‘Kommissar X on acid’ is exactly what Death Trip, on paper at least, promises us: Our world-hopping team of swinging adventurers/super sleuths, Jo Walker and Tom Rowland, getting entangled in the wild world of LSD trafficking.
I firmly believe that prolonged exposure to any movie series can actually alter the brain’s chemistry, and, as such while the strains of ‘I Love You Jo Walker’, for me, serve as endorphin triggers, for others they might simply serve to tell them that its time to turn off the TV.
So, in this form, the one that Andre Hunebelle gives him, I think that it’s perfectly alright to laugh at Fantomas. Especially since it’s really ourselves that are the butt of the joke.
That Ikarie was a high profile undertaking for the studio is clearly evidenced by the obvious expense that went into the film’s large cast, it’s for-the-time above average special effects and, above all, Jan Zazvorka’s production design.
Two-fisted astronauts, a swankadelic soundtrack, good looking women, pop art design, and a climactic sequence involving sexy nurses with machine guns fighting robots who shoot lasers out of their eyes.
Margheriti has to be credited for creating that rarest of rarities: a piece of pulp entertainment that delivers exactly what its title advertises.
I love Santo y Blue Demon contra los Monstruos. And, judging by the way it struggles so mightily to give me so many of those things that make me the happiest — like cheesy monsters, masked wrestlers, low budget gore, and lots of incoherent but frenetic fight scenes — I have to conclude that it loves me, too.
For myself, I would like to believe that watching Iron Claw the Pirate enriched my life in some imperceptible–if perhaps stupid–way, even though it really just represents another ninety minutes of my life spent watching grown men in masks punching and shooting one another.
When it grinds to a halt at the end with an instance of painfully unfunny sexual comedy, you really see this made plain. The moment jars not because it is the film’s most outrageous (it probably isn’t), but because it occurs at a moment when the film has finally stopped to take a breath, thus giving you the opportunity to savor just how stank it is.
As The Sound of Wonder demonstrates, Pakistani film music from that same period likewise had one foot in the future, often with the other foot inhabiting territory no less strange