Intrigo criminale

The working title was: "Don't Spank Baby".

Wayne Crawford went on to become a successful producer, films like Valley Girl, Night of the Comet and others, even though he wasn't too terrific in this little Gem. And little known Abe Zwick should have gotten tons of work from this film but didn't. Filmed at Moberly Studios in Hollywood Florida, on the same lot the early Tarzan movies were filmed. This film is definitely for those who appreciate the abstract. The movie was originally shot with much more bloody graphic slasher scenes. For reasons only known to Tom Casey the Director, the bloody slasher scenes were given a tab of LSD, and replaced by Flash Editing. Even though this version is worthy of a look for those so inclined, in my opinion the original version would have packed the punch needed to make this a full on Slasher 70's Cult Classic.

The idea of this film seems interesting enough. Paul and Stanley are two gay jewel thieves. Paul dresses up as "Aunt Martha", Stanley's supposed aunt. This is done to evade authorities, as it happens to be they are wanted for murder. Stanley is also a big time hippie who drives a colorful van, picks up the girls and does a lot of coke. Paul hates it when Stanley brings home girls and goes psycho each time, killing the female guest. The premise is original and entertaining enough to be a classic yet the movie misses it's mark. It's not really the fault of the cast, they do a good job. It's the screenplay and the development of the plot, after the initial set up, the film falls a little flat and fails to live up to it's potential. I would still recommend this one though, if you enjoy obscure strange films.

Haha, what a great little movie! Wayne Crawford strikes again, or rather this was his first big strike, a deliriously entertaining little ball of manic kitsch energy masquerading as a psycho killer movie. It's actually a **brilliant** satire on post-hippie American culture in flyover country, though the movie was actually filmed independently in Miami. It defies any kind of studio oriented convention or plot device that I can think of: SOMETIMES AUNT MARTHA DOES DREADFUL THINGS may not be a very technically adept movie, but it is a wonderful little slice of Americana, made on the cheap by people who were honest, ambitious, imaginative and had balls made out of steel. It took guts, nerve and guile to make this movie, which amazingly appears to have stood the test of time. This movie is fresh, vital, alive, unforgettable, and charmingly weird enough to recommend to just about anyone with a sense of humor.

I dug up last year during a period of time when I was fascinated by "star" Wayne Crawford (here billed under his pseudonym Scott Lawrence), a maestro of what can only be called regional film-making, usually of the B grade variety. He's a writer, producer, director, and actor all in one, probably best known for the 80s teen apocalyptic favorite NIGHT OF THE COMET. Here he plays Stanley, the pants wearing half of a couple of truly marvelous characters, apparently homosexual spree killers on the lam after knocking off some old lady in Baltimore for her jewelry. Unsung screen legend Abe Zwick is completely convincing as Paul, who poses as Stanley's Aunt Martha, the cross dressing brains of the outfit who has conned Stanley into thinking he's committed murder to ensure his loyalty. Martha looks about as feminine as the sailors from SOUTH PACIFIC's supporting choir in their coconut bikini tops, yet somehow nobody seems to notice -- or care? -- that she is a he, has no visible means of income, seems to spend all day fretting about where Stanley is, and scurries around the neighborhood in her bathrobe carrying a butcher's knife. Only in America ...

As the film opens the two of them have just arrived in Florida and set up residence in what looks like Ward Cleaver's old house, a garishly lit & designed television home that is so cliché as to be surreal. During one memorable scene Martha and an unwelcome house guest sit on the couch, talk problems and drink cans of Budweiser in what is one of the most mesmerizing, subversively ordinary sequences I've ever seen outside of a John Waters movie. Then there's Stanley, always getting into trouble as he is a mop topped hippie with an STP patch on his vest who drives a psychedelic painted van that's about as subtle as the Batmobile, drinks his milk straight from the carton, snorts drugs with blond bombshell bimbos, and hoards donuts in an old cigar box for a quick snack. Opposites attract, I guess.

But Stanley also has a thing about not liking it when the young ladies he gets stoned with try to remove his pants, and it always seems to be up to Aunt Martha to get him out of the trouble that inevitably results. The bodies pile up, a nosy junkie blackmails them into using their house as a flop, Stanley's birthday cake gets squashed, and everybody meets down at the local pizza shop before heading to the wood shed on the back property for a hookah hash party where the girls dance in their underwear. Things get out of hand when one of the neighbors tries to get a bit too chummy with Martha, who naturally prefers to keep people at an arm's length when they rudely invite themselves over for a nice chat. And this is a woman who carries not just a butcher knife but a loaded .38 in her slip. Eventually the strange duo find themselves stuck with a body, a baby, and no place to go, and end up taking refuge at an abandoned movie studio where no doubt the technical crew borrowed the equipment used to make the film. I just hope they politely asked for permission first and cleaned up after themselves.

A word of course must be said about Stanley and Martha/Paul's relationship, since to dance around the fact that the two are at least suggested to be a homosexual couple would be to miss the primary gist of the plot. We never see the two of them get intimate and indeed even though Stanley mockingly refers to being "balled" in one scene, their relationship is more symbiotic than sexual. It certainly isn't a "gay" movie, with abundant female nudity and an air of 70s misogyny that cannot be denied either. Stanley & Paul never consummating their implied sexuality on screen, even though the movie certainly would have had the guts to do so if it were important. It isn't, the story isn't about their sex, it's about the bond they share, and how weird it is. Not their being gay, but their being the distinct individuals they are, who are two of the strangest movie creations ever to inhabit my TV set.

The film is unique. It was made for only a few thousand dollars on what look like borrowed studio sets, the occasional location work, and an couple of public locations they managed to sneak a camera crew into when nobody was looking. The dialog is completely bizarre, mundane and delightfully esoteric. It's a movie that will take you by surprise, not everyone will like it but for those with a taste for low budget American horror/thrillers like THE NIGHT GOD SCREAMED, HELP ME! I'M POSSESSED, BLOOD & LACE and CHILDREN SHOULDN'T PLAY WITH DEAD THINGS, you've got yourself a winner here.

8/10: Usually I'd say something like "Deserves a DVD restoration" but somehow I think doing so would ruin the movie's tacky ambiance. And Wayne Crawford, you, sir, rule.

Very strange, and quite funny little movie about a gay couple hiding out, one of them wanted for murder, which the other one is responsible for. One is a coke snorting hippie, the other one a Psycho killer in drag, mayhem and b.movie weirdness follows. Give it a chance if you like obscure 70´ movies.

The most dreadful thing Aunt Martha does is bring you this film.

There is only one redeeming object in the entire show. Nestled within the story is a modest seed of a story concept - one I may use for a story I have in mind. Crooks on the run from the law take to lying low in a Motel. While there, one of them dresses as a woman, Aunt Martha, so he can move about freely to assess the situation and keep tabs on the cops.

The concept offers lots of possibilities. Using a few of the options would enhance both story and film a hundredfold. Unfortunately, what writer and director Thomas Casey gives us is pure tedium. The story is lazily written and underdeveloped. It's a hodgepodge of a tale about a psychopath and his partner in crime and... sex. The progression and motives for the murders are clear, although most are unrealistic. And Casey presents them to us in a mundane matter-of-fact manner.

The lack of substance doesn't end with Paul or Martha's characterisations. It bleeds through to the story. There's not enough in this film to keep your attention on the screen. I found myself constantly looking away, and I even turned on the dreaded laptop - the killer of all focus.

Casey is worse at directing than writing; there was little hope for this flick. He takes a point-and-shoot stance to the filming and has little to no consideration for the pace of the film. The end product is little more than a straight-forward and often uninteresting rendition of an awful story.

At least the actor who played Paul's partner, Stanley, appears to have had a joyous time. Wayne Crawford isn't a marvellous actor, but he instils Stanley with an impish temperament. It lifts the direness of the movie, but not enough.

I would suggest steering well clear of this turkey - even at Thanksgiving. Though if a copy creeps up on you, then do the world a favour and bury it in a deep hole under the patio in your garden. Or slip it quietly through a horrid neighbours letterbox.

Ratings: Story 0.75 : Direction 0.5 : Pace 0.5 : Acting 1 : Enjoyment 0.5 Total 3.25 out of 10.

Now click on through to my Chiller Thriller Killers list to see where the turkey and Aunt Martha charted... but better yet, to find something better for your viewing pleasure.

Take Care and Stay Well.