Summer Schlock 2026 part three (with cannibals)

Summer Schlock 2026 part three (with cannibals)

Cannibal World aka White Cannibal Queen (1980): The immortal Jess Franco delivers again with this haunting tale of cannibalism and atrocious dubbing. Couple with young daughter go sailing near cannibals, who have Mom for dinner, eat Dad’s arm but allow him to escape, and worship the daughter. Dad returns with a search party of nitwits. Hilarity sort of ensues. Cannibals look like they were working at Auto Zone last week. Topless daughter/goddess who grew up very fast. In-stream Kung Fu. Gratuitous snakes, crocodiles and tops of trees. Confusing and short, with funky cannibal music. Outstanding. Three coils.

Cannibal Terror (1981): Shot at the same time and place as “Cannibal World,” with many of the same extras. Also some of the same shots of monkeys, dancing cannibals and the kind of gloppy detritus one comes to expect at cannibal settlements. Stupid criminals kidnap rich guy’s daughter, flee into jungle and become lunch. We’re talking barf city. Efficient butchering. Auto Zone cannibals. Fleeting nekkidity. Enthusiastic yet uncoordinated dancing. Idiotic rescue attempt. Way too much plot getting in the way of the story. Two coils.

Massacre in Dinosaur Valley (1985): Our survey of cannibal movies continues with this specimen, featuring the Stupidest People to Ever Go in the Jungle. Paleontology trip to the Amazon goes awry when the plane crashes. The stupid people manage to die in various stupid ways until it’s just Kevin and the two girls, who have to deal with a) the cannibals and b) the illegal miners who have slaves. Nekkidity. Snakes. Glop. Lesbitation. Spear chucking. Indigenous religious ceremony rudely interrupted by Kevin. Dinosaur footprints but no dinosaurs. A solid example of how to stretch a film to the breaking point ie. 90 minutes. Three coils.

Primitives (1978): An Indonesian entry, featuring three stupid people plus a stupid guide who go to the jungle to study the natives. The first gang isn’t primitive enough, so they pay the guide extra to go deeper into the jungle where they find a tribe of cannibals who look like a grubbier version of Three Dog Night and communicate entirely in grunts. Gratuitous fish eye lens. Gratuitous animal vs. animal footage lifted from somewhere else. Gratuitous and puzzling 70s lounge music. Afterbirth licking. Depenising (implied). Turns out jungle fu has the same main rule as regular kung fu: Only one guy may attack at a time. No nekkidity. Tough sledding, frankly. One coil.

Slave of the Cannibal God (1978): Two of the stupid people in the jungle here are recognizable, or at least they were in 1978: Ursula Andress and Stacy Keach. Everything else is pretty much the same. Ursula’s looking for her missing anthropologist husband deep in the jungles of New Guinea. The usual hijinks occur. Lots of snakes in this one. Funky ceremonies. Nekkidity in the form of cannibals and Ursula’s personal chest. Lizard eating, which may or may not follow lizard butchering. Ursula in a goddess costume, attached to a tower of sticks, in a cave. Depenising (strongly implied). Dwarf cannibal. Somewhat higher production values than the standard cannibal flick. Groovy music. Highly offensive in every way. Four coils.

The Many Films of Fu Manchu

The Many Films of Fu Manchu

Between 1965 and 1969 British producer Harry Alan Towers made five flicks starring Christopher Lee as the evil and fiendish Dr. Fu Manchu,  Howard Marion-Crawford as Dr. Petrie, who harrumphs very Britishly, and Tsai Chin as Fu’s daughter Lin Tang, who is no slouch in the evil department. While all these films are respectable enough, they do get a bit schlocky, especially numbers four and five.

The Face of Fu Manchu (1965): Directed by Don Sharp, the first Fu film gets right to it, with Fu getting his head chopped off with his arch-enemy Nayland Smith (Nigel Green) in attendance.  Hahaha. Fooled you. Or should that be Fu’d you? Anyhoo Fu is very much alive and in London trying to get the Black Hill poppy distilled because a pint of the stuff will kill everyone in the city. One wonders why the acknowledged genius Dr. Fu Manchu, whether on the screen or in the novels by Sax Rohmer, always cooks up such complicated schemes. We’re talking decapitation (implied). Gratuitous henchmen. Gratuitous tweed suits. Minor swashbuckling (in tweed suit, for extra credit). No nekkidity. And for those readers who have trouble getting organized, The Cluttered Desk of Fu Manchu will make you feel better about yourself.

The Brides of Fu Manchu (1966): Don Sharp returns to direct this threadbare spy story that’s got Fu Manchu grafted on top. This time the doctor is developing a Death Ray and he’s kidnapping prominent scientists to help, using their beautiful daughters as collateral. We’re talking snake pit. Gratuitous wearing of Ascots. The unbearable lightness of empty cardboard boxes as hurled about in fight scenes. Death Ray vs. ocean liner. Abrupt non-sequitur in the form of the French Foreign Legion. Brides vs. henchmen fight. No nekkidity. Suggested alternate title: The Unusually Large Boiler Room of Fu Manchu.

Vengeance of Fu Manchu (1967): Directed by Jeremy Summers and co-produced with Hong Kong’s Shaw studios, purveyors of fine kung fu flicks. Starts off with a cheery mass execution at Fu HQ, conveniently located somewhere near the Great Wall of China. Nayland Smith, played by the appropriately wooden Douglas Wilmer, gets swapped for a double created by Fu’s kidnapped plastic surgeon, and the replacement is no fun at all. Meanwhile Fu is holed up at HQ doing vaguely evil stuff. And there’s a German mercenary in the mix. Gratuitous and endless nightclub singing. Minor kung fu. No nekkidity. Best line: “Hey, what are you doing here?” Featuring The Many Gongs of Fu Manchu, The Humongous Bell of Fu Manchu, and The Awkward Silences of Fu Manchu. By far the weakest entry in this series.   

Blood of Fu Manchu (1968): Prolific hack Jess Franco takes the helm for the fourth installment. This time around, Fu’s needlessly elaborate plan is to destroy his enemies by getting  little deadly snakes to bite a bunch of attractive young women. Then they (the women, not the snakes) go and kiss the enemy on the lips. The enemy immediately goes blind and suffers a protracted, unpleasant death, unless someone gets an antidote in time.  Why the girls don’t die when the snakes bite them can be chalked up to Fu’s evil genius. Or, since this is a Jess Franco film, to sheer incompetence. Gratuitous snakes. Gratuitous gongs. Ninjas. Fat bandit chief. Stupid people in the jungle. Harrumphing, British-style. Half-hearted orgy, which almost had some nekkidity but some spoilsport intervened at the critical juncture. Suggested alternative title: The Almost Complete Lack of the Blood of Fu Manchu.

Castle of Fu Manchu (1969): The last in the series and with Franco directing again, the flick is long on silliness and short on coherence. We’re talking fiendish plotting in boats on the Bosphorus. Extended sequence of henchmen trotting around bearing clearly empty coffins on their shoulders. The most unobservant palace guards in cinema history. Gratuitous fat guy in nightshirt. Gratuitous fezzes. The Brightly Colored Liquids Boiling in Flasks of Fu Manchu. No nekkidity.  Classic ending: “The world shall hear from me again.” Except it hasn’t. Alas.

There are two Fu films made with Warner Oland in the title role, one with Boris Karloff, and a TV series with Glen Gordon. They are all interesting in their ways but Fu fans should check out the 1940 Republic Pictures “Drums of Fu Manchu” serial, available in a two-disc DVD set. With Henry Brandon as Fu. Made by the same people who did “Captain Marvel,” with the same sets, graphics, music and extras. Each chapter is about 18 minutes long (except the first, which is 29 minutes) and has a cliffhanger ending. After the U.S. entered World War II and China was an ally, the Chinese government politely asked the State Department if they could put the arm on Republic to cheese it with the Yellow Peril stuff, and that was it for Fu Manchu on the big screen until 1965.

Despite the obvious flaws in the individual movies, as a whole the series rates a hearty three coils with the automatic on coil dedication for no nekkidity.