Jacquelyn Hyde Movies

Flamboyant, giallo-style gore effects are the only highlight of this otherwise pedestrian supernatural horror film, which was originally filmed in 1981 as The Witch and shelved for four years, before it experienced a mild midnight-movie revival in the wake of The Evil Dead's success. The ghastly goings-on begin when a clergyman (Larry Pennell) and his family move into an eerie mansion built near the lake where a powerful local witch was drowned four centuries earlier. It soon becomes evident that the spirit of this evil sorceress, whose powers have increased exponentially after her death, is not content with conducting the standard haunted-house scare tactics, and the bodies begin to pile up at an incredible rate. (These audacious death scenes peak with one poor soul's dismemberment courtesy of a flying circular saw.) When a homicide detective (Albert Salmi) and a minister (James Carl Houghton) discover the cause of the macabre mayhem, they prepare to conduct an exorcism (in the mode of The Amityville Horror), much to their own peril. Overblown performances, a scatter-shot screenplay, and hilariously messy gore effects make this movie impossible to take seriously, but it does have a certain tacky charm. ~ Cavett Binion, All Movie Guide

Walter Matthau plays a CIA agent who's been confined by office politics to a desk job. The disgruntled Matthau quits the service and heads to Europe, where he links up with former lover (an fellow ex-agent) Glenda Jackson. All goes smoothly until Matthau acts on the advice of yet another retired agent, Russian Herbert Lom, who suggests that Matthau write a tell-all autobiography. Spitefully, Matthau sends out copies of his first chapter to the heads of the CIA agencies throughout the world--and from that point on, he and Jackson don't have a moment's peace. This delights Matthau: now that all of his former colleagues are chasing after him, he has a reason to get up in the morning. As written by Brian Garfield, Hopscotch was a conventionally serious espionage novel. As adapted for the big screen by Garfield and Bryan Forbes, Hopscotch is a lively exercise in cloak-and-dagger comedy, even when the pursuit of Matthau turns deadly towards the end. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

This well-acted but wildly disjointed sci-fi/horror film stars William Devane as a writer who takes a personal interest in a series of baffling decapitation murders in the L.A. area, all of which seem to indicate some kind of supernatural force at work. He is joined in his investigation by a TV reporter (Cathy Lee Crosby), while detective Dave Mooney (Richard Jaeckel puzzles over evidence that the killer may not even be human. Their subsequent monster hunt is both stylish and suspenseful but completely collapses at the end, trashing any attempt at explanation by revealing the murderer as a lumpy-browed alien brute with ill-fitting slacks and laser-beam eyes. After a tension-filled 80-minute set-up, the moronic climax brings the suspense to a jarring halt and was probably added late in the game by a lame-brained studio executive who decided in mid-production to change the killer into an alien. Directorial duties were originally assigned to Tobe Hooper (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre), who bailed out early to be replaced by John "Bud" Cardos. Enough said. ~ Cavett Binion, All Movie Guide

When Woody Allen's fans refer to his "earlier, funnier" pictures, they often cite his directorial debut as a shining example. Co-written by Allen and Mickey Rose, this side-splitting takeoff of crime documentaries stars Allen as Virgil Starkwell, a sweetly inept career criminal. The film's most celebrated sequence involves Virgil's inability to write coherent holdup notes ("I have a gub"), but others include Virgil's losing battle with a recalcitrant coke machine and his misguided effort to emulate John Dillinger by carving a gun out of a bar of soap (his weapon disintegrates in a heavy rain). As was often the case in Allen's early films, not all the gags work, but for the most part, Take the Money and Run is a delight, enhanced by the on-target supporting performances of Janet Margolin, Marcel Hillaire, and (uncredited) Louise Lasser, as well as the energetic musical score of Marvin Hamlisch. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

In the first episode of a three-part story, President Grant (William Bryant) asks Jason (Chuck Connors) to find out the reason that maverick general George Armstrong Custer (Robert Lansing) has been making public attacks against the Grant adminstration's Indian policy. Outwardly, it seems that Custer is concerned only with the safety of the white settlers who have nested in the territory controlled by Chief Crazy Horse (Michael Pate). But as Jason soon learns to his chagrin, his former West Point comrade Custer has an ulterior motive that may result in wholesale slaughter. Excerpts from "Call to Glory" were later combined with scenes from two other Branded episodes, "Fill No Glass for Me" and "Now Join the Human Race", to form the direct-to-video "feature film" Blade Rider: Revenge of the Indian Nations. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

In the second episode of a three-part story, Presidential emissary Jason McCord (Chuck Connors) has managed to disuade his former West Point comrade General Custer (Robert Lansing) from sparking an Indian war to further his own political ambitions. Shortly thereafter, Chief Crazy Horse (Michael Pate) arrives in Washington to plead for peace and fair treatment of his people from General Sheridan (John Pickard). Alas, Sheridan's philosophy is that the only good Indian is a dead Indian--and this time, Jason may not be able to prevent a bloodbath. Excerpts from "Call to Glory" were later combined with scenes from two other Branded episodes, "Fill No Glass for Me" and "Now Join the Human Race", to form the direct-to-video "feature film" Blade Rider: Revenge of the Indian Nations. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide