Tarkan Vs. The Vikings: The Reason Why I Love Turkish Film

Ever since I watched The Man Who Saved the World, also known as “Turkish Star Wars,” I wanted to seek out other Turkish movies to see if they could measure up to the ass-out craziness of that film (for those of you who haven’t seen it, get on Google Video right now and watch it). I am pleased to say that my findings have led me to the conclusion that the Turks were geniuses. I say were because unfortunately the heyday of Turkish Pop Cinema ended in the early 80s. I’m not going to point any fingers, but television is the fucking devil as far as I’m concerned because that is the reason that so many of these amazing films fell into obscurity.

My viewing endeavor was Tarkan Vs. The Vikings, the second or third (it’s hard to say because a lot of these films are lost) installment in the Tarkan series. In it, Tarkan, the venerable one-man-killing-machine (eat your heart out, Schwartzengger) sets out to rescue a beautiful girl (who I believe is some sort of royalty or something, though it really doesn’t matter) from the dreaded Vikings who are going to sacrifice her to their floating rubber pool toy, otherwise known as a Kraken. Then the Vikings kill one of Tarkan’s two dogs (oddly both named Kurt) and shit goes down, because now Tarkan is pissed six ways of Sunday and vows to kill every Viking he can get his Kebob-eating mitts on. I won’t go too far into detail, but let’s just say that Tarkan teams up with some babes wearing fur on their naughty bits and then it turns into a Viking Kill-a-thon in the most glorious fashion.

This little ditty throws out a lot of hurt for its money and features a pretty good amount of awesome at bargain Turkish prices. There is exceptionally cheap rubber octopus action, dog versus said rubber octopus action, axe to the head action, slaughtering children action, huge Viking moustache action, seventies wardrobe trying to pass for Dark Age clothing action, cardboard weapon action, and guy with blue hair getting tagged with a giant spear action. Extra points for an underwater Tarkan versus octopus fight scene that hearkens all us B-movie fanatics to the days of Ed Wood. Extra extra points awarded for a color scheme that puts 2-Strip Technicolor to shame. This one comes on a DVD from Mondo Macabro and is part of a double feature with another fantastic Turkish spy flick The Deathless Devil whose main draws are a villain who dresses like Libarachi and has moustache that could easily strangle a horse and a killer cardboard robot for the ages. Check this one out, you’ll be damn glad you did. Four and a half of five stars.

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Too Dumbfounded for a Witty Title or: The Effects on the Mind of Satan's Cheerleaders

Okay. I have to take a minute before mentioning the title of my latest viewing endeavor to still digest the fact that I did indeed watch this movie. Satan’s Cheerleaders. There it is. It’s all there. You know exactly what happens, and boy is it glorious. Not glorious in that stand-up-and-cheer kind of way, but more in a what?-how-did-this-seriously-get-made? kind of way. I still don’t know whether I love it or hate it. It is quite mind-bending, but here goes. It’s about these four slutty (and holy crap, do I really mean slutty) cheerleaders and their empty-headed (understatement) coach who, after dicking around the school for about a half hour of the movie, establishing little other than a bit of nudity and a key character of the creepy satanic janitor (who bears a striking resemblance to A. Wilford Brimley clad in a rhinestone laced denim shirt – nothing says Satan like rhinestones), finally try to go to this football game at a nearby rival town. Well, on the way, they’re run off the road (extremely unconvincingly) and they are forced to hitch. The janitor picks them up and he decides he wants these gals for himself. After some “satanic” (and I quote this very loosely, because it is really Satanism as interpreted by a blind, deaf, mute, retarded thirteen-year-old with severe brain trauma and Attention Deficit Disorder) business, they escape, but only into the hands of local sheriff B.L. Bubb (holy crap, what a revelation!) and they are subjected to more “Satanism.” After about an hour of that, it ends.

What this movie does really well is suck. It succeeds in the suck department in spades. With little plot to speak of (I can’t believe I got a paragraph out of it), the movie is really fodder for truly unconvincing everything, awful, strained, staid dialogue, and a little bit of skin for good measure. When I say the dialogue is horrendous, I do not put this lightly. This script should be ashamed it was made. It should have had an It’s A Wonderful Life type revelation, except it realizes that the world would truly be a better place if it floated down river where no one could see or hear from it ever again. But having said that, it’s quite enjoyable. What makes it enjoyable is its utter lack of keeping any consistent mood, quality, or plot. The characters joke and jeer with wise-cracking in-jokes that are as unfunny as the worst portions of The Chevy Chase Show and it tries so desperately hard to be both witty and scary that it is almost pitiful. There are so many plot points and characters that are unnecessary and unexplained; the film could really be cut down to be about a half hour from its hour and a half runtime. There’s this big rivalry established at the beginning between the two schools which has absolutely no effect on the events involving Satanism (which is presumably what the movie is about) and no one ever sees any of the six (SIX!?!) characters that pop up in the beginning and leave and have no point. It’s mind-boggling.

Because it would take so long to go over how wrong this movie is, I won’t even try, but I will provide the breakdown: There is about as much blood in this movie as you would get out for blood work, John Carradine gets top billing for his hobo cameo, and you can tell that Yvonne De Carlo is clearly on her last acting legs and is merely in it for the money. There is every joke has to be repeated with little variance between the four main actresses action, there is every-girl-has-her-name-on-her-chest action, A-Wilford-Brimley-lookalike-never-dying action, stupid-as-hell-named-character action (see Sheriff B.L. Bubb if you were wondering), groaning at the screen at every awful pun action, extended running scenes that lead nowhere action, and the worst twist ending in the history of twist endings (M. Night excluded here) action. If you want to feel smart, watch this movie. If you want to feel entertained, maybe watch this movie, but be wary that your brain might slide out of your head halfway through it. Three and a half stars. Give it a shot if you’re down for an experience, though it’s hard to say what kind of experience it is.

Don’t Throw Out This Trash

            Every once in a while, you happen on a little movie that has somehow been passed over for a number of years for no real reason. I had the pleasure of viewing such a film: a little seen, but often discussed, picture called Poor White Trash (1957). What is amazing about this film is that it balances being a great exploitation piece of amazing trash (hence the titillating title) and being a legitimately interesting romantic drama. The plot concerns Peter Graves (the man with the greatest name in film history, as far as I’m concerned) as Martin Davis, an all around American kind of guy who has an overwhelming need to be moral (you know that kind of morality that could really only be possible in the faux-idyllic 1950s). Even though normally this type of straightshooter has a habit of getting annoying, there is enough good dialogue between him and the smoking-hot love interest Marie (Lita Milan, whose cleavage has just as much of a lead role as she does) to keep things interesting. Timothy Carey is Ulysses, the almost-as-crazy-as-Robert-Mitchum-in-Cape-Fear-Cajun-shopowner who is hell-bent on raping the shit out of Marie at every possible chance and beating the “Yankee” (as Davis is often referred) at trivial contests (like dancing and boat races) that are really big deals in the bayou. After getting told by everyone in Bumblefuckton, Louisiana that he has to stand up to Ulysses, and an hour and twenty of him waxing philosophical on the nature of the right thing to do, Davis finally grows some avocadoes and gives Ulysses something to think about in an all-out blaspheming hixploitation fight scene that ranks up there with fight scenes from hixploitation classics like Russ Meyer’s Lorna or Mudhoney.  

            So, enough of the plot because now we’re going to ho-down to the breakdown: This film boasts a nice pint of blood, which is noteworthy because it’s 1957. There is steamy love triangle action, steamy Ulysses-raping-Marie-action, steamy consensual sex action (who would have thought sex should be consensual?), Lita Milan-becoming-increasingly-naked-as-she’s-chased-through-the-bayou-by-Tim-Carey action (which results in the aforementioned rape!), undue racism against poor white trash action, undue racism against white yankee city folk action, hurricane action, hardcore Cajun accent action, staying out past nine o’clock at night action, fight scene in the cemetery action, and, of course, Peter Graves being Peter Graves throughout the entire movie action. This is top-notch drive-in pulp. If you can wrap your mitts around this little piece of fried gold, you’re in for a treat. Four out of five stars. Watch it, if you can find it.

A Real Queen Scene

            So, here’s a great little treat for B-movie fanatics: an odd, little b-adventure (or perhaps, badventure?) flick called Queen of Outer Space. This is one of those conservative, later-in-the-sci-fi-circuit (made in ‘58) flicks that tries to ride the heels of more progressive projects, complete with borrowed rocket ship footage, homogenous, white bread characters, and a sense of extreme sexist objectification (totally awesome objectification!) typically attributed to early Eisenhower administration films. The plot deals with a few of America’s top astronauts in 1984 (the future!) that are recruited to make a quick run to the nearby space station hovering above earth. Good luck too, because once out of the atmosphere, the station is destroyed by a seemingly rogue death ray (happens all the time, right?), and the ship is damaged. After traveling at many times the normal speed of the ship (it makes sense that a damaged ship would go faster), the ship’s crew experiences a harrowing journey from the comfort of their spiffy reclining chairs and crash land on a planet inhabited only by women. After some excellently sexist scenes, they are taken prisoner, come to the conclusion that the death rays were fired from the planet, and are recruited by Zsa Zsa Gabor (who, somehow, plays a scientist – I don’t believe it) to help in the overthrow of the insane, masked women who run the planet. Take a minute to re-read that. Anyway, without giving too much away, the men battle the women, play some tonsil hockey, and the movie ends exactly the way you’d expect.

The breakdown: this movie unfortunately sports only about half a child’s cup of blood, though this is made up for by copious amounts of women in high heels and short skirts. There is obvious miniature blowup action, women running in high heels action, hiding behind a bush from a searchlight action, random giant rubber spider in a cave action, sizzly skin action, death ray action, Zsa Zsa Gabor hitting on a guy half her age action, and everybody getting some action action. Extra points go to the movie for the ridiculously bright CinemaScope color, the converted recliner space ship chairs, the liberal borrowing of scenes, props, costumes, etc. from other, better movies like The Forbidden Planet, the pocket ray guns that make people burst into a puff of smoke, and the line, “Sure, and even if they invented it, how could they aim it? You know how women drivers are!” This is an excellent Saturday night feature or simply an 80-minute brain-free good time. It also conveniently comes in a 3-pack with Attack of the 50 Ft. Woman and The Giant Behemoth. Give it a shot or two. Three out of five stars.

You can read this review in the upcoming issues of The Common Voice (TheCommonVoice.net) and Latent Image Magazine.