THE PSYCHOPATH (1975)
Directed by Larry G. Brown
Family Tyme VHS
Reviewed 05.24.07
Review by Joseph A. Ziemba


THE FILM
Milo Aukerman and The Descendents once spouted off about "Parents": "Parents! Why won't they shut up? Parents! They're so fucked up! But little do they know, one day I'll explode!"

I wonder if they had taken in a showing of The Psychopath?

The Psychopath is a disturbed motion picture. It involves children, parents, and the unsettling realities that can occur between the two. That's part of the story. Then, there's Mr. Rabbey, resident psychotic and host of a local kids' TV program called "The Mr. Rabbey Show".

"If you pretend enough and make your fantasies real enough, then it can come true!"

Good God. Forget Devil Times Five and Horror High; they were just screwing around. The Psychopath is a child abuse themed horror film with a mission -- one that is both blunt and unnatural. Directed and written by Larry G. Brown, who bucked trends a few years earlier with the gay biker anomaly The Pink Angels, this film seeks revenge against horrible parents. That it chooses to gain such requital -- placing an asexual, man-child, kids show host within the context of a fuddled slasher -- isn't just ridiculous. It's completely deranged. If you're feeling light-headed, don't fret. The puppets, lawn mower death, and karate cops are instant equalizers.

Tommy aka Mr. Rabbey (the uncomfortable Tom Basham) keeps his ears and mascara-eyes open. When he's not busy enacting uneasy puppet shows on television ("I'll chop your head off!"), Rabbey can be found on the playground, in the hospital, or riding his bike. With little kids. But sometimes, he hears things. And sees things. A drunken couple beating their five year old child to death, then covering up the murder; a mother slapping her young daughter to the ground while screaming, "Ya rotten little bitch!" Rabbey and his "blankey" don't like these things. There's a reason why. Time to get even.

If the initial novelty of The Psychopath is what drives the film, the resultant taboo forces define it. Shabby, inconsistent, and seemingly edited by a conflicted mind, the film's presentation is utter 1970s junk. Which, of course, is top drawer to me. The soundtrack jumps from stark, ass-shakin' drum kits to out-of-tune schmaltz to country hackjobs without reason. Frequent inserts of Rabbey's bug-eyes fill the screen. Sudden bursts of unintentional humor break the wall. Carnival footage pads the final third. Yet, these random intrusions rarely align with the emotional content, be it chilling (Rabbey's alone time), tense (the stalk scenes), or jolting (parental behavior). Is all of this detrimental to the whole? Hardly.

The Psychopath is so steadfast in its angst that a little variety only benefits the film. In effect, that irregularity is what solidifies the movie's promise as a bizarro, socio-trash delight, all the way through to the unbelievable ending. Disturbing subject matter. Deficient organization. Genuine intensity. Puppets which decapitate each other. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Immediately following each act of violence, Mr. Rabbey returns to the darkened TV studio, plays the piano, and quietly weeps. The Psychopath. It's a disturbed motion picture.

AUDIO AND VIDEO
Despite being extremely rare, The Psychopath exists on home video in two forms: bloody and not-so-bloody. It took me many months to track the film down, so when a copy from Canadian company Family Tyme presented itself, there was no room for indecision. As it turns out, this 84 minute version appears to be cut. There's just a bit of blood. The dark, overly tweaked print played out just fine by itself, but I imagine some added violence would only sweeten the film's impact. The original Media Home Entertainment tape appears to be The One. Good luck finding it.

EXTRAS
Family Tyme? Beautiful! That's almost as good as a company called Hollywood Family Entertainment releasing Blood Frenzy.

FINAL THOUGHTS
Parents! They're so fucked up! And so is this movie. Like My Brother Has Bad Dreams, The Psychopath is a powerful, unnerving 1970s obscurity which succeeds because of its bizarre individuality. Do whatever you can to locate a copy. And let’s just hope that Mr. Rabbey and El Griego from Al Filo Del Terror never, ever cross paths.






It's Mr. Rabbey time


They'll chop your head off


The chills


Head mower