TOXIE’S
TRIPLE TERROR VOLUME FOUR:
STUFF STEPHANIE IN THE INCINERATOR
(1989)
SCREAM BABY SCREAM (1969)
FERTILIZE THE BLASPHEMING BOMBSHELL
(1990)
Directed by Don Nardo, Joseph Adler,
Jeff Hathcock
Brentwood DVD
Reviewed 12.06.04
Review by Joseph A. Ziemba
THE FILMS
How does that Harry Nilsson lyric
go again? Something about “one”
being the loneliest number? Harry,
baby, you’ve got a way with
words.
With Brentwood’s fourth budget-priced
collection of licensed Troma rarities,
the results look a little something
like this: two slices of moldy,
puke inducing bread (Stuff
Stephanie In The Incinerator, Fertilize
The Blaspheming Bombshell)
housing a delectable gourmet midsection
(Scream Baby Scream).
Unfortunate, but true. The extremes
in bad film quality presented on
this set pulse like a microwave.
Your only hope is to embrace the
sole grain of gold; afterwards,
pray that you can make it through
the double-dosed poop sandwich that
awaits.
Just to make things easier, we’ll
start with the top layer. Stuff
Stephanie In The Incinerator crawls like an awful fund-raiser
PBS movie, populated with ridiculous
acting, kindergarten matte effects,
and a truly meaningless series of
events. Paul gets kidnapped from
his plane hanger. He wakes up in
a Victorian mansion, held prisoner
by a voyeuristic drag queen, Roberta,
who wants him to sleep with Stephanie,
another prisoner. Just as the two
birds seal the deal, a wig-removal
reveals to us that it’s all
been a game. See, Paul’s a
real serious actor; so much so that
he makes his wife Stephanie play
along with his dorky role-playing.
They even hire on other actors to
live in the house, like Roberta/Robert...forbidden
trysts occur, a goofy mob guy in
a health spa hangs out, and a plot
to “off” Paul/Jared
(everybody has two names, duh) comes
into play. Like Lugosi’s Mark
Of The Vampire, it all ends
with a big rip off. No incinerator.
Ah, the lives of the rich -- has
the word “pointless”
come to mind yet?
Utterly awful, the actual existence
of a film like Stephanie makes my mind reel. I just can’t
figure out what the target audience,
if any, might be. The horror and
sex elements are nonexistent, successfully
disappointing anyone looking for
cheap thrills. The delivery of the
actors and pace of the script nullify
any chance of taking the “psychological”
(ha!) aspects seriously. Dumb padding,
bad library music, and 97 minutes.
Enough is enough.
Ok, you’ve made it to the
good stuff. “Me, I’m
a student...an art student.”
So begins the convoluted randomness
of Scream Baby Scream,
a potpourri of late 60s weirdness
that would feel very much at home
on a Something Weird double feature.
Amidst a frantic free jazz score
and a cool stop-start intro, a flashback
unfolds and the film starts at the
end (just like “Equinox”!).
Jason and Janet unveil their unlikable
relationship. They’re both
art students, painters to be exact,
spending most of their time bickering
and making love. A purple faced
ghoul shows up (awesome) and kidnaps
women. Master painter Butler comes
along to give a lecture in the kids’
art class. Butler produces unintentionally
hilarious paintings of weird looking
people and his mannerisms lean towards
a dinner theater magician. Janet
is smitten. One double exposure
acid trip later (“Thanks to
the girl scouts, we’re gonna
get stoned”) and we find ourselves
at a hip club with a gutter hack
psych band wailing away. The purple
faced killer shows up again. Jason
and Janet fight. We get the back
story on evil Mr. Butler, his castle,
and his unexplained face operations.
Janet sports hysterical looking
monster make-up, as Butler performs
some kind of silly putty/paper mache
experiment on her face...all for
his art. A showdown takes place
at the castle, complete with black
clothed henchmen. I don’t
really get anything that happens
after that and nothing is explained.
Yes, yes, and yes. Scream is a crude, mysterious gem from
mucho obscure exploitation director
Joseph Adler. Part spook show, part
drug happening, part meandering
character study. The whole thing
is entirely pointless, but strangely
hypnotic. The picture is shot pretty
indifferently on tiny sets (save
for the castle), but the purple
faced guy definitely delivers on
the creeps. If you pay attention
to the credits, you’ll notice
some familiar names: Harry “Playgirl
Killer” Kerwin and Brad
“Blood Freak” Grinter,
appearing as unit manager and actor,
respectfully. A budding prune in
the “killer artist”
sub-genre of the 60s, second only
to Hershell’s Color
Me Blood Red.
Back to the stench. Only this time,
it’s even worse. With a title
like Fertilize The Blaspheming
Bombshell, the mind conjures
up all sorts of warning signals.
Each one is warranted. A guy and
a girl drive around in the pitch
black desert while a satanic ritual
takes place. The dialogue is impossible
to make out, as it only emits from
the left speaker. The girl is eventually
sacrificed, but not before an odd
dry hump rape while lots of nude
dancing takes place. The girl’s
twin sister has a psychic link,
so she does some Vegas desert travelin’
to get to the bottom of things.
Sis meets a gas station attendant
and has a gratuitous nude shower
scene. Eventually, the satanists
try to sacrifice her with lots of
woman-hating dirty talk and an erotic
snake dance. She escapes somehow.
Car explosion. Last gasp of dialogue
from Mr. bigshot sheriff? “C’mon,
let’s go home...get somethin’
to eat.”
Fertilize is up there.
I mean, this film was entirely unwatchable,
mean spirited, boring, and sleazy;
all in the worst ways possible.
Horrible next-door-neighbor acting,
bare 80s sets, women treated like
garbage, and endless padding all
lead to a gigantic waste. The world
of the satanists is blessed with
some key library music as well,
sounding like a drunken cross between
Medieval Times and American
Gladiators. On top of all
the negatives, half of the film
looks like the inside of suitcase
when it’s shut (that means
it’s dark). Trust me when
I say that this was a rough one
to get through. Don’t even
open the slipcase.
AUDIO AND VIDEO
Like volume one, all three full
frame prints appear to be sourced
from video masters, but don’t
fare quite as well, save for Scream. Stephanie looks a
little fuzzy, suffers from some
artifacting during darker scenes,
and appears very dull color-wise
-- more or less what you’d
expect from a budget release. The
mono sound was crisp and clear (you
could even hear the LP scratches
on the soundtrack!). “Scream”
looks fantastic, with bright 60s
colors and very little film noise.
No compression was evident, but
a few video blips popped up for
a second. Good ol’ mono sound
too. Fertilize featured
a print that was so dark it bordered
on unwatchable, not to mention the
saturated compression throughout.
And the sound? Mixed in stereo,
just with all of the dialogue on
the left and all of the music on
the right. Not too hot, but very
fitting.
EXTRAS
There’s the original theatrical
trailer for Scream Baby Scream,
which is pretty interesting. Other
than that, just the chapter stops.
FINAL THOUGHTS
One is a lonely number, but it’s
a good one too. Given the budget
price of this collection, you wouldn’t
be doing much harm by plunking down
some bread for Scream Baby
Scream alone. It’s
pretty darn good and looks top notch
to boot. Unfortunately, the other
two films are abysmal. That’s
just the way it is. |
I'm riveted
This guy has it down
Yeeouch
LSD, I love you
The red and black
This ride will not be missed
|
