True Grit (A Further Adventure) (1978) – Richard T. Heffron.

Bravura character actor Warren Oates lustily takes on The Duke's iconic role in a Richard T. Heffron's good-natured, enjoyably roustabout small screen sequel. Our grizzled, one-eyed, six-gunned hero, and his querulous charge Maddy (Lisa Pelikan) are temporarily waylaid in a corrupt mining town, courageously confronting greed and injustice in this lawless locale with true grit and determination! Heffron's altogether amiable return of the ornery, booze-soaked lawman is given credibility by Oates's robust acting, cheeky demeanour, and compelling charisma, his precocious sidekick portrayed with a rigorous petulance by disarming red head Lisa Pelikan. Ultimately lightweight fare, True Grit (A Further Adventure) has an appreciably earthy production design, the dankly inhospitable town has a ramshackle authenticity, and the sudden outbursts of violence are excitingly realised by director Heffron. This stolid, well made western might have worked without Oates, yet it is entirely fair to state that the engaging drama's continued spark of relevance is largely down to his dominating performance, for me, True Grit (A Further Adventure) remains a remarkably rousing adventure!

 Dark Night of The Scarecrow (1981) - Frank de Felitta.

'Bubba don't preach!!'

Backward, yet empathic man-child Bubba (Larry Drake) falsely accused of killing friend Marylee (Tonya Crowe), is unjustly hunted down, and cruelly executed by a murderously enraged, beer-soaked posse, but Bubba didn't do it, his vengeful spirit therefore enacting a righteous justice, that the law so unfairly denied him. While light on gratuitous grue, De Felitta's deeply atmospheric chiller Dark Night of The Scarecrow has nuanced characters, flourishes of Stephen King-esque backwoods whimsy, and a satisfying intensity permeates the macabre inventory of wickedly creative kills! Another notable element is the moody score, and the suspenseful shocker's cathartic climax which additionally felt like the beginning of a beautiful friendship! Arguably one of the most deservedly celebrated TV horrors is given a gloriously glistering HD restoration, this magnificently creepy, greatly beloved Halloween classic is set to delight another generation of fright fans. Dark Night of The Scarecrow's lofty reputation among supernatural horror fans is well deserved, remaining both warmly nostalgic and resolutely credible as a spookily shock-stuffed, small-screen, wide-scream Halloween treat!

 The Force on Thunder Mountain (1978) – Peter B. Good.

With their loyal pooch Jake in tow, a kindly father and son's bonding hiking trip up Thunder Mountain takes a decidedly tweaked turn into the realms of shamanic 70s Sci-fi when they eerily encounter an apparently hostile, manifestly alien force! The two conspicuously wholesome leads are sympathetically drawn, and the bucolic scenery, plenitude of cutesy animal footage recalls the similarly off-beat nature of cult backwoods slasher Prey, and I'm fairly certain that I've seen the neat-o UFO FX and Indian petroglyphs reused on Ancient Aliens! Overall, the film is enjoyable, and competently made, with an endearingly folksy vibe, some spectacular vistas, and the Twilight Zone'd sequence in the deserted town proving most effective. During one conspicuously expository scene, a character pointedly remarked that his unnerved companion was experiencing 'rock fever', which may well prove to be the very first reference to the future scourge of crack cocaine! In closing, it would have been lovely if The Force on Thunder Mountain had been a legitimate documentary, as I welcome the idea of 1000 year old stoner Ohm and his mushroomoid thought translator being real. The sense of the scriptwriter having previously experimented with psychoactive manna seems entirely plausible, since the sky-high narrative is woozily inflected with lysergic interludes, and the glaring omission that Big Foot didn't beam down from his pan-dimensional conveyance is, perhaps, the film's only real flaw.

'May The Force on Thunder Mountain be with you.'

 CB Hustlers (1976) – Stu Segall.

Pussy hungry truckers excitedly twiddle their tiny knobs as they illicitly procure themselves some pristine roadside beaver in affable lo-fi 70s sex romp CB Hustlers. Seasoned smut-seekers are more apt to appreciate the voluptuous antics of these lustful, short-panted hotties, and their heroically hot-rodding, Joystick jumpin' jackanapes! It would be unkind broadcasting the inadequacies of the unlovely text, so I will focus upon CB Hustlers more meritorious points, namely the altogether divine presence of that most exquisitely titillating Teuton Uschi Digard, and the distractingly juicy-looking, bodaciously bonnie, blazingly boff-able terror temptress Janus Blythe! Being overtly critical of dopey Drive-In fare like CB Hustlers makes bout as much sense as knocking Pabst Blue Ribbon for its lack of quaffable finesse. The film's more prosaic elements are frequently revivified by the electric scenes with bouncy Blythe and triumphantly top-heavy teaser Uschi Digard, and her dynamically Double D'd distractions! I am quite open about my frequent lapses of taste, but as I am solely answerable to myself, enjoying peek-a-boo bobbins like CB Hustlers isn't anything that I'll lose much sleep over. I have always earnestly believed that true B-Movie beauty resides in the eye of the beholder, and CB Hustlers is replete with two great beauties!

'if we didn't have pussies, you'd have to work for a living!!!!!'

 Let's Get Laid' (1978) – James Kenelm Clarke.

As one might glean from the nakedly bawdy title, this raunchy 70s comedy is a far from subtle affair! Gordon Laid (Robin Askwith) returns from WW2, is set up in a posh Mayfair drum, and promptly becomes dangerously enmeshed in nefarious espionage shenanigans that frequently engenders implausible scenarios for full-frontal nudity, ribald humour, and fleshly, soft-lensed in-out. Production values are higher than one might expect, and I can't imagine two more quintessentially smutty stars than the Baron of bonkage Robin Askwith, and sensational strumpet Fiona Richmond! To those with scant interest in vintage British burlesque, Let's Get laid may seem rather flaccid fare, yet connoisseurs of Askwith's scurrilous 70s shag-o-rama might appreciate the spicier ingredients of this frothy, easily digested souffle. While Ms. Richmond's dazzlingly pulchritudinous charms far outweighs her rudimentary acting skills, her prodigious facility for being deliciously naughty provides ample compensations! Let's Get Laid may not have been selected for the Berlinale that year, and the absurd premise makes Billy Bunter's exploits look like a le Carre masterclass, it somehow remains a surprisingly fun romp, generously buoyed by capable jester Askwith's amiable buffoonery, and luscious Fiona Richmond's appetisingly lascivious personality! If you are open to keeping your brain in neutral for the duration, this is an unexpectedly watchable 70s lark, enlivened by a quality supporting cast, including a slinky interlude with sublime nymphet Linda Hayden!

 Crime Hunter: Bullets of Rage (1989) – Shundo Okawa.

Following the slaying of his younger, inexperienced partner (Riki Takeuchi), the severely injured detective Joe (Masanori Sera), licks his mortal wounds, hands in his badge, hunting down those responsible, aided by a delicious, gun-toting nun, with her own score to settle. For 58 propulsive minutes of thrillingly unleavened, bullet-blasting hysteria, neophyte film-maker Okawa's frantic Crime Hunter: Bullets of Rage provides action addicts with a dopamine rush of gloriously gun-happy heroic bloodshed! With a zesty, but not altogether logical text, charismatic characters, and a killer synth score, Okawa packs in a blazingly high volume of kinetic gun-play, double-twisted duplicity, plus a gonzo John Woo'd climax, gorily replete with all the orgiastically blood-squibbed pathos the genre demands! While the director seems overtly critical of his own film, and apparently Beat Takeshi isn't a fan, I manifestly adored it! Crime Hunter: Bullets of Rage demonstratively retains all of its bravura, bullet-blasted brilliance, an auspicious debut, wholly deserving of its stunning HD restoration!

 Diary of a Bad Lad (2007) – Michael Booth.

Aspiring indie film-maker Barry Lick(Jonathan Williamson) documents the increasingly nefarious machinations of ambitious hoodlum Tommy (Joe O'Byrne), Lick's painfully intimate fly-on-the-wall approach drawing him uncomfortably closer to the sh#t than he had planned for! This volatile, lo-fi admixture of Man Bites Dog and 'Downs Terrace' on Redbull & Steroid Slammers is more ambitious, and inventive than one might think, while a scrappy, grainy, visibly low budget entry into the bellicose Brit-Thug pantheon, Diary of a Bad Lad frequently had a visceral quality that surprised me. Natural, wholly credible performances, showcasing a dynamically deviant turn from O'Byrne as the brutally opportunistic thug Tommy. While occasionally blighted by the lack of funds, Diary of a Bad Lad is entertaining B-movie fare, employing a wicked streak of black humour, with the film's sleazier elements pointedly aimed at a more Grindhouse-savvy audience. Many independently produced British Gangster films share a not altogether disagreeable uniformity, Michael Booth's grungy Found Footage approach proved effective, giving Diary of a Bad Lad a perversely voyeuristic quality that I found enormously appealing.

 His Motorbike, Her Island (1986) – Nobuhiko Obayashi.

The gifted, extraordinarily versatile director of the beloved Hausu turns his iconoclastic eye on the revved-up biker gang milieu with the inventive, charmingly Nouvelle Vague-esque His Motorbike, Her Island. Following a tumultuous break-up, handsome biker Ko (Riki Takeuchi) meets the beautiful, irrepressibly delightful Miiyo (Kiwako Harada) and this Kawasaki-crazed couple begin their heart-swellingly impactful love affair. His Motorbike, Her Island remains a beautifully made, palpably romantic drama, the film making, text, and expressly lovely performances are absolutely first rate, making it another essential addition to any avid Third Window Films collector.

 The Sunday Woman (1975) – Luigi Commencini.

Based upon a hugely successful novel, Commencini's deliciously sardonic drama is a compelling admixture of Gialloesque crime tropes, and biting satire, providing a wry dissection of Turin's deeply entrenched class system. The classy performances, rich text and film-making are exquisite, making The Sunday Woman yet another truly exemplary release by cineastes treasure trove Radiance. I thoroughly enjoyed The Sunday Woman, it remains a witty, playful, intelligent, and totally immersive experience, generously blessed with two of the finest screen actors of all time is an additional treat! 

 A Woman Kills (1968) – Jean-Denis Bonan.

Visually compelling, often chilling, this bitterly stark, almost unappetisingly glum feature about a misogynistic serial killing remains an impactful work, even if much of the pedantic text lacks finesse. Avid Euro-cultists should seek it out, but they may find some of the unsophisticated dialogue distractingly clunky. Many directors have a great visual sensibility, and some can write, all too few can do both effectively, Bonan is a dynamic, undeniably exciting, risk-taking film-maker, sporadically undone by his predilection for prosaic chat. I didn't love the screenplay, yet it must be noted that the oppressive A Woman Kills rigorously maintains a palpably bleak atmosphere that recalls Angst, and Lommel's chilling 'The Tenderness of Wolves'. While A Woman Kills may not be ideal viewing for those with fundamentally mainstream tastes, its bracingly transgressive elements should prove exhilarating to those who actively favour esoteric cinema. As one might expect, Radiance have produced an exquisite-looking, beautifully packaged disc, and I have absolutely no doubt that I shall be revisiting this intriguingly crepuscular Euro-chiller again, while a undeniably depressive experience, it is raw, and morbidly fascinating, the director has an aggressively confrontational style that I couldn't help but admire.

 Love and pain and the whole damn thing (1973) – Alan J. Pakula.

'I love you, and it's worth the pain!!!!'

A cautious and upright spinster Lila is ultimately smitten by earnest, boyishly handsome college drop-out Walter (Timothy Bottoms) during a scenic couch trip through a spectacular, and luscious-looking Spain. This sweetly funny, blissfully pretty road movie is consummately directed by Maestro Pakula, with performances of commensurate brilliance from Dame Maggie Smith and a youthful Timothy Bottoms. Without wishing to sound trite, I am always mesmerized by Smith's exquisite acting, appealingly natural, and wholly authentic, this iconic redhead being absolutely delicious to gaze upon is no small addition to any production!

The sublimely gifted Pakula makes it all look so breezy and effortless, as though creating a genuinely charming film was the easiest thing in the world! Having long had a great fondness for meet cute-ish road movies, Pakula's uplifting, sun-scintillated gem is no less sympathetically handled than Stanley Donen's classic Two For The Road. Edifying scenarios, sumptuous scenery, playful banter, and rich, well-defined personalities you can readily engage with. Only the most cynical, or calloused of heart would fail to be swept away by the captivating Iberian vistas, compelling performances and utterly joyful conclusion. I believe there's a tangible luminosity to some films that generously provides the viewer with an abundance of pleasure, I earnestly consider this to be one of those cherishable rarities.  

 Lady Street Fighter (1977) – James Bryan.

Voluptuous, Villain vexing vamp Rene Harmon is one ferociously fatal femme in heroically high impact, kitten heeled Kung Fu fever dream Lady Street Fighter! The only way this persistently punch-packed, Karate-clotted extravaganza could be any more indelibly 70s would be if it came with a novelty Harry Reams moustache, iron-on 'Stoned again' decal, and luridly plush wall carpeting for a pussy sweet airbrushed boogie van! Lady Street Fighter remains one smokin' hot tamale, a credulity-baiting grime capsule that deliriously transports the action cognoscenti beyond the headiest cornucopia of kaleidoscopically kooky, Ketamin-soaked Grindhouse brain slag. I'm not yet aware of awards being given for the most suggestive manipulation of a legume in a non-porno, but if that were happily to change, Renee Harmon's lingeringly lascivious abuses of a celery stick is a guaranteed rosette winner! One of the more edifying aspects of AGFA Blu-ray releases are their tantalizing obscurity, and that each pink-eyed presentation frequently includes a bonus feature, in this instance, the rapaciously recycled, torpor-inducing kung fu cocktail Revenge of The Street Fighter.

'Buxom Rene Harmon is one blissfully bellicose broad, and she can kick a lizard's ass into a cocked hat!' 

 Uncle Sam (1996) – William Lustig.

When sociopathic K.I.A soldier, Sam Harper's grotesquely charred body is finally returned home, his naive nephew's ardent hero-worship providing a catalyst for Harper's sinisterly vengeful return, whereupon he viciously eliminates all the anti-American, yellow-bellied commie subversives in his home town! Maniac Cop director (Lustig) and writer (Larry Cohen) unleash another entertainingly bloody supernatural slasher with the blackly sardonic Uncle Sam. As a bravura throwback to the gory daze of wanton, 80s-style slaughter, Lustig's Gung Ho gore grenade still proudly raises the freak flag for take-no-prisoners, plasma-plastered carnage! Omitting the audacious sleaze of Maniac, and more overtly satirical than Maniac Cop, Uncle Sam's ironical approach to slice n' dice is certainly memorable, if not an out-and-out chunkblower. I felt Uncle Sam's stronger elements were the solid performances, Cohen's playful text, and Isaac Hayes's melancholic veteran provided some unexpectedly genuine pathos, no neglected masterpiece, but Lustig's red white and grue body bag stuffer remains eerily relevant.

 Deadly Target aka Chain of Command. (2015) – Kevin Carraway.

Uncommonly steely, next-level butt-kicker (Michael Jai White) returns home from a gruelling tour of duty, only to discover that his brother was executed for ripping off a heavy drug cartel, culminating bloodily in a gun-smoked tumult of grimly delivered retribution. As is so often the case, the plots, and dialogue are frequently formulaic, the watchability of most DTV shoot 'em ups is largely based upon the charisma, and martial efficacy of its star, and Michael Jai White is arguably one of the best in show (Business). If this were a Seagal flick, and, to be fair, he has made multitudes just like it, the film would be far funnier, so it to his great credit that White brings more gravitas to what is ultimately just another routine B-actioner. As a long-time fan of Michael Jai White, I'm happy to have seen Deadly Target, as a fan of action cinema, I just wished the film-making choices had been more creative. My main gripe with Carraway's mostly watchable film is the conspicuous lack of a dynamic nemesis, and the relative paucity of busy, kung Fu goodness. If gruff master-blaster Steve Austin had been the main villain, rather than Max Ryan, it would, perhaps, have played stronger, since a brutal collision betwixt lumbering neck-lord Austin, and august, high-kicking whirlwind White would have been pretty choice!

 Monster in The Closet (1986) – Bob Dahlin.

The beleaguered citizens of San Francisco reel from a series of horrific, seemingly inexplicable slayings, and a neophyte reporter's (Donald Grant) tentative investigations reveal that the relentless instigator of these savage killings is a...Monster in The Closet!!!!???? An enormously entertaining B-Movie, and next to Toxic Avenger and Tromeo & Juliet, Bob Dahlin's witty, smartly self-aware, amiably quirky 80s Creature feature remains one my favourite go-to Troma releases. I think it is fair to say that you don't always need a magnificent monster to make a watchable B-movie, with the legendary goof-fest Robot Monster, its garish ineptitude was manifestly part of its chucklesome charm. While all the performances are credible, Grant provides an affable hero, Dubarry is appreciably earnest, but Monster in the Closet is resolutely stolen, not for the first time, by the sublimely impish Henry Gibson, bringing his own inimitable magic, to an already monstrously entertaining 80s creature feature! As an especially avid fan of monster movies, be they expertly, or indifferently made, this specific closet-dwelling death-bringer is an ambulatory dream of practical FX wonderment!