The Last Rebel (1971) review

THE LAST REBEL 1971

Joe Namath (Burnside Hollis), Jack Elam (Matt Graves), Woody Strode (Duncan), Ty Hardin (Sheriff), Victoria George (Pearl), Renato Romano (Virgil), Marina Coffa (Camelia), Annamaria Chio (Mademoiselle Dupres), Michael Forrest (Cowboy), Bruce Eweka (Black Boy), Jessica Dublin (Ruby)

Directed by Denys McCoy

The Short Version: Plotless and pointless, Denys McCoy's only major motion picture credit is in the running for worst western of all time. Starring an emotionally vapid Joe Namath, the film is so badly written, neither Elam nor Strode can wrangle the untamed script that is all over the place, lacking even a modicum of cohesion. Instead of focusing on a complicated three-way of two white Confederates and a black Union soldier the filmmakers surrender their credibility as quickly as General Lee does at the outset. Sadly, a potentially brilliant concept is thrown away in favor of lousy editing, interminable riding scenes and some of the most boring pool playing and gun fights to ever grace the screen. Making a Fidani oater almost bearable, the biggest difference between the two filmmakers is that Fidani, bewilderingly, had a longer career making crap. A Wild West Disaster Movie in the most literal sense.

On the Missouri battlefield in 1865 news comes that General Lee has surrendered in Virginia. Preferring freedom to a Federal prison, Burnside Hollis and his Reb friend Matt Graves make a run for it, steal some horses and head out to prospects unknown. Happening upon a Southern lynch mob about to stretch the neck of a black Union soldier named Duncan, Hollis and Matt save his skin. With no money, Graves decides they should rob a stagecoach; only the first one they cross paths with has two dead occupants and a single live one, a young lady. Heading into a nearby town, the men immediately rile the crooked sheriff. Meantime, the trio plan to hustle a pool shark to make an easy haul. Hollis wins big and gives $4,000 to Duncan for safe keeping and gives the rest to a pretty saloon whore desiring to pay off her debts. Incensed that Hollis didn't give him a cut of the take, Graves swears to get even. Hollis gets into a gunfight and skedaddles; Duncan becomes a father figure to an orphaned boy and Graves joins forces first with the Klan then the corrupt sheriff to get revenge. Finally trapping Hollis and Duncan inside Pearl's whorehouse, the two make a last stand against their former partner.

It's not entirely clear just what THE LAST REBEL is supposed to be about, or what it wants to say. The inebriated script (by Warren Kiefer, an American writer/director who sometimes used Italian pseudonyms on his films) never makes sense, never knows what it's doing, nor where it's going; the story meanders and stumbles from one scene to the next, occasionally puking up half-baked action scenes about as exciting as watching paint dry. The performers fare little better--either falling prey to bad editing or bad acting. 

 
Namath's lazy-eyed Hollis possesses this "oh, well" attitude towards everything. Never once convincing as a southern soldier, you'd think Broadway Joe wandered onto the set fresh off a football game. Other than presenting himself as a serial womanizer (that's a stretch!), there's no characterization, no insight into his persona.... nothing.

Ditto for the two accomplished actors, Jack Elam and Woody Strode; both of whom are wasted in a film that goes lame within minutes of hitting the trail. At least Elam is able to evoke cheap slivers of villainy from his casual use of the word 'nigger' and eventual, open antagonism towards Strode's Duncan.

Strode, sadly, doesn't come off much better. Much like Elam as a bad guy, he manages some slight audience sympathy as a good guy for taking an orphan under his wing. However, we never learn why he does it, or how the boy became abandoned in the first place. The film never bothers to explain anything; and speaking of abandonment, the film's biggest shame is its desertion of exploring racial matters at a time when the subject was topical. Further, it's unfortunate the results are so below average since the storyline holds a sincere amount of potential in its unlikely team-up of two white Rebs and a black Union soldier. 

In the 1969 western GUNS OF THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN there's some fascinating interplay between two of the Seven: a one-armed rebel gunslinger (played by Joe Don Baker) and a black gun fighter (played by Bernie Casey). Granted GOTM7 isn't exposition-heavy material, but it spends enough time on these two men--who initially have heat between them--becoming friends. In THE LAST REBEL, the main focus of the movie is built around such a relationship but the writers/producer/director ignore and squander the very prospects they are promoting.

Had they showcased Hollis growing to see past Duncan's skin color, whereby driving a wedge between his friendship with the highly prejudiced, grizzled Graves, we would of had a far more plausible, immersive, and coherent movie. Instead there's no evolution; Hollis may as well of not even been fighting for the south. He has zero defining characteristics and keeps the same drunken grin on his face from start to finish. Meanwhile, Graves is irrepressibly crude and Duncan's nearly indecipherable line readings give the impression scenes were removed. A missed opportunity by filmmakers who seem to think they'll find treasure by gold panning in a gravel pit. 

The first Spangler Pictures production, THE LAST REBEL was originally planned as a co-pro with Italy and Spain, but Spangler reportedly refused to replace some of his cast members in favor of European stars as per foreign quota requirements. Partnering instead with Glendinning Films, it's strictly an American affair, but with shooting taking place in the two aforementioned European countries.

Chaotic and sloppily put together, sources specify Spangler tried to salvage the film as best he could after a screening of a rough cut left a studio head feeling he'd just seen the worst "piece of shit" of his life.

Spangler, a friend of Namath and producer of THE JOE NAMATH SHOW (1969), produced and or directed a handful of Wild West adventures throughout the 1970s including the weird horror western KNIFE FOR THE LADIES (1974) and a few Fred Williamson adventures like the LEGEND and the SOUL of two NIGGER CHARLEY movies and JOSHUA (1976). 

Amazingly, for all its faults it would seem most everybody had a fantastic time making the picture. The late artist and filmmaker Rea Redifer worked on the script, and referred to the finished product in interviews as terrible, but had great fun working on it. Redifer had previously collaborated with director Denys McCoy (a nephew of famous painter Andrew Wyeth) on Western/Civil War documentaries so the subject was something he could relate to.

One person who worked on THE LAST REBEL who, despite his constant smiling, didn't find it a fun experience was its main star, Joe Namath.

In the late 60s, New York Jets quarterback Joe Namath was everywhere--in books, commercials, television programs--so it was a no-brainer some entrepreneurial producer would attempt to translate his massive popularity to Silver Screen leading man status. His first star turn in C.C. AND COMPANY (1970) was a spirited biker flick kept alive by Ann-Margret, William Smith and a gaggle of familiar Drive-in faces like Sid Haig, Jennifer Billingsley, Bruce Glover and Teda Bracci. Unfortunately, Namath's more experienced co-stars in THE LAST REBEL can't keep his performance on life support from the lack of character development and meaningless dialog.

Namath loved movies but didn't enjoy making them; feeling uncomfortable watching himself play a character and disliking the sound of his voice. This might explain why his acting style is expressively static with the breadth of emotional range limited to the intermittent grinning and line delivery that makes Richard Harrison look Oscar-worthy in comparison.

The wholly inappropriate rock score (reportedly the first film to feature one) by musician Tony Ashton and Deep Purple's Jon Lord is arguably the most interesting thing about the picture even if it makes about as much sense as anything else in the film. There are some good songs ('I'm Dying For You' and 'You, Me, and A Friend of Mine' being two examples) that, as ill-fitting as they are, make the picture bearable.

Shockingly, there are some good things in THE LAST REBEL (1971). One of them being the well built frame of blonde lovely Victoria George. Playing Hollis's saloon whore girlfriend, her standout moment is a sequence where she's seen wearing a diaphanous gown thinly disguising she's topless underneath.

There are a few nicely framed shots in the movie--the most striking being the last shot in the picture. The big, blandly filmed, blood-squib enhanced gun battle has left about a dozen men dead and Pearl's whorehouse in flames; Namath photographed in front of the burning building as Ashton/Lord's funk/jazz blares in the background makes for a fantastic image to close out a unanimously awful movie on.

One other bright spot is seeing Michael Forrest as the unnamed pool shark who gets hustled by Namath in the most boring game of pool ever captured on film. Forrest is familiar from old Roger Corman movies (ATLAS, VIKING WOMEN AND THE SEA SERPENT) and countless television programs; one of the more famous being his role as Apollo on the original STAR TREK. Forrest is also well known for his voice acting skills on dozens of Italian genre pictures--notably for being the chief dubber for famed Italian Tough Guy superstar, the late Maurizio Merli.

Released to scathing reviews, THE LAST REBEL was Namath's last major lead role. Probably for the best, a knee injury kept Namath from attending the film's Alabama premiere in 1971. Rarely discussed, it's understandably remained in obscurity for decades. A veritable train wreck from the first frame to the last, one of the genres worst has yet to surface on DVD anywhere in the world (this satellite airing is in widescreen). Devotees of Namath's football career will surely want to see it out of curiosity. Genre fans, on the other hand, are unlikely to derive any pleasure from viewing 90 minutes of tumbleweed tedium.

The Desperados (1969) review

THE DESPERADOS 1969 aka HAINE LA DES DESPERADOS (HATRED OF THE DESPERADOS) aka LA MARCA DE CAIN (THE MARK OF CAIN)

Jack Palance (Josiah Galt), Vince Edwards (David Galt), Sylvia Syms (Laura Gant), Benjamin Edney (Pauly Gant), Sheila Burrell (Emily Galt), George Maharis (Jacob Galt), Kate O'Mara (Adah), Neville Brand (Marshal Andy Kilpatrick)

Directed by Henry Levin

The Short Version: Sweeping camerawork and a rousing score by the underrated composer David Whitaker enhance this violent, if unintentionally hilarious precursor to the downer western sub-genre, a style of oater that found prominence in the post-WILD BUNCH era. Jack Palance, in probably his most ferociously unhinged performance, is basically playing William Quantrill, the infamous Confederate leader of a band of cutthroats in the 1860s. Shot in Spain, this US-British co-production is graced with a lot of polish and ambition but fails mightily from sloppy editing. On the good side, Levin arms his film with energetic action sequences, buckets of tragedy and biblical connotations. Elsewhere there's a great storyline underneath the thick, succulent, thespian glaze of Jack Palance's high dollar ham.

After his wife is killed during the Civil War, a renegade priest, his sons, and a band of murderous plunderers massacre all the border towns they come across. One of the Confederate sons, Davey Galt, shocked at the massacre of the entire town, rebels and is sentenced to death by his father. David manages to escape and goes into hiding. A few years pass and the war is over; David has made a new life for himself in Texas. He changes his last name to Gant, gets married, has a son, and manages a peaceful existence till his crazed father and brothers come looking for him. Recalling the prophetic message of his dying mother, David realizes a showdown with his deranged father is inevitable.

Essentially a loose historical account of Quantrill's Raiders, a bloodthirsty bunch of Reb guerrilla fighters led by rampaging murderer William Clarke Quantrill, the movie is big on action and light on details. The plot is one with great appeal, already explored in similar fashion in earlier westerns such as 1958s QUANTRILL'S RAIDERS (with one of cinema's most prolific and recognizable Tough Guys, Leo Gordon, playing the title Reb); and more recent examples in the box office misfire RIDE WITH THE DEVIL (1999). Italian westerns with similar characterizations of Quantrill are seen in THE TRAMPLERS (1965) and THE HELLBENDERS (1967), both starring Joseph Cotten, and both films based on Will Cook's 1958 novel 'Guns of North Texas'. Walter Brough's script seems to be partially based on Cook's book while turning Palance's Josiah Galt into a more overt version of Quantrill.

Unfortunately, Brough's script is paralyzed from the waist down due to cannonball-sized holes in the narrative. These gaps suggest either terrible editing decisions or the production ran out of money and they had to scrap the shooting of certain sequences. One of these narrative chasms comes just before a jailbreak sequence. One minute David (Edwards) and Kilpatrick (played by a bloated Neville Brand) are getting drunk together and moments later they're suddenly sober, their dinner interrupted by an explosion leading to the escape of the two captive Galt brothers.

Another scene that doesn't make a whole lot of sense is David and Marshal Kilpatrick being captured and taken to Josiah's encampment. David feigns turning on the Marshal, making his two brothers believe he's returned to them. To prove his loyalty, Josiah orders him to slice up the Marshal but then David and Kilpatrick get the upper hand. Instead of taking Josiah or one of his brothers hostage they simply escape and get into a gunfight.

Doing a more accurate motion picture about Quantrill could have been an epic undertaking. That segment of the Civil War is of major historical significance in that his propensity for pillaging occurred in the few years leading up to Lincoln's assassination. Director Levin's movie, however, is as much Greek tragedy as it is a tumbleweed tale. It uses the real mad guerrilla leader and changes his name, turning him into a bible-spouting lunatic. Some of the Confederate Bushwhacker's murderous exploits are implemented to propel the storyline, though. 

For example, the film begins with a re-enactment of the Lawrence, Kansas Massacre of 1863. Changing the name to St. Thomas, Kansas, Josiah and his gang decimate the population from 1,645 to zero in a matter of minutes. Later in the movie an action scene aboard a train is reworked from an incident that occurred shortly after the infamous Kansas slaughter. The filmmakers up the ante by having a fight atop the train just prior to it catching fire, and derailing for no discernible reason.

THE DESPERADOS was released in November of 1969, a few months after THE WILD BUNCH (1969). Bearing an 'M' rating (the equivalent of a PG), it's often violent, but has none of the bloody squibs that raised eyebrows in the aforementioned Peckinpah classic. In place of blood spatter, Levin's movie wears a dark tone that never lets up, all the way to the shocking ending. Still, the cheerless atmosphere wages its own war with the scenery gobbling main star...

....An intense, comically over the top performance by Jack "GOOOOODAAAAMN YOOOOUUU!!!" Palance. To call his portrayal as the maniacal patriarch unhinged is being mild. In nearly all his scenes, Palance threatens to burst a vein in his head, ranting, raving and screaming his lines as if he's standing on a floor full of nails. Frequently gritting his teeth, growling, talking with his hands, and contorting his face in bizarre ways, Palance is a marvel to behold; the role demands a manic portrayal, only the esteemed actor goes far beyond the boundaries of being taken seriously. Moreover, it's exactly because of this irrational depiction that keeps THE DESPERADOS interesting. Director Levin came from a theater background, so possibly he encouraged Palance to put his acting into overdrive; or, considering Palance once said many of his movies were complete garbage, his onscreen mania may have been an extension of his displeasure with appearing in this movie.

Vince Edwards as the brooding Galt/Gant is about as reserved a hero as you can get. Essentially a tormented character in the mold of the biblical Cain, Edward's rarely emotes; even his screaming matches with Palance barely registers a slight tremor. We don't get a sufficient amount of time with him to garner much sympathy since the exposition is sabotaged every few minutes by Palance's mesmerizing mugging and the numerous, energetic, stunt-filled shootouts. Edwards went from the lead in the popular medical drama TV series BEN CASEY (1961-1966), to the high profile war picture THE DEVIL'S BRIGADE (1968) to this. He did some exploitation pictures like the Violent Cop thriller THE MAD BOMBER (1973), the Roger Corman produced cheapie SPACE RAIDERS (1983), and lots of television.

Hammer hottie Kate O'Mara is one of the Carlin's Entertainers, a wagon cart full o' whores. Sporting a lame leg, O'Mara gets about as much dialog and onscreen presence as she does in her horror pictures. She figures into the climax in a minor, but noticeable way. Prior to that, she's just a background face.

Another asset that ultimately works against the picture is the score by the underrated composer David Whitaker. Containing all the bombast any action film could ask for, Whitaker's cues sometimes feel out of place, better suited for a war movie. Still, his compositions are never slow, always on the move; and by the end, veer off into tense, almost uncomfortable areas. The opening theme, for example, is a soaring piece; but considering the depressing tone the film quickly adopts, Whitaker's orchestral opulence feels like it's wandered in from some other production.

Bearing the short-lived 'M' rating (suggested for Mature audiences) during its theatrical run, THE DESPERADOS lost some of its violent content. One scene occurs during the opening town massacre. Josiah has several men lined up along a wall and shoots them all in the back one by one. In the movie you only hear a single bullet fire. The scene is included on the promotional materials. There's some brief shots of partial nudity that may have been more risque before the picture was edited for content.

THE DESPERADOS has yet to turn up on any digital format in the United States. Sony released it on VHS back in 1992. Both France and Spain have released the picture on DVD, although the latter appears to be missing approximately ten minutes if the listed running time is accurate. The satellite airing that is the source of this review runs 1:30:32.

An ambitious failure, every time THE DESPERADOS gains momentum it puts it against the wall and shoots it in the back. Impressive aerial shots, thematic subtext and action lose steam to careless editing choices and merciless overacting by Jack Palance. For some, Palance's deranged line delivery will be a benefit rather than a hindrance. He certainly makes the picture a memorable experience; your point of view will determine whether that's in a good or bad way. It's an entertainingly trashy 90 minutes, indicative of where the western genre was headed in the 1970s.

The Swinging Barmaids (1975) review

THE SWINGING BARMAIDS 1975 aka EAGER BEAVERS

Bruce Watson (Tom Brady), Laura Hippe (Jenny Malone), Katie Saylor (Susan Thompson), Renie Radich (Marie O'connor), William Smith (Lieutenant Harry White), Zitto Kazann (Zitto), Dyanne Thorne (Boo Boo Johnson), Jim Travis (Dave)

Directed by Gus Trikonis

The Short Version: It is said one man's trash is another man's treasure--and there's plenty of booty to go around in this seemingly forgotten gold nugget of 70s exploitation. A pre-ILSA Dyanne Thorne is one of the beautiful women being stalked by a Karate fightin' necrophile played by TV actor Bruce Watson in an out of nowhere, off the rails performance. Playing a sicko named Tom Brady(!),this unlucky in love and unbalanced fruitcake manages to keep it together till one of his potential victims calls him "sonny", uses the word "faggot", or indirectly laughs at him. Sweetening the deal is Biker Movie/Drive-in King William Smith as the cop tracking the killer. A well made, well-endowed production from the director of MOONSHINE COUNTY EXPRESS (1977) and THE EVIL (1978).

A psycho killer who looks like Kenny Rogers stalks the sexy barmaids of the Swing-A-Ling Club. After killing one of the waitresses, and failing to kill another three after they catch him in the act, he shaves his face, dyes and changes his hairstyle, and ends up getting a job at the very same club as a bouncer. Oblivious to the fact the killer is in their midst, bodies continue to pile up between the employees and those connected with them. Meanwhile, a resolute police Lieutenant is desperate to bring the maniac's reign of mayhem and murder to an end.

The producer of SUPERSTITION (1982), the writer of DEATH RACE 2000 (1975), and the director of THE EVIL (1978) deliver a fantastic sleaze pizza with all your favorite toppings, and in just under 90 minutes. Low on gore (it does sport some splashy blood squibs), but high on tension and entertainment value, THE SWINGING BARMAIDS is occasionally skeevy, even if, at times, it teases more than it actually shows; this works in the film's favor. Vastly underrated, these imperiled, well-endowed waitresses are currently unavailable in a quality presentation.

Other than the barmaids, neither the film's title (including its re-release title of EAGER BEAVERS), nor its advertising evokes what the actual movie is about. Jack Hill's comedic romp THE SWINGING CHEERLEADERS (1974) was a success, so possibly the producers were trying to siphon some of it for their movie. As for the contents of Trikonis's picture, it has more in common with the misogy-sadistic THE CENTERFOLD GIRLS (1974). Like their cousin, the slasher movie, these psycho killer flicks generally traded gore for an unsavory atmosphere. Both types of films used beautiful, often naked, women as their selling points; and like the slashers, they're only as good as their villain... and BARMAIDS has a damn good one.

Slasher killers live or die by how intimidating they are behind a mask. Psycho killers are almost always viewed as abundantly human, sans any supernatural aura created to mask their true identity. Since we often see the face of the latter early on, these movies rely on the disturbing qualities of the maniac in question to derive disgust from the audience. The killer of BARMAIDS is where this film excels, and much of that success is due to Bruce Watson's unhinged performance as mercurial sadist, Tom Brady!

Bruce Watson never did a whole lot outside of small screen work. If you're a fan of the original STAR TREK (1966-1969), you'll recognize him as a member of Kirk's doomed landing party (non-red shirt, too!) who succumbed to the salt monster in 'The Man Trap'. As Tom Brady, Watson is calculating, cunning, and purely evil. He's also extremely self-conscious despite being able to kick the asses of upwards of a dozen men at once. A necrophiliac (we never see this, but hear about it), he then does mock photo shoots with the corpses--posing them in various positions while snapping pictures for his repulsive collection. 

When we first meet him in the Swing-A-Ling Club, he looks like a wiry Kenny Rogers. Ordering a Virgin Mary, Boo Boo the waitress, sensing he might be a virgin himself, calls him 'Sonny'; but similarly to Leslie Nielsen in AIRPLANE! (1980), Tom doesn't like being called Sonny. Despite his insistence, the waitress continues to refer to him using that "young buck" defining appellation, ensuring she will be receiving an unwanted guest later that night.

Playing the grumpy Boo Boo is Dyanne Thorne. Her fans will be enticed to see this based on her participation alone. But don't get too aroused because her co-star credit amounts to an extended cameo. She hadn't broke out as ILSA, SHE-WOLF OF THE SS (1975) yet, so her part is reduced to victim status. This first attack sequence is very well shot. Both Thorne and Watson really throw themselves into the sequence to make it as believable as possible. The other attack scenes are just as brutal in their realism. The pool attack, for instance, is particularly grim.

After Bruce has managed to cunningly kill off most of his prey with veritable ease, Charles Griffith writes a fantastically taut set piece for the finale involving bloody gun play and a car-motorcycle chase; and when you have motorcycles in a Drive-in movie, William Smith can't be far away.

Easily the greatest actor in exploitation cinema history, and one of the best, most underrated actors in film of any style is William Smith. If you don't recognize the name, you will surely know the face. He fought Clint Eastwood in ANY WHICH WAY YOU CAN (1980) and was Conan's dad in CONAN THE BARBARIAN (1982)--two of his more famous roles. In BARMAIDS he plays Lieutenant White. Smith had a certain attitude he brought to many of his parts--particularly when he was a villain. He could do good guys with the same amount of conviction and ease. In 1973 he played a government agent in the Drive-in classic, INVASION OF THE BEE GIRLS (1973), and his Lt. White is in the same vein.

 
Often associated with Roger Corman movies, Charles B. Griffith's script is wittily effective with its dialog and surprisingly thick with characterization while relying on the usual genre staples to make it work. 

The film isn't without a few silly moments--the obvious fake beard Watson wears prior to changing his appearance; a news reporter stupidly gives out the surviving waitresses names on live television. Other than that, there's nothing major to complain about.

During this time period, Gus Trikonis was an extremely efficient director of quality Drive-in movies. Among his credits you'll find the Philippines set chicken fighting movie SUPERCOCK (1975); the trashy, pre-COAL MINER'S DAUGHTER (1980) drama of NASHVILLE GIRL (1976); and the Southern Fried Car Crasher MOONSHINE COUNTY EXPRESS (1977). Unfortunately, much of his work is unavailable in pristine quality for reappraisal.

On its own merits, THE SWINGING BARMAIDS is an above average thriller with just enough gratuitous moments to keep it in respectable stead with other, more salacious exploitation pictures of a similar brand. Hopefully some DVD company will option it in the near future, allowing for many new customers to frequent the Swing-A-Ling Club.