Blast-Off Girls

Blast Off Girls, despite the title, didn't have too much to do with girls. Instead, this film showcases a male rock band, trying to hit the big time in the music biz, during the late-60s. The band goes through quite a bit, as they struggle to become well-known pop stars. They have to contend with a ruthless, greedy manager, internal squabbles amongst the band members, living on a meager income, their own drug abuse etc., etc.

Though this movie is not the most exciting rock film in the world, it's entertaining in a hokey sort of way. The band plays some pretty decent garage/psychedelic rock, and they give-off an energetic vibe. There are many scenes in this film, that show the band frolicking merrily outdoors. In this way, the movie is similar to an episode of the Monkees. For those who are nostalgic about the late-60s rock scene, this movie will suffice.

H. G. Lewis occupies a special place in film history; he's infamous because his blood-red gore films of the 60's and 70's were so shocking and audacious. I've enjoyed watching a few of his movies, but I have certainly not seen them all.

Nevertheless, I'd be willing to bet that "Blast-Off Girls" is one of his best-made films. I liked it a lot. Surprisingly, it features no graphic violence, and very little violence period. And surprisingly, it is driven by story and acting, both of which are fine considering the shoestring budget. I imagine there is a strong autobiographical side to this movie, because filmmaker Lewis really seems to loathe and despise the rotten, profit-grubbing main character:

Dan Conway plays "Boojie Baker," the all-too-believably sleazy band manager with big-time aspirations--he's working his way up the ladder (or so he thinks), chewing up and spitting out small rock bands; he entices his prospects with girls, and promises of "the good life," then books shows for them--but when the minimal profits roll in, he makes sure the band gets just enough of them to stick begrudgingly around. If they question his honesty, he lies and placates; if they accuse him of thievery and threaten to leave, he blackmails them. He's thoroughly detestable, and very enjoyably played by Conway.

Boojie's associates generally only tolerate him so they can go to his raucous parties (attended by the "Blast-Off" groupie girls of the title, who have basically nothing to do with the story). He doesn't really have any friends, and seems happy without them.

But Boojie's good luck runs out the day he takes on a musical group that is as naive as all the others, but possessing of a strong sense of justice. They object to his treatment of them, and plan an elaborate revenge, with the intent of screwing Boojie on a cosmic level. In classic morality-play fashion, Boojie gets his rightful desserts, although he does spin off at the end of the film (rather like Darth Vader at the end of "Star Wars"), minus one cheesy band but ready for new sleazy Boojie adventures. Don't kid yourself, the film seems to say; you might be lucky enough to send them off in some other direction, but Boojies don't go down easy!

In a twisted way, this is a charmingly optimistic film that suggests that decent people can exist in the entertainment world if they have the guts to stand their ground and oppose their oppressors. But "Blast-Off Girls" isn't really about the good guys at all; it is almost a study in Boojie-ness, a virtual diagram of the Boojies of the world, so that the viewer will be able to spot them should he or she have the misfortune to get into business relationships with them. The bands Boojie abuses wander in and out of the movie; but Boojie himself is ever-present--the sneering, evil star of this odd and fascinating picture. See it today!

If you are going to waste 2-3 hours of your life watching these movies, might as well check out Blast-Off Girls for the Colonel Sanders (yes, THAT Colonel Sanders) cameo. You can actually hear him talk.

Other than that, these movies are almost interchangeable. In fact, at first I thought I was accidently restarting the same movie twice.

For me, H.G. Lewis movies have always been a mixed bag. Sometimes they're a lot of fun and sometimes they are excruciating. This would fall in the latter category.

The story involves a sheisty band manager (and "whitey mack" wannabe), Boojie Baker (played by Dan Conway), who goes from one garage band to the next, forming them into a profit for himself. The type of manager who believes in taking as much credit and percentage as possible and leaving his band with virtually nothing. Conway turns in a good performance, yet considering the repetitive nature of the plot and several other elements, it becomes grating.

Boojie's first group gets the hint right away, when he tries to screw them out of their earnings, and they proceed to take a hike. He bounces back and hits the jackpot, with his next anti-stellar group of morons. A group that continues to get conned over and over by Boojie's transparent tactics, until 10 minutes towards the end of the picture when they finally discover an escape clause (an escape clause being a metaphor for a small rock on the same gravel road they've been traveling on all along).

H.G. Lewis' films were never known for great music, and this one might have the worst. If you thought the theme from "JUST FOR THE HELL OF IT" sounded like "White Rabbit" performed by an orchard of adam's apples liquefied in a blender, then you ain't heard nothin' yet. Wait until you hear Boojie's band, The Big Blast, pump out the same song over and over and over and over. Not even a song really, just a chorus that's sung so many times that it literally sounds like a broken record. Here's a taste... "The next time that you want me, I won't run to you. The next time that you need me, I'll tell you that we're through. The next time, the next time, the next time that we're through(?!)" Just imagine hearing that same jam session in nearly every other scene. Not since Jean-Luc Godard's "SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL", have I seen a film that thrives on such lyrical overkill.

What's even more grating is that the band members never truly gel with one another and the music suffers because of it. At times, it seems as if each member is singing different lyrics to the same chorus, all at once. For example, when they're singing "...the next time...", it sometimes sounds like "...run and hide...". And, in a more interesting number, "Go BLANK Yourself, My Friend", some of them sing "Go BLANK Yourself, A Friend". My initial thoughts were that this was a band of non-actors attempting to perform music, when in fact, according to the credits, this was a real band. Ugghh.

In conclusion, if you want a far out ride that contains little emphasis on girls and couldn't provide a spark with a dry match in a hay barn, then "THE BLAST-OFF GIRLS" is for you! Otherwise, I'd recommend Arch Hall, Jr's "WILD GUITAR", which deals in the same subject manner and is a lot more fun to watch.

True to Saint Herschell's form, Just for the Hell of It seems to have been filmed simultaneously with his uber-biker-chick flick, She Devils on Wheels. Much of the same cast, including two Teutonic tons of love, are on hand, but mostly to use up excesss film stock. Just for the hell of it, "teenage" hooligans with receding hairlines and middle-age spreads engage a reign of small-town terror that mostly involves wrecking a beatnik coffee house, if a beatnik coffee house was constructed of flattened refrigerator boxes stapled together and set-decorated by Carol Brady. In one scene they steal an inattentive mother's infant and stash it in a trash can. Yes, they terrorize cripples freshly emerging from the hospital.