THE DEFILERS
B&W, 1965, 65 mins.
Directed by Lee Frost
Starring Byron Mabe, Jerome Eden, Mae Johnson, Mimi Marlowe / Written and Produced by David F. Friedman

SCUM OF THE EARTH
B&W, 1963, 71 mins.
Directed by Herschell Gordon Lewis
Starring Thomas (Sweet)Wood, Allison Louise Downe, Lawrence Wood, Mal Arnold, Sandra Sinclair, Craig Maudslay, Jr.
Image Entertainment (DVD) (US R1 NTSC)

Ah, the roughies of the 1960s. Filled with antisocial behavior, sexual deviance, and mixed messages galore, these forays into the underbelly of the human psyche pushed the softcore "adults only" quickie into truly dangerous territory. Two of the finer examples of this grungy chapter in the grindhouse history have been archived together by Something Weird for another memorable DVD drive-in double feature, complete with trailers and psychotronic goodies bound to make the discerning sleaze fan sit up and take notice.

The first film on the roster is The Defilers, which opens up with a dialogue-free sequence in which two spoiled louts (Byron Mabe and Jerome Eden) escort their two girlfriends for some nocturnal fun and frolicking on the beach. "There's only one thing that makes this worm-infested life worthwhile," Mabe philosophizes. "Kicks -- kicks!" Apparently his slightly more conscientious friend agrees, and while Mabe isn't busy giving his girlfriend some suspiciously willing lashes with his belt, the two buddies decide to have some fun by kidnapping a sweet young thing (Mae Johnson) fresh off the bus in Los Angeles. After some terrific footage of Hollywood Boulevard in all its 1963 glory, Johnson settles into a hotel room and promptly winds up escorted to the Valley by our two anti-heroes, who drag her off to a basement and keep her prisoner as their own personal love slave. They continue their partying and country clubbing above ground, descending now and then for a little fun and games with their new captive. Of course, this not so idyllic existence can't go on forever, and it all ends on an appropriately hysterical and gory note.

"You're damaged merchandise, baby, and this is a fire sale!" snarls one of the pornographers in Scum of the Earth, a mostly blood-free collaboration by that unbeatable Blood Feast team, H.G. Lewis and David F. Friedman. Less grungy but far more hilarious than Friedman's The Defilers, this heavy breathing twist on Ed Wood's The Sinister Urge reveals what cheesecake photographers really do to snag pretty girls in front of their cameras. The latest victim is the impossibly naive Kim (Sherilyn Fenn look-alike Vickie Miles, a.k.a. Allison Louise Downe), who's trying to save up for college and agrees to earn a few extra bucks with the help of kindly photographer Harmon (Blood Feast's Thomas Wood, a.k.a. Bill Kerwin, billed here as "Thomas Sweetwood" and sporting a bizarre skunk hairdo). Along with scuzzball Larry (Fuad Ramses himself, Mal Arnold), Harmon talks his girls into compromising positions where they remove their tops and perform acts best left implied, some involving hairy and horny strongarm Ajax (nudist camp vet Craig Maudslay, Jr.). Larry scoffs at the constant threats to go to the police: "You got nothin' on me, daddy-o; I'm a minor!" (never mind that he looks way past thirty). However, Kim proves to be more trouble than she's worth, particularly when the porn peddlers force her to do a "nature study" with equally tortured modeling veteran Sandy (Sandra Sinclair) and another girl, in which they're coerced into - horror of horrors - posing in their bathing suits while waving party hats and baseball bats. Murder and mayhem ensue, with a frantic oceanside finale containing a most unexpected color homage to Alfred Hitchcock's Spellbound.

Though both films run barely over an hour each, they certainly pack in enough entertainment value to fuel a dozen Oliver Stone epics. Scum in particular weaves in and out of a surprising number of subplots and supporting characters (never mind the atrocious acting), while both features sport that wonderfully shadowy, atmospheric black and white photography that made these disreputable quickies look far more polished than their budgets would allow. Lewis fans in particular will enjoy seeing most of the "Blood Trilogy" regulars popping up and giving their usual stilted performances, laced with insane and endlessly quotable dialogue.

As per Something Weird's standards, these features look exceptionally good for their age and probably couldn't get much better. The Defilers is virtually in mint condition, with perfect contrast levels and nary a flaw to be found. Scum looks a bit more battered, though the image quality itself is quite good. Sound on both is consistently clear and satisfying, with every dramatic pause and whip of lashing leather perfectly intact.

Of course, the movies are just half the fun. Playing the drive-in option on the DVD assaults the viewer with hilarious promos, kicking off with Julie Andrews' unforgettable endoresement for the new MPAA ratings system and including such delicacies as a sex hygience book pitch, concession stand shorts, a short subject entitled Intimate Diary of Artists' Models (reteaming the irrepressible Ajax and Sandy), and a snippet from Barry Mahon's Naked Fury. Then there are the trailers, which alternate between knee-slapping hyperbole and shocking lapses of taste. Reel and gasp to the delights of Aroused!, Confessions of a Psycho Cat, Banned, Sex Killer, Sock It to Me Baby, The Curse of Her Flesh, The Ultimate Degenerate, The Pick-Up, and best of all, the absolutely delicious All Women Are Bad ("...and this is the film that proves it!"). There's even a particularly smutty Easter Egg hidden on the trailer menu screen, so brace yourself for hours and hours of good, scuzzy fun.

Color, 1970, 84 mins.
Directed by Tsanusdi (Jonathan Lucas)
Starring Buddy Pantasari, Elisabeth Monica, John Alderman, Christine Murray, Lisa Grant, Fletcher Davies
Image Entertainment (DVD) (US R1 NTSC)

A surprisingly benevolent and playful "adult" film from producer David F. Friedman, Trader Hornee represents an effort to break out of the grindhouse circuit thanks to more lavish visuals and silly humor. Decades later, the film is quite an odd curio, a mixture of Carol Burnett Show lampooning and harmless cheesecake nudity -- a combination we will not likely see again.

In order to satisfy the technicalities of the will in a large family's estate, intrepid private eye Hamilton Hornee (that's pronounced "Horn!") is hired to venture into the jungles of Africa to ascertain whether a long lost heiress is actually dead. He's joined along the way by his luscious assistant, Jane (Elisabeth Monica), as well as two scheming heir to the fortune, dedicated scientist Stanley Livingston (who's searching for Africa's mysterious "white gorilla," Nabucco), and the frisky Tender Lee (Lisa Grant). When Hornee learns of the local African white goddess, Algona, he believes he may have stumbled upon the lost heiress after all.

Though hilariously filmed in the Hollywood Hills instead of Africa (except for stock footage), Trader Hornee is nevertheless a sprawling epic by Friedman's standards. Real elephants, colorful and varied costumes, and a surprising number of subplots and cross cutting give the film a patina of respectability, aided by the fact that the generous amounts of female nudity rarely lead to anything resembling a true sex scene. For anyone yearning to try out the sexploitation genre without the nasty intrusion of "roughie" footage, this is the perfect place to start.

While no one could have ever pegged Trader Hornee as a candidate for special edition treatment on DVD, well, here it is! The film suffers a little bit from its late '60s film stock, which produces duller colors compared to some of the earlier erotic films, but the transfer quality is top notch for what it is. The mild letterboxing looks fine, trimming off some dead space from the top and bottom while revealing a bit on the sides compared to Something Weird's older VHS edition (and the first VHS edition, Legend of the Blonde Goddess). The disc also includes the funny original trailer (in rougher shape) and, as usual, a bouncy commentary by Friedman and SW's Mike Vraney, which dishes out the usual head-spinning amount of detail about financing and shooting a naughty epic back in the golden days of sleaze.