Juvenile Hell: Part 8

Pump Up the Volume (Allan Moyle, 1990)

Needed to cleanse the palate after watching some absolute abominations last month. Allan Moyle's Gen X classic Pump Up the Volume (1990) is the perfect solution. This is the second entry in what is unofficially dubbed the Christian Slater Holy Trilogy around this part of the internet. The other films being Heathers (1988) and True Romance (1993). Being that True Romance doesn't fit in this Juvenile Hell series, and skipping Massacre at Central High (1976) for its spiritual ancestor, is akin to running before learning to walk, the sensible option is to revisit Happy Harry Hard-ons pirate radio shenanigans. Besides which, the Heathers 4K I ordered the other week hasn't arrived yet.

If ever a film encapsulated the pent-up frustrations of the disillusioned generation beset by conservative authoritarianism, Pump Up the Volume would be it. Set in a suburb of Phoenix, Arizona, lonely newcomer Mark Hunter (Christian Slater), turns his parents' basement into a pirate radio show where he anonymously expresses all his teen angst and and music tastes over the radio waves. His fellow students of the oppressive Hubert H. Humphrey High School are eager listeners of the show and tune in every night to hear his antics.

The increasing popularity of the pirate radio show encourages the students into becoming more expressive and rebellious. The results range from suburban white kids gathering around a tape deck and nodding in appreciation to Ice-T's explicit Girls L.G.B.A.F, to the school's very own Claire Standish hilariously blowing up her parents' microwave, to that one random black student always in the background eventually wearing a kufi on his head. In the case of  Hubert H. Humphrey's resident Pam Ayres, Nora Diniro (Samantha Mathis) AKA the "Eat me! Beat me!" Lady, it's sending dirty poems and being potential serial killer bait to Happy Harry Hard-on with letters like this:

"You're the voice crying out in the wilderness. You're the voice that makes my brain burn and my guts go gooey. Yeah, you gut me. My insides spill on your altar and tell the future. My steaming, gleaming guts spell out your nature. I know you, not your name, but your game. I know the true you. Come to me, or I'll come to you."

Other than that one strike against her, Nora is pretty much the dream around the way emo girl from this era: Angela Franklin may have been demonically hot, but  I'll take Nora being everyday hot and not having to worry for my life; plus, she still looked art school bird fit even in old granny dresses and striped stockings; also, she didn't have dandruff like Allison Reynolds. Thus, Nora Diniro is the gateway goth girl of that era. The only other major drawback is the sad reality of her being an entirely fictional character. It's the only explanation as to how any person living in their parents' basement with a penchant for chronically fake fappin' and dry humping a dress for the entertainment of their listeners, manages to land a beauty like her - even if they're cool like Christian Slater. Only in the movies. Interestingly, Slater and Mathis were already a couple during the production of the film. That explains their chemistry feeling so authentic.

The plot involving a tyrannical school regime, headed by Principal Loretta Creswood (Annie Ross) suspending and expelling potential problem/underperforming kids and syphoning their funds to achieve the school's impeccable record, is very much secondary in the grand scheme of the film. It's really all about how one voice can rally others against their oppressors. This makes the film still poignant today. Alternatively, it's also all about Christian Slater's incredible charisma and acting chops. Interestingly, Slater's earliest films performances often draws comparisons to Jack Nicholson. This is the perfect litmus test for any seventies baby, as he comes across as a hyper-realistic version of the actor.

Young ‘uns, take note: the film's social message comes well before the rise of dullards posting cat memes and the existence of echo chambers. Therefore, if scenes of H.H.H and Nora broadcasting in a jeep to outwit the Federal Communications Commission (F.C.C), sounds a tad far fetched and antiquated for you, then please consider, that's far more noble than terminally online folk pretending to care about our freedoms.

Other noteworthy scenes and observations related to the movie are: the fat, entrepreneurial kid selling tapes of the show for $5 while Above the Law's Freedom of Speech is playing on the school speakers; a very young Seth Green not being annoying as his mate; the superior Pixies' Wave of Mutilation (UK Surf) heard in the film; the dumb Pauly Shore lookalike getting punched by Principal Creswood's rottweiler; and finally, the girl who played Cheryl Biggs (Holly Sampson) eventually winding up as an adult film actress.

Pump Up the Volume may be regarded as a nineties classic, but it's timeless for me as it became the go to movie whenever your host was undecided about what to watch to kill time. It was a staple, until my DVD got lost when lending it out to a mate. The disc was already out of print at the time, and it was far too expensive to replace. The pain. From that point on, I stopped lending any films out. Fortunately, I managed to eventually replace it with a a blu-ray upgrade (albeit, a bare bones disc), that was released last year. It's a treasured film here at Case de Spartan.

An undeniable classic.

Juvenile Hell: Parts 6 & 7

Two fun-sized reviews in the latest instalment of Dada Debaser's Juvenille Hell series. Admittedly, I'd completely forgotten about continuing them, but having finally watched Matthew Bright's Freeway II: Confessions of Trickbaby (1999) for the first time this month (thank you, Plex!), it's high time I covered both of these twisted adaptations of classic Brothers Grimm fairy tales.

Freeway (Matthew Bright, 1996)

If the nineties was ever a decade of endless possibilites, then believe it or not, a young Reece Witherspoon once became girlboss par excellence as the foul mouthed Vanessa Lutz in the superb nineties gem Freeway (1996).

Co-produced by Oliver Stone, Freeway is comedy crime thriller loosely based on Little Red Riding Hood. Our poorly educated heroine, runs aways from social services after her parents get busted by the cops. This sets her course of action of searching for the grandmother she's never met. After her stolen car breaks down on the freeway, she unknowingly hitches a ride with the notorious I-5 serial killer, played by Kiefer Sutherland; the wolf in this wild tale.

Aside from Witherspoon and Sutherland's strong performances, Matthew Bright's screenplay is a real shining light here. Given it's a contemporary take on Little Red Riding, albeit a bizarre one, you're still never quite sure in what direction the film is headed. Bright's characters look and act like they're the type of guests who would appear on an episode of The Jerry Springer Show. There is of course the breezy pacing, which in turn never leads to a dull moment in the film.

Despite it coming from the nineties, Freeway harkens even further back to less politically correct times and that's probably why this film feels even more anachronistic today than it did originally. This is the true magic of the film.

Hard to believe, but even the "buffons" [sic] that the troll critic Armond White was referring to were correct about Freeway and gave it a glowing review back in the day.

 

Freeway II: Confessions of a Trickbaby (Mattew Bright, 1999)

Matthew Bright wrote and directed a straight to video follow-up in the tail end of the nineties. Amazingly, Freeway II: Confessions of a Trickbaby (1999) is an even crazier tale; bordering on a lucid nightmare in some areas.

This time around Bright's sequel takes its cue from another of the Brothers Grimm's stories - Hansel and Gretel, where the proverbial breadcrumb trail is replaced with crack rocks. Our protagonist is Crystal, AKA White Girl, played by Natasha Lyonne. Sentenced to a twenty-five year bid by an overzealous judge played by John Landis for a string of burglaries, our heroine is being treated in a juvenile correctional facility to cure her bulimia. With the lax security there, White Girl and her lesbian, serial killer cellmate Cyclona leg it before they're carted off to the belly of the beast.

This is a sequel that has a lot more in common with Oliver Stone's Natural Born Killers (1994) than it does with its predecessor. There's no real connection to Freeway other than a clip from the film appears as a scene on a TV.  Both films do possess common character and plot similarities, however; a lower class and highly independent girl protagonist being the most obvious example. The film itself is a violent odyssey as White Girl and Cyclona escape into Mexico. From there they meet the witch Sister Gomez as played by Vincent Gallo and the film switches into a further gear of insanity.

Various heavy themes are in this film, and depending on your point of view, the levity in their handling can be interpreted as either tone deaf or comically genius. For this blogger, they're very much the latter. For this very reason, I consider the sequel on par to its predecessor.

There were no further films in the Freeway series, but Matthew Bright did continue with his serial killer trend with the unexpectedly funny Ted Bundy (2002), AKA Bundy. It's a film worth discussing about another time on account of it being something the Farrelly brothers might have helmed during the noughties wave of real life serial killer biopics. It's where I first discovered Bright and was left both gobsmacked and weirdly amazed by. Add that film with his aformentioned juvie films, and I'm under the impression he might have been some great American auteur in the making, if he didn't quit the film industry after his two and half hour rom-com, Tiptoes (2002) wasn't butchered by the studio to ninety minutes. Haven't seen it, and I'd rather cross my fingers for Bright's version to resurface one day, but I'm willing to forgo my revulsion for rom-coms and long arsed movies on account of Bright's previous work - and also because Gary Oldman plays a dwarf in it.

Juvenile Hell: Part 5

The Sadist (James Landis, 1963)

If there was a film equivalent to the Infinite Monkey Theorem, then James Landis' brutal crime thriller, The Sadist is a valid candidate. A diamond in the rough from producer Arch Hall Sr; a man synoymous with giving the world the prehistoric, trashfest Eegah (1962) and a multitude of other time wasters.

At the risk of it sounding like a cliché, what makes The Sadist such a remarkable film, is how ahead of its time it is. Its bleak tone and subversive nature come across as anachronistic in comparison to other crime thrillers from the early sixties. If anything, The Sadist displays the nihilsim and savagery from notorious seventies pictures, à la Wes Craven's The Last House on the Left (1972) or Tobe Hooper's The Texas Chaisaw Massacre (1973). 

The film introduces a trio of school teachers whose car has broken down at a remote desert garage en route to a Dodgers baseball game. We learn about each teacher's background and motivations, while simultaneously discovering something is amiss at the garage / junkyard. This setting is the only location for much of the film's run time until the climactic finale.

Loaded in the favour of its volatile psychopath, Arch Hall Jr plays the titular, denim-clad Charlie Tibbs. He has plenty of bullets to spare, is able to second-guess his wholesome hostages, and toys with them with such a level of sadistic cruelty, he would make Krug Stillo proud. In one particular scene he reveals how he'll grant one of his potential victims fifteen minutes of extra life if they can repair a vehicle. They're going to die by his hand, it's just a case of when. Despite mainly whispering in his ear, Tibbs' girlfriend, Judy, is also something of a dangerousn wild child. They really compliment one another and make for a convincing psychotic couple.

For what is essentially an exploitation movie, the biggest surprise is just how well it's made. The Sadist makes excellent use of its limited location, along with it being blessed with some stylish camera work by Vilmos Zsigmond, whose credits include Deliverance (1972), Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) and The Deer Hunter (1978). This keeps the film looking and feeling fresh. Of course, fancy camera work is meaningless without a compelling story and competent performances, which the film has in abundance. Since Hall Jr's dad produced this picture, it reeks of nepotism like his other films, but given that this is a thriller made on a relative shoe-string budget, it's fairly forgivable. In any case, Hall Jr's performance is exceptionally good in the film, and he doesn't chew scenes like Sofia Coppola did when she was miscast in The Godfather Part III (1990).

The Sadist would be the first feature film to be based on real life spree killer Charles Starkweather and his accomplice girlfriend, Caril Ann Fugate. Eventually, Terrence Malick's Badlands (1993) and Oliver Stone's Natural Born Killers (1994) would also follow suit in in adaptating the notorious young couple to film. Sadly that's left the The Sadist to fall by the wayside, which is a shame since this film doesn't deserve to be forgotten for laying down such an archetypal psychos in love template.

One of those films that I've heard about for many years, but never really got around to watching until this month. Fortunately, The Sadist lived up to my expectations. Not only is it a great film in its own right, but given its historical legacy, it's perhaps an important one, too.

Juvenile Hell: Part 4

Girl Gang (Robert C. Dertano, 1954)

Tooting on the old devil's lettuce has long been associated as the gateway to hard drugs, and in the case of Robert C. Dertano's Girl Gang (1954), it supports this sentiment to the fullest. Like many exploitation films from the fifties, Girl Gang purports to serve as a cautionary moral tale, but its true purpose is to titilate and sensationalise. The film follows the three basic fundamentals of vintage juvenile delinquency films: sex, drugs and rock & roll (that's four, innit?).

Girl Gang's selling point is in its title, which is about as faithful as its sincerity in social commentary. The film chiefly focuses on Joe the Big Boss, played by Timothy Farrell; a drug peddler who turns young teens into drug addicted slaves, with them resorting to crime inorder to fund their next fix. June and Jack appear as junkie lieutenants in Joe's criminal empire. They're versitile figures: from floggin' stolen cars, blackmail scams, to recruiting new blood, they help create drug addled slaves while being addicts themselves. There's also Doc Bradford, played by Buster Keaton's younger brother Harry; a struck-off doctor who oddly appears ashamed of his actions at times, yet that still doesn't stop him from being a sleazy lowlife and taking advantage of the girls.

Of course, being an unrealistic film, the things young jezebels would do for some wacky baccy is hilarious to see on screen. Any route causes for drug addiction such as poverty, trauma or mental disorder, are wholly ignored and simply conveyed by our juvenile junkies being nothing but complete morons. Take youngsters Wanda and Bill embarking on their first steps into becoming chronic weed heads, by getting caned on Joe's flea ridden sofa and press ganged into a petrol station robbery (it's always a petrol station); on a Sunday, of all days. Requiem for a Dream this ain't, but it's these unrealistic examples of youngsters being led astray which makes Girl Gang so much fun and charming. However, what Girl Gang does offer are surprisingly graphic instances of heroin use, which must have struck audiences back then as very transgressive.

Stand out scenes include a the dingy, shindig, where the teens are caned and a Jerry Lee Lewis wannabe is hammering on the piano in some dank looking garage. Hilariously, they start bustin' moves until they're  knackered and want to spark up again. A couple of them wind-up making out on some old piss-stained looking mattress; how ghetto is that? One of the girls forces one poor sod to a back room so she can get "initiated". Once in the room, an occupied light starts flashing.

As one would expect with most films involving a robbery, the heist doesn't exactly go smoothly, and our poor ruffians become fatal casualties in Joe's bumbling endeavour. The final moments of the film consist of a hilarious chase sequence where two armed cops shoot a fleeing and completely unarmed Doc Bradford in the back. Oddly reminiscent of Gene Hackman's shot in The French Connection (1971), but with a fraction of the budget and none of William Friedkin's expert direction.

Seen a few of Dertano's films and other than some recurring cast members (e.g. Farrell and Keaton), they tend to follow a familiar template: the awkward ogling over women scenes; a seedy boss pulling the strings from his den; the inevitable double-cross, a heist that goes wrong, and a righteous monologue via an authoritarian / elder to justify its intentions. These are far from honest social commentaries, but then again, neither are some of today's offerrings like Bodies, Bodies, Bodies (2022), which portrays today's youths in a similarly pathetic and dishonest manner as of those from seventy years ago, but all the more insufferably annoying due to social media culture. Girl Gang is a favourite for being Dertano's most enjoyable film watched so far in his catalogue, which marks this as another notable entry in the canon of juvenile delinquency movies.

Juvenile Hell: Part 3

The Violent Years (William Morgan, 1956)

With the return of the summer heatwave, I need to keep my movies short and sweet, and what could be better than William Morgan's crimewave classic, The Violent Years? A wildly entertaining morality tale that ticks all the right boxes for this blog. Penned by the legendary king of exploitation cinema, Ed Wood Jr, this quintessential slice of melodramatic juvenile deliquency boasts an all girl squad of uncouth tearaways. This has absolutely nothing to do with that Oscar Isaacs starring snoozefest, A Most Violent Year (2014), which is a win for everyone.

Our gang is led by a spoilt brat of an ungrateful daughter, Paula Parkins (Paul, to her girlfriends), earnestly played by Jean Moorhead. Paul(a) has a taste for conducting sticks-ups at gas stations and sexually assualting blokes on Lover's Lane for wild kicks. You see, she's a thrill seeker, and it makes her feel alive being a negative blight on society. Our eighteen-year old bad seed and her pointy bra clique (Dada Debaser is a fan of the mean muggin' Phyllis, or Phil to her goon gals, because she looks strikingly like Debi Mazar and could very well be her mum given the age of this film) are looking for the next step in the thug life, and according to their fence, Sheila, there's a big market for trashing American schools by certain foreign nations. This leads to our undisciplined foursome breaking into their school and knocking over a few chairs and smashing a window before the cops arrive. A shootout ensues, bodies are caught and Paula's cramps might be a sign she's up the duff.

As mentioned earlier, The Violent Years is very much a rich dollop of morality that puts the fear of God into anyone tempted to walk the pathway to Hell, very much in a similar vein to good ol' Cecil B. DeMille; replete with an Old Testament style closing segment by the googly eye glasses wearing, Judge Clara. Paula's rampage of destruction has not only left the local morgue working over-time, but it's also left her parents with broken hearts and an uncertain life for her new born baby. This pot-boiler noir might play the right notes on the church organ, but it was definitely made for purely exploitative reasons. The Violent Years is an excellent example of how juvenile deliquency in film has always been a source for entertainment purposes over the many decades. Paula's spoilt yet neglected upbringing bears a strinking similarity to Gillian Hills' Jennifer Linden from Beat Girl (1959), only separated by a double-murder rap.

Despite it being unintentional, I personally find that it taps into the fears of society on a young and unruly post-war generation, and poses the question of what kind of mark they would leave upon society? Ultimately, these woes would pass on from one generation to the next, but what's especially fascinating about this particular era, is that a pulp film like The Violent Years exemplifies a new breed of juveniles, in this case young women, who would eventually signify the shifting moral compass of protagonists in both homegrown and world cinema a decade later. It's one of the reasons why Dada Debaser makes a conscious effort to be way more accommodating towards exploitation cinema, regardless of its reputation, since you'll eventually find a diamond in the rough like The Violent Years.

The Violent Years (AGFA Trailer)

(William Morgan, 1956)

 

Juvenile Hell: Part 2

Class of 1984 (Mark L. Lester, 1982)

The future is here. A generational leap from the previous entry as Mark L. Lester realises an eerily prophetic vision of high school life through the eyes of music teacher Mr. Andrew Norris (Perry King). Set two years in the future, our film's protagonist receives a series of lessons in the school of hard knocks. He's transplanted from his idealistic and optimistic perspective into a run-down, graffiti-ridden education centre where CCTV, security guards and walk through metal detectors are the norm. Far fetched predictions in high school life which eventually came true. It doesn't take long when Norris falls afoul of Lincoln High's kingpin of crime Stegman (Tim Van Patten) and his gang of vicious punks, as he is taken to absolute hell by them. 

Having a film revolve around the teacher as its main protagonist gives it a necessary perspective, as they sensibley serve as an avatar of reason and maturity, which is completely contrasted by the level of chaos represented by Stegman and his  punk thugs. Coming across as a mix of High School Confidential (1958) and Death Wish (1974), Lester's film kills two birds with one stone, as it fulfils both criterias of a juvenile delinquency movie and an all out revenge film. The finished result is a film that both flirts the realms of exploitation and serious drama. 

As far as villains go, Stegman is the psychopathic son Krug Stillo always wanted, that Junior could never be. A school bully who makes Norman "Gripper" Stebson look like Lucy Van Pelt. There are a bunch of reasons why Tim Van Patten's character is so enthralling to watch: on one hand, you've got to admire any young entrepreneurial whipper snapper runnin' a criminal empire from a grotty rundown hovel, with punks lining up to see him like he was Vito Corleone; the scene where he's on the old joanna playing like Richard Clayderman, revealing his hidden gift (incidentally, that's an original Van Patten joint), is no recompense for his foul rap sheet; and, it just might be that he's a Nelson Muntz turned up to eleven that makes him such as a memorable manifestation of fear for older generations.

Not all the youts are bad seeds, however: there's Arthur, played by a podgy Michael J. Fox, in one of his earliest film roles; and that clarinet girl who looks like that Elliot Page geezer. They represent the handful of fresh-faced do-gooders, who made the mistake of enrolling at Lincoln High. It's not easy for them either, since shankings seem pretty common. It gets to the point that both the faculty and pupils are surprisingly nonchalant after Arthur got stabbed in the cafeteria riot.

Veteran of The Planet of the Apes franchise Roddy McDowell was cast as deflated science teacher Terry Corrigan, and wound up delivering a stellar performance. The scene where he walks into his science classroom where his beloved lab pets are gruesomely slaughtered is truly heartbreaking. Matter of fact, those were real dead animals from a morgue used for that nightmarish scene; not fake props like one would assume these days. According to a behind the scenes interview with a crew member, the smell was completely unbearable, which no doubt helped with McDowell's horror and disgust. Really tragic stuff seeng a character sink to such a depressing low that he resorts to pulling a handgun on his class in order to get the kids learning. Surprisingly, it seems to work. Who would have known that having a gun aimed at your face would be incentive enough to have the cogs in your brain turning and firing correct answers like Mark Labbett from The Chase? Apparently, writer and director Tom Holland remembered McDowell's performance in this film when his first choice as Peter Vincent for Fright Night (1985), Vincent Price had turned down the role. Winner!

Ultimately, the film is very much focused on confronting the viewer with an increasingly opposing force, before the line can finally be drawn and it's time to push back. Corrigan and Norris are two idealistists who thought they could pass on their knowledge to the next generation, little realising those irredeemable punk kids are the progenitors that would be running rampant in Mad Max's world. They both play a game with loaded dice, since the law and justice are driven here on two very seperate lanes, which leads to both teachers reach a breaking point: Corrigan, with the murder of his beloved pets; Norris, with the gang rape and abduction of his wife. One fails by going insane, while the other fights back for his and wife's very survival.

Lester's filmography is very patchy, much of his resumé consists of him producing some straight-to-video shite, although as a director he has delivered some legitimate gems: his underrated take on Bonnie & Clyde  Bobbie Jo and the Outlaw (1976) (Lynda Carter !!!!), Armed and Dangerous (1986) and Showdown in Little Tokyo (1990) are notable highlights. His biggest film however would undoubtedly be the Arnold Schwarzenegger vehicle Commando (1985)- a film with enough testoterone to fuel the eighties action movie scene alone. Lester would go on to helm a non-direct sequel to Class of 1984 with The Terminator inspired Class of 1999 (1990). Nowhere in the same league as its predecessor, but it's entertainingly trashy fun. Pam Grier as a homicidal android teacher is worth your time, if you ask me. However, it doesn't have a villain as good as Peter Stegman, nor does it offer a satisfying build-up and conclusion like its predecessor. Class of 1984 is a great example of the juvenile hell that this blogger loves to death. A cult classic.

Juvenile Hell

Beat Girl (Edmond T. Gréville, 1959)

What we're gonna do right here is go back, way back, back into time. When the only people that existed were beatniks and squares. Edmond T. Gréville's British morality tale centred around spoilt, little, Kensington girl Jennifer (Gillian Hills) Linden, is a fascinating time capsule into the proto-hippies of the late fifties and early sixties. Jennifer's routine mostly consists of cotchin' in a greasy spoon with her dosser mates and listening to popstar teen idol Adam Faith strum his guitar in between rounds of milk. Jen isn't too happy with her father, since Daddy-O returned home after a long absence with his twenty-four year old, brand-spanking new French bride, Nichole. Described as "ancient", by Jen and her chums, she's livid that she now has a new stepmother and is determined to give her a tough time. She comes up trumps as she discovers mère dukes, was a "peeler" (stripper) back in the day. From there, the film switches up a gear as our right little tearaways go raving at her swanky crib and in subterranean caves. Remarkably, it's actually way cooler than that veritable crustyfest like in Matrix Reloaded (2003). Jen and chums also take time out to play "chicken the rail", by placing their noggins on a train track before an oncoming train. Splendid.

The supporting cast are a recognisable bunch of British actors from past and present. Shirley Anne Field and that bloke who was in The Mark of Satan; one of the better episodes of Hammer House of Horror, complete Jen's teen cypher. The legendary Oliver Reed has a very minor role as a rival beatnik. The always excellent, Nigel Green plays a marvellously entertaining master of ceremonies, and then you have the G.O.A.T, Christopher Lee as the sleazy club owner of Les Girls, with the most British sounding name ever - Kenny King. Edgar Wright's Last Night In Soho was amongst my favourite films from last year, so it's worth noting that the strip club featured in it took obvious inspiration from Les Girls, in both the exterior and interior scenes. 

Got to admit, I was a little uncomfortable seeing Christopher Lee playing a character trying it on with Jailbait Jennifer. The man was practically like a grandfather to me during my childhood, so it comes as a shock to the system seeing him perform a scene like that. Can't honestly say the same for his acting peers, with the notable exception of the gentleman of horror, Peter Cushing; the ying to Lee's yang. The Cush however, did stray from his moniker at times, like that time he offscreen raped Veronica Carlson in Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed (1969), and then there was his out-of-turn lead role in the utterly depraved Eyes Without A Face (1960) rip-off, Corruption (1968). Edmond T. Gréville and Christopher Lee teamed up a year later with a remake of The Hands of Orlac. That's not the only occurrence of Beat Girl's cast and crew working in other film's, since Shirley Anne Field and Oliver Reed appeared together in Hammer's 1963 sci-fi chiller The Damned. It was a much smaller network back then.

The one character that rubs me the wrong way is Jennifer's dad. Poppa Linden should have taken a page from Tony Soprano's book when laying down the rules to his daughter, and he is the major reason Jennifer turned out to be such an annoying brat. Being a successful busy architect, he seems to be away a lot, so he's either chasing French women with tattooed-looking eyebrows, or trying to realise his life's work - a post-modern city that reminds me of the ghetto flats in Highbury & Islington from my youth. The 3D model of his passion project always gets the loudest laugh from me in this film, since Dad's ego is far too big to see through the urban shithole it would be by the seventies. Jennifer calling him out on this project might be her biggest saving grace in sympathy I have for her. She deserved better from him. Money can't buy love and all that.

Admittedly, Beat Girl was not a film that grabbed me initially, but I found it an interesting curiousity over the years and became a fan after repeated viewings. It serves as an amazing look into an era of Britain that's always appealed to me; since my earliest Gen X memories of London were never transferred accurately to screen until witnessing John Landis' classic An American Werewolf in London (1981) and Dio's Rainbow in the Dark music video. Beat Girl predates all that and that's its major draw; accurate, or not. The portrayal and representation of rebellious youth in film has always been a major interest to me, largely because they are prime visual examples of the generational divide in modern human history. Obviously, Beat Girl is an exploitative example, tapping into juvenile deliquency and titalation, but I still find it a fascinating introspective into the teen angst of the Post-War generation (before they veered off into insufferable hippies); a generation that tended to berate and look down on Gen X'ers, like myself. We get to see some of that Baby Boomer psyche, and even if they're jive-talkin' beatniks, that's still a worthy reason to dig this movie out.

Gillian Hills went on to have minor appearances in Michelangelo Antonioni's Blow-Up (1966) and Stanley Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange (1971), but she eventually landed a major role in the Spanish giallo (should be called amarillo, am I right?) The Killer Wore Gloves (1974). Kind of kicking myself, since I used to have a bootleg DVD of it back in the day and lost it. Barely remember much of it, but I think it's the film where you hilariously see mountains in the backdrop for a film supposedly set in London. Here's hoping one of the boutique labels release a quality print of it, instead of it being only available via age-restricted blurry YouTube videos.

Finally, there seems to be a bit of confusion with Beat Girl's release date. The BFI state it as a 1959 film, while the likes of IMDb and every other resource site have it up as 1960. Based on the Gillian Hills supplemental interview on the BFI blu-ray, she states she was around fourtheen at the time of filming, which falls in line with the BFI date. From what I can gather, the film was submitted to the BBFC in 1959, but didn't gain a national release until 1960, without major cuts made to it. Opted to categorise it as a product of the fifties, otherwise I would have had to include Rocky IV: Rocky vs. Drago as a 2021 movie if I didn't stick to this same principle. Anyhow, who am I to argue with the British Film Institute over the release date of a Brit flick? Wouldn't be cool, Daddy-O.

Beat Girl (Chicken scene)

(Edmond T. Gréville, 1959)