No contestes el teléfono

Okay-at-best psycho on the loose pic is pretty standard fare with few if any surprises. James Westmoreland does a serviceable job in the lead as a composed detective hunting a certified nut-job who's strangling (and then some) vulnerable women and phoning in his conquests to a local psychiatrist's (Gerrish) radio programme.

Worth is hyper-maniacal in the antagonist role, his hulking appearance fulfilling the intimidation quotient well, whilst a few familiar faces (Haze, Frank et al) round out a capable cast. Contrary to other reviewer's remarks, I personally didn't have a problem with Westmoreland's performance nor did I think Worth was especially remarkable in his characterisation; they and the rest of the cast manage with some fairly drab dialogue padding out what is essentially, a paper thin plot (if you excised the pointless scene fillers, DATP would barely make theatrical length).

DATP just seems like a run of the mill slasher pic with all the typical elements, including nudity, sadism, nurse stalking, PTSD, some occasional light humour (check out the brothel scene which was a laugh) and every other cliché you've ever seen in films of the ilk. A pretty good example of where the title attracts attention that the film itself can't sustain. Very average.

With the '07 passing of Nicholas Worth, we lost an actor whose work on Don't Answer the Phone (DATP) informed a generation of the dangerous psychological effects of war and the horrifying results of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder in American troops.

Still as intense as when it was first released on the gritty 42nd street trash houses of the day, DATP, though dated in respects to its treatment of women and psychology, still delivers some hardcore death scenes, not to mention a "killer" (if not repetitive) soundtrack.

James Westmoreland (of "Undertaker" fame) leads a cast in what ultimately is the most scene stealing of his career (in that he has the most scenes, by number, than any other movie of his career). Here he is at his cheesy best.

In conclusion, the lesson of war's tragic effects continue to go unlearned by a society that will be host to many more young female victims, victims of cinema's PTSD wrath.

I weep for a better tomorrow but if our reality creates more cinema in the vein DATP, I welcome it with open arms.

Don't Answer the Phone is yet another film from the late 70s and early 80s about a psychotic, demented, socially awkward killer who brutalizes women because of his "problems" - whatever those problems might be. This time around we have a muscular, fat Vietnam vet who was never good enough for his father butcher pretty girls just after they have stripped from their little clothing. Nicolas Worth plays the wheezing, maniacal killer with a bizarre almost interesting quality. He is not a good actor yet is able to hold your attention throughout. I wish I could say something pleasant about the rest of the cast, but none of the rest are very competent. The police detectives who are looking for Worth - one which falls in love with the pretty radio psychiatrist that can shed light on the killer's identity - were particularly bad. The girls are pretty but the misogynistic flair devoted to their deaths is particularly degrading and unpleasant. The film is at least not overtly gory and had me interested until the end. The story was compelling enough and Worth is worth a look if nothing else.

This was obviously meant to be a standard late-70s total-waste-of-time movie, an excuse to show topless women squirming and thrashing while being strangled, but Nicholas Worth turns it into a must-see. Actors-in-training and stage-vocalists, especially, can learn from his vocal prowess and from the way he uses his size. He is a huge, hulking basso with the ability to near-totally relax his inhibitions, and he uses his entire range, from resonant, snarling low tones, through a thundering midrange up to a piercing, blubbering whimper at the very top which has to be heard to be believed. He should have been an opera-singer. He could have sung Wagner.

The women dress beautifully in late 1970s casual summer-wear, and they get undressed equally beautifully by Worth's character, after (sometimes before) he strangles them to death. (One of them is future PLAYBOY-centerfold Pamela Jean Bryant.) As the other reviewer said, James Westmoreland (Detective McCabe) and Flo Gerrish (Doctor Lindsay Gale) act extremely badly; however, Ben Frank (Detective Hatcher) delivers some very funny lines with excellent cheesy deadpan. Like when McCabe tells him that the strangler has stolen some of the victim's clothes, and he replies: "That's great! Now we got him on petty theft, as well as murder!" Also, Chuck Mitchell, one of the few actors even bulkier than Nicholas Worth, plays a small part as a porno publisher. (If Mitchell looks familiar, it's because he played the Warden in PENITENTIARY and the title character in PORKY'S.)

These folks have created a masterpiece in spite of all their best efforts to the contrary.

An ugly, ugly film about a psycho who goes around raping and strangling random women. There's a good central performance by Nicholas Worth as the psycho, but the film drags with no tension or suspense whatsoever. It's just an endless series of attack scenes with no style and nothing to say.