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I'd never heard of this film, but happened to be reading "Flesh Gordon" star Jason Williams' memoir (meh) and noticed that he had made this film during the same era. It was actually shot well before "Flesh" got released in 1974, but just as that movie was delayed a long time by budgetary/special effects issues, this one was delayed even longer--several years, even--due to disputes between business partners. When it finally did get a theatrical release, it was minuscule, just a a couple Texas drive-ins or something.

Anyway, among all the mostly boring rural car (or motorcycle) chase movies released to grindhouses and drive-ins in the 1970s, this is above-average, despite being a dirt-cheap production. It's just a pretty tight thriller that commits immediately to being nasty-our longhaired (anti)heroes pick up a load of cocaine dropped by helicopter in the desert, and very soon face a phalanx of police cars. It turns out one of the guys (Williams' character Ray) is a full-on remorseless psycho who has no hesitation in blowing all the lawmen away. This somehow comes as a surprise to his partner/BFF Alex played by Bill Osco, who was a producer on "Flesh" and many other exploitation movies. Nonetheless the duo stick together, determined to reach their designated buyer and collect a big payout.

The problem isn't just that now presumably every law officer within 200 hundred miles is looking for them, necessitating frequent changes of cars. The problem is also that in acquiring those cars, plus committing a few robberies en route, they gain the attention of various unlucky witnesses whom Ray is all too happy to terminate. This doesn't sit well with Alex, particularly once they gain a hostage in the form of Karen (Diane Keller). She is understandably terrified-both she and Alex soon realize that Ray has no intention of letting her live, even if their mission is otherwise accomplished. And they do get pretty damn close to accomplishing that mission, with things really sparking in the last lap when the trio meet up with another threesome: The very droll coke buyer (Michael D. Collins) and his two stoned-AF hippie-chick mammas (Donna Stubbert, Judy Ross).

This seems to have been the sole movie for several performers here-apparently the production recruited from southwestern theater groups on location. Those last three named are very entertaining, though god only knows if they were inspired actors or just "playing themselves" through a thick pot haze. The handsome, all-American-surfer-looking Williams is good playing against type as a vicious bully; Osco and Keller are okay.

Still, a general lack of professional-grade polish to the cast and filmmaking actually works in the movie's favor, lending it a certain effectively sleazy edginess reminiscent of other low-budget wonders like "The Sadist." The grungy backroads atmosphere and fairly tight pacing (though yes we're still talking a circa 1973 sense of editorial pace) punch things across, even if the staging of violence and action sequences is adequate rather than especially vivid or stylish. There's a certain nihilism to it that is compelling-without being pretentious about it, the movie makes no bones about the fact that no one here is likely to make it out alive.

I stumbled upon this movie because I was reading Helen Garner's famous debut novel "Monkey Grip," and noticed the same year that came out, she appeared in this independent Australian feature. Adding to the notion that the novel was pretty autobiographical, the "junkie movie" her heroine has a small part in sounds a lot like this film, where Garner has just a single (but memorable) scene as a speed freak.

Considering that it was presumably made on a shoestring, with at least some actors who were living pretty close to the criminal edge depicted, "Pure S" is surprisingly well-made, expertly photographed and fairly fast-paced despite its relatively minimal "plot"-which to a point is basically just one long night's search to find, sell and take drugs by a bunch of Melbourne addicts.

A friend of mine who actually did heroin for a while once said that he found the hyperactive style of "Requiem for a Dream" ridiculous for a movie about junkies. (Although another friend who had the same background felt otherwise, so go figure.) You could make the same objection to this film. But despite the crisis-every-five-seconds tenor, it has its own integrity. Unlike the mix of casual recreational drug users and serious addicts mingling in the amorphous community of lovers and friends in "Monkey Grip," some of whom even have jobs, the characters here seem to have nothing going on beyond chasing their habits. And as is often the case with such people, they spend a lot of time yelling, accusing each other of hoarding "the stuff," when not getting what they want and nodding out. They also commit a certain about of reckless crime, notably armed robbery.

That makes for a movie in which just about everyone is an argumentative, volatile irritant you'd flee from in real life, though the filmmaking is fluid and pacey enough to make watching them bearable. "Pure S" is quite different from the bleaker, grittier U. S. movies about the same topic in the same era, like "Panic in Needle Park" and "Dusty & Sweet McGee," with a more wiseass, revved-up tenor. It's certainly not flawless-I defy you to actually care about anyone in it-but certainly deserves more notice as an enterprising feature that came out at the dawn of the Australian film renaissance, but got comparatively little attention.

I was actually psyched to see this because the director's "Invisible Man" was so good. But this is so, so bad...despite having another very talented actor in the lead, albeit one whom the film really ultimately does a disservice. It's not Christopher Abbott's fault that his performance eventually just becomes about prosthetics. It's not even Julia Garner's or the child actor's fault that they're not very good, given this bad material.

But yeesh, who needed a MAUDLIN "Wolfman," let alone one that repeats the dullard's sentimental refrain "Parents really care about their kids!" right from the start in the clumsiest way, apparently in the belief that we wouldn't grasp that concept otherwise? There's no point in going into the plot, since others have covered that. But the ideas are just so poor here, and they all counter any genuine suspense that the direction doesn't manage to summon anyway.

The only positive thing I can say is that some of the landscape photography was nice. But even the Benicio del Toro "Wolfman" from 2010 was better than this...and that wasn't very good either. I came really close to turning this off even as late as the last twenty minutes, it was so weak. If it was a low-budget indie, it would be easier to forgive its lack of imagination or scale, but there's nothing to excuse its feebleness--it's just bad work from people who have done and should do better.