A TRIBUTE TO DIRECTOR JOHN HAYES

Five Minutes To Love (aka The Rotten Apple), 1963
Harry (Paul Leder) is a junkyard owner who runs a profitable car theft operation on the side. His two flunkies do the dirty work in exchange for the marijuana Harry provides for them, as well as regular romps in the sheets with the Pooch (Rue McClanahan), an addled prostitute who lives in a shack behind the main office. A young couple traveling with their baby has car trouble nearby, so Ben (Will Gregory) goes to the junkyard for a new starter. Harry is evasive with Ben, talking in circles to the frustrated motorist, until finally suggesting that he wait in the shack with the Pooch while he checks the yard for the proper part. Harry has plans for Ben, however, turning him over to a pair of crooked cops when they demand a scapegoat for all the stolen cars in the area. While they try to beat a confession out of him, his wife Edna (Gail Gordon) is chased through the junkyard by Harry's stoned henchman Blowhard (King Moody), who tries to rape her on a pile of tires. By the end, most of the cast is eager for revenge against the manipulative, arrogant Harry, who believes his power, money, and brains entitle him to belittle and abuse everyone in his path. FRED BELDIN

Cut-Throat Kommandos, 1969
Director John Hayes' absurdly spare 1969 nudie action flick The Cut Throats was released to video in the '80s as Cut-Throat Kommandos, packaged with the kind of sleazy sadomasochistic artwork that quickens the hearts of swastika-porn freaks. Although there's plenty of fetishistic Nazi memorabilia on display and a healthy selection of nude Aryan maidens, anyone expecting another Ilsa, She-Wolf of the SS will be disappointed. During the waning days of World War II, a crack squad of specially trained American privates infiltrates a "golf course and country club" in Germany to steal sensitive battle plans. After overtaking the guards and searching the grounds, the soldiers discover a brothel set up for the Nazi elite, leading to saucy striptease routines and softcore sex romps with the obliging German prostitutes. Unfortunately, the squad's commander has actually arranged this mission to get his own hands on a trunkful of costume jewelry hidden in the cellar, and the complications are deadly. Anyone who's familiar with Hayes' 1972 zero-budget junkie-zombie picture Tomb of the Undead will know just how low-down cheap his productions can appear. The first line of the film ("This isn't home, it's Germany. There's a war on.") is clumsily designed to establish time and setting, but there's no disguising the fact that The Cut Throats is lensed in Southern California. The German soldier uniforms look handmade from black felt and chalk, the Nazi stronghold appears to be an unfinished ranch-style house, and the story conveniently calls for only the smallest possible army squadrons. Cult favorite Uschi Digard pours wine all over herself in a brief appearance, and Hayes regular Marland Proctor is on hand as a sensitive soldier who falls for a clown-faced hooker. And why is that blonde woman carrying an oil painting through the forest? Despite The Cut Throats' considerable quirks, there's too little going on to maintain interest for most viewers. Fans of low-budget WWII films should check out Hayes' more conventional Shell Shock, while those with a Nazi sex fetish are better off with Lee Frost's infamous Love Camp 7. FRED BELDIN

Tomb of the Undead (aka Garden of the Dead), 1972
A low-security prison labor camp is about to be closed down due to the excessive brutality of the warden (Lee Frost), whose strict manner has embittered the convicts and damaged his career. The inmates are engaged in the production of formaldehyde, which they also use to get high by sniffing the fumes. While under the influence, a group of prisoners begin digging a secret escape tunnel, and they threaten their non-huffing bunkmates with death if anyone exposes their plan. The getaway attempt is thwarted by overzealous prison guards, and the escaping prisoners are shot down and buried in a nearby cemetery. However, the massive exposure to formaldehyde has a curious effect on the corpses; they won't stay dead and they crawl from their graves to exact bloody revenge upon the prison camp. The zombies arm themselves with axes, shovels, and dangerous lawn-care items from the prison tool shed, while the living convicts have to join forces with the warden and his guards in order to stay alive. Also known as Garden of the Dead.

There are few concepts as ludicrous as the central conceit that gives Tomb of the Undead its artificial life. Prison escapees so whacked out from huffing formaldehyde that their corpses are animated after death? Stupidity this brilliant should always be rewarded with high praise, and indeed, fans of low-brow junk cinema will be ecstatic over the moronic thrills that this anti-masterpiece provides. Produced fast and cheap to provide a double-bill feature for director John Hayes' Grave of the Vampire, the film's sets and costumes barely exist. The convicts wear blue shirts with their serial numbers handwritten in felt tip on the back, the "prison" walls are flimsy planks of wood stuck into the ground and strung with chicken wire, and the zombies sport simple greasepaint designs on their faces to suggest decomposition. Still, it's easily the best drug-zombie-prison film ever made and it even provides a bit of a love story for the romantics in the audience. With a brief running time of 59 minutes, Tomb of the Undead buzzes through its paces before it has a chance to wear out its welcome, offering stoned prisoners huddling around bubbling cauldrons of formaldehyde and zombies that alternate between shuffling somnambulism and gymnastic fits of energy. The cast does the best they can, given the circumstances, and exploitation experts will be able to spot a handful of familiar faces. Warden Lee Frost directed and appeared in many drive-in and adults-only titles, such as House on Bare Mountain and The Black Gestapo. Prison doctor Duncan McLeod was occasionally employed by Russ Meyer, most notably in the classic Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. The wild-eyed, balding fume fiend Eric Stern was put to better use in the unique obscurity The Love Butcher, and most movie fans will recognize character actor Carmen Filpi from his numerous bit parts as bums and winos. Tomb of the Undead is as wretched as they come, but for those who appreciate the outlandish over the logical, it's a must-see. FRED BELDIN

The End Of The World, 1977
Dr. Andrew Boran (Kirk Scott) is picking up strange signals from outer space that seem to predict natural disasters. When he and his wife (Sue Lyon) decide to investigate, they find themselves held captive in a convent that's been infiltrated by aliens with plans to destroy the world. As alien leader Zindar (Christopher Lee) explains, the earth is a hotbed of disease that cannot be permitted to continue polluting the galaxy. This dull sci-fi programmer provides zero thrills and negligible tension as it plods toward its inevitable apocolyptic finale. Director John Hayes is no one's idea of a master artist, but at least he's been involved in more engaging work in the past, particularly the zero-budget prison/zombie headscratcher Garden of the Dead and the oddly poetic junkyard crime fable Five Minutes to Love. FRED BELDIN

Jailbait Babysitter, 1978
Vicki (Therese Pare), a virginal 17-year-old babysitter, runs with an older crowd who nickname her "Jailbait" and tease her for not putting out to devoted boyfriend Robert (Roscoe Born). When the gang turns a babysitting job into a Quaalude-fueled sex party, violence ensues, and Vicki is rescued by a "professional liaison" (April 1978 Penthouse Pet Mariwin Roberts), who welcomes her into her home and introduces her to the world of high-class prostitution. The salaciously titled Jailbait Babysitter doesn't deliver the heat one would expect (save for some random toplessness and a steamy ten-second shower orgy) and fluctuates in tone between cautionary-tale melodrama and good old-fashioned sex comedy. Writer/director John Hayes tries and fails to find humor in his heroine slipping in dogsh*t and a heart-attack victim being covered in garbage. Hayes' 20-year exploitation career resulted in films that ranged from unique and poetic (The Rotten Apple) to brilliantly stupid (Garden of the Dead) or insufferably dull (The End of the World). Jailbait Babysitter is at the lowest end of the spectrum, combining boredom with incoherence, as continuity of character, plot, and time of day is ignored throughout. Even the fistfight finale between a clown and a vampire can't redeem this sluggish picture for fans of junk cinema, who would be better off seeking out some of Hayes' more interesting hack work. The climactic Halloween party scene has been alleged by some to feature future star John Goodman in his screen debut as a dancing extra in a giant rainbow afro wig. However, the disguise makes it impossible to determine for sure, and it's unlikely that the then New York-based actor would have jetted all the way to the West Coast for a non-speaking role in a low-rent skin flick. Roscoe Born went on to a successful soap opera career, putting in long years on numerous daytime stories (Ryan's Hope, One Life to Live, and All My Children, among others). FRED BELDIN