Tag Archives: shitty free movie of the week

Your shitty free movie of the week… this week: Mr. Mike's Mondo Video

Mr. Mike

Before his brain exploded in the mid-1990’s, Michael O’Donoghue was one of the greatest writers of pitch black humor in this country. He wrote some of the best sketches in Saturday Night Live’s early history, including this sketch that asks the age-old question, “What if Superman ended up in Nazi Germany instead of America?”

As you may imagine, his vision probably didn’t always align with the vision of NBC, so a lot of his sketches did not end up on the show. Where some of the best of the rejected sketches ended up was this 90-minute special, which never ran on NBC. Instead, it ended up at the midnight movies… where a young me saw it. There were about ten other O’Donoghue diehards sitting with me in there. So much doomed laughter. Ah… warm memories. When Mr. Mike’s Mondo Video came out on VHS, I bought a copy, and wore it out. Now it’s on YouTube, where anyone can watch these little bits of pure genius.

Mondo, for those of you not familiar with the term, is an exploitation documentary. For an example, see my review of Primitive London.

My favorite moment… “Coming up next… Japanese girls bathing in dolphin blood!” It’s a movie in which women shoot down planes with pointy bras, people have ecstatic visions of Jack Lord, and cats are chucked into a swimming pool. The musical guests are none other than Sid Vicious, Root Boy Slim, and Klaus Nomi.

As Mr. Mike himself said in a Spin magazine column right before his brain went kablooey: “I don’t think of myself as just another writer. I see myself more as an Instrument of Destiny with a clear moral imperative to set the world straight on a few things. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not claiming that I’m right and that everyone else is wrong. All I’m saying is when the Angel of the Lord appeared to me and allowed me to read certain key passages from The Book of Life, it gave me an ‘overview’ that others may not have. Call it ‘Wisdom’ or ‘Truth’ or a ‘Mandate from God,’ I don’t care. I prefer to consider it ‘one man’s opinion’ and let it go at that.”

If you think this world is a Wonderful Place Filled with Hugs and Love and Puppies Licking Ice Cream Cones, don’t go here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LTmN3N5v0W4

But if you’re like me, and see this world as the bleak fucking hellhole that it actually is, only Mr. Mike can make you laugh until you vomit and vomit some more, until you dry heave boiling black bile.

For a contemporary master of black humor, visit with our master of ceremonies here on ParagraphLine.com, Mr. Jon Konrath by buying his new book Atmospheres.

Love you all bunches! Your pal, Jan (pronounced “Yawn,” you heathens!).

Your shitty free movie of the week… this week: Invasion Of The Bee Girls (1973)


Hey, fellas! Remember when you were 13 years old and the scariest/most exciting thing in the world was the prospect of sexual intercourse? Of course you do. Invasion of the Bee Girls captures exactly that, though it seems that the entire male population of the United States was composed of men who were mentally 13-year-old boys at that time. Sex was new, exciting and scary in the early 1970’s. Women were all liberated and such. They were revealed to have actual human appetites, which freaked men the fuck out. Gone was the cocky swagger of the Sean Connery/James Bond male. Women, it seemed, were suddenly in the driver’s seat.

Invasion of the Bee Girls was written by Nicholas Meyer, who you may remember wrote some of the better Star Trek movies from the 1980’s, including The Wrath of Khan.

In this soft-core porn flick, women are lured into a hot female scientist’s lab and transformed into Bee Girls, who savagely love men to death. Scientist Anitra Ford uses radiation, of course, because that was still scary and new then (instead of scary and old as it is now). Oh, and the process of bee-ifcation was controlled by a ‘computer’ stolen off the set of Irwin Allen’s The Time Tunnel.

Inexplicably, the State Department takes an interest. Maybe Henry Kissinger was the one funding the research? “Vee need zexy killer vimen!” Who knows? Dr. Kissinger sends his best man into the fray, Neil Agar, who is played by William Smith, a familiar face to anyone who watched TV from the 1960’s to the 1980’s… In my memory he mostly played hoodlums and cowpokes, and was Kimo on the last season of Hawaii Five-O, the real Hawaii Five-O, mind you, the one that starred Jack Lord’s hair.

The other cop on the scene was played by Cliff Osmond (Captain Peters), yet another character actor who seemingly always got stuck with the part of the heavy back in the 1960’s and ’70’s. Nice to see these two actors have the opportunity to play good guys for once.

The Bee Girls are all monotone-voiced centerfold women who, during the course of the movie, strip naked and kill men using the weapon of overwhelming sexual appetite. Ten years later, after the 1970’s ran its sexy-sexy course, I came of age just in time for sexual liberation (and pleasure of all kinds) to ignominiously end with the advent of super herpes, AIDS and Nancy Reagan’s face glaring at me from the TV, squawking out, “Just Say No.” Yes… no. Dear God, no. One needed only to recall Nancy Reagan’s face to say no.

Is there anything else to this movie? Nipples, butts, blacked-out eyes. That’s about it. Enjoy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oUHK8E9Q8MM

Your shitty free movie of the week… this week: Sunset Murder Case

Sunset Murder Case (1938)

Bubble Dance Your Way to Crime Solving with Sally Rand!

Noted astronaut entertainer Sally Rand solves a crime, or something, in this slight bit of entertainment from depths of the Great Depression.

God-fucking-dammit, I don’t know. There was a plot here, but it seemed like the plot was completely nonsensical, kind of like half the episodes of Doctor Who these days.

What struck me about this movie is:
1. How much men and women drank and smoked; and
2. The constant and extreme manhandling of women.

If this movie is even partially accurate about “The Good Old Days,” women must have had to nurse bruises up and down their arms, especially their upper arms, and probably had to have a sling handy for dislocated shoulders from all the yanking around men performed on them. If you can manage to pay any attention to this movie, which is feat in itself, pay attention to that. By the end of the movie, I found myself rubbing my arm. Well, at least the obnoxious reporter got clobbered in the head with a vase. There’s that.

Ah! What do you want for free, anyway? A masterpiece?