Sunday, March 3, 2013

Mountains of Mammaries: House on Bare Mountain, Part 1

With this post we begin our multi-part look at a film so epic, so ground-breaking, so shocking in it's portrayal of normal people caught in the tempest of love, power, and money, that it deserves a deep and introspective analysis.

Are the boring people gone?

Good.  OK, here's the deal.  Boobs.  Lots of 'em, and a werewolf they made by covering some poor schlub in elmer's glue and then rolling him on the couch that the family dog sleeps on.  Welcome to a whole month of:

I consider "white squirted on black paper" as a bad choice of font.

Possible things B&M production stands for other than the obvious:
  • Burger Mold
  • Bits of Moss
  • Butt Machine
House on Bare Mountain is the second most known of the "Monster Nudie Cutie" movies.  Yes, there is enough of that group to rank them, and I've seen them, will write about them, and with that I'm going to whittle down my viewership to a couple small dirty bits of pocket lint that aren't smart enough to pick another blog.

An industrial accident left Creese with Snausages for fingers.

Our movie starts with "Lovable Bob Creese" (this is how he is billed in the credits) doing his best imitation of Jonathan Winters' character Maude as if channeled through Norman Bate's mother and run through a blender set to derivative.

While the billing was "lovable," the real Bob Creese was about as lovable as a tank full of piranhas pumped full of growth hormone while having a particularly bad PMS attack ... in hell.  Creese was called a "gangster" by fellow exploitation film maker Harry Novak.  Most guys in exploitation (and women, like Doris Wishman) were basically in it for the money.  They weren't bad guys, or particularly anything else other than trying to make a buck.  Creese was the opposite; he was angry, mean, a germaphobe, strong-armed and threatened people to make deals, and supposedly installed a two-way mirror in the restrooms.

Of course, he also brought us a lot of naked chicks with hairstyles straight out of a high school production of Hair Spray.  So, half a dozen of one, the great wheel of Karma slowly turns, etc.

No one will be seated during the terrifying stock footage!

Here's Granny Good's School for Good Girls, home to thousands of 60s monster movies, a couple two-way mirrors, and enough stains that if you shined a black light on the walls somebody in the next state would ask you to turn the damn lights down.

There are mysterious goings on, and it's sort of like a Scooby-Doo mystery if Velma wasn't wearing pants.  Rule 34, in effect, which is very useful for scamming search traffic.  Can't wait to check the logs after this is published!

Actors practicing the "react to Enterprise being hit" action.

Granny Good is welcoming a new student, and we get the first mutterings of a plot.  No, it's not aliens with ray guns that melt clothes -- and don't use that -- I've already started shopping around my spec script: Naked Came the Neptunians.

Our two proud parents are ... sigh ... Mr. and Ms. Bumgardener.

The script doctor was Ernest P. Worrell.

For some reason, there's explosion every couple seconds.  It will turn out to be something going on in the house, but for this scene, every explosion is proceeded by a bomb whistling effect.  While this might have been the agents of good taste up in a B-52 above trying to end this film before it begins, the whistling sound makes no sense in later context.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that the continuity editor was a drunk shrub.

That must be one incredibly interesting book!

Here we met our first of many students.  The ads for this film were not kidding when they said "bevy of beauties."  They were kidding when they said "enjoyable," "laugh riot," and "film."

Flour really has it in for Creese after he broke Baking Soda's knees on a gambling debt.

I sure hope that's dust.

Granny accepts our new students and the audience accepts were going to sit through comedy that was old when the first Tetrapod was evolving lungs.  Watching Creese get plastered in the face has it's own benefits, though don't mention that to him.  Really.  Really.

Quick, find our dignity before Creese comes back!

And the plot comes hurtling in like a soap box derby manned by kids with glandular problems who forgot to install the brakes.  It turns out our couple and their daughter are agents looking for evidence on whatever evil Granny Good is up to.

Could it have something to do with the explosions?  The werewolf?  The mysterious call that I didn't mention because you don't care?  It could.  Or you could just tune in for T&A.  There's a lot of it.  Hair Bear is going to be working his afro off!

Move on to Part 2!

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