Las Vegas Serial Killer

I only got about 10 minutes into the films before turning it off. It looks like it was filmed with a super 8 camera. All of the dialogue is over dubbed. Lots of B roll for the non acting scenes. It maybe the worst thing I have ever watched. If you like porn style acting from actors who may or may not be aware of that the cameras are even rolling; then movie is stellar. I'm sitting in my chair right now wishing I had one of those flash pens they used in men in black so that I zap myself and forget I ever saw this load of crap. If I could I would rate it lower.

I have to say that I loved Ray Dennis Steckler's "Hollywood Strangler Meets the Skid Row Slasher," and was pretty excited to get my hands on this so-called sequel. Unfortunately, even with about four decades of poverty-row filmmaking under his belt, 'ol Ray hasn't gotten any better at wielding a fine-tuned script. "Las Vegas Serial Killer" marks the return of Jonathan Glick (played once again by Pierre Agostino), as some ridiculous circumstances release him from prison (funny, I thought he looked pretty dead at the end of "Hollywood Strangler"), only for him to wreak havoc on the homely females of Las Vegas (the 'dancers' in this flick are pretty frightening and out-of shape). Meanwhile, two dumb biker types are zipping around Vegas in their red car, commenting on women's legs in between bouts of purse-snatching & robbery; throughout this exercise in futility, I was hoping Glick and the bikers would somehow tie into each other, and they do, in one of the most preposterous endings I've ever seen. This standard-issue Steckler experience seems to have been shot, with a plot (if it can be called that) inserted in post-production, where a radio commentator tries to string a nonsensical chain of events together (in one lame scene, the music on the radio continues to play even as the narrator interrupts with a 'news flash'); characters don't speak unless their backs are to the camera or they're off-screen altogether (this gets very irritating very quickly), not that anything they say is relevant. Despite the stupid plot and ridiculous ending, there are some positive aspects to this low-budget mess: Steckler's Zapruder-esque cinematography is still raw and fascinating to watch (though the movie often threatens to turn into a LV travelogue), with a penchant for tourist attractions and parades; Agostino has a definite presence as the Glick, and to see him working in a pizza parlor is a laugh riot (though is it conceivable that every woman he meets would want to 'do' him?). But a major component of this film's failure is a lack of Carolyn Brandt, who played the "Skid Row Slasher" of the original and had a charisma and sex appeal that none of the characters in this film can even approach. As a fan of "Hollywood Strangler," this movie is a huge disappointment, and for non-fans, it's bound to be much worse.

4/10

In the pantheon of bad filmmakers, there are a handful of names that rise (or fall?) above the rest. Ed Wood. H.G. Lewis. Al Adamson. And another such name is Ray Dennis Steckler, the man behind such enduring classics as The Incredibly Strange Creatures That Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies, Rat Pfink a Boo-Boo, and The Lemon Grove Kids Meet the Monsters. After that string of wretched but harmless trash was released in the 1960's, Steckler's films started taking on a darker tone, perhaps reflecting the changing mood and tastes of the times. Eventually he devolved into directing hardcore porn films, although he would still occasionally release slightly less tawdry fare. Las Vegas Serial Killer is one such production, although its quality is even more substandard. A late middle-aged photographer wanders around Las Vegas, strangling random dancers, prostitutes and models as he crosses paths with them. Meanwhile, a pair of guys in matching black T-shirts and sunglasses also wander around Las Vegas, occasionally robbing tourists and business owners at gunpoint. A voice-over radio announcer keeps the viewer up to date with the manhunt for the killer and the robbers. Most of this 76 minute wonder is comprised of stock footage of the Las Vegas strip, a rodeo, traffic, and bad showgirl dancers. A lot of it looks at least ten years older than the film's release date. For only the most self-loathing film addicts. Steckler writes and directs under the pseudonym "Wolfgang Schmidt."

This had the makings of a half-decent film, or it would have if it had had a half-decent script, or any script at all. A serial killer is parolled after a mere six years because although he has been convicted of one murder, the shrinks don't believe his confessions to the others. You know what's gonna happen now: he heads straight to Las Vegas, and the body count mounts. Two other criminals are headed to Las Vegas as well, but they are small potatoes, mugging women and occasionally men, then driving off with their victims' cash and cards.

The paths of the killer and the professional criminals cross; he strangles a woman they have left locked in the trunk of a car, so now they come under suspicion. Later, their paths cross again. What more do you need to know?

Did this lowlife really utter "Die garbage" every time he strangled an innocent woman? The soundtrack and the ending save this ultra-low budget effort from being a total turkey, but it really is sad more effort wasn't put into it.

For starters, you just can't film your actors and then dub all the dialogue during post-production. It looks and sounds absolutely ridiculous. Luckily, or unluckily, it doesn't affect the quality of this film.

Mr. Steckler has treated us to an utterly pointless and boring hunk of junk here. It all starts out with a very flimsy premise. A serial killer of seven women has just been released on parole after serving only six years. Ugh...those darn liberals!! It comes as little surprise when several women soon turn up being strangled to death. Our serial killer becomes the main suspect. Talk about hard-nosed detective work.

The viewer is treated to unbearably long scenes of a couple of guys standing around on a Vegas street corner making lewd comments about women walking by while occasionally photographing them. Who are these guys? We have to wait until late in the film to fully realize their (un)importance. There is also a scene showing a parade go by. That would be fine if, let's say, there is an assassin on one of the floats and he is plotting to kill the President or something. Alas...no. Not here. It exists only to pad the running time. Thanks Mr. Steckler!

You get to see multiple topless women and a couple of brain-numbingly long scenes of women dancing seductively in some dive bar. Notice a pattern? Such as way too many scenes of absolutely nothing that go on way too long? That doesn't make a fun movie. 1/10