Hot Summer Week

I'm not sure why, but I kind of liked this. It's very tame--aside from some brief nudity it could have been a TV movie. (The presence of sexploitation star Uschi Digardt might suggest a much racier movie, but she is literally only in a single brief shot in the opening credits). The plot is randomly weird, and the ending is infuriatingly ambiguous. Then there is the title song which. . . well, let me put it this way: if you went up to anybody on the street and asked them to make up a 70's-style song on the spot and sing it a capella, it would probably sound better than the one in this movie.

Two girls who have just graduated from high school take a trip out to the California beach. After causing an accident by flashing a passing motorist and getting rousted by the police, they pick up a hitch-hiker (Michael Ontkean) who is suffering from traumatic flashbacks caused by his time in Vietnam. The hitchhiker brings them to a commune headed by a guru (played by the guy who went on to become TV's "Papa Walton")and a drug-addled crazy who calls himself "the Creator". Meanwhile, someone is going around strangling young women. . .

This movie manages to capture some of the strange ambiance of this era, but not in the annoyingly self-reflexive way most later movies would (the music may be terrible, but at least it's not the usual overused cues for collective Baby-Boomer nostalgia). The two girls are pretty and appealing, and surprisingly innocent--this may be the first movie where young protagonists vow to lose their virginity and then completely fail to do so. (The brunette ALMOST gets it on with Papa Walton, which in itself is worth the price of admission). This is not very good, but it's an interesting time-capsule piece from the era kind of like "Last Summer", "Runaway, Runaway", "The Todd Killings", or "Welcome to Arrow Beach"

"Hot Summer Week" is one of the worst, but definitely also the most pathetic exploitation movie of the early 70s. Why pathetic? Because it features all the right ingredients to serve up a delicious and raunchy drive-in dish, but for some reason doesn't use them correctly, and the whole thing ends up being dull, dumb and dire! Listing these ingredients sure makes the film sound terrific: two underage but lewd girls on a summer trip to the beach and picking up random hitchhikers, a traumatized and violent Vietnam veteran wandering about, a deranged hippie beach-cult and continuous news bulletins about a murderous maniac at large. Sounds like unhinged, but it's actually pure shenanigans! The girls are wannabe cool chicks, but remain sad and prudish wallflowers throughout the entire story. Michael Ontkean (Sheriff Truman from "Twin Peaks") depicts the only Vietnam vet I've ever seen who has flashbacks about the conversations in his superior's office rather than from within the jungle-battlefield, the cult is laughably cliched (sitting around in a circle, hugging and telling "I love you" to each other) and the "maniac" doesn't kill any victims on-screen until very late in the plot, when you already stopped caring. Literally everyone in the film attempts to sleep with everyone, but nobody ever pulls it off! Ontkean's "flashbacks" are too long, too numerous and shown in the most amateurish way imaginable, with shady and blurry camera footage and words endlessly being repeated.

Saw this one late one night on television in Sweden, and went on watching, mostly because of Michael Ontkean. It's supposedly a thriller about two hitch-hiking girls. But this movie is just hilarious, with bizarre flashbacks, a freaky hippie community, and an ending that makes you wonder whether they had a script writer at all. A must-see for lover of bad films. You'll get at lot of laughs.

While 'Hot Summer Week' might be regarded in more feral-minded circles as being one of the more deliberately chaste examples of an exploitative 70s roughie, this refreshingly bizarre B-Movie mantra of the pinkly-pervasive, bikini-clad Big Sur-set juvenile jollies of two nit-witted nubiles is not without some prurient interest! These absurdly naïve, soft-headed, hard-bodied ninnies decide gigglingly to opportunistically pick up witheringly handsome, sleek-chested Vietnam-vet Will (Michael Ontkean), an outwardly wholesome, entirely edible, white-bread, medium-cut young blade, internally riven with debilitating PTSD, thereby frequently making the dashing, curly-haired GI prone to grisly outbursts of uncontrollable violence, and the profoundly frustrated, thrill-seeking teens, while initially titillated by the tall, taciturn hunk of burning neurosis, their frightfully muddled, 'ill-managed à trois' goes largely unfulfilled, as the girl's steely innocence, lack of experience, along with wonky Will's greatly distempered mind make for frustratingly unconsummated bedfellows, boisterously culminating in a rather awkward proto-slasher movie climax centring around the pseudo-psychedelisized, Manson-light, grab-ass machinations of an asinine hippie encounter group enigmatically led by the generously mutton-chopped, mop-topped twerp John (Ralph Waite) who fatally discovers that one of their THC-Hazed, flouncily-adorned troupe might shockingly be a murderously warped woman slayer!!! Egad!!!

While ultimately a trifle disappointing, due in no small part to its singular lack of illicit, sweaty-palmed content, 'Hot Summer Week' aka 'Girls on The Road' steadfastly maintains cinematic interest due to its fascinatingly schizoid, fish nor fowl nature, and the unusual narrative's noisome blend of earnest anti-war beatnik blather, and the screenplay's frequently hilarious dissertations of egregious hippie clap-trap being far from seamlessly melded with a vanilla exploration of nascent teenage desires bemusedly coalesces into a vainglorious cinematic misshape, and having Papa Walton as the stoner-boner, Scooby Doo-ing, mush-headed guru was the glisteringly burnished B-Movie glacé cherry atop this overtly saccharine midnight movie titbit! But I have always been a sperm believer in actively supporting the lower-budgeted, independently-minded Drive-In underdog and this spaced-out oddity is still one groovily retrograde head-trip, baby!

Seeing Ralph waite, the father on The Waltons, play a hippie who runs a commune and hits on 17-year-olds is worth the price of this baby! Plus, you gotta see his sideburns! The plot is no worse than any other road movie, and this is one of many, many female road movies that came before Thelma and Louise and gets no credit.