R.I.P. Bud Spencer

                                 10/31/29 - 06/27/16

"The Human Tornado"(1976)d /Cliff Roquemore

In the year of the American bicentennial with films like Taxi Driver, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Carrie, and Rocky all going knuckles up at the box-office, moviegoers had some tough choices to make. Or, they could have just checked out the movie with a one-sheet that boasts of fifties R n' B singer Rudy Ray Moore in patchwork pimp gear, twister-punching his way through a whirlwind o' white folks, and been done with it. Knowing cult audiences were instantly enamored with Moore's legendary signature rhyme-spouting, lady-pleasing, shotgun-blasting, karate-kicking, ferocious, mackadocious antidote to no business, born insecure, junkyard rat soup-eating motherfuckers, Rudy rolls him out for a righteously raucous round two, with many of the usual suspects, i.e. Lady Reed, Jimmy Lynch, Howard Jackson, and even Lord Java himself. If you're going in looking for a blaxploitative good time machine ride back to the funky seventies, you've come to the right place, I'd wager. Let's make it, fellas...


I think this one speaks for itself. High water mark in the series.
After what can be called one of the most memorable title sequences ever filmed (I've yet to ever see anything like it, many of you who've seen it will agree), we catch up with that bad motherfucker Dolemite (Rudy Ray Moore) as he's putting his weight on the sheriff's wife, just as the sheriff (J.B. Baron) and his deputy are raiding the joint for an arrest. This leads to some harsh words, one "Biiiiiiitch! Are you fo' REAAAAAAAL?",  a firefight, some dead bodies, and Dolemite rolling his bare ass down a hill in slow motion to the getaway car. Twice. He then blows up the pursuing police with a twelve gauge blast (of course, he dramatically raps as he joins the rank of cinematic cop killers) , forcing him to go on the lam, hijacking a gay dude's car to California(...where they are already, as anyone can clearly see), where one of his people, Queen Bee (Lady Reed) herself, wears outfits that make Mummers look understated and runs a nightclub where he promptly lays down some dozens-style insult comedy in a kaleidoscope of crazy-looking seventies gear on stage, and several kung fu hookers that pledge allegiance to Dolemite work out of. Only problem, a mobster named Cavaletti has designs on the Queen's action, shutting down her club, and even taking two of her girls hostage. Only one isn't technically a girl. Are you surprised by that at this point? Me, neither.


"Mules didn't bruise mah hide cuz I done doubled my size on Fatburgahs an' fries, can you dig it?"
When he's not enjoying post-coital watermelon(!!!) with old flame Hurricane Annie, he's buying new shoes and searching for clues to the performers' whereabouts, as detective/ sped up kung fu bad ass as he is pimp. Adding to the madness, is Cavaletti's old mother, who's a dungeon-dwelling, woman-torturing creep, and his middle-aged wife, who's a nymphomaniac with some heavy hangers and a serious case of jungle fever, can you dig it? Dolemite interrogates the bitch, and by "interrogates" I obviously mean, puts it on her so hard that the fucking ceiling collapses and the bedroom is totally destroyed by their lovemaking session (like a human tornado, this bad cat), which, in the end,  yields the very answers he was looking for. This leads to a full-on, sped up kung fu battle royale at the private party at Cavaletti's mansion, which looks more than a little like Dolemite's pad from the initial reel, but who's paying that much attention, baby? Howard Jackson is in attendance, both as himself and as Dolemite's obvious stunt double, for those kicks higher than knee level and punch combinations faster than your average slow jam. You'll have to see how it all wraps up for yourselves, though. See it!


"Ooooo-eeeee!This Stylistics record got my Skene's glands secretin' like a mufucka!"
Moore followed this one up with The Monkey Hu$tle, opposite the venerable Yaphet Kotto,  the same year. 1977 brought us Petey Wheatstraw, while '79 saw more than Willie Stargell publicly boogie-ing to Sister Sledge, also bringing the premiere of Moore's legendary Disco Godfather. Despite a myriad of glaring technical shortcomings much like its predecessor a year earlier, this sequel chooses to play up its obvious limitations for even more laughs, and if a blaxploitation flick is to be judged on the outrageously dated seventies gear, shuckin' and jivin', cartoonish dialog, wooden performances, across-the-board racial stereotypes, high rise afros, low rent martial arts, etc., found within it,  then we might just have the Citizen Kane of pimp flicks on our hands tonight, after all. On the scale, Tornaaaaaaada earns thee Wops the easy way, on the ornately decorated mackin' cape of the late, great Rudy Ray. Can you dig it?


"Oogah-boogahdah-boogahdah!"

"Repo Man"(1984)d/Alex Cox

 1984 was a pretty eventful year, looking back.Ethiopean famine, Bernie Goetz' vigilante subway shootings, James Huberty's shooting spree at a San Ysidro McDonalds, British comedian Tommy Cooper had a heart attack and died in the middle of a skit on live television, Michael Jackson burned his hair off while filming a Pepsi commercial, The "Nightstalker" murders, Vanessa Williams' Miss America/Penthouse scandal, Indira Gandhi's assassination, I.R.A. bombings in Brighton, Botha takes presidential office in South Africa...but most importantly, it was the year that filmmaker Alex Cox unveiled his film, Repo Man, a suburban punk/sci-fi/cold war comedy produced, in part, by former Monkee Mike Nesmith, and starring Martin Sheen's other son, Emilio Estevez and Harry Dean Stanton, on the unsuspecting planet.Another aspect of the cult classic nobody was ready for, was the amazing soundtrack, provided by punk icons Iggy Pop, Black Flag, Circle Jerks, FEAR, Suicidal Tendencies, and The Plugz.If you've seen it, and it isn't one of your favorite movies of the eighties, well, there's no real diplomatic way around telling you that I hope yours was one of the houses the boys and I regularly targeted for mindless vandalism during the era, and if it wasn't, it definitely should have been, you fucking drag, you.Now let's start a war...
 
 "Maybe I will stack the peaches into a can-pyramid, Otto(Emilio Estevez).GOSH."
Otto(Emilio Estevez) is a disillusioned white suburban punk who's tired of endlessly stocking shelves with generic product at the supermarket and his anarchically cramped lifestyle where fetching a beer for his mohawked girlfriend, Debbie(Jennifer Balgobin)  means losing his spot in bed to Duke(Cox's pal, the aptly-named Dick Rude) during a wild debacle.His life of circle pits in the alleyway, work boots, and dangling earrings changes drastically when he meets Bud(Harry Dean Stanton), a shabby-looking middle aged speed freak who tricks him into helping repossess a car, a profession he despises until he gets slipped a pile of Helping Hand Acceptance Corporation cash for his efforts.As an added bonus, he takes a shine to Leila(Olivia Borash), an oddball broad(who's carrying around a Polaroid of condoms in grass shirts) who's been chasing a 1964 Chevy Malibu as driven by a mad government scientist(Fox Harris) and containing four dead aliens in the trunk, that vaporizes anyone instantly into radioactive debris if they dare to peer inside.Elsewhere, Duke and Debbie inevitably turn to a life of crime; stealing cars, robbing liquor stores, and eating sushi, and not paying afterwards, the fiends.
 
 "Is that a Class of '74 gold ring?!!?AAAAAGGGGRRRRAAAAAHHH!!!"
Soon, hilarity ensues as Otto's imposing on kindly little old ladies whose grandsons are scoot mods in a third generation ska band(legendary LA outfit The Untouchables in a nice cameo) earns him some nifty trombone-born facial contusions.There are some lines of speed blown, rival low riding Hispanics, a lot worker touching upon cosmic unconsciousness, pine tree air fresheners, allusions to Burroughs, Mike Nesmith in a cameo as a rabbi, reckless driving, vaporized punk rockers, government agents with tin foil gloves, or robotic arms, if we're to overlook budgetary confines just this once, and when a twenty thousand dollar repo bounty turns up on the aforementioned antique Chevy, all hell really breaks loose.In case you've been living in your mother's basement the past few decades, only coming up for pie and live polkas on public television, and haven't had the chance to see this one yet, I'll refrain from spoiling the dramatic climax for you, as it's one you'll have to experience to believe.
 
 Sorry, honey, I can only hear you when you speak from the backseat.
Nap Dynamite-predecessor Zander Schloss ended up joining the Circle Jerks after production of the movie wrapped.I would have liked to see what Dennis Hopper could have brought to Fox Harris' role as was intended, but at the time, Hopper was apparently too busy playing Hopper, man.I can dig it.Cox followed this one up with the much-ballyhooed Sid and Nancy in 1986, which may or may not contain an excellent Gary Oldman performance, I just can't get past Chloe fucking Webb's eardrum-grating voice in the damned thing to find out.He also tackled the Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas screenplay in 1998(and whiffed, apart from the credit), and directed Repo Chick in '09, something I've yet to check out.Yeah, a few things slip under the radar from time to time, but I'm a mostly thorough em-effer, wouldn't you say?For me, 1984 was mostly long hair, frag-stache, kung fu, and chicks from other high schools, kind of lost in an awkward blur in the mad dash towards growth into adulthood, but anytime I sit down to Repo, it's all right there again like yesterday, ripped to the tits with hilarious dialogue, tunes, and visuals.Cult classic.Three Wops.
 
 Aurora's full-sized glow-in-the-dark 1964 Chevy Malibu didn't generate as much interest as originally projected...
 

"Van Nuys Blvd."(1979)d/William Sachs

Raven-tressed dames o' the world, take solace in knowing you'll forever occupy my top spot, and I'll always do whatever's in my power to remind you of that undeniable fact.It's just that, every once in awhile, a blonde'll come along from which the vibe that emanates forth is very pleasurable, indeed.Tonight's review has just such a butterscotch goddess, but we'll touch more on that later on.For now, let's return to the groovy seventies once again, and the days of disco, customized vans, cruising the boulevard for some mogambo, and  quease-inducing fast food delivered to your car by a gum-chewing bimbo in see-thru plastic pants who may or may not feel compelled to climb in the back of your '72 Chevy Van 30 and make it with you after your meal.Or during, depending on what scene she's into, man.It's a world where a sensitive Jeff Foxworthy lookalike with a gaudy porn stache and smokes rolled into the sleeve of his t-shirt could rule the boulevard, despite having the nickname "Chooch".On the drive-in exploitation set, Van Nuys is a potent blend of drunken disco dancing, feathered hair, amusement park montages, vans dragging, fatty spleefs, boobs, and dumb dick cops, everything that summer's all about really.It'd take a real antediluvian to not have a good time with this one.
 

 "Anticipay-ay-tion is making me wait! Come on, already, Heinz!"

Bobby(Bill Adler) is fed up with his small-town existence of lying around with horny nude chicks smoking grass all day(wait...what?), and decides to blow the scene for the outta sights happenings of the legendary Van Nuys Boulevard, a cruising Mecca for hot rodders and together chicks, alike.In fact, at the first drive-in restaurant he pulls into, he parlays a gross-looking burger into food sex in the back of his van with hot waitress, Wanda(Tara Strohmeier).Meanwhile, Greg(Dennis Bowen) gets into a demolish-off with a possessive hothead over his girl, Camille(Melissa Prophet), who ends up splitting on both of them and hitching a ride with sexy blonde van dragger, Moon(Cynthia Wood), who's got romantic designs on a busy Bobby in the drive-in space next to hers.We see resident blvd vet and phony cool guy, 'Chooch'(David Hayward) land in central holding after the usual weekly confrontation with Officer Zass(Dana Gladstone), a childhood rival of his.Eventually, everybody ends up in the same cell together and they all become the best of friends before the night is through.Wanda ends up getting pawed on the beach in Zass' cruiser, before handcuffing him outside the car door in his drawers and breaking camp on him.That'll learn ya, ya cockbag.Bobby, Greg, Moon, and Camille go disco dancing.For a really long time.Both couples hit it off, though Moon and Bobby still have a drag race to hold, to like, see who's van is the choicest, obviously.
 
 "You soooo cannot take me on 'Galaxian', bitch !"
All three couples hit Six Flags Magic Mountain for a lengthy amusement park montage, during which many cheap Asian sweatshop stuffed animals are won in games of chance and Chooch blows his cool and tosses his cookies.I always wondered why so many movies incorporated sequences like this, being the kind of fun you like to experience first-hand, rather than vicariously through characters getting paid to look like they're having a blast together.Anyway, Zass gets his stuff jacked by a biker, the cuff keys buried in the sand by a real ballbuster of a doggie, and is finally rescued days later by his mommy.Chooch undergoes a spiritual transformation and sells his hot rod, choosing Hawaiian shirts and a life with Wanda over failing miserably at being 'hip'.Bobby spends all night modding his engine for the big race with Moon, who's turned off by her lover's immaturity and drives off angrily.Meanwhile, we see Chooch's rod getting pulled over again, only Zass is driving now.A-Ha! That explains everything! To show her his newfound maturity, Bobby drives his van off a cliff(!).It works, she drives back and runs to embrace him while their friends do donuts around them and the credits begin to roll.How fucking Nuge is that?
 

 Move along, folks, nothing to see here: It's all fun and games until the jerkoff cop(Dana Gladstone) gets handcuffed to the door of his cruiser in his drawers on the beach.

Where were we again?Oh yeaaaaah, Cynthia Wood. If you don't click the hyperlink, you've got no one to blame but yourselves, for serious.You brunettes are gonna wanna cover your eyes for a minute now.Were I in possession of a mint honolulu blue metallic flake custom '73 Chevy sin bin with a fasces-shaped bubble window, quadrophonic eight track blaring Ursa Major's "Sinner" while hanging out on the faux waterbed in the back with a two foot glass lungbuster full of goodies and a scenic overlook at dusk ahead, I can't think of any chick that'd decorate that dream scenario any prettier than Ms. Wood.Like I said before, you won't enjoy this one if you hate shit that rules.Three big ones.
 

"Winner has the Jordache Look! On your marks..."

 

Benvenuto a dicembre!

Bet your ass I wouldn't return presents like these for the cash.

'Twas X-Mas month at Wop's pleasure palace,
and Doc was still salty that the Lions whooped Dallas.
Tatted brunettes tongued earlobe, their massive busoms all bare
as they ran fingers through his scalp, unburdoned by hair

Woprophiles were nestled in front of the 50 inch plasma
since Hollywood remakes left them breathing miasma
And mama in her knickers, and I in the buff,
tried watching Rob Zombie's latest, so bad, it was tough.

When out in the alley there arose such charivari,
wafting in through the window like fried calamari.
Away to the front door I sprung like a Kenyan in joggers,
to see who fate had added to our genre film bloggers.

Self-proclaimed horror queens did battle in mud,
to live hardcore music played by Blood for Blood.
When, what appeared in this, unlikeliest of sectors
But a Roman chariot, pulled by horses named after directors.

With an Italian on the reins, so dashing and witty,
he puffed on a Newport and squeezed one girl's D titty.
More rapid than Makos his coursers they came,
And he cursed, obscene gestured, and called them by name!

"Now Argento! Now, Fulci! Now, Soavi ...Henenlotter!
Eh, Franco! Eh, Jodorowsky! On Meyer and Waters!
To the top of 8th Ave! To the late Forty-deuce!
Now dash away! Dash away! Let's all get loose!"

They popped outta sight like one a' Frigga's oculars
'cept for Wop's junk which intrigued bitches spied via binoculars.
So up to the house-top the nutters they flew,
With the chariot full of reviews, and Ol' Wopifex too.


Invite me to your big hoity-toity holiday feast, c'mon, you know you wanna!(Seriously though, don't.)

On the roof of the building a clatter arose
as neighborhood sex kittens all stripped off their clothes
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
The back door came unhinged and in Wop came with a bound.

He was dressed like a praetorian, from proud head down to foot,
And his toga was all tarnished with resin and soot.
A bundle of reviews he had flung on his back,
a righteous cult peddler, in Doc Martens of black.

His eyes-batshit crazy! His dimples, adorable!
His temples inked up, Roman nose unignorable!
His signature smirk was drawn up like a dandy,
And on the goat on his chin was some choice nostril candy.

The carb of a glass piece he covered with thumb,
inhaling a cloud that made his brain numb.
Despite being stoned, a true word virtuoso,
with a chin of Fascism just like ol' Emme Rosso!

A writer, a devil, or a violent-prone thug,
Made more capricious by constant intake of drugs!
His fist in my eye and a butt from his head,
Soon gave me to know I had to shave off my gay dreads.

He took note of the big screen and it's current state of duress,
"What this shindig could use is some classic Dave Hess!"
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
while inhaling a shneezer, his toga impressively rose!

He sprang to his chariot, to his crew gave a whistle,
And away they all grooved to Dippy's Epistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"They say I'm the best, and those fuckers are right!!!"

X-mas Wop Shopping List for Dummies 2010

While you're out scrambling and clawing your way through the twisted mass of human lemmings this Christmas season,shopping for trinkets and doodads to appease your Emperor,you may repeatedly ask yourself:What do I buy for the guy who has EVERYTHING?And you wouldn't be unjustified in pondering this to yourself,or even to a crack team of researchers either.But honestly,no one knows a one-of-a-kind helluva guy like B.W. like this two-thumbed rascal right here.So,return that fifty-pack of horror dvds you hurriedly picked up at the local truck stop,and let Wopifex Maximus show you how to bring the devilish smile upon the face you've come to know and love,here during this most glorious time of year.
I:Cars

Though I'm not opposed to a nifty Italian sports car fresh off the assembly line,a fully restored and customized Mercury Cougar 1967-1970(Eliminator or XR-7 package is a plus)in black or red would most definitely trump that Atari 2600 I got from Santer back in 1980.
II:Choice Taxidermy

Nothing says,"Ti adoro,Stefano..."like a rad dangerous animal's decapitated dome mounted on wood and screwed to the wall above my waterbed.I love this thing,and frankly,it just may come in handy during rough sex if those teeth are as sharp as they look,I could simply leave the straight razor on the nightstand.Kodiak bear and adult male lion are also good options.
III:Roman/Italian Busts n' Statues

Though I obviously share a deep spiritual bond with Emperor Gaius and Benito Mussolini,you'd still be looked upon favorably if you hooked up,say,Tiberius or Nero,or Gabriele D'Annunzio.I'm easy like a Sunday morning over here.
IV:Electric Chair

Always wanted one of these.At this point it doesn't really matter if the thing is,or ever has been functional,I just think I could do some serious brainstorming with my ass parked in one.
V: Clothing

Brutus,Levi's,Ben Sherman,Three Stroke,Pit Bull,Fred Perry,Doc Marten,Lonsdale,and Rotten Cotton pretty much makes up the majority of my vast wardrobe,so stick within those guidelines and you'll be right as dodgers by me.I've been eyeing up custom Detroit Red Wings jerseys too.Just sayin'.
VI:Retro Coolness

Any genre-related 70's merch I'm especially fond of,as a guy who regularly strolls down Memory Lane,since it's not only great tasting,it's also good for you.Of course,if your two foot high Bandai 1995 Burning Godzilla Super Premium Final Form is taking up too much space in your pagoda,ship it on off to the kid over here.I'll give it the TLC it so desperately needs.
VII:Guns

Like every red-blooded male on the planet,I derive great pleasure from shooting and blowing things up,and though forty grand for an MP5 might be just outside your price range(donating plasma might help you get to where you need to be,just sayin'),I'm always happy to wield a Mac 10 or 11,or a post-ban AK-47,in compliance with the state's fine gun laws.You've got a friend in Pennsylvania,Pennsylvania.
VIII:Skull-themed Brassies

I'm big on skulls and err,ummm...paperweights,so you can imagine how rad I would think you are if one of these puppies turned up under the X-Mas Tree/Festivus Pole(whatever Doc decides on throwing up,I stand behind).
IX:A Good Woman

Hahaha,good luck findin' one of these elusive beasts anywhere.I had to end the list with one totally unrealistic wish,just for the sake of comedy.
Well,that just about covers it.And if you get pinched trying to lift the Caligula bust from the museum in Leeds,do us both a favor,and keep my name out of it,for fuck's sake.Happy Hunting!

"Fritz the Cat"(1972)d/Ralph Bakshi

As we meet tonight at the Wop,we bid a bittersweet adieu to actor,Leslie Nielsen,whose body of work contained many excellent genre roles in films like Forbidden Planet,Day of the Animals,Prom Night,and Creepshow,before achieving great popularity in light comedies and spoofs later in his career.It was a little distressing to see the number of people paying tribute to the late actor yesterday that totally neglected to notice what a great performer he was in dramatic roles.He was much more than a "funny guy",and let's hope history will remind folks of that.R.I.P. Leslie,you held your breath a long,long time.Onward...
Tonight's feature,a long time favourite of mine,got a lot of screenings at the legendarily decadent "working class holidays" at One Cherry back in the nineties.Through a fog bank of smoke of questionable origins,the parties cheered on the outrageous antics of underground artist R.Crumb's anthropomorphic cat,brought to life on the big screen by animation legend Ralph Bakshi and voiced by the insincere-sounding Skip Hinnant aka/Fargo North,the word decoder of '70's childrens' staple,The Electric Company.Jaded after toiling away on cartoons like Deputy Dawg and Heckle and Jeckle,Bakshi looked to animate a feature film that contrasted the bright and cheerful world of Walt Disney,and found it in an East Village bookstore in Crumb's satirical comics.The production was plagued with trouble from its problematic start,as the ever-squirrelly Crumb was reluctant to sign over the rights to his character,some animators walked off the job,refusing to draw the controversial sex and violence in the script,and distribution was stifled somewhat by the MPAA's X rating given to the feature and decadent material,but in the end,Fritz was a worldwide success,earning nearly two hundred million to date.

New York,from the fish-eyed viewpoint of hustlers and hippies.
After arriving too late to make any sort of impact on the burgeoning Washington Square Park folk guitarist scene,Fritz the Cat(Hinnant)notices three young girls taking a shine to a crow nearby.When the object of their interest turns out to be gay,he makes inroads with the trio by pitching them a steady flow of existential bullshit,ultimately landing him in a ganja-veiled bathtub orgy with them at a hippie squat.When two beat cops(pigs)raid the party,Fritz manages to sneak one of the officer's pistols out of his holster in the clouded confusion,shooting the toilet,and washing the entire writhing,stoned mass out into the streets.Fritz ducks into a synagogue full of lions,only escaping the long arm of the law when a radio announces that the United States is about to fund more weapons to Israel,causing the rabbis to jump up and dance.Back at his college dorm,his roommates are too zooted on bennies studying for exams to notice Fritz,or pay any attention to his exploits,causing him to gather his notes and papers into a massive pile and set them on fire,vowing to live life to the fullest from there on in,as the entire building is set ablaze.He enters a crow bar in Harlem,where he befriends a pool hustler named Duke,who saves the cat's feline hide when he mistakenly calls the bartender,"Boy"(!),then sends the entire bar into hysterics when he says "bug out",a cat using crow lingo,dig that!Duke and Fritz steal a car and head to Bertha's,a fat crow prostitute,to blow some pot.Bertha stuffs multiple reefers into the bewildered cat's yap,causing him to hornily seduce her in a nearby junkyard.She laughs at his manhood,exclaiming,"You aint black enough,honey!" before giving him a piece anyway.In midstroke,Fritz has a revolutionary revelation,and rouses the neighborhood crows to riot in the streets.Duke is shot and killed by the police,and Mickey Mouse,Minnie Mouse,and Donald Duck(all in silhouette)cheer as the Air Force drop napalm on the ghetto.

A minyan of kosher lions tear through the Torah.
Hiding out in an alley garbage can,he's found by Winston Schwartz,a fox he goes out with now and again,who convinces him to pack up and move to San Francisco with her.In the middle of the desert,Winston's car runs out of gas,and after a redneck dog with a pickup full of chickens in cages(that he clobbers to death with a two by four with a nail in it)diagnoses their engine,Fritz is left to walk back to the gas station with a bucket.Weary of Winston's droning,he decides to abandon her for a smackhead nazi-biker rabbit named Blue and his old lady,Harriet the Horse.Together they ride Blue's chopper to his terrorist cell's underground hideout,where his two snake pals in hooded robes plan to start the revolution by blowing up a power plant.Harriet doesn't like the idea,and after voicing her opinion,gets the snot knocked out of her by Blue who punches and chain-whips her.When Fritz voices his discomfort with the situation,the head snake puts a candle out in his face,leaving him to watch in horror as the three beat and rape her as she's helpless to defend herself,chained to a cot.Later,Fritz drives with one of the snakes to the power plant,where the cat climbs the structure and puts dynamite in place.As Fritz has a change of heart,the snake lights the fuse and drives off,leaving the feline to struggle to remove the dynamite as the fuse burns down.The power plant blows up,and Fritz with it.In a hospital in L.A.,his room is guarded by a policeman,who denies entry to the original three girls from the NY park who have rushed to see him in his critical condition.A nun arrives to offer last rites,and the girls sneak in with her.She removes her hood to reveal that she is Harriet,as Fritz groggily regains consciousness amidst his life support machines and full body cast.He struggles to relate the valuable lesson he's learned from all of his adventures:a reprisal of his decadent hedonist lifestyle,as he throws the girls down on his bed and fucks them all in a flurry of bodies and bandages.

Fritz(Skip Hinnant)has fought many a good man,and laid many a good woman.I can relate,baby.
Bakshi who voiced the opening narrative("Happy times,heavy times."),would also lend vocal talents as one of the pair of bumbling pig policemen therein.He would not return for the sequel(which we'll check out later on down the line,kiddies),and went on to direct Heavy Traffic,the controversial Coonskin,Wizards,Fire and Ice,and American Pop,among others.Most of the dialogue in Fritz was recorded raw in real life situations,the background chanting in the synagogue scene taken from a recording of Bakshi's own father.Hinnant would go on to voice Fritz in the sequel,appearing sparsely on television,ultimately becoming the president of the S.A.G. in New York.Crumb allegedly didn't like the film treatment of his popular cat very much,claiming the movie was a departure from the stories in Head Comix and Cavalier that the script drew upon.When watching the thing straight,it's hard not to notice the haphazard manner in which it's paced,but overall it remains a pretty damned enjoyable slice of seventies grindhouse entertainment.On the ratings scale,Fritz hits the pipe,and exhales a very respectable three wops worth.Dig it!

Heckle and Jeckle done come a long way,baby,can you dig it?

Jekyll and Hyde...Together Again(1983)d/Jerry Belson

Ah,the eighties.I must've watched this twenty times or more back in the cable box days(probably because I had nothing better to do as your average deranged 13 year old,burdened with fragstache,zits,and a mullet).A manic,thirty-five hit or miss jokes a second comedy and updated piss-take on Robert Louis Stevenson's classic story that borrows heavily from Jerry Lewis' The Nutty Professor, in the vein of Airplane,Top Secret,or even Robin Hood:Men in Tights.The film takes the low road in exploiting the increasing popularity of cocaine at the time,video arcades,punk rock,and non-existent political correctness,as was so often the case in comedy back then.They were the good ole days,dadgum it!

Jekyll(Blankfield)inadvertently inhales experimental booger sugar in his sleep...
While working as the star surgeon at Our Lady of Pain and Suffering Hospital,Dr. Janiel Dekyll...uhh,Daniel Jekyll(Blankfield) has been experimenting with medicinal methods of doing away with surgery altogether that involve...drugs(insert crowd cheer).His boss Dr. Carew is trying to convince him to perform a total transplant(heart,lungs,kidneys,testicles....ASS)on multi-millionaire Hubert Howes,dangling his engagement and impending marriage to Carew's daughter Mary(Bess Armstrong of Jaws 3-D fame)over his head.One night while working slavishly on his formula,Jekyll falls asleep at the table,snores a soda straw into his own nostril,then blows a shneezer of the untested powder directly into his brain,turning him into Mr. Hyde,a polyester blazer-wearing,razorblade necklaced,fright-afro sporting cool disco pimp,complete with coke pinky nail.Hyde scrapes some of the powder into a baggie and heads out looking for action,ending up at new wave punk club/sushi parlour,Madame Woo Woo's,where he beds Ivy(Krista Erickkson,a fellow Pennsylvanian who went from this to THIS...blech),the lead singer of the Shitty Rainbows,the house band,and prior patient to Jekyll when he was forced to remove a foreign object(a Chinaman,har har)from her vagina in the ER.

...which tranforms him into cool(?) disco/new wave pimp Hyde.Uh huh.
He awakens after a night of debauchery as the good doctor again,but is now torn between the new outta sight feelings he's awakened inside himself with his drug,and the complacent life he already knows too well at the hospital.Does he flush the remainder of the powder down the toilet,perform the expensive surgery,and marry Mary?Or does he snort some more of it,causing chaos along the way in his pursuit of the sex-packed dynamo Ivy?Yeah,plan B here,of course.Soon he no longer has to cut himself wonder rails to transform into the swinger,and the change comes unannounced without warning.The whole frantic narco-tale comes to a head in dear ole Blighty,where Jekyll is scheduled to receive the Putzpuller Prize for Medicine(get it?Har har.)and Ivy has followed him,vowing to shoot him for treating her less than honorably.As Rick James used to say:Cocaine a vurr' powahful druuug.

Transvestite plastic surgeon Dr. Lanyon(Tim Thomerson)transforms patient into Christy Canyon.
There's still a few good chuckles left in this USA Up All Night staple which I'll leave you to discover for yourself.Blankfield,the former "Fridays" star(remember that show?)who gives an electric performance here,went onto a career of mainly television roles and a star turn in the forgettable tv sequel to The Jerk(!Did you even know they made one?).It must also be noted that Cassandra "Elvira" Peterson is hiding behind a nurses outfit here too,but her unmistakable voice and uhh...assets are a dead giveaway.I keep my copy next to other eighties comedies like Poliziotto Super Piu'(Super Fuzz) and Last American Virgin,but when it does come off the shelf for an occasional viewing nowadays,it gets:

Hyde oy!s at the sight of the Star of David.Who knew?