The Psychotronic Man, from 1979, isn’t a standout 20th century b-movie, but it is a bizarre little piece of regional cinema. If the internet is to be believed, it also lent its title to Michael J. Weldon’s Psychotronic Video magazine, which, from 1980 to 2006, covered pretty much the same kind of material that is this site’s bread and butter. Psychotronic Video is long gone, but public appreciation of the kinds of films we mutants like is as strong as it has ever been, if the proliferation of streaming services offering up the stuff is any indication.
Directed by Jack M. Sell, from a screenplay by Sell, Phil Lanier, and Peter Spelson, The Psychotronic Man follows Spelson (who also produced) as Rocky Fosco, a Chicago barber who begins to manifest destructive psychic powers.
It all begins when Rocky is feeling crabby after a day of cutting hair, and decides he needs to take a drive to blow off some steam. Off to rural Illinois we go, as Rocky, and Sell, take viewers on a runtime padding sequence of drinking, driving, and helicopter shots. Rocky’s method of blowing off steam is to keep driving and pouring whiskey down his throat until he gets sleepy and has to pull over to the side of the road and pass out. Man, the ’70s were wild. Continue reading “Shitty Movie Sundays: The Psychotronic Man”
Once upon a time, way back in the mid-1970s, some guy in Dallas, Texas, by the name of Bobby Davis, had some dollars in his pocket and a dream. That dream: to write, direct, and produce a blaxploitation flick. He roamed the lounges of Dallas, wading into a sea of nylon and leisure suits in search of the talent he would need to make his vision a reality. Days, nay, weeks, of production pass, and Davis overcomes all of the obstacles which stand in the way of auteurs the world over, and he gets his film in the can. Now, it’s official. Bobby Davis is a filmmaker, forever more. In celebration, and aware that all great artists leave the scene at their peak, he leaves his affairs in order, climbs the Reunion Tower overlooking picturesque Interstate 35E, and hurls himself into the void.
1989 was a banner year for producers Richard Pepin and Joseph Merhi. After a falling out with Ronald Gilchrist at City Lights Entertainment, the two formed PM Entertainment and began cranking out wonderfully inept direct-to-video movies. They released seven movies that first year, and distributed two more. Three of those movies were ersatz neo-noir Los Angeles thrillers featuring Lawrence Hilton-Jacobs, whom older readers will remember as Freddie ‘Boom Boom’ Washington from Welcome Back, Kotter. The relationship with Hilton-Jacobs was so worthwhile, in fact, that PM tapped him to direct. Written alongside Raymond Martino and Merhi, Hilton-Jacobs helmed Angels of the City, the story of a sorority initiation gone wrong.