoyles.


"I'm hep to your atitis, Linda.", says Dr. Pride (Casey).
Dr. Pride (Casey) works slavishly towards a cure for the liver disease that took his mother, heating beakers full of Kool Aid and turning brown rats into homicidal white ones in his laboratory, when he isn't volunteering his services at the Watts Free Clinic/Thrift Store(!), throwing ten spots at poor old ladies and administering butt-injections to hep-riddled hookers-with-hearts-of-gold, like Linda (O' Henry). When his experimental serum turns an old black woman dying from liver problems into an aggro albino with a propensity to choke a nurse in a heartbeat, before she turns her toes up, an impatient Pride injects himself with the solution, transforming into Mr. Hyde, or a powdery Bernie Casey with whited-out contacts, latex applications across his brow line, and some white streaks in his afro, if you want to get technical about it. As Hyde, he joyrides through Watts in his Rolls Royce, and lays the smackdown upon some street corner brothers who give him jibes instead of directions. He shows up at Linda's favorite watering hole and proceeds to trash the joint. When Linda's old pimp, Silky, and his homeboys chase Hyde out the front door, they're surprised to find a groggy Dr. Pride, nursing a slash wound and dressed identically to the cat that was just kicking all their asses moments earlier. Hmmm, he musta split...


"White in Watts??!! Honey, ain't nobody got time fo' dat!"
When the good doctor takes his trick-turning patient out for dinner on the promise of no "business" talk, he later takes her back to his pad and demands that she let him jab her with a syringe full of untested chemicals on the promise that it will cure her hepatitis (and apparently entirely unconcerned by the notion that she's out infecting johns all over California with hepatitis), before giving himself a good faith jab and changing into Hyde, sending her screaming into the night. At this point, Hyde takes it upon himself to strangle all of Linda's prostitute pals to death one by one, even squashing poor Silky against a cement wall with his Rolls. Several murders later, a heartbroken Linda approaches Pride in hopes that he will turn himself in to the authorities and get the help he needs, reporting him to the cops when he ignores her pleas, instead, and shoots himself up with enough serum to provide for an action-packed King Kong-y finale atop the Watts Towers. Roll credits.


Death lies upon Silky the Pimp, like an untimely frost upon the mackin'-est flower of all the damn field, y'all.
Stan Winston would continue to keep it "street", providing the special makeups for 1978's ethnocentric answer to the Wizard of Oz, The Wiz, before famously helping to usher in the glorious eighties with credits in fare such as The Exterminator (1980), Dead and Buried (1981), Friday the 13th Pt. 3 (1982) ( uncredited ), and of course, The Thing (1982). O'Henry, who selflessly provides the film's breasseses, worked previously in 1974's Three the Hard Way, and would also appear in Deliver Us From Evil (1977) and Human Experiments (1979). As far as blaxploitation horror goes, this one's not nearly as rotten as Blackenstein (1974), nor is it as memorable as Sugar Hill (1974), and on the rating scale, I've given it a respectable deuce for it's troubles. Definitely worth a look, if this sort of thing is your bag, man.


Oh no, it wasn't the airplanes. 'Twas booty that killed this particular beast.

"Gargoyles"(1972)d/Bill L. Norton

Tonight's review HAD to be next,'cuz,quite frankly,last night I think I needed Fathers Karras and Merrin to douse me liberally with blessed H2O.I apologize to anyone who may have crossed paths with me in the temporary throes of a pure evil and mean spirited altered state,and wouldn't be at all surprised to hear of sprouting horns,talons,and leathery scales,although I'm pretty sure wings were out of the question,as I most certainly would have flapped off to some middle-European bar stool to wreak havok until the sun came up,spewing obscenities that would have made Pazuzu feel shy and introverted.I think I crouched stonefaced on a corner of the roof at one point.In other words,another good night,indeed!
That tonight's review won Ellis Burman,Jr. and Stan Winston a daytime Emmy for makeup effects kinda boggles my mind now,though back in the early to mid-seventies,you'd never convince me there was ever anything cooler than this low budget made-for-tv exercise in horror.Looking back at it now,it's pretty much just a laughable,rubbery ball of suck.Calling the flying effect in the finale inept is like saying men have a tendency to wear their pants a lot higher once they reach retirement age.The gargoyles themselves kinda resemble what you'd dream up for a Broadway musical called "Lizards".Hey,Chamel-o-neezer's about to sing,"My eyes obey Listing's Law!"Yeah,maybe I'm being a little hard on the guys,especially knowing what heights their careers reached after this,but I'm gonna have to call this one like I see it.The gargoyles are probably the low point in the otherwise enjoyable romp.You unoriginal Hollywood bastards wanna stop counting your money and give something back to the community who paid off your Lamborghini?Remake this,with KNB at the effects helm,and do it some justice.Or would that make too much sense to you?You don't have to answer that,I already know.

"You think you've got skeletons in your closet!" exclaims Uncle Willie(Woody Chambliss).
Diana Boley(Salt)steps off a plane in the southwest,handing off a demonic sculpture to her father,the anthropologist,Mercer Boley(Cornell Wilde),who likes to drive around and debunk the same superstitious myths that carved him his television career.This time around,the father-daughter team have a rendezvous with an old drunk named Uncle Willie(Chambliss),who runs a roadside sideshow,and claims to possess something that'll knock the Doc's socks right the fuck off.Boley immediately slags off the old man's intact skeleton of a large humanoid creature with wings,beak,and horns as an elaborate hoax,but humors him while he booze-soakeningly recalls the Indian legends surrounding the strange beings who've lived for centuries in the rock formations throughout the canyon,into Boley's tape recorder.Before Willie can spit out the word Nakatakachinko another thirty-five times,something large flaps down upon the roof of his shack and begins to tear it asunder,killing the old wino,and setting the place on fire,but not before the Boleys can grab the gargoyle scale and make for the station wagon.Nice.Let the old man eat crashing I beam,flame-lapping death,but at least you scored your knick-knack.As the two drive off into the desert night,something familiarly large flaps down on top of their vehicle and tries to get in,though they somehow manage to escape to the safety of...the police headquarters?A hospital?The national guard?A motel.The next day when they return to the burned out hull of Willie's shack with the sheriff,they find a group of longhaired young dirtbikers,led by Jim(Scott Glenn),just peeling out and doing wheelies in the old man's ashes.You know,they weren't doing anything,officer.

None of you rubbery bastards thought to pull the ties loose on Diana's(Jennifer Salt)groovy wraparound?
One obligatory police cruiser v dirtbikes chase later,the sheriff nicks the dustbowl daredevils on suspicion of Willie's murder,with Diana aptly protesting their incarceration,and un-groovy oppression of you know,young people and stuff.Dr. Boley,on the other hand,is more interested in winged demons in the desert than dirtbags in bellbottoms,and when a couple of lesser 'goyles break in to the Boleys' motel room and steal back the skull of their ancestor,one gets laid the fuck out by a semi,which keeps on driving,even after hitting a man-sized bipedal lizard walking on the road,because,those twenty-five pallets of Mighty Dog puppy gruel aren't gonna drive themselves to Piscataway,you know.Boley ganks the dead 'goyle carcass,incurring the wrath of the HGIC(Bernie Casey),a winged,horned son of a gun that don't take noooo kinda slack,Jack.Gar-Bernie and his 'goyle gang descend upon the motel in dramatic slo-mo,and gank back their dead homie,and the provocatively seventies-tastic Diana to boot.At Gar-Bernie's crib,Diana is added to his stable of bitches,who get sassed at and slave over big-assed gargoyle eggs all de live long day,being forced to read to him with her pleasing ummm,voice tch tch tch tch.Mercer,out one piece of demised anthropological gargoyle evidence and one sexy daughter,has a change of heart,and convinces the sheriff to free the dirtbag dirtbikers for one massive frontal attack upon Gargoyle-ville,taking no prisoners.The police and bikers wipe out all but Gar-Bernie and his main scaly ho,rescuing Diana from a life of indentured serpent-ude,and watching as the last of the gargoyles break the fuck out like heat rash.The end?

"Tell me,Diana...tch tch tch tch...Stephanie Meyer gets paid to write these things? tch tch tch"
Getting back to potential remakes for a second,couldn't you see Samuel L. motherfuckin' Jackson reprising the Bernie Casey role?"You earfly mothafuckas think you alone down here??Nahhhhh,de gargoyles rulin' up in dis bitch!We from HAYULL!"I dunno.It's a thought.Casey scored himself genre roles in fare like Cleopatra Jones,the incredible Dr. Black and Mr. Hyde,and made-for-tv ant-valanche It Happened at Lakewood Manor,and continues to break it down to this very day.The lovely Salt found success on televion's Soap later in the decade,while Glenn went on work in Apocalpyse Now,More American Graffiti,and genre classic,The Keep.Ellis Burman did effects on Empire of the Ants,Prophecy,and The Devil's Rain,before moving to Star Trek's makeup work,while his partner here,the late Stan Winston,did EVERYTHING.I shouldn't have to fill in the blanks for you about him.Director Norton has had a long career in television,finally realizing how to keep himself out of the shot.Gargoyles flaps down into the canyon in slow motion,making off with two wops on the rating scale.Good times.

With the grace of a Nerf football with a chunk taken out of it,the last of the gargoyles flap awkwardly to safety in the shadows of the director against the rock face.