An incredibly strange and mixed-up movie indeed! This divinely demented Ray Dennis Steckler doozy actually inspired legendary late, great gonzo madman rock critic Lester Bangs to make a rare foray into wild-eyed film journalism in which he wrote a hilariously lengthy and thorough essay praising this picture to the high heavens for "Cream" magazine. That amazing trivia tidbit alone is a sterling testament to this wacky marvel's stupendously screwball greatness.
Sinister old gypsy fortune teller Madame Estrella (a nicely fat and juicy slice of eye-rolling villainous ham by the bewitching Brett O'Hara) who works in a seedy seaside carnival turns unfortunate guys into zombies by disfiguring their faces with acid and locks the groaning'n'moaning wretched skull-faced worms up in a closet. Meanwhile, mellow, hip-talking unemployed proto-slacker protagonist Jerry (Steckler in a spectacularly stolid performance) falls under the nasty old gypsy hag's evil spell, who along with her scrumptious stripper sister Carmelita (Steckler's ravishing real-life onetime hottie redhead wife Carolyn Brandt) hypnotizes our likeably deadbeat hero into becoming a crazed, knife-brandishing murderous maniac.
Okay, so the messy ramshackle narrative aimlessly (and amiably) meanders all over the place in a hopelessly haphazard manner, but it's this very undisguised all-out ineptitude which is part and parcel to this loopy winner's mesmerizingly askew off-center appeal. Sure, the clumsily choreographed bump'n'grind dance numbers set to raunchy scratchy saxophone music certainly don't hurt matters any; the fact that said burlesque dance routines are pretty racy and really quite sexy for their time only makes things even better. The astonishingly varied acting is another plus, encompassing both dismal flatness and hysterical histrionics in comparable measure (the sublimely incomprehensible Atlas King in particular is weirdly endearing as our hero's loyal best friend). Handsomely shot in beautifully ripe, resplendent, richly saturated color by ace cinematographer Joseph V. Mascelli, with able assistance from future big deal directors of photography Laszlo Kovacs and Vilmos Zsigmond, the film has an attractive slick look to it and sporadic exhilarating moments of boldly imaginative experimental visual razzle-dazzle which totally transcend the otherwise highly conspicuous spare change budget. A truly astounding kitsch landmark.
Sinister old gypsy fortune teller Madame Estrella (a nicely fat and juicy slice of eye-rolling villainous ham by the bewitching Brett O'Hara) who works in a seedy seaside carnival turns unfortunate guys into zombies by disfiguring their faces with acid and locks the groaning'n'moaning wretched skull-faced worms up in a closet. Meanwhile, mellow, hip-talking unemployed proto-slacker protagonist Jerry (Steckler in a spectacularly stolid performance) falls under the nasty old gypsy hag's evil spell, who along with her scrumptious stripper sister Carmelita (Steckler's ravishing real-life onetime hottie redhead wife Carolyn Brandt) hypnotizes our likeably deadbeat hero into becoming a crazed, knife-brandishing murderous maniac.
Okay, so the messy ramshackle narrative aimlessly (and amiably) meanders all over the place in a hopelessly haphazard manner, but it's this very undisguised all-out ineptitude which is part and parcel to this loopy winner's mesmerizingly askew off-center appeal. Sure, the clumsily choreographed bump'n'grind dance numbers set to raunchy scratchy saxophone music certainly don't hurt matters any; the fact that said burlesque dance routines are pretty racy and really quite sexy for their time only makes things even better. The astonishingly varied acting is another plus, encompassing both dismal flatness and hysterical histrionics in comparable measure (the sublimely incomprehensible Atlas King in particular is weirdly endearing as our hero's loyal best friend). Handsomely shot in beautifully ripe, resplendent, richly saturated color by ace cinematographer Joseph V. Mascelli, with able assistance from future big deal directors of photography Laszlo Kovacs and Vilmos Zsigmond, the film has an attractive slick look to it and sporadic exhilarating moments of boldly imaginative experimental visual razzle-dazzle which totally transcend the otherwise highly conspicuous spare change budget. A truly astounding kitsch landmark.