Robert Farrar Movies
This unsettling but moody low-budget psycho-thriller -- a drive-in version of Repulsion with a Southern Gothic flavor -- stars the eerie-looking Camilla Carr as a demented young recluse who believes herself to be possessed by the spirit of her long-lost brother (who is presumed dead), and slays any man who makes sexual advances toward her -- usually running them through with a sword. Her dementia intensifies, leading her to take her own life by chewing on broken glass (a particularly unsettling scene). The chief plot twist and subsequent dramatic punchline -- involving the brother's true identity and whereabouts -- is a long time coming, but fairly satisfying nonetheless. ~ Cavett Binion, All Movie Guide
This low-low-budget exploitation film deals tells the story of a deranged Vietnam veteran who runs amok in the backwoods slaughtering a twisted, incestuous clan of hillbillies. When the film did poorly at the box-office, enterprising producer Mike Ripps bought it and released it as a sequel to a somewhat more popular exploitation film, Poor White Trash (previously known as Bayou in 1957). As a gimmick, he then hired "Special Uniformed Police" to insure that theaters only admitted people who could handle with the film's "abnormal subject matter." ~ Sandra Brennan, All Movie Guide
One of the first of several horror films with "Don't" leading the title, this gory low-budget thriller takes place in an experimental hospital for the criminally insane, where the pioneering director allows several patients to act out their twisted fantasies (which involve necrophilia, paranoia and popsicles). When a new staffer shows up, things start to go haywire -- beginning with the bloody axe-murder of the doctor himself and leading to a total takeover of the asylum by its most dangerous inmates. The acting is horrendous, the sound is incoherent and the color is so cheap-looking that some theaters were issued black-and-white prints... but somehow the intrinsic sleaziness generated by the threadbare production manages to lend it a remarkably suitable ambience. Instead of vanishing into obscurity, this quirky little potboiler became a staple on the early-70's drive-in circuit, thanks to Hallmark Films' frequent double-bill bookings with Wes Craven's Last House on the Left (even borrowing the logline "Keep telling yourself: It's only a movie...") and Mario Bava's Bay of Blood. Some video versions are missing most of the graphic violence from the original cut. ~ Cavett Binion, All Movie Guide










