Plot: To avenge his fiancé's death, an insurance salesman (!) infiltrates a Nazi bike gang. Stuff happens. You won't care.
This isn't much of a biker flick. Then again, it's not much of anything. You know you're in for a rough time from scene one, wherein Nazis rob a bank (offscreen, of course) and roar off at speeds of, oh, 25 mph, politely stopping at intersections. The whole film plays like it was shot in slow motion, though no such optic tricks were used. The fanciest they get is a badly-executed oil wipe. When the script calls for fistcuffs, actors are left to fend for themselves, though the camera points at the floor during one dust-up, sparing you more miss-by-miles punches.
James Craig is top-billed, though he couldn't have spent a full day on the shoot...I guess John Carradine was busy that morning. As a covert party bigshot (who doubles as a farm equipment salesman!), Craig harangues the camp leader for not reaching his revenue goals. Nice touch, really. I find biker and modern Nazi films irksome for not revealing how such outfits fund their lifestyle. (Do they rob more banks? Hold bake sales??) A timekill subplot involves the Messiah, preacher to hippies who add to film genre confusion by dressing in biker-like garb. (The Messiah looks properly beatific, but his dubbed-in sermons are Mansonesque.) SS stooges whack the Messiah, proving that you can't outrun Nazis while wearing robes and sandals. The murder and flower punks aren't mentioned again, making this look even more like a stitched-together Al Adamson atrocity.
Director David ("Continuity?...What's that?") Hewitt's sci-fi efforts, THE WIZARD OF MARS and JOURNEY TO THE CENTER OF TIME, were equally silly and stilted, but they appeared to have good intentions. This dog can't even succeed at being sleazy, and is no fun at all.
Ineptitude extends to the DVD (Echo Bridge, 2001), which illustrates a bio of Anthony Eisley with stills of talentless lead William Dooley.
This isn't much of a biker flick. Then again, it's not much of anything. You know you're in for a rough time from scene one, wherein Nazis rob a bank (offscreen, of course) and roar off at speeds of, oh, 25 mph, politely stopping at intersections. The whole film plays like it was shot in slow motion, though no such optic tricks were used. The fanciest they get is a badly-executed oil wipe. When the script calls for fistcuffs, actors are left to fend for themselves, though the camera points at the floor during one dust-up, sparing you more miss-by-miles punches.
James Craig is top-billed, though he couldn't have spent a full day on the shoot...I guess John Carradine was busy that morning. As a covert party bigshot (who doubles as a farm equipment salesman!), Craig harangues the camp leader for not reaching his revenue goals. Nice touch, really. I find biker and modern Nazi films irksome for not revealing how such outfits fund their lifestyle. (Do they rob more banks? Hold bake sales??) A timekill subplot involves the Messiah, preacher to hippies who add to film genre confusion by dressing in biker-like garb. (The Messiah looks properly beatific, but his dubbed-in sermons are Mansonesque.) SS stooges whack the Messiah, proving that you can't outrun Nazis while wearing robes and sandals. The murder and flower punks aren't mentioned again, making this look even more like a stitched-together Al Adamson atrocity.
Director David ("Continuity?...What's that?") Hewitt's sci-fi efforts, THE WIZARD OF MARS and JOURNEY TO THE CENTER OF TIME, were equally silly and stilted, but they appeared to have good intentions. This dog can't even succeed at being sleazy, and is no fun at all.
Ineptitude extends to the DVD (Echo Bridge, 2001), which illustrates a bio of Anthony Eisley with stills of talentless lead William Dooley.