Next Lobotomy Room Film Club: The Brain That Wouldn't Die (1962) on 16 October 2025

 

Attention, sensationalism freaks! This October the FREE monthly Lobotomy Room cinema club (devoted to Bad Movies for Bad People) ushers you into the Halloween season (or as we call it, “gay Christmas”) with a screening of The Brain That Wouldn’t Die! (Tagline: “Alive … without a body … fed by an unspeakable horror from hell!”). Thursday 16 October at Fontaine’s inDalston! 

Look, this insane 1962 horror b-movie has a terrible reputation and is routinely listed as one of the worst films ever made (and it was completed in 1959 but sat in a vault until 1962, which admittedly doesn’t bode well!). But in his essential 1996 book Slimetime: a Guide to Sleazy, Mindless Movies, Steven Puchalski calls Brain “a crisp little chuckle fest … dim-witted, sleazy and (unlike lots of fifties passion pitters) true to the silliness of its ad campaign.” To its credit, Brain features … a deranged scientist dabbling in God’s domain! A hideous misshapen mutant (played by 9-foot-tall carnival sideshow performer Eddie Carmel, who’d later be immortalised by Diane Arbus in the portrait “The Jewish Giant at Home with His Parents in the Bronx, N Y 1970”)! Burlesque scenes in a tawdry strip club (including two women rolling on the floor in a catfight)! And an unforgettable performance from Virginia Leith as the severed head of the title! Rest assured, consuming Fontaine’s excellent range of special offer £6 cocktails will improve the quality of Brain immeasurably! 

/ Virginia Leith in The Brain That Wouldn't Die (1962) /

Reserve your seat by emailing bookings@fontaines.bar. More details on event page. 

ALSO: Fontaine’s is holding its first Halloween party for five years on Friday 31 October – and I am DJ’ing! Full putrid details to follow soon!

Lobotomy Room is the FREE monthly film club committed to cinematic perversity. Third Thursday night of every month downstairs at Fontaine’s cocktail lounge in Dalston. Numbers are limited, so reserve your seat via Fontaine’s site. Alternatively, phone 07718000546 or email bookings@fontaines.bar. The film starts at 8:30 pm. Doors to the basement Bamboo Lounge open at 8:00 pm. To ensure everyone is seated and cocktails are ordered on time, please arrive by 8:15 pm at the latest.

Reflections on ... The Unholy Wife (1957)

 

/ Illustration by Olivier Coulon /

Recently watched: The Unholy Wife (1957). Tagline: “Half-angel. Half-devil. She made him half-a-man!” 

This pedestrian but enjoyably sordid film noir is unique for being made in scorching colour. Even in the faded print circulating on YouTube, British sex bomb leading lady Diana Dors’ gleaming platinum hair and skin-tight costumes in royal blue, fuchsia and ice pink are eye-popping. (Director John Farrow was no hack: he made some of Robert Mitchum’s greatest films (Where Danger Lives (1950), His Kind of Woman (1951). He clearly had an “off day” here). 

The Unholy Wife offers a portrait of a dysfunctional marriage in the verdant sun-dappled vineyards of Napa Valley. Or as the publicity blurb promises “This is the wine cellar of the most respectable house in the Valley. This is where she met them, made love to them, laughed with them at her husband … at the man who gave her a name, a home and a heritage – the man she wanted to destroy!” The action unfolds in flashback, with present-day Phyllis (whose name evokes the Barbara Stanwyck character Phyllis Dietrichson in Double Indemnity (1944)) in jail, recounting the events that led to her imprisonment. (In these scenes, jailbird Dors is seen scrubbed of make-up and sporting brown hair, which can’t help but recall her earlier British film Yield to the Night (1956)). In a role originally intended for Shelley Winters, Dors is a seething, manipulative married woman scheming with her lantern-jawed, broad-shouldered lover San (hunky Tom Tryon) to murder her cuckolded husband, vineyard owner Paul (played by Rod Steiger – in a role originally intended for Ernest Borgnine - in the then-fashionable mumbling Actor’s Studio tradition). Wringing her hands in the background is mother-in-law Emma, played by Beulah Bondi (a part intended for Ethel Barrymore). 

/ Tom Tryon and Diana Dors in The Unholy Wife /

Watch for one truly glorious sequence of Phyllis and her pal Gwen (hard-boiled, nicotine-saturated noir icon Marie Windsor) toiling as “hostesses” at a low-down gin joint. While the blowzy resident nightclub singer (Maxine Gates) wails “One for My Baby (and One More for the Road”), Phyllis – sheathed in sensational silver lamé - kvetches, “Not much action around here tonight.” Windsor’s appearance is fleeting and makes you wish The Unholy Wife was mainly 90-minutes of just her and Dors hanging out. The commercial and critical failure of The Unholy Wife ultimately cut short Dors’ brief and unhappy sojourn in Hollywood, and she returned to the United Kingdom. (For gossip-hungry sensationalism freaks, Dors and Steiger - both married to other people - had a fling during production).

/ Frustratingly, I couldn't source a good colour image of Marie Windsor and Diana Dors online in this nightclub sequence. (Windsor's dress is bright red). /

Watch The Unholy Wife here.

Reflections on ... Honky Tonk Nights (1978)

 

Recently watched: no-budget shitkicker exploitation flick Honky Tonk Nights (1978). Tagline: “Drinkin' ... Lovin' ... Fightin' ... and Cussin'. Those were the nights. Those Honky Tonk Nights.” Synopsis via The Grindhouse Cinema Database: “Dreaming of Nashville while singing at a rowdy tavern, a stripper-turned-songstress fends off male patrons while the owner battles shady businessmen.” 

Truthfully, Honky Tonk Nights is virtually unwatchable by any objective standards, but as an accurate time capsule of 1970s drive-in or grindhouse fare, it’s exemplary. Set in the low-end of country music dive bars, it offers 71-minutes of barroom brawls and fistfights (if you like seeing chairs smashed over peoples’ heads, THIS is the movie for you), car chases and car crashes (and motorcycle chases and motorcycle crashes), a wall-to-wall soundtrack of Country & Western music of wildly varying quality that quickly grows numbing, softcore sex scenes and copious female nudity (women routinely start undressing mid-conversation with  no apparent reason). Honky Tonk Nights' pungent ambiance of sleaze and murky 1970s porn vibe is perhaps inevitable - director Charles Webb mainly specialized in X-rated films (and the cast includes noted golden age of porn performers like Georgina Spelvin and Serena. For verisimilitude, esteemed American folk singer Ramblin’ Jack Elliott also crops up). 

San Francisco’s iconic topless go-go dancer Carol Doda (1937 - 2015) stars as heroine Belle Barnette. “Winner of the 1979 Dolly Parton lookalike contest!” the poster promises. Doda certainly shares Parton’s physical attributes and penchant for cotton candy wigs, but regrettably not her on-screen charisma (at least as evidenced here) or musical ability. And anyway, Doda vanishes from the action for long stretches. (For such a short movie, Honky Tonk Nights is overburdened with subplots and supporting characters). In conclusion: if you want an exposé into the realm of country music, stick with Robert Altman’s Nashville (1975). Honky Tonks Nights is free to watch on Amazon Prime and YouTube.

Mamie Van Doren's Christmas Pictorial in Escapade Magazine (1966)

 

In the countdown to Kitschmas ... Mamie Van Doren's festive pictorial for Escapade magazine, 1966.

I posted this set on my Facebook and Instagram accounts earlier. Instagram instantly went haywire flashing warnings that my post violates their terms and they are deleting it. I scrambled to delete it from Facebook as well - I can't risk going to Facebook or Instagram jail or losing my accounts!

These pics are 57 years old but still freaking out the prudes! Anyway, posting them here for your delectation.

Happy 60th Anniversary to Promises ... Promises! (1963)

 “The movie is a bedroom farce about a writer (Tommy Noonan) and his wife (Jayne) who are on a cruise with their friends, a famous actor (Mickey Hargitay) and his wife (Marie “The Body” McDonald). Tommy and Jayne want to have a baby, and Jayne takes various concoctions cooked up by the ship’s doctor. Tommy, who believes he is sterile, also drinks potency potions. There is a bedroom mix-up, a female impersonator who does Tallulah Bankhead imitations and two short sequences of Jayne thrashing about in bed bra-less, having disturbing dreams. It was because of these sequences that the movie was only shown in “art” theatres. Jet Fore, who was publicist for the movie, had erotic posters of Jayne printed up with a lot of words about the first time ever au naturel for a major star. Each sequence lasts about thirty seconds and bears no relation to the rest of the film which is as clean as a troop of Girl Scouts … In Promises … Promises! Jayne, wearing wedgies and skin-tight pedal pushers, straddles an open door and rubs her calf suggestively up and down against it. One expects the door to moan. It was theatre of sex at its most laughable.”

/ From Jayne Mansfield and the American Fifties by Martha Saxton, 1975 /

“It was at this point that Jayne made the most inexplicable, self-destructive move of her career, one that tipped her over from fading star to unemployable dirty joke. Actually, it was two moves: she agreed to star in the cheesy softcore porn film Promises … Promises! and to pose topless for Playboy … Why did Jayne agree to do nude scenes and in such a cheap film? She was not stupid or naïve when it came to show business – she had to have known no major studio would star her after this, and that family-friendly TV would be off-limits. But she had to work, even if she was a big nude fish in a small scummy pond.”

/ From Jayne Mansfield: The Girl Couldn’t Help It by Eve Golden, 2021 /

Today in smut history: the notorious Jayne Mansfield "nudie" movie Promises … Promises! was released sixty years ago (15 August 1963). It definitively ended the "reputable" part of her career.

Reflections on ... David Hurles of Old Reliable (12 September 1944 – 12 April 2023)

“David Hurles, the photographer and filmmaker whose models were plucked from the obscurity of the seedy streets and onto rolls of film shot for his small company Old Reliable, has died today, April 12. Hurles’ longtime friend, author and editor Dian Hanson announced his passing to The Bob Mizer Foundation this afternoon. Hurles acted as the sole employee of Old Reliable, a pornographic media company that he founded in the 1970s in San Francisco. Prior to its founding, Hurles shot his first professional model in 1968. As a photographer, Hurles focused his lens on the unsavory dregs of society – notably, tattooed, shaggy-haired, and sneering drug addicts and convicts – a far cry from the cleaner-cut models who had appeared throughout the magazine pages and film loops until that time ...” 

/ From the latest Bob Mizer Foundation e-newsletter dated 14 April 2023 / 

“Danger is a turn-on for Mr. Hurles. Marines aren’t butch enough or scary enough. No, David likes psychos. Nude ones. Money-hungry drug addicts with big dicks. Rage-filled robbers without rubbers. And of course convicts – his ultimate Prince Charmings. In the last three decades David Hurles has picked up rough trade off the streets of California, out in front of Doggie Diner and Flagg Brothers shoes in San Francisco and the Oki-Dog in Hollywood. Bars like the Old Crow and the Spotlight were his own personal Schwab’s Pharmacy. Only David wasn’t looking for an unknown Lana Turner in a tight sweater to turn into a star; he was looking for handsome criminals … Hurles took these outlaw studs, who may have never even realized they could be sexy, to his home like a fool-saint, paid them money and photographed them for your sick, self-loathing enjoyment. Old Reliable models snarled at the camera nude. They gave you the finger, bent over with their assholes showing, looking through their legs. And in what became Mr. Hurles’ signature photo pose, they smoked a big steaming cigar, nude, with an angry leer … All glaring into the camera looking like they wanted to rough you up … Without these pioneering Old Reliable photographs, homoeroticism in the art world couldn’t have existed. Robert Mapplethorpe was a pussy. Mr. Hurles is the real thing.” 

/ From the book Role Models (2010) by John Waters / 

Adieu to maverick “outsider pornographer” David Hurles (12 September 1944 – 12 April 2023). The gentle-faced model above is not typical of Hurles’ oeuvre, but it’s the only image I could find safe for social media! To really explore Hurles' work, this lovingly maintained blog is an essential starting point. 

Reflections on ... Mae West: Dirty Blonde (2020)

 

/ Mae West in 1928 when she was appearing in her play Diamond Lil (which she later adapted for the screen as She Done Him Wrong (1933)) / 

Recently watched: the 2020 documentary Mae West: Dirty Blonde, a breezy, stylish and concise (only 52-minutes) valentine to cinema’s high empress of sex. Among the hipper than usual talking heads:  Dita Von Teese, Lady Bunny, Natasha Lyonne, Candace Bergen, gossip columnist Rona Barrett, Sex and the City’s Mario Cantone and the late Andre Leon Talley (who disappoints by lamely suggesting West foreshadowed “women who dare to be sexy” like Cher, Madonna, Rhianna and Beyonce. Let’s be grateful he didn’t include a Kardashian), plus film historians Jeanine Basinger and Molly Haskell. (And Bette Midler is an executive producer). 

/ Portrait of  Mae West by George Hoyningen-Huene, 1933 /

As Dirty Blonde underlines, West was already 40 years old when she made her film debut in Night After Night (1932). By the time she arrived in Hollywood the Brooklyn-born daughter of a bare-knuckle prizefighter and corset model turned vaudeville performer turned censor-baiting playwright (one review of West’s scandalous 1926 play Sex wails that it’s “a monstrosity plucked from garbage can, destined for sewer!”) had already amassed over three decades of show biz experience. This gave West the confidence to demand creative autonomy from Paramount, and her first starring vehicle She Done Him Wrong (1933) was such a smash it saved the studio from the brink of bankruptcy.

/ Mae West when she appeared on The Red Skelton Show on 1 March 1960 /

You can’t help but get the impression directors Sally Rosenthal and Julia Marchesi (understandably) yearn to hail the tough, independent West as a protofeminist, but she resists that interpretation. (They include audio of West explaining to an interviewer she’s always preferred male company and finds other women hard to relate to).

/ West with young male starlet Tom Selleck in 1970 when they both appeared in the film Myra Breckenridge /

Highlights: Dirty Blonde nicely scrutinizes the complicated depiction of Black maids in West’s 1930s films. While Talley notes that they are kindred spirits and co-conspirators who joke with West and have romantic lives of their own, someone else argues these characters speak in a “Hollywood version of Black vernacular” and Mel Watkins asserts there’s nothing to indicate West supported the civil rights movement in the sixties. But then West fought to have Duke Ellington cast in Belle of the Nineties (1934) and – although not mentioned – it’s widely understood West enjoyed interracial sex relationships long before they were deemed acceptable. And the doc also makes you reappraise West’s reviled later films Myra Breckenridge (1970) and Sextette (1978), asking the viewer why we are so horrified by West still flaunting her sexual appetites into old age. As Basinger claims, “There’s a wonderful courage and defiance” to West’s sheer stubbornness in taking what she had in the 1930s and trying to make it work in the 1970s.  Finally, Dirty Blonde frames West’s long-term relationship with bodybuilder Paul Novak as the great love of her life. (Novak met West when he was one of the oiled muscle men in her Las Vegas revue in the early 1950s and stayed loyal right up to her death in 1980). I watched Dirty Blonde on the streaming platform NOW TV. 

/ Mae West and Paul Novak in the early 1950s / 

World Book Day 2023!

“Liz Renay is a most unusual woman with a most unusual past. A prominent author recently said, “I looked into her eyes, and they held me, and they haunt me now for in them I saw two thousand years of living!” 

She began as a smalltown girl in Mesa, Arizona as a sibling in a family of religious zealots. Then World War II came and she became a “V-girl”, attracting servicemen with her beautiful face and large breasts.

Thus began the “two thousand years of living” that took her into the world of high fashion models and 52^nd Street strippers. The quaint pranks of fate led her into the underworld, and she became known as a Mafia moll, trusted and respected. 

To escape from the world of crime, she went to Hollywood, where she became known as “Mickey Cohen’s girl.” 

She had already won a Marilyn Monroe lookalike contest. Cecil B DeMille was enthralled with her. Opportunities were opening up everywhere. 

Meanwhile, her paintings were selling for as much as $5,000 each. Her poetry was recorded and broadcast. 

And then came 13 Grand Jury appearances and screaming front page headlines. (On one day, nothing but her face and a headline about her filled the front pages of two daily newspapers in New York City on the same day). 

True to the people who trusted and protected her, she refused to cooperate with the efforts to put a gangster behind bars. She was tried and found guilty of perjury. 

Three years in a woman’s prison. Six marriages. More narrow escapes than Hairbreath Harry. And more love relationships than any six swingers of our time can boast of combined. 

And this is only part of the Liz Renay story. Told in her own words and with a candor and honesty unusual in autobiography. (But this still glamorous beauty is an unusual person!). 

My Face for the World to See is her story in her words – without the benefit of ghostwriters and professionals. It is compelling to read and memorable to have read!” 

To commemorate World Book Day (2 March 2023): the blurb from Liz Renay’s 1971 memoirs My Face for the World to See, which I’m currently reading. Her writing style can best be summarized as “chatty.” It really does read like a tipsy, garrulous woman at a cocktail lounge decided to sit next to you and start regaling you with her life story!

Next Lobotomy Room Film Club: This Woman is Dangerous (1952) on 19 January 2023

 

“Every inch a lady – until you look at the record! Part of her was Ritz – part of her was “racket” – all of her was exciting! Beth Austin – stylish dame with a stylish name who lived by jungle law in a big city and clawed her way to where the money was …”  

From the trailer:

 

“It’s that Austin woman!” 

“She’s front-page dynamite!” 

“How does she get away with it?” 

“Yes, they talked about this woman whose name was in the social register – and the police blotter. This lady who graced a millionaire’s mansion one night and a mobster’s hideout the next. Living dangerously, loving dangerously, she used each new romance to claw her way from the rackets to the Ritz. Into the careers of many men – into the hearts of two. One who saved life. One who took life. And she made them both pay the price of her reckless ambition.”

“A rancid melodrama” is how Joan Crawford’s biographer Bob Thomas disparages this low-rent 1952 noir crime thriller. "I must have been awfully hungry,” La Crawford herself bemoaned. “The kids were in school, the house had a mortgage. And so, I did this awful picture that had a shoddy story, a cliché script and no direction to speak of. The thing just blundered along. I suppose I could have made it better, but it was one of those times when I was so disgusted with everything that I just shrugged and went along with it. It was the worst picture I ever made." And remember - she’s including Trog (1970) in that assessment! 

In Woman, Crawford is Beth Austin, ersatz high society matron and mastermind of a criminal hold-up gang. (I love the idea of Crawford as a decorous “lady mobster” wearing little gloves and fur stoles, whose brooch matches her earrings). Oh, and did I mention Beth is wracked by headaches, at risk of going blind and urgently requires vision-saving experimental surgery? Seriously, she has a LOT on her plate! 

Is This Woman is Dangerous the worst film Crawford ever made? And what if you (like me) like “rancid melodramas?” Judge for yourself when the Lobotomy Room film club (our motto: Bad Movies for Bad People) presents This Woman is Dangerous on Thursday 19 January in the glittering Art Deco environs of Fontaine’s cocktail lounge in Dalston! 

Lobotomy Room Goes to the Movies is the FREE monthly film club devoted to cinematic perversity! Third Thursday night of every month downstairs at Fontaine’s bar in Dalston! Two drink minimum (inquire about the special offer £5 cocktail menu!). Numbers are limited, so reserving in advance via Fontaine’s website is essential. Alternatively, phone 07718000546 or email bookings@fontaines.bar to avoid disappointment! The film starts at 8:30 pm. Doors to the basement Bamboo Lounge open at 8:00 pm. To ensure everyone is seated and cocktails are ordered in time, please arrive by 8:15 pm at the latest.

Facebook event page.

Next Lobotomy Room Film Club: Dear Dead Delilah (1972) on 20 October 2022

 

October means Halloween (or “gay Christmas” for those in the know) – which means as per tradition, this month the Lobotomy Room film club is presenting a horror movie on 20 October. And boy have we dug up an oddity for you this time! 

Nasty, grubby, gruesome but perversely captivating, low-budget exploitation slasher flick Dear Dead Delilah (1972) conveys a genuinely bizarre vibe: think Southern Gothic horror as directed by William Castle, with verbose and meandering faux Tennessee Williams-like dialogue and scenery-chewing soap opera acting punctuated by blood-splattered decapitations. In other words, Dear Dead Delilah has something for everyone! 

Filmed on location in Nashville, Tennessee, it stars that reliably fierce ne plus ultra of Golden Age Hollywood character actresses Agnes Moorehead (Endora from TV’s Bewitched) in her final appearance in the titular role of Delilah Charles, a wealthy and shrewish dying Southern matriarch confined to a motorized wheelchair. (Moorehead herself was in declining health and would die two years later aged 73).  

Firmly in the post-What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? hagsploitation tradition (although updated for the splatter-hungry drive-in circuit), Delilah calculatingly references earlier films like Hush … Hush, Sweet Charlotte (1964) (in that one, Moorehead had a secondary role as Bette Davis’ housekeeper. Here, she gets to play the ageing Southern belle lead) and Strait-Jacket (1964) (they share the same premise of a mentally unstable axe murderess freshly-released from an insane asylum).  When we get a glimpse of Delilah ascending in her “personal elevator”, it can’t help but recall Katharine Hepburn in Suddenly, Last Summer (1959) or Olivia de Havilland in Lady in a Cage (1964)! 

Lobotomy Room Goes to the Movies is the FREE monthly film club devoted to the cult, the kitsch and the queer! Third Thursday night of every month downstairs at Fontaine’s bar in Dalston! Two drink minimum. Inquire about the special offer £5 cocktail menu! Numbers are limited, so reserving in advance via Fontaine’s website is essential. Alternatively, phone 07718000546 or email bookings@fontaines.bar to avoid disappointment! (Any difficulties reserving, contact me on here). The film starts at 8:30 pm. Doors to the basement Bamboo Lounge open at 8:00 pm. To ensure everyone is seated and cocktails are ordered in time, please arrive by 8:15 pm at the latest.

Facebook event page

The Next Lobotomy Room Film Club: Passport to Shame (1958) on 28 July 2022

This month the Lobotomy Room film club (our motto: Bad Movies for Bad People) presents for your delectation tense, irresistibly trashy black-and-white British b-movie Passport to Shame (1958)! See the film described by Radio Times as “a cheap, tawdry and utterly fascinating piece of vintage sexploitation” that aims to expose the shame of London’s prostitution rings! As a bonus: Passport co-stars 26-year-old Diana Dors - British cinema’s reigning bad girl - at her pouting sex goddess zenith!  Thursday 28 July 2022 downstairs at the fabulous Fontaine’s bar in Dalston! (Note: the film club is normally third Thursday of every month - but this month it got bumped to the following Thursday! Don't get it twisted!). 

Lobotomy Room Goes to the Movies is the free monthly film club devoted to the cult, the kitsch and the queer! Third Thursday night of every month downstairs at Fontaine’s bar (Dalston's most unique nite spot)! Two drink minimum. Inquire about the special offer £5 cocktail menu! Numbers are limited, so reserving in advance via Fontaine’s website is essential.  Alternatively, phone 07718000546 or email bookings@fontaines.bar to avoid disappointment! (Any difficulties reserving, contact me on garusell1969@gmail.com). The film starts at 8:30 pm. Doors to the basement Bamboo Lounge open at 8:00 pm. To ensure everyone is seated and cocktails are ordered in time, please arrive by 8:15 pm at the latest.

Facebook event page. 

/ Diana Dors in Passport to Shame (1958) /

/ Passport to Shame was released in North American markets as Room 43 / 

Read more here. 

Reflections on ... The Wild World of Batwoman (1966)

 

Recently watched: The Wild World of Batwoman (1966). Tagline: “A Thrill-cade of Excitement! Roaring through the city streets into Wildville!” 

Look, I have a high (possibly masochistic) tolerance for terrible films. In fact, I have a twisted affection for them. Give me a The Brain That Wouldn’t Die (1962) or I Eat Your Skin (1971), and I’m transfixed. But The Wild World of Batwoman defeated even me. Its duration is a mere one hour and six minutes, and yet somehow it felt like three numbing hours long. IMDb gives up on even attempting a synopsis: “The pointlessly named Batwoman and her bevy of Batmaidens fight evil and dance.” (Rotten Tomatoes makes more of an effort: “A busty vampire needs a scientist's atomic bomb, made from a hearing aid, to save a comrade”).  Opportunistic hack director Jerry Warren clearly aimed to exploit the popularity of the campy Batman TV series. When they legally threatened him over copyright infringement, Warren simply re-titled it She Was a Hippy Vampire. 

Anyway, the titular Batwoman (ineptly played by Katherine Victor) is a tired looking middle-aged woman in an exploding punk fright wig, Halloween mask and dominatrix outfit. She’s also a crime-fighting vampire ruling over a bevy of groovy “Bat Chicks” who are forever breaking into frantic go-go dancing. (Are they doing the Frug? The Watusi? The Jerk? I couldn’t tell you).  The ensuing wacky hi-jinks are utterly incomprehensible. To add to the confusion, Warren also pads-out the action by splicing in footage from The Mole People (1956), an entirely different film.  

The naïve kitschy tone has its appeal. There’s some decent twang-y garage rock music. The Wild World of Batwoman would inevitably be more tolerable broken into chunks on something like Elvira’s Movie Macabre or Mystery Science Theatre 3000. Anyway, I stuck it out to the bitter end. I defy you to the do the same! The Wild World of Batwoman (viewable on YouTube) is routinely described as one of the worst films ever made – find out why! 

Reflections on ... New Year's Evil (1980)

Recently watched: New Year’s Evil (1980). Tagline: “Don’t dare make new year’s resolutions … unless you plan to live!” 

Over the holidays, my boyfriend Pal and I punctuated our almost continuous prosecco drinking with some festive themed movie viewing. We watched the original Black Christmas (1974) and then on New Year’s Day, this grisly low-budget slasher flick. In Los Angeles, glamorous hard-boiled celebrity DJ and television’s first lady of rock’n’roll Blaze Sullivan (Roz Kelly) is hosting “Hollywood Hotline”, a live televised coast-to-coast New Year’s Eve countdown. Viewers are encouraged to phone in to vote for their favourite New Wave song of the year - but one of the callers is a misogynistic maniac calling himself “Evil”, who threatens to murder a “naughty girl” as each time zone hits midnight – culminating with Blaze herself! 

What distinguishes New Year’s Evil is its exploitation of the punk subculture. Considering it was filmed in Los Angeles in 1980, the mind boggles at the actual bands the filmmakers could have feasibly utilized for the musical sequences: X, The Screamers, the Germs, the Zeros, The Weirdos! The presence of any of these would make New Year’s Evil a valuable time capsule. But no – we see only two appalling ersatz punk bands (nonentities Shadow and Made in Japan), and at tedious length. The film’s received wisdom about how punk rockers behave (they are troublemakers with piercings and Mohawks who mosh and stick their tongues out a lot) is unintentionally hilarious. New Year’s Evil also fails to clarify why hardened young hardcore punk rock fans are so rabidly enthusiastic about sequin-clad middle-aged Blaze. Is it because she exhorts things like “It’s time to spin out and boil your hair!” while wielding a feather boa? 

Which brings us to the performance of Roz Kelly. Do younger people have a clue who Kelly was? In her brief heyday, she was best known for portraying Pinky Tuscadero, Fonzie’s tough cookie girlfriend in seventies sitcom Happy Days. Her screen presence was certainly … um … distinctive. Whether playing Pinky, Anthony Franciosa’s brassy secretary Flaps (yes – Flaps!) in Curse of the Black Widow (1977), cavorting in Paul Lynde’s infamous 1976 Halloween special or indeed here as Blaze, Kelly is consistently abrasive, brittle and borderline hostile. Her bizarre acting choices are perhaps the scariest aspect of New Year’s Evil! 

Watch it here: 

Reflections on ... Arlene Dahl (11 August 1925 – 29 November 2021)

 / Coiffeur-to-the-stars George Masters styling Arlene Dahl’s hair poolside in 1961 /

Farewell to Arlene Dahl (11 August 1925 – 29 November 2021). The star of stage, screen and television, beauty advice columnist, astrologist, authoress of fifteen books, surprisingly durable glamour queen and kitsch icon (and one of the last survivors of Golden Age Hollywood) has died aged 96.

/ Glamour shot of Arlene Dahl featured in May 1957 issue of Modern Screen magazine via /  

Renowned for her flaming red hair and trademark beauty spot, Dahl was routinely cited as “one of the most beautiful women in the world” in the fifties. Most of her movie roles were decorative, but the lurid film noir Slightly Scarlet (1956) is genuinely great, and I need to properly re-visit Wicked as They Come (1956). (Both of these are viewable on YouTube last time I checked). Like many an aging star, in the seventies and eighties Dahl cropped-up as a celebrity guest star on TV shows like Love Boat and Fantasy Island and then the soap opera One Life to Live.

/ Dahl with Rhonda Fleming in Slightly Scarlet (1956) / 

In addition to acting, Dahl diversified into journalism (writing the newspaper column “Let’s Be Beautiful”) and business (as an entrepreneur, she launched Arlene Dahl Enterprises, marketing her own range of cosmetics, negligées and perfume. In the early seventies she hawked wigs for Sears!).

Dahl married six times. Her former husbands included screen Tarzan Lex Barker and suave Argentinian actor Fernando Lamas (Their son Lorenzo Lamas starred in 1980s soap opera Falcon Crest). She also had a fling with John F Kennedy in the forties.

Her most noteworthy literary effort - Always Ask a Man: Arlene Dahl’s Key to Femininity (1965) - rivals Joan Crawford’s 1971 volume My Way of Life as a camp sacred text. Let’s charitably say Dahl’s tips are “of their time.” “It’s a man’s world!” she preaches. “Don’t fight it – the key to happiness and success is femininity! You may be healthy, attractive, intelligent, witty, athletic, personable and rich but it just isn’t enough – for that man – if you’re not feminine!”