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Plot: who are the three on a meathook and who killed them?

The 1957 case of Ed Gein, the Butcher of Plainfield or the night ghoul of the graveyards, continued (and continues) to fascinate. In 1959 American novelist Robert Bloch wrote Psycho which formed the basis for Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960). In between The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974) on one side and Maniac (1980) on the other there were two other big screen adaptations loosely based on the life and work of Wisconsin’s most infamous son, Three On A Meathook (1972) and Deranged: Confessions of a Necrophile (1974). Whereas Deranged (1974) was a surprisingly chilling slowburn of a character study Three On A Meathook is straight up grindhouse gunk. While there’s no denying that both have, deservedly or otherwise, fallen into obscurity they were (in)famously sampled by New York/Las Vegas death metal ingrates Mortician on their 1996 “Hacked Up For Barbecue” album and 1995 “House by the Cemetery” EP, respectively; for those who care for that sort of thing.

Somewhere in between the blaxploitation of Jamaa Fanaka, the rough 'n ready grindhouse gunk of Serafim Karalexis and Florida swamp dweller William Grefé lies the dominion of Louisville, Kentucky one-man industry William Girdler. Girdler made films fast, cheap and always had his finger on the pulse and the latest trends. He shot nine movies between 1972 and 1978. He wrote six of his films, produced two, and scored another three (two of which were his own). He worked where the money took him, whether that was Kentucky or the Philippines. His modest filmography runs gamut of genres and budgets, starred absolute nobodies as well as name actors of the day (including, but not limited to, Tony Curtis, Pam Grier, Austin Stoker, pre-comedy Leslie Nielsen, Christopher George, Susan Strasberg, Michael Ansara, and Burgess Meredith). In other words, Girdler was a consummate professional. Girdler debuted with the Satanic cult nonsense Asylum of Satan (1972) and this Ed Gein inspired romp.

From there he forged an alliance with American International Pictures for his next three blaxploitation pictures: The Zebra Killer (1974), the The Exorcist (1973) knock-off Abby (1974) and the Pam Grier thriller Sheba, Baby (1975). Abby (1974) cost a mere $100,000 and made a fortune at the box office and was sued by Warner Brothers for alleged similarities to the William Friedkin evergreen. All of William Girdler’s first five features were shot in his native Kentucky. He then moved shop to the Philippines where he shot the Leslie Nielsen actioner Project Kill (1976) which became an early hit for Troma. For his next two features Girdler allied himself with Film Ventures International resulting in the very lucrative Jaws (1975) imitation Grizzy (1976) (changing the shark for a grizzly bear and grossing an impressive $39 million at the box office) and the eco-horror Day of the Animals (1977). His final venture was The Manitou (1978) for Avco Embassy Pictures that cost a mere $3 million and made fortune, domestic and abroad. As is often the case Girdler’s life and career was tragically cut short on January 21, 1978 when he was killed in a helicopter crash while location scouting for his next feature in Manila, the Philippines. William Girdler was killed just when he was about to legitimize himself in the face of Hollywood. Giving it all an even more ominous spin is that Girdler allegedly was preoccupied with his death and had premonitions about dying at age 30, which is exactly what happened.

Filmed in about a month in Louisville, Kentucky in the spring of 1972 with a cast of regulars on a budget estimated anywhere between $18,000 and $30,000 (sources and accounts vary on the exact number) Three On A Meathook was a labor of love for all involved. Most of the budget came from realtor Joseph Schulten, Girdler’s trust fund and contributions from Lee S. Jones, Jr. and John Asman. Handling the special effects was local magician, horror host and friend to exploitation monument H.G. Lewis and Girdler, J.G. Patterson, Jr. As a thank-you Girdler scored his The Body Shop (1972). Most of principal photography happened in a farmhouse that also could be seen in Invasion Of the Girl Snatchers (1973). To the surprise of absolutely no one the property was later torched by religiously deluded arsonists convinced it was used by a Satanic cult. As an avowed Hitchcock disciple Girdler build Three On A Meathook on the Psycho (1960) model with only minimal adjustments to some of the variables. Typical of regional productions on a limited budget Three On A Meathook is rife with matter-of-fact cinematography including lots of static shots and amateurish composition. None of the visual are particularly arresting or well put together and Girdler has none of the visual flair that Tobe Hooper or Sam Raimi had. Girdler’s score is sometimes plaintive, sometimes pensive, regularly psychedelic and full of folksy guitars and harmonica. Not only that, there’s an entire song by The American Xpress that sounds like late 60s Tommy James & The Shondelles on a bender. The special effects are cheap but good considering how little they probably cost. The audio is of equal dubious quality with persistent echoes, jarring cuts, and extended periods of silence. Even though it’s called Three On A Meathook four women actually end up impaled on hooks. As legend has it Girdler used to show Three On A Meathook around Hollywood studios as a technical demo on what he could accomplish on a tight budget and schedule.

In some nondescript Midwestern town Debbie (Linda Thompson) wakes up topless in the bedroom of her middle-aged teacher-cum-paramour (Hugh Smith). She catches up with her three friends (Marsha Tarbis, Carolyn Thompson, and Kiersten Laine) and then goes for a trip in the country, which inevitably leads to the usual skinny-dipping. Meanwhile they are being watched from a distance by a suspicious young man (James Carroll Pickett, as James Pickett). When later that night their car breaks down the same somewhat shy country boy, who offers them bed and board at the secluded farm he lives in with his over-protective father Frank (Charles Kissinger). "so, uh, what are all your names?" the boy inquires to which Debbie yelps, "I'm Debbie, this is Christine, Bobby, and Carla." The gentle stranger smiles in return, and introduces himself with, "I'm Billy. Billy Townsend." Arriving at the farm one of the more perceptive of the girls keenly observes that “it looks spooky!” After being fed a proper meal, and shown to their rooms for the night, Debbie strips once again and sinks into the bathtub. As night sets on Townsend Farm the four girls are killed through stabbing, hatchet decapitation, pick-axe to the gut, two gunshot slayings, and a meat cleaver to the back. Paw assures Billy that he will take care of everything and sends him to Louisville to wind down.

Young Townsend goes to see The Graduate (1967) in the city and ends up getting criminally drunk in the nearest watering hole. There he meets free-spirited college-dropout-turned-cocktail-waitress Sherry (Sherry Steiner) and the two embark on a storming romance. The two spent a day in each other’s company in Cherokee Park. Sherry is so enamored by the naïve country boy that she can’t stop talking about him to her best friend Becky (Madelyn Buzzard). When the two girls then are invited by Billy to spent the weekend on Townsend Farm they are ecstatic. Billy’s enthusiasm is brutally tempered when Paw lectures him on why he can’t mingle with the womenfolk. By this point you’d imagine that Billy has put one and one together on the mysterious death of his late mother, the strange homicidal episodes he can’t recollect and the unseen assailant producing all the bloodshed and mutilated corpses. Things come to a violent, sudden climax when Sherry finds the titular three on a meathook.

Charles Kissinger, James Carroll Pickett, and Sherry Steiner were Girdler regulars, but the true star of Three On A Meathook is blonde bombshell Linda Thompson who plays the often naked Debbie. Thompson was Miss Tennessee-Universe 1972, and the winner of numerous pageants including Miss Memphis State, Miss Shelby County and Miss Liberty Bowl. She was one of the former partners of iconic rock ’n roll singer Elvis Presley (1972-76), who she aided in songwriting. Thompson was married to Caitlyn (then still Bruce) Jenner from 1981-1986, and has since written songs for domestic and international versions of Idol. James Carroll Pickett, another Kentucky native, appeared in Girdler’s The Get-Man (1974) also met an equally tragic end. He turned to activism in 1991 and founded the Artists Confronting AIDS group. He would pass of from AIDS-related complications, age 44, a brief three years later in 1994.

Carolyn Thompson later reinvented herself as Caroline Thompson the novelist. Her novel First Born managed to impress none other than Tim Burton. During pre-production of Beetlejuice (1988) Burton read her novel and was duly impressed. He hired her to write a spec script for his latest project, Edward Scissorhands (1990). William Girdler on the other hand was keenly aware of how he and his movies were viewed. In an 1977 interview in the Louisville Times he observed, "I know what my other pictures were. I know what was bad about them. I also know that they were pretty good when you consider how inexpensively they were made. Anybody should be able to make a good movie if they spend $20 million the way they did on The Exorcist. Comparatively speaking, for what we spent on it, Abby was probably a better picture than The Exorcist.” In the same newspaper he noted, “Other people learned how to make movies in film schools. I learned by doing it. Nobody saw Billy Friedkin's or Steven Spielberg's mistakes, but all my mistakes were right up there on the screen for everybody to see."

While Three On A Meathook may have ensured Girdler’s legacy in the cinematic pantheon of skid row exploitation horror it has not experienced the same kind of enduring longevity as The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974) two years year later, but it is remembered fondly by those with a knack for little genre obscurities. Closer in spirit to Deranged: Confessions of a Necrophile (1974) than any of the later Ed Gein inspired cinematic exploits Three On A Meathook is equal part backwood horror as it is early slasher. As such it’s absolutely the last place to expect social commentary, especially on a subject as thorny and difficult as the ill-advised Vietnam War – but that’s exactly what transpires. Continuing the early 2000s trend of remaking old horror titles on ludricrous budgets, supposedly easier than re-releasing forgotten genre gems to a new audience, a reimagining of Three On A Meathook is currently in development with further details pending. When and if it ever will see the light of day remains to be seen. If one movie deserves a meticulous digital remaster/restoration, it is this little-seen William Girdler drive-in shocker. Hopefully one company, or the other, will rise to the occasion and give Three On A Meathook a much-needed second lease on life. Sam Raimi’s Within the Woods (1978) might hold more significance in light of his later horror exploits and Hollywood career, but Girdler’s packs far more punch.

Plot: vacationers run afoul of escaped masked serial murderer.

It’s been a strange and confusing journey going from the barely there slashing of Playing with Dolls (2015) to the functional competence of Playing with Dolls: Bloodlust (2016) only to arrive at the utterly minimalist and brutally utilitarian Playing with Dolls: Havoc. Rene Perez is a director with authorial intentions, dangerous enthusiasm, but rarely the means to realize his visions. Since debuting in 2010 Perez has become something of a successor to Albert Pyun as he churns out several micro budget epics every year. Along with The Dead and the Damned (2011-2015) his Playing with Dolls (2015-2017) franchise has proven resilient despite its rampant banality and overall redundancy. None of the installments are particularly strong by any metric one chooses to employ and it’s anybody’s guess why Rene chose this to expand upon. After Playing with Dolls: Havoc the ongoing franchise was duly rebranded to the much shorter Havoc with the next sequel simply dubbed Cry Havoc (2019) arriving a scant two years later.

Under any of the usual circumstances the slasher is the easiest of horror subgenres to produce and direct. In its most typical and standardized form there’s little that can go wrong, although that occasionally does happen as Dutch-Belgian slasher Intensive Care (1991) went on to prove so historically and catastrophically. Rene Perez always stacks his movies with beautiful women and compared to the surrounding entries the women in Playing with Dolls: Havoc (2017) are not as pneumatically-enhanced as they usually are. Nicole Stark, Wilma Elles, and Malorie Glavan (a poor man’s Melissa McCarthy) all are normally proportioned and Glavan is the rare plus size actress in Perez stock company. A nice change of pace, all things considered. This movie’s prerequisite ditzy blonde is Playboy Croatia and Venezuela Playmate (October, 2015) and Penthouse Pet of the Month (March, 2022) Stormi Maya (not sporting her usual aphro puff) who – in tradition of Alanna Forte and Elonda Seawood before her – gets to show off her impressive fake ass titties. Like Russ Meyer, Pete Walker, Andy Sidaris, and Jim Wynorski before him Rene Perez loves large breasted women, especially if they are platinum blondes. Any day now we’re expecting Rene to helm that long awaited LETHAL Ladies derivate (one we’d very much would like to see) with roles for Forte, Seawood, Maya, and other assorted bosomy Perez babes.

Platinum blonde Annabelle (Stormi Maya) follows clues and is rewarded with stacks of money until she reaches her destination point. There she’s attacked by known mass murderer Prisoner AYO-886 (J.D. Angstadt) who the Echo para-military unit securing the caves simply refer to as Havoc. As Havoc breaks free from his chains and escapes into the densely forested region that the caves are in the soldiers embark on a perilous quest to contain the situation to the best of their ability. Much of which will prove fatal. Meanwhile married couple Sara Curry (Nicole Stark) and her husband Timothy (Kyle Clarke) have retreated back to the country to spent a romantic weekend at their remote luxury cabin. Coming along are maintenance man Bob (John Scuderi) and housekeeper Alicia (Malorie Glavan). In another part of town Mia (Wilma Elles, as Jade Ellis) is experiencing car trouble and soon finds the vehicle and herself stranded near the cabin. Mia’s unexpected intrusion brings to light long simmering problems in the couple’s marriage and before long all three are at each other’s throat. What they don’t know is that Havoc has escaped into the nearby woods and soon will be at theirs…

As before the opening setpiece has nothing to do with, or will have no bearing on, everything that follows, nor will it ever be referenced again for that matter. While Playing with Dolls: Havoc is by far the most technically solid entry thus far - even if it takes a few liberties with what little previous two episodes took ages to establish – there’s plenty of wasted potential abound. Prisoner AYO-886 or Havoc has been reduced to a brute, mute force of nature and this chapter would probably have been far more effective as a siege horror movie in tradition of Night of the Living Dead (1968) or The Town That Dreaded Sundown (1976). The sense of isolation is palatable and while the occupants of the cabin do their fair share of bickering amongst themselves, it’s never the reason why they end up butchered in short order by Havoc. Havoc still has the tendency to become practically a ghost whenever the script paints itself in a corner. Moreover Perez’ screenplay categorically refuses to offer any explanation for anything. Why hasn’t law enforcement gotten wise to the case yet? Why does nobody come looking for any of the previous victims? Who is Havoc and why does he kill? By what criterions does Havoc let his victims live? What became of or happened to the elderly Dane that owned the cabin in the original? Even by lowly American slasher standards Playing with Dolls: Havoc has treacherously little story. On the plus side, it’s also the first Playing with Dolls chapter wherein Richard Tyson and Marilyn Robrahm are unaccounted for. His Scopophilio is never mentioned by name, but only referred to as “the master”. Probably for the better too as Perez had no interest in developing said subplot further as it slowly started bogging the franchise down.

The only thing besides Stormi Maya (and her willingness to take her top off) that Playing with Dolls: Havoc has going for it is the special effects work from Marcus Koch and Oliver Poser (as Oliver Müller). Koch and Poser provide mostly gratuitous fountains of blood and even a few admittedly good looking prosthetic effects. Most of it will probably appeal to fans of masters of gore Olaf Ittenbach, Andreas Schnaas, and Alex Chandon. Stormi Maya Jellison is the third curvy African-American girl (preceded by Alanna Forte in tbe original and Elonda Seawood in the first sequel) in as many episodes and like the other characters here her cold opportunist doesn’t remotely deserve to die as gruesomely and bloodily as they inevitably all do. Of all the Playing with Dolls episodes up until this point this set of characters was by far the most sympathetic.

The dismantling of the victims takes a turn for the creative while Perez’ writing remains as thin as always and his direction finally seems to approach what can be cautiously called competent. Perez could probably built a steady career with either The Asylum or TomCat Films and at this point it would be interesting for him to try his hand at different genres. The whole jilted lovers main plot is something out of a classic gothic horror and Nicole Stark would have been stellar as a Barbara Steele surrogate. With access to Castello di Amorosa in Napa Valley the plot would have worked as a Castle Of Blood (1964) or Nightmare Castle (1965) reworking, either as a period piece or in a contemporary setting. Perez would be the ideal candidate to give Blood Of the Virgins (1967), The Devil’s Wedding Night (1973) or Nude For Satan (1974) a much-needed make-over.

You have admire the tenacity and sheer force of will that Rene Perez puts into each and every one of his mini-epics. Like Albert Pyun before him Perez is never shy about imitating a popular brand or doing his own demented take on an established formula. Perez had the cojones to helm Death Kiss (2018) and The Punished (2018), his take on Death Wish (1974, 2018) and The Punisher (1989, 2004), respectively. In all honesty, we tend to like Perez’ take on classic European fairytales far more than the rest of his repertoire at this point. The Wishing Forest (2018) seems to be the halfway point between his fairtytale yarns and Playing with Dolls. While working on the fringes of cinema can have its benefits there’s more than enough precedent in America alone that a lack of budget not necessarily precludes a lack of talent and resourcefulness. Lloyd Lee Barnett’s Ninja Apocalypse (2014) was able to do a lot with very little and Benjamin Combes’ Commando Ninja (2018) not only was the perfect throwback to over-the-top 80s action, what it lacked in budget it made up in sheer inventiveness and enthusiasm. Neither of which Playing with Dolls has displayed three episodes in. There’s not many ways to do a slasher wrong, but Rene Perez has apparently done just that. If Playing with Dolls: Bloodlust (2016) had a pulse, then Playing with Dolls: Havoc sees Perez’ beast lumbering around with blood on its hands and murder on its mind.