The Ransom a/k/a Maniac a/k/a Assault on Paradise a/k/a The Town That Cried Terror (1977)

Released by American International Pictures in 1977, and reissued under several titles over the next few years, this turgid potboiler features ridiculous action sequences, a dopey script, and a cast of veteran actors picking up a quick paycheck. Namely Oliver Reed, sporting an exaggerated American tough guy accent, a sweaty and hungover looking Stuart Whitman, an equally sweaty John Ireland, and the laconic Jim Mitchum, son of Robert. The female lead is played by Deborah Raffin, who followed her early success in The Dove and Once is Not Enough with roles in made-for-television movies and B-flicks. This movie falls into the latter category, even if director Richard Compton gives the film the flat, cheap look of a '70s TV series.

The ludicrous plot concerns a series of murders by crossbow in a corrupt Arizona resort town, with the killer (Paul Koslo, who you may recall from his awful performance in Tomorrow Never Comes) demanding a ransom from the wealthy businessmen who run the town. Trying to keep a lid on things, Whitman hires world-weary mercenary Nick McCormick (Reed) and his faithful bald companion Wolf (Paul Lussier) to terminate the blackmailer with extreme prejudice.

A series of absurd set-pieces ensue, while the wealthy are picked off one by one, and Reed reaches the boiling point after Wolf gets an arrow in the back.

Reed is photographed to emphasize his short stature, while his scenes with Raffin are particularly incredulous. She's a TV reporter, he's a soldier of fortune. He steals her microphone, she confronts him, he pulls a gun on her, she sleeps with him.

It's totally '70s.

Originally entitled The Ransom, the film was rechristened Maniac in the fall of '77, with a lurid ad campaign created to tie it in with the Son of Sam killings. It later showed up at drive-ins and grindhouses, and on TV under the titles Assault on Paradise and The Town That Cried Terror.

Yeah, this movie is a piece of shit, but it has its moments.

Originally published in BLOG! by JM Dobies 16 May 2008.

Though currently unavailable on DVD, the VHS can be found cheap under the titles Maniac and The Ransom.

Tomorrow Never Comes (1978)

Here's a brutal little item for you all, Peter Collinson's 1978 made-in-Quebec crime drama Tomorrow Never Comes. Oliver Reed trots out his American tough guy accent as Jim Wilson, an embittered, burnt-out cop in a corrupt resort town who, on his last day on the force, must deal with an out-of-control hostage situation.

When Frank (Stephen McHattie) returns to town to find that his girlfriend Janie (a bloated Susan George, near the end of her career as a sexpot) is now the mistress of the richest man in town, all heck breaks loose.

After being on the receiving end of a bad beatdown by some local creeps, Frank's clearly not at his best when he goes to Janie's place to confront her. After woozily menacing a gay bellhop and a black maid, Frank draws the attention of a particularly inept police officer who somehow gets shot with his own gun. And the siege is on.

Director Collinson's greatest claim to fame was his stellar work on 1969's The Italian Job, but most of his filmography consists of such unrelenting nastiness as 1967's The Penthouse, Straight On Till Morning (1972), and Open Season (1974), which are all variations on the same basic plot. Quentin Tarantino has professed a special fondness for Collinson's The Sell Out, from 1976, also with Reed.

The film's Canadian pedigree is obvious by the presence of such canuck character actors as Raymond Burr, John Ireland, and Paul Koslo (particularly bad as Reed's cop rival), cast to satisfy the Government requirement that a certain number of featured roles go to natives of the Great White North. Slumming along with Reed are fellow Brits Donald Pleasance (as a tubercular French Canadian doctor) and John Osbourne, the playwright of Look Back in Anger and The Entertainer. Pity Collinson couldn't convince him to doctor the script.

Still, the movie has its moments. The Laval and Montreal locations evoke a sweet '70s nostalgia (for me, anyway), and the close-up of Ollie hoisting a can of Molson Export Ale is one for the ages. The scene where Reed attempts to bring McHattie to justice by drugging his beer is pretty awesome as well, and the downer ending is well-telegraphed if not well-choreographed.

All in all, a decent time-waster that's worth a rental from Netflix.

Tomorrow Never Comes has recently been reissued on DVD in a bare-bones, full-screen edition by Televista Video.

Originally published 4 December 2007 in BLOG! by JM Dobies, and subsequently at Viewpoints.com, where you can read hundreds more of my write-ups, mostly film-related, as well as my reviews of books, local Austin places, various types of junk food, and some damn fine ales.