Jugnu (India, 1973)

Somewhere along the line, and without my quite realizing it, I became a fan of Dharmendra. For the longest time I only thought of him as that other guy from Sholay, or as the fellow who popped up from time to time in the Bollywood movies from the eighties and nineties I watched to play characters, wear clothes and woo women that were entirely age inappropriate for him. But gradually, by way of his starring roles in favorites like Dharam Veer and Yaadon Ki Baaraat, as well as in oddly endearing trash like Saazish, he wormed his way into my heart, to the point that I now consider his presence in a film a selling point, rather than just something to regard with total indifference.

That said, Jugnu isn’t my favorite Dharmendra film – I found its first hour to be slow going – but, once it gets rolling, it provides some key Dharmendra moments. That’s because, in his role as a hero who is a charming philanthropist by day and, Jugnu, a notorious bandit and champion of the downtrodden by night, Dharmendra gets to do a lot of what Dharmendra does best, which is make lots of chest-thumping proclamations of defiance to corrupt holders of power and issue bone-chilling threats of vengeance to same while referring to himself in the third person. Of course, I’m a sucker for these gentleman (and gentlewoman) thief films, so it’s no surprise that I found a lot to like in this one.

Like, for instance, Jugnu’s Jugnu-mobile, which is just a normal car, but with a small, side-mounted spotlight that projects Jugnu’s name at whoever he’s pursuing. Judging by how the car tests out in the film, it might have been wiser for Jugnu to invest in a bullet-proof windshield, but, as they say, it pays to advertise. Jugnu also features one of the most obviously conjured-up-at-the-last-moment-with-whatever-was -at-hand death traps I’ve seen in a masala film, a thing that involves saw blades precariously spinning on the ends of sticks like plates in a variety act. We also get a daring robbery set piece that involves one of movie heist-doms silliest “priceless” objet d’arts, a big jewel encrusted fish, which is protected by one of those sophisticated laser systems that is actually a bunch of neon tubing, and which Jugnu can only see by wearing some infrared goggles that are clearly just a regular old scuba mask.

Jugnu is also the second Bollywood movie I’ve seen in recent months – the other being Warrant – that incorporates actual footage stolen from the James Bond movie You Only Live Twice. In this case it was the scene in which a helicopter uses a giant magnet to pick up the baddies’ car and drop it into the ocean. I’ve determined that You Only Live Twice was the movie that every third movie made in the world between 1967 and 1977 wanted to be, and someday I will write a book cataloguing all of the films that steal footage, musical cues and ideas from it. Hey, I can relate. You Only Live Twice is my favorite James Bond movie, and if I were to make a movie myself, it would be a Supermarionation version of You Only Live Twice featuring suitmation giant monsters and lavish musical numbers set to the tunes of Kalyani-Ananji. (It would so sweep the Oscars. Oh, and M.I.A. would be in it. But as a puppet.)

With appearances by the mighty Pran, Prem Chopra at his sleaziest, classic Bollywood mustache-twirling villain Ajit, and Hema Malini in some intensely colorful numbers set to the tunes of S.D. Burman, Jugnu is classic 1970s masala in all its discretion-numbing, credulity-straining glory. In homage to its star, I will state my recommendation as follows; Todd will see the day that you watch Jugnu or, heaven help you, not even the dogs will chew your bones!

You should avoid these Santo movies

Of course, the fact that I compiled a list of what I consider to be the ten best Santo films doesn’t mean that those are the only Santo films worth watching. There are many other films in El Enmascarado de Plata’s oeuvre that offer plenty to enjoy. However, there are also a few that you should run away from as if your life depended on it. Because it does. Seriously, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of these movies could actually kill you.

The hypothetical person who actually gave a toss might be surprised to find Santo Frente a la Muerte and Santo en el Misterio de la Perla Negra, two films that I have elsewhere identified as being the absolute worst that Santo has to offer, missing from this list. The reason for that is that both of those films provide such an extravagant example of filmmaking undertaken by people who simply don’t give a fuck that I actually get kind of a perverse thrill out of them, and I suspect that there are others out there who might feel the same. Far be it from me to deprive those sick souls of the pleasure. No, these several films that I have listed below are limited to those only capable of eliciting boredom and depression in overwhelming, Costco-sized doses. Enjoy!

1. El Aguila Real (1971)
(The Royal Eagle)
Boring rural melodrama, abundant (and real) animal cruelty, and an overdose of Santo manager/frequent supporting player Carlos Suarez in comic relief mode make this the one Santo movie most likely to make you want to tear out your own brain and scrub it with industrial cleaning solvents.

2. Santo contra los Cazadores de Cabezas (1969)
(Santo vs. the Headhunters)
Santo and his party traverse the Amazonian jungle on foot and, apparently, in real time, stopping only occasionally for him to wrestle listlessly with some obviously doped-up animals, in what has to be the most unendurable snooze-fest in his vast catalog.

3. Santo contra Hombres Infernales (1958)
(Santo vs. Infernal Men)
You might be tempted by this film’s status as one of Santo’s earliest, but you’d do best to skip it and instead seek out Santo’s first film, Cerebro del Mal. This one is a classic, Roger Corman-style pick-up film, shot hastily in order to squeeze a little more value out of Cerebro del Mal’s cast and resources. As such, it comes off like a version of Cerebro del Mal – itself no particular stand-out – that has been leached entirely of plot, forward momentum and, most importantly, a demonstrable reason for existing. On top of that, Santo is for some reason only shown popping his head in and out of the ocean like some kind of masked hybrid of Aquaman and a groundhog.

4. Santo en la Frontera del Terror (1979)
(Santo on the Border of Terror)
This one is as much a vehicle for fat ranchera singer Gerardo Reyes as it is for Santo, which, trust me, is not a good thing. A depressingly tawdry and neglect-ridden entry overall, it isn’t helped any by another overabundance of the unique comedy stylings of Carlos Suarez – something that I think you will find is a commonality among Santo’s least distinguished efforts. What makes this one most dangerous is the fact that, last time I checked, it was one of the few Santo titles that was available from Netflix.

5. Santo contra Capulina (1968)
(Santo vs. Capulina)
It’s a comedy. With Santo.

Next up is my list of the ten best lucha movies that don’t feature Santo – and, yes, there is such a thing.

Santo's Best 10 Part II

Okay, let’s be honest here. For all my enthusiastic touting of Santo’s movies, the truth is that quite a large number of them suck balls. Here is the second part of my list of ten of them that totally don’t.

6. Operacion 67/El Tesoro de Moctezuma (1966)
(aka Operation 67/The Treasure Montezuma)
I am listing these two together because, seeing as they were shot back-to-back with the same cast of characters, they are essentially like two halves of one movie. The first attempts to tie Santo in with the James Bond craze, these two spy adventures are the most handsomely mounted of Santo’s films, and also the first shot in glorious Eastman Color. While there are no monsters on hand, the thrill of seeing Santo surrounded by such comparatively lush production values, plus the abundance of fast-paced action and typical, sixties-style sub-Bondian goofiness, makes up for the absence. As a bonus, these films give us the debut of the formerly saintly Santo as a globe-hopping ladies man, necking with adoring bikini babes in a swinging bachelor pad equipped with its own simulated beach.

7. Santo vs. Las Lobas (1972)
(aka Santo vs. the She-Wolves)
One of only two Santo films produced by Jaime Jimenez Pons (who also co-wrote and directed), this one gives us the last thing we’d expect from a Santo movie at this point: actual surprises. While most of Santo’s monster mashes played like throwbacks to the Universal horror films of the forties, Las Lobas has a gritty, nihilistic tone that’s very much in keeping with the horror films of its era. There’s an obvious attempt to make a serious horror movie being made here, and in the process Santo at times gets presented in a light we’re very unaccustomed to seeing him in. For one thing, he is not above showing fear and fleeing for his life, and at times is regarded with far from the customary reverence by those he is trying to protect. Las Lobas stumbles at a few key points, but overall it succeeds in being one of the most creepy, atmospheric and memorable of Santo’s movies, which is especially impressive coming at this late stage in the game.

8. Santo y Blue Demon contra Dr. Frankenstein (1973)
(aka Santo and Blue Demon vs. Dr. Frankenstein)
The last of the great Santo and Blue Demon team-ups, this one, while not quite as sublime as the earlier Contra Dracula y el Hombre Lobo, still possesses many of the same charms. For me, this one is especially notable for the extent to which it gives Blue equal play, with our two heroes fighting alongside one another throughout, and Blue never once being cloned, hypnotized, demonically possessed, or otherwise being turned into an evil version of himself. He’s even allowed to save Santo’s hash on occasion, most memorably disguised in a surgeon’s scrubs and mask with his wrestling mask clearly visible underneath.

9. El Baron Brakola (1965)
(aka Baron Brakola)
This is the best of the poverty row productions that Santo fronted for producer Luis Enrique Vergara during the mid sixties, mainly due to the efforts of frequent Santo co-star and screenwriter Fernando Oses. Here Oses portrays a thuggish, muscle-necked vampire with an overbite who is just as likely to down his victim with a piledriver than bite them on the neck. Oses was always one of Santo’s best screen opponents, and here the fights are especially frenetic and brutal. Plus we’re given the hilarious spectacle of Baron Brakola repeatedly and effortlessly thrashing Santo’s fruity ancestor the Caballero Enmascarado de Plata (here played, for some reason, by someone other than Santo). For some reason, this is the only entry on this list that has yet to be released on DVD.

10. La Venganza de las Mujeres Vampiro (1970)
(aka Vengeance of the Vampire Women)
Though not actually a sequel to Santo contra las Mujeres Vampiro, this is still one of the most effective of Santo’s seventies films in terms of old fashioned monster movie atmosphere, with great, over-the-top villain performances by Gina Romand and Victor Junco. It also has one of my very favorite scenes that involves Santo sleeping in bed with his mask on.

Next up, some Santo films that you’ll definitely want to avoid. In fact, just to be safe, I would recommend avoiding any Santo film not on the above list until I find time to post. You’ll thank me later.

Santo's Best 10 Part I

Friday's best pop song ever

Santo's Best 10 Part I

As any of my beleaguered friends will tell you, I’m very fond of trying to convince people that they need to delve into the lucha film genre. Few prove gullible enough to fall for my well-rehearsed line, but for those who do, the films of that genre’s biggest star, El Santo, are an obvious starting point. Unfortunately, there is probably no other star whose filmography is more fraught with pitfalls. Santo, over the course of his career, made over fifty films, and many of them are quite bad. Some of them are so bad, in fact, that one encounter with them would be enough to put someone off the whole project of watching lucha movies entirely. Because of that sad fact, and in the interest of sharing the joy, I have decided to perform the public service of compiling a list of those ten Santo films that I think are the most worth watching. (I’ve seen them all, you see.)

So here, in suspense-killing forward numerical order, are numbers 1 – 5, with the remainder to follow shortly.

1, Santo contra las Mujeres Vampiro (1962)
(aka Santo vs. the Vampire Women)
No surprise here. This is the film that established the most surefire of Santo movie formulas (Santo + classic movie monsters + babes = awesome). It will also serve as a happy slap to those who assume all lucha movies are cheap and shoddily made. While it was certainly saddled with a limited budget, Las Mujeres Vampiro is still a well-crafted, handsomely made film, with some nice sets and moody cinematography that shows the obvious influence of Bava’s Black Sunday – not to mention good performances by a supporting cast made up of stolid Mexican genre cinema regulars. All in all, a classic B movie, and definitely among the classiest of the cinematic surroundings that Santo was to find himself in.

2. Santo contra la Invasion de los Marcianos (1966)
(aka Santo vs. the Martian Invasion)
A twist on the formula that offers a giddiness-inducing dose of mid-sixties Mexi-cinema lunacy, complete with flying saucers, go-go dancing Martian maidens and Santo in his prime as a champion wrestler, master of science, and moral example to his nation’s youth. And don’t forget the appearance of Maura Monti, certifying by her maddeningly mod presence that this is a prime slice of only-in-1966 cheese -- even if it is in black and white. Many of Santo’s most enjoyable adventures stick close to his superheroic roots in his long-running series of Mexican photo-comics, and this a prime example of that practice. One of the most fun entries in the series.

3. Santo y Blue Demon contra Dracula y el Hombre Lobo (1972)
(aka Santo and Blue Demon vs. Dracula and the Wolfman)
Okay, what part of that title do you not understand? Here we’ve got Santo AND Blue Demon AND Dracula AND the frickin’ Wolfman, for chrissakes! Not only that, but this is also one of the best of Santo’s team-ups with Blue, as well as one of the most well-executed of Santo’s films from the seventies. Granted, that last bit probably doesn’t seem like that mean of an accomplishment given what most of Santo’s other movies from the seventies look like. But, seriously, this is a nice looking picture, with a colorful, set-bound look that’s part cut-rate classic Hammer and part fifties horror comic. Plus, Nubia Marti’s Lena is the coolest Santo girlfriend ever.

4. Santo y Blue Demon contra los Monstruos (1969)
(aka Santo and Blue Demon vs. the Monsters)
Now this one is neither classy, nor well appointed, nor well executed, but it sure is a hell of a lot of trashy fun. I’ve written a quite lengthy love letter to this particular entry over at Teleport City, but suffice it to say that it plays like a visit by Santo and Blue Demon to a particularly cash-strapped charity haunted house -- one that not only tries to make up for its lack of quality with quantity, volume and speed, but actually succeeds in doing so. A good example of how, when pulled off with the right amount of enthusiasm, some of the cheapest movies in this genre can sometimes be the most enjoyable.

5. Santo en el Museo de Cera (1963)
(aka Santo in the Wax Museum)
Following on the heels of Las Mujeres Vampiro, this is – though perhaps less iconic – another prime example of Santo’s early gothic-style horror films, complete with the earlier entry’s emphasis on creepy old-school monster movie atmosphere. A scenery chewing performance by regular lucha movie bad guy Claudio Brook as the diabolical Dr. Karol also contributes to this one being a must-see. I always like to point out that, thanks to its wax museum setting, this is the only film in which Santo shares the screen with Stalin and Ghandi. Needless to say, he holds his own.

Next time around I’ll give you numbers 6 – 10, plus isolate a few particularly stinky road apples from Santo’s catalog that are a must to avoid.

Con Licensia Para Matar (Mexico, 1967)

Con Licensia Para Matar (aka With License to Kill) is the second of a pair of films featuring Las Tigresas, a trio of catsuit-wearing female secret agents for hire. The first Tigresas film, Munecas Peligrosas (aka Dangerous Dolls) was a barely-there affair, with just enough of a plot on which to hang its numerous instances of padding. Con Licensia Para Matar, by contrast, would seem to be packed with enough plot for the both of them, complete with two competing sets of villains, including a beatnik scientist with a trio of super-powerful, green-faced androids at his command, and a blonde bombshell revolutionary who conceals her true designs under her cover as the owner of a posh go-go club. Despite all of this business, the film still manages to devote plenty of time to what seems to be the Tigresas films' first order of business, that being the inclusion of lots of random musical numbers and scenes of the Tigresas lounging around their well-appointed bachelorette pad in various stages of undress.

The film sports a cast that's a rogues gallery of familiar faces from 1960s Mexican B cinema, including Austrian-born glamour girl Barbara Angeli as Tigresa "Barbara", and comedienne Leonorilda Ochoa as the ladies' comic relief maid. Fernando Casanova, who plays secret agent Jim Morrison, played the romantic lead in the trilogy of films Santo made for Peliculas Rodriguez earlier in his career -- back in the days before Santo got to play the romantic lead himself – and, in the mad scientist role, we have the ever-reliable Noe Muriyama, whose prolific work as a screen baddie extended into Euro cinema with appearances in, among other things, Sergio Solima's classic Spaghetti Western Run, Man, Run and the West German Eurospy entry Man on the Spying Trapeze. Even Santo's manager, Carlos Suarez, shows up for a bit part in the opening scene, acting, appropriately enough, opposite a midget.

Of course, for me, Con Licensia Para Matar’s major draw is the fact that it features the lovely Maura Monti in the role of the bow-and-arrow wielding chief Tigresa, Diana. Born in Milan, Monti came to Mexico to seek her fortune in the early sixties, at first finding work as a model before becoming a fixture in Mexican B movies, with appearances in such quintessentially sixties classics as Santo contra la Invasion de los Marcianos, the respective Santo and Blue Demon spy efforts El Tesoro de Moctezuma and Destructor de Espias, Las Vampiras with Mil Mascaras, and, most unforgettably, as the bikini-clad – and not at all copyright-infringing – super heroine Bat Woman in La Mujer Murcielago. That Monti would retire from the screen at the dawn of the seventies seems fitting, since her screen persona is so much of its era that to imagine her in a world where miniskirts, peaked leather caps and white go-go boots were no longer in fashion is near impossible.

Con Licensia Para Matar finds Monti’s Diana on the eve of her retirement from the Tigresas, bound for a life of quiet domesticity after having caught herself a good man. Obviously the Tigresas, despite being masters of exotic weaponry and cool professional killers, are not so liberated that they would attempt such a thing as balancing a career with married life. Anyway, before Diana can bid farewell to her partners (played by Emily Cranz as “Emily” in addition to the aforementioned Angeli), the three of them must track down a stolen gold shipment. However, as we’ve seen in the prologue, this shipment of gold has not been stolen just once, but three times; first by the gang of crooks lead by Carlos Suarez and his midget accomplice, then from them by the diabolically bohemian Dr. Klux and his scuba-suited androids, and then, in turn, from them by the revolutionarily-minded disco maven Adrian (Claudia Islas).

Such is the Tigresa’s fame that Dr. Klux immediately blames them for the theft (he noticed that the driver of the getaway car was a woman, you see) and sends his androids to their swank penthouse digs to do their worst. Thus, in classic 1960s spy movie fashion, does a villain’s precipitous, unsuccessful attempt to assassinate the heroes once again alert those heroes, who would otherwise have been none the wiser, to his evil schemes. Meanwhile, Klux has gotten wise to who the true culprit was, and forges with Adrian one of those alliances that you just know is going to end with one party getting shot in the back . Soon it is revealed that Adrian is using her nightclub’s promise of wine, women and the watusi to lure in hapless single men, whom her minions then kill and assume the identities of. Unfortunately for all involved, one of her most recent victims turns out to have been Diana's fiancé, Raul. Once this is discovered, the Tigresas don their slinky spy gear and set out for blood, leading to a climax that is far more grimly violent than any finale of a movie so otherwise filled with fluff has any right to be.

Both Munecas Peligrosas and Con Licensia Para Matar were directed by Rafael Baledon, who was also responsible for the flat out insane spy spoof Cazadores de Espias. Despite Cazadores de Espias’ 1969 release date, it’s obvious that all three films were made in very close proximity. Espias not only boasts a number of sets that were common to the other two -- as well as the presence of Monti and Ochoa -- but also features musical numbers by the group Los Rockin’ Devils that were clearly shot at the same time as those in Con Licensia Para Matar. It’s too bad, then, that the earlier films don’t share with Espias that film’s sense of manic absurdity. As is, the tone of both is a little uneven, veering ungracefully from broad comedic episodes to moments in which it seems that a sincere attempt to make a serious spy film might actually be being made, and a sense of freewheeling anarchy might at least have helped us to glide over the bumps a little.

While it’s certainly a fun film, Con Licensia Para Matar, given its concept, is nowhere near as fun as it could have been. It probably benefits most from the fact that we folks who are drawn to movies about catsuit-wearing female superspies fighting green-faced androids are a pretty undemanding lot. But really, why should anyone be unsatisfied by a film that features a revealingly attired Maura Monti karate chopping robots, mad scientists, and lots of go-go dancing – I mean, other than the fact that those elements are contained in pretty much every other Mexican spy movie from the sixties? It does afford the opportunity for a little discernment, I have to admit. But, hey, you’re reading this blog, so since when was that an issue?

Da Big Gee

Looking to do a little gap-filling over at Teleport City, I found that Godzilla vs. the Sea Monster was one of the very few Showa era Godzilla films that Keith hadn't already reviewed. It also just happens to be my favorite Godzilla movie. Read my full review here.

Friday's best pop song ever

Shikar (India, 1968)

I might have already mentioned that I'm lazy, which is why, when I saw that Memsaab had already reviewed Shikar over on her blog, I considered skipping on writing it up entirely. Hey, I want to be the lead singer here, not part of a chorus (okay, lazy and egotistical), and Memsaab, in her typically entertaining fashion, has already told you everything you need to know about Shikar. So (yaaawn, stretch) why bother? I ultimately decided, though, that, because I enjoyed this combination jungle adventure/mystery thriller so much, it was worth me putting in the small amount of effort required to raise its Google profile by a tiny-to-the-point-of-being-virtually-imperceptible increment. Plus, the temptation to make all kinds of screencaps was just to much to resist.

Shikar is blessed with a compelling story, a glamorous cast, and a fantastic look. It's one of those films where the orchestration of camera, lighting, and art direction gels perfectly into a striking visual expression of mood. It actually reminded me a lot of the later Faraar for how it drives home its themes of deception and intrigue by frequently featuring shots of its cast members partially hidden behind lattice work, gauzy curtains and other expressionistic set elements.

The similarity was so great that I was a little surprised to find that Shikar's cinematographer, V.K Murthy, and Art Director, Souren Sen, had no involvement in Faraar. I guess that this was just a popular visual technique during the period.

And the cast! Dharmendra, Asha Parekh, Helen, Sanjeev Kumar, and the fabulous Bela Bose, here quite confusingly playing a part that seems like it was written for Tun Tun. (Granted, the whole "amorous fat girl" shtick is both unfunny and offensive, but it's impossible to see what the hoped for response might have been here to the spectacle of Johnny Walker's hapless dimwit character being ardently pursued by as exquisite a specimen as Ms. Bose -- other than palm-gnawing envy on the part of the guys, of course.) Adding to the enjoyment that comes from simply seeing all of these stars sharing the screen is the fact that Shikar captures all of them in their late Sixties prime, looking thoroughly iconic and hot.

Plus, we're even treated to a brief dance-off between Helen and Bela, such an explosive aggregation of item girl awesomeness that, had it gone on any longer, I might not have survived.

But its Helen's femme fatale turn that really steals the show here. Not to mention the fact that, though her character is just a lowly secretary, she has an apartment that's to kill for, which is entered by way of a slide-away Picasso.

And comes complete, as any bachelorette pad should, with it's own light-up disco floor -- an appointment that almost raises Helen's digs to "lair" status.

Here Dharmendra plays Ajay, the manager of a jungle estate owned by Naresh (Ramesh Deo). On the same night that Naresh is murdered by an unknown assailant, a jeep crashes outside of Ajay's house, and a beautiful young woman is ejected from the wreck. Ajay brings the unconscious woman inside, but, upon returning after discovering Naresh's body, finds that she has vanished. He later encounters Kiran (Parekh), the daughter of the retired police commissioner, who is a ringer for the mysterious girl but also has an airtight alibi for the evening in question. Suspecting that Kiran's apparent double had some involvement in Naresh's murder, Ajay becomes obsessed with finding her.

However, there are plenty of other suspects to go around, including Veera (Helen), Naresh's slinky secretary, who is obviously up to something with Robbie (Manmohan), an accomplice of hers who has come to the estate posing as a big game hunter. The murder scene also holds no shortage of telltale clues -- including a red rose, a mysterious envelope, and a monogrammed handkerchief -- any of which could lead Ajay and Police Inspector Rai (Kumar) to the murderer's true identity. Things are further complicated when an old woman shows up and confesses to the crime, saying that she was protecting the honor of her niece, who, for similar reasons, she refuses to identify.

I found Shikar to be uncharacteristically well-constructed for a Bollywood mystery, given that such films typically seem more concerned with appropriating a mystery movie atmosphere than they are with taking the trouble to make the mysteries at their center capable of holding up to even the most casual scrutiny. It resists the temptation to cheat, has a solution that isn't naggingly obvious, features some interesting twists, and, most importantly, manages to tie up most of its loose ends in a logical -- if not entirely plausible -- manner. I was surprised to find myself being drawn into the film's who-dunnit aspects, but the way in which all of the suspects and clues are so neatly laid out for us invites that kind of involvement, and gives the entire proceedings the feeling of a particularly lurid and toe-tapping game of Clue. I especially liked how some of the aforementioned twists seemed to depend on our expectations of what a typical Bollywood movie would do as a kind of misdirection, leading us down a familiar path only to surprise us all the more when the truth of the situation is revealed to be less dictated by convention than we would have thought.

Shikar came down the pike as part of my recent steady diet of Bollywood jungle adventures -- which has also included the similarly titled Shikari and the Zimbo movies -- and, while it definitely leans more toward the mystery end of the spectrum, it still has its share of wild animal attacks and embarrassing, spear-chucking minstrelsy. One thing these Bollywood jungle flicks have all over their Hollywood counterparts from the period is that, because Indian filmmakers had easier access to actual wild animals in their natural habitat, you see a lot less of those scenes of people pointing at stock footage. Here, when you see Dharmendra and Asha Parekh running away from a stampeding herd of elephants, it's the real deal, which may be why they look so authentically scared.

So there you have it, people: My proverbial two cents regarding Shikari. It's a great looking, fun movie that I'd recommend to anyone with eyes. And with that effort out of the way, I'm off to take a nap. So exhausting...

Mil Mascaras: Big Man on Campus

Mil Mascaras: Resurrection doesn’t come to us by way of the normal channels one might expect a Mil Mascaras movie to come through. In fact, it may very well be the only Mexican wrestling film whose writer-producer holds a Ph.D. in robotic engineering from Oxford. Read my full review, just posted over at Teleport City.

Friday's best pop song ever

Zimbo Comes to Town (India, 1960)

Okay, let's start off by getting this out of the way...

This moment of moral instruction brought to you by SHEMAROO!

Back in the days before movie sequels had catchy titles like Zimbo II: Moose on the Loose or whatever, they were instead just given titles that described what happened in them, like, for instance, Zimbo Comes to Town. There is indeed a town, and Zimbo does, in fact, come to it. But, ah, the convolutions that must first take place before said visitation can occur -- that, my friends, is where Zimbo Comes to Town's fascination truly lies. For this is less a simple follow-up to the earlier Zimbo than it is a retelling of that story with elements of King Kong unaccountably mashed into it for extra seasoning.

Somehow since we last saw him, Zimbo, the fair-of-face but thick-of-wit lord of the jungle, has been transformed into a fugly and savage beast-man. When he's encountered by a trapping expedition lead by lady lion tamer Sarang, the unscrupulous Sarang decides to capture him and make him an attraction in her circus. This is easier said than done, however, because Zimbo is a wild and untamed thing, and can only be soothed into submission by the song of the circus's star trapeze artist, Manasi (Chitra, returning from Zimbo, though as a different character, albeit one who is strikingly similar to her character in Zimbo).

Happily, the circus doctor has a medicine that can cure beast face. Once the treatment is completed successfully, Zimbo's old irresistible sexual magnetism kicks in, and the ladies are all like, "Thank you, doctor saab!" To tell the truth, though, Azad looks to have put on a good bit of flab since last playing Zimbo a couple years earlier, which makes me a little scared to watch the next Zimbo movie, which was shot a full six years after this one. In any case, handsome or not, if he's planning to rule the big top, Zimbo's gonna have his work cut out for him, because the circus's star attraction is none other than...

...Pedro! Pedro-watchers will be happy to know that Pedro, who is this time billed as "Pedro, the Ape Bomb", plays an even greater part in the action this time around than he did in Zimbo. In fact, this whole show pretty much belongs to Pedro, as he seems to get more screen time than Zimbo himself. This means that, over the course of Zimbo Comes to Town, we will see repeated demonstrations of how Pedro loves to do all of those things that we humans love to do...

Like wave guns around...

Sullenly down highballs...

Drive jeeps (preferably after downing those highballs)...

Subject others to second hand smoke....

Compose moving photo essays about the lives of inner-city schoolchildren...

Rock the maracas...

And lick microphones...

In addition to other, more traditional activities that I think we can safely call "monkeyshines".

Anyway, because Manasi is the only one who can control Zimbo, he is put in her care, and soon, thanks to her civilizing influence, has stopped eating her make-up and throwing his poop at people. (Okay, he never really did that last thing.) In no time, he has turned into a proper gentleman and has become Manasi's partner in her trapeze act. Love blossoms, much to the chagrin of Sarang, who, as any woman with a pulse obviously would, wants all of Zimbo's sweet Zimbo love for herself. Zimbo feels differently, of course, which prompts Sarang to go all homicidal and make with the kidnappings and the bull whipping and the crony-assisted beatings. Fortunately, there's a monkey on hand who's not only an accomplished stunt driver but also none-too-shy about putting a cap in people, so we know things are ultimately going to turn out in Zimbo and Manasi's favor.

God, the Zimbo movies are awesome. Even if Azad ends up looking like Nash Bridges-era Don Johnson in the next one, I'm going to check it out, because there's always enough else going on to make the experience well worthwhile. By which I mean...

Aw, yeah.