What could be more difficult than
being a young fresh-faced, inexperienced, future filmmaker? You
have just gotten out of that fancy, overpriced film school that
daddy paid for and all you want to do is get your story up on
the big screen. This is the plight of our protagonist in THE GREAT
HOLLYWOOD RAPE SLAUGHTER.
This unknown celluloid diet pill mixes sex and violence with
a dash of insider Hollywood bashing that is a blatant indictment
on the Hollywood system of the 1970s that is just as relevant
in the year 2001 and beyond. Forward thinking, frightening funny
and all together mandatory viewing. THE GREAT HOLLYWOOD RAPE SLAUGHTER
(TGHRS) is less about the literal meanings of Rape
and Slaughter and more about what a system of big boys, who decide
who makes movies, does to idealistic young turks, eagerly fumbling
along with their freshly Xeroxed scripts, bullhorns, and new jodhpurs.
Allegory, boys and girls, for the illiterate, I reckon.
TGHRS starts right off the bat with the screening of a film student's
experimental short - quickcuts between a bloody fight and a couple
humping (utilizing an editing technique William Burroughs recommended
for damaging one's brain) Cut to a folkgroup singing, as we see
shots of the lead singer (billed in the credits as Linda Ronstadt!?)
being strangled by an obese perv. The student leaves class and
is off to be a great Hollywood director.
His first meeting with a "producer" interspersed with
headlines from the Village Voice, Variety and more, about the
impossibility of a young filmmaker making in the biz sets the
tone for most of the film, as we learn that this producer was
himself a young go-getter animator who got shut down when Disney
started clamping down on the biz and shut the Mom and Pop animators
down. Our producer has the "film bug" so in order to
stay in the biz, has decided that making hairy, unattractive fuck
films is his new niche. But he is willing to give the upstart
a crack at making his "movie" as long as he puts some
fucking in it and directs a couple thump pics to boot.
His experiences are a realistic and revealing peek inside the
early 70's porn industry. He visits a shoot, fucks a would-be
star behind a dumpster, chats is up with a cum receptacle while
she wolfs down a bucket of KFC and gets creeped out by the less
than glamorous porno making racket. Ah, the good life! The weird
thing...it takes all of one day for all of this to happen and
when he goes home to his real girl, he can't perform so he decides
he needs to go get his script back from the sleaze merchant producer.
24 hours and the skin trade and already jaded. You would think
it would take at least 48.
TGHRS was written and directed (and more likely than not starred)
by Charles Brosseau/Fisher previously and since unknown and until
last year unheard from. His stroll into the fuck business in pretty
believable and his reemergence last year with Frozen Hot, a film
which features a huge portion of TGHRS. His second feature only
helps to prove that he is one fucked individual. I wrestled with
giving away the ending of TGHRS and finally decided that I had
to. It should not dissuade you from tracking the film down, it
should only drive you to have to see it.
Most of the film moves along a decent pace, but you find yourself
wondering "is this it, is it just a peek inside the bottom
rung of the porno industry in 1972?" "Where's all the
rape? I ain't seen no slaughter!" Well after our hero (I
am sparing you names because, believe me, they just aren't that
relevant) takes a considerable ass whopping trying to get his
script back, mainly because he interrupted an impromptu blowjob
that Mr. Big Hollywood producer was on the receiving end of, all
hell breaks loose in the next scene as we see cutaways of a motorcycle,
a boot, a hand, a black Indian style 10 gallon hat, an orgy, back
to the bike, the hat, the boot and the hand. Then the hand putting
together a rifle, the hat and so on until a door is kicked open
and naked flabby swingers are sprayed with bullets by...BILLY
JACK! You read that right, BILLY JACK, A beefed up dead ringer
for Tom Laughlin is shooting and preaching about morality and
filmmaking and shit. The one gal he spares (his wife) addresses
him as Billy...he rolls over a half dead stud and forces them
to go at it reminding her of the fact that she "sucked his
baby out of her!" This BILLY JACK is pro-life even, along
with being a moralizing, avenging angel of death. He blasts everybody
at the hump happening and rides off on his motorcycle with his
dead wife on a Crucifix fashioned into a big old Revelation's
model sissy bar. BILLY JACK every one...I am not kidding, he even
shows himself again in Frozen Hot, this time it is Billy Jack
as John the Baptist. But you are going to have to wait for that
review.
TGHRS does something that makes it a standout. It begins as one
thing, interesting in and of itself and ends as another, just
as interesting and ultimately more entertaining than you could
have ever guessed. THE GREAT HOLLYWOOD RAPE SLAUGHTER. Damn, Billy
Jack, who would have guessed? Hey, get your own copy below if
you want it and I know you do.
Mail or
Discuss this baby.
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|
On the set....high
dollar! |
|
Man, I really like
her..... |
|
In the edit room,
putting together the lovin'! What a life, just sucking and
sucking and.... |
|
Billy Jack, kicking
some major ass with a pistola! Do you think this moralizing
bastard is playing? |
|
Uh, that shot is
not gonna match up...his hat is crooked. |
|
This gal down a
bucket of chicken in here scene, the hard way, through her
mouth. |
|
Right there is why
I wouldn't eat a damn piece of liver ever again in my life... |
|